Money. Ruination. Redemption.

Casey's Freaking Cold  with apologies all-around

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The outlook wasn’t brilliant for baseball fans that day.

The temperature was 40, the wind caused the trees to sway.

From the towers of New York City, to St Looie’s silver arch,

The money guys of baseball, they began the games in March.

Who cares that it’s the Summer Game--you play it when it’s warm

If it makes us extra bucks, they said, we’ll play it through a storm.

We’ll play from Winter to November, we’re after ev’ry dollar.

So what you need your heavy coat all turned up in your collar.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;

And somewhere men are coughing, and somewhere children sneeze,

Cause this ain’t no time for baseball, when your ass you’re sure to freeze.

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I'm sad that the money guys have taken over baseball as they have taken over other things I love, namely advertising and our country.

I'm sad, that in the taking over, they have ignored what made baseball, and advertising, and America unique and special in the first place.

I'm sad that there are no more day games.

I'm sad that I no longer have an office.

I'm sad that the president is a whore-monger.

It's sad how the pursuit of mammon has damaged so many entities and institutions I hold dear.

I'm sad.

But I'm not disconsolate.

Because when I hear a wooden bat meet that leather-covered sphere, when I write and sell a good ad, when common decency returns, as it will, then the money guys will be left with nothing but money.

While we, poorer, will have our souls.