`THE GREAT GREG MADDUX'.

Byline: Devra Maza

Congratulations son! Your minor playing days are done

You've been called up to the majors. You'll be famous! You'll have fun!

But before you pack your gear, and high-tail it to The Show

There's something I think you're gonna need to know

See, there's a pitcher playing there, and Greg Maddux is his name

And you're bound to run across him in Los Angeles, in some game

So if you don't mind one last lesson, I'll just tell you while you're dressin'

About this ace you'll face up there, and once aware, you'll have my blessin'

He may not throw for power, or glower from a towering frame

But don't look at what he looks like 'cause he'll own you just the same

With an arsenal of weapons he can throw on any count

That ball will move like magic when Greg Maddux rules the mount

You'll swing at balls, you'll take the strikes, the hometown fans will boo you

Your friends and family in the stands will swear they never knew you

And all the scouts who sang the praise that you were stardom bound

Now say ``You'll look the fool and like it!'' when Greg Maddux takes the mound

He'll get ahead with first-pitch strikes, hit spots to suit his fancy

You'll hit like such a little girl, your coach'll call you ``Nancy''

Forget it kid, you'll soon find out it's all part of his plan

He's done it to the best, you're just the latest bat he's fanned

He's the master of his craft and when he gets onto a roll

He'll pitch with pinpoint precision and perfect control

And his arm speed never changes, no matter what the grip or pitch

Because that's what they pay him for, and by the way, he's filthy rich 

They call him Mad Dog and his matchups rabidly are planned

Like that doggie playing poker, he's got the upper hand

When he's dealin', he's a winner, but before the card game's through

This Doggie wants his dinner and I'm sorry, son, it's you

When it comes to painting corners, he's an artist with a brush

His sinker makes you buckle, and his changeup makes you rush

He'll throw a masterpiece, do your portrait, sign and frame it

``Batter Looking Clueless'' will be what the press will name it

In the field of real estate, he's the proud owner of homeplate

And he knows how it's important to locate, locate, locate

And all the umps who claim that just to meet you is a thrill

Will say ``You'll eat that strike and like it!'' when Greg Maddux takes the hill

With 17 years of 15 wins, this guy is so consistent

And as far as stingy pitch counts go, no one is more efficient

But don't think about it too long 'cause you'll find out soon or late

That the inning's done and you're the only one still standing at the plate

He's a golfer teeing golfballs and the baseball looks that big

He banks them off the breeze, and your bat swings like a twig 

So quiet please, try not to freeze, address the ball and pivot

As it swats the grass, the grounds crew asks you please replace your divots

He's a magician and his game is smoke and mirrors, but don't laugh

You're just the lady in the box, and he's sawing you in half

Don't cry, you're not the only guy to cuss his own reflection

And don't question the umpire's calls or you'll face sure ejection 

He's the professor here to school you in a few choice words in French

His class is on the black and your degree is on the bench

You're just another power hitter grounding out with all his might

Who's just a shadow of himself when Greg Maddux toes the white

He's a surgeon in the strike zone and his skill controls your fate

His scalpel is his cutter and he's carving up home plate

And if you don't like the prognosis, well, who cares? It doesn't matter

The ballpark's his operating room, and you? You're the cadaver 

He knows each hitter's tendencies between the letters and the knees

With every hit and every miss, he sees things nobody else sees

And he's too smart to ever try to get you out the same way twice

The way he studies batters, it's his noggin he should ice

In fact, I hear the trainers soak his head after each game

To cool off the computer we mere mortals call his brain

So if you think that you can think with him, you're in for a surprise

You've a better chance of hitting if you swing and close your eyes

When it comes to comebackers his position has no peer

He's got 15 gold gloves on his shelf. You ain't got one anywhere

Hit it near him, he will spear it. Any flare, he'll snare himself

So if you hit it, better hit it somewhere else

If you think that you can run on him, well, maybe that's the case

But it won't matter what you think if you can never get on base

So if you want to steal a bag when he gets between the chalk

You better hit a hole and race, 'cause there's no way he'll let you walk

But say you get to first and steal, it's the only break you're gettin'

Before you swipe another bag, he'll pick you off of second

Or he may not care and leave you there for some other strategy

When he's throwin' from the stretch, nobody knows what that'll be

Fans love to see him get in trouble just to see what he will do

Watching him get out of jams, you could learn a thing or two

So if you're thinking RBI, meet Greg Maddux's best friend

An inning-ending double play of which your out's the end

Now when you take the field and the pitcher's slot is due

Don't fall asleep out there. He'll hack and even whack a few

And when it comes to rounding bases he's as smart as any runner

If it's a sacrifice that's needed, don't forget, he's quite a bunter 

So don't rest when he's at bat, and don't snooze when he's on base

'Cause he can take that smirk of yours and wipe it off your face

He's a hurler with a history of helping his own cause

His guile and wily ways have given veteran players pause

In his heyday they yelled ``mayday!'' when it was his start they faced

They'd pray for rain and hope he'd sprain his neck and be replaced

And every slugger cried to mother: ``See those three guys by the wall?

There's nothing gettin' out back there. He doesn't need them there at all!''

He started with the Cubs then joined Atlanta's famed rotation

Where he garnered raves for the Braves and dazzled all the nation

But Chicago rued the day they let him leave the Windy City

So they brought him back to play where like the Ivy, he winds pretty

And now he shines in sunny Dodger blue Chavez Ravine

Where every fifth day on the mound a legend can be seen

Polishing the diamond, no matter what his number

'Cause gems are tossed when Greg Maddux pushes off the rubber

Now L.A. fans demand the owners of the team will hear

Their pleas as they buy season's tix, to bring him back next year

For he's the missing link they think will send them on their way

To what the Dodger faithful pray will be postseason play

So when you're 0 for 4 in hits and realize you can't buy one

Remember, he's won four Cy Youngs. That's four more than Cy Young won

With fielding assists and All Star trips and ERA's that barely exist

The resume of his renowned play is still a growing list

With 3,000 K's and counting and well past 300 wins

Fans stand and clap and photos flash. You think it fazes him?

They're just some other stats to be bronzed on his plaque

In the hallowed Hall of Fame with his face and his hat

Like Koufax, Mathewson and Young, long after all his wins are won

He'll be remembered as a standout of his era when he's done

And when folks look in record books they'll be sure to find his name

For he'll be there among the greatest to have ever played the game

Now I may be just a bush league skipper and that's all I'll ever be

But like Vin Scully, I know greatness when I see it on TV

So I hope that you'll reflect on everything that you've just heard

With any luck, this lesson's stuck, and if you're smart, you'll mark my words:

Someday, years from now, when your career has gone its way

When you've racked up all those hits and runs and made those sparkling plays

They'll ask of what you're proudest, and you'll tell them all about

How you faced the great Greg Maddux, and, by God ... He got you out

CAPTION(S):

photo

Photo:

no caption (Greg Maddux)