The Touch of the J Slos Hand
He was battered and scarred,
And the agent thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old veteran,
but he shopped him out with a smile.
"What am I bid, good teams", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"Ham sammy, ham sammy, Do I hear two?"
"Two sammies , who makes it three?"
"Three sammies once, three sammies twice, going for three,"
From the room far back a gray headed man
Came forward and took the vet under his wing,
Then wiping the rust from the old vet
And tightening up his cuts and shots,
We watched a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the Jazz can be.
The music ceased and the agent
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old vet?"
As he held his arm up with a ball.
"One million, one million, Do I hear two?"
"Two million, Who makes it a mid level?"
"Mid Level once, Mid Level twice,
Going and gone", said he.
The fans cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed his worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of J Slos Hand."
And many a player with life out of tune
All battered with jackpotting and grins
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless teams
Much like that old veteran
A messy cut, a dnp,
A bad game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the J Slo comes,
And the foolish fans never can quite understand,
The worth of some grit and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of a great Coaches hand.