The outlook wasn't brilliant for Young Sulzberger that day; His stories had been boring, tho' his wit's on full display; But then an editor cried out, "AG! Come earn your pay!"; "Your presence is required at the baseball game—hey hey!"

So young AG got up to go, although he felt despair.
"I'm not a sports reporter. What could I possibly do, there?"
In fact, AG's a baller, "And," his editor said, "Besides,"
"It's a feature story, kid. Use your charming dark brown eyes!"

But first there came the cab ride, and traffic's a headache;
The Bronx is far from Midtown; the photographer's a flake;
Upon young AG's wizened face, the prospect wasn't glory;
There seemed to be but little chance of landing a good story.

But, lo—it's Derek Jeter! And all the fans did roar;
AG gathered pithy quotes, not concerned for the score.
Yankee Stadium is bad, they said, for autograph hounds;
Is that an angle in which 800 words could be found?

Oh, somewhere down in Times headquarters, reporters are smiling;
Somewhere there are great important stories for the filing;
And somewhere there are Pulitzers, and page A-1, no doubt;
But AG's piece got stuck in Metro. Sulzberger's struck out.

But not with the ladies.

[NYT. Better: Ernest Thayer]

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