The outlook wasn't brilliant for Major League Baseball this day:
The season was running out with but 82 games more to play,
And then when Dallas Braden voiced his doubts on safety and Mike Trout did
the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the virtual patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to grab an in-home beer in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the sporting spectator breast;
They thought, "If only Dr. Fauci could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with Tony at the bat."
But Flynn tested positive, as did also Jimmy Blake,
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Dr. Fauci getting the best of the original
Chinese bat.
But Dr. Birx let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Wu Han, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the face masks had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Wu safe at second and Birx a-hugging third.
Then from thousands of sheltered in-place throats there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through their media rooms, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded into wireless earbuds and recoiled upon the flat
For Fauci, mighty Fauci, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Tony’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in his bearing and a smile lit his Epidemiological face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his mask,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt Dr. Anthony Fauci was up to the
Herculean task.
Ten million eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with Purell;
Multi-thousands screamed approval when he wiped on extra gel.
Defiance flashed in Fauci’s eyes, a sneer curled Tony's lips.
And now an unsanitized leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Fauci stood a-watching it in with his everyman’s stare.
Close by the sturdy batsman the corona ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said Dr. Tony. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
"Kill him! Kill the virus" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed it had not Fauci raised his hand.
With a smile of charity great Fauci’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the soiled sphere flew;
But Fauci still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Dr. Fauci wouldn't let that ball go by again.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Fauci’s blow.
Oh, somewhere, someday in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
Somewhere leaders in science and medicine are finding out what’s right.
And somewhere fans are laughing, and somewhere children fuss
There will be Joy in Baseball, Mighty Tony Fauci is working hard for all of us.
* * * *
Andy Dolich has over five decades of leadership in the sports industry, including executive positions in the NFL, NBA, MLB, NHL, pro soccer and lacrosse. Presently Dolich is COO of the Fan Controlled Football League (FCFL) and teaches sports business at Stanford's School of Continuing Studies.
Dolich is also co-author of the new book:
