No Joy in Fireville...

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Fire Eleven that day;
The score stood two to one, with but one minute more to play,
And then when Prideaux subbed out first, and Gonzo did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the Supporters at the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Cuantemo could get but a whack, that’s all-
We'd put up even money, now, if Temo had the ball.

But Thorington took a shot, and so did old McBride,
And the former was a lofter and the latter to the side;
So upon that stricken multitude there sat a deathly pall,
For there seemed but little chance of Temo's getting to the ball.

But the ref did call a foul, to the wonderment of all,
And Mapp, the much despised, stood to again restart the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the bench saw what had occurred,
Dennis Hamlet raised the call to use a sub, this time his third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled up every ditch,
For Papa, Marco Papa, was advancing to the pitch.

There was ease in Marco's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Marco's bearing and a smile on Marco's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he raised his thumb and winked,
Then Marco took his place with his teammates on the brink.

Ten thousand eyes were on them as they faced up to the Crew;
Five million more were watching thanks to ESPN two.
Then while Lexi Lalas babbled on and Harkes tried to be hip,
Defiance gleamed in Blanco’s eye, a sneer curled Conde's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Blanco stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy striker the ball unheeded sped-
Past the scrambling defense went and onto McBride’s head!

From the benches, red with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill it! Kill the ball!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely he'd a-killed it had the ref not raised his hand.

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 laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Fireville— regulation time had run out.