I met a traveller from an overcast land,
Who said—“Two vast and yellow beams of metal
Stand in the ballpark. . . . Near them, on the dirt,
Half sunk a shattered placard lies, whose arrogance,
And bolded script, and tone of miserly disdain,
Tell that its author well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on this lifeless thing,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the whiteboard, these words appear:
2023
Win It All!
Nothing beside remains. Beyond the decay
Of that colossal Dreck, pennantless and bare
The postseason plays leagues away.”