Edgar "The Ragin' Raven" Poe plays third base of the Canons, where he often has to handle cruel bad hops of fate.
A true baseball journeyman, Poe has played all up and down the East Coast. And although his incredible talent is appreciated by many, Poe has some reason to suspect his skills as a ballplayer won't be truly an rightly treasured until after his retirement.
Poe's family and teammates are ever vigilant regarding his drinking problem, lest Poe start guzzling sports-drinks again.
From "The Rookie"
Once upon a homestand dreary, while I struggled, weak and weary,
Over called and swinging strikes I'd again gone oh-for-four
While I struck out, wore my luck out, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my locker door.
"'Tis some reporter," I muttered, "tapping at my locker door
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September,
And each old scorecard wrought its loss upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my coaches advice to follow following my oh-for-four
For the rare and radiant achievement known as a four-for-four
Nameless here for evermore...
Open here I flung the locker, when, with many a clink and clatter,
Up above sat a stately rookie of the dead-ball days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;
But, with cleats sharp and dangling, perched above my locker door
Perched upon a bust of Maris just above my locker door
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this pale stripling beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern insignia of the uniform he wore,
Though thy moustache be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art sure no groundsman,
Nor ghastly grim and ancient veteran wandering from the clubhouse next door
Tell me what thy lordly name is by the Nights out-of-town scoreboard!
Quoth the rookie, Nevermore.
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