The meter isn’t quite right, I’m afraid, because I can’t get the hang of it. Anyway…
In Alliterative Verse
Schuerholz came south Wearing his suspenders.
A ring he owned From running the Royals:
A savior he seemed. But some were suspicious.
Kansas City had crafted A contender before
Ever he arrived. Atlanta was different
A team long in tatters Trapped in last place.
Moves then he made. Mindless they seemed
“Here we go again” Was heard from the hapless.
Fans were they Few and fainthearted
Sensing the signings Were more of the same.
Pendleton the portly Power he’d lacked
In Cardinal career. Corner hitters cannot
Hit eight homers a year. However he brought
A glorious glove Twice had been golden.
Bream and Belliard Both signed from the Bucs
Neither a knight Known for knocking them in.
Doubtless their value Would be in defense
Which long had been lacking On Atlanta’s squad.
Bulky Juan Berenguer Would bolster the bullpen
Twirler of note Signed from the Twins.
Sanders the sideshow Scorned by the Yankees
Brought his big mouth And still tiny bat.
Willard would waddle Once in a while
Perhaps to catch Probably to pinch-hit.
Heath also signed (Hey, they can’t all work out).
A core had the club Confident players
Young were they yet Their yesterdays few.
In right field ranged The Rookie of the Year
David the doughty Justice of deeds.
Gant the gallant Great was his power
A comeback he’d had Though he couldn’t play center.
Hurlers they had Four pitchers whose deeds
Carried the club Through many a clash.
Smoltz the stalwart Sliders and splitters
And furious fastballs Would force men to flee.
Great glory awaited Glavine the grave
Yet few were his feats From years agone.
Young and yet able Avery the youth
Thrust into the light Of three and eleven.
Liebrandt the lanky Of lefties most crafty
Tragedy would taunt But now he held true.
The middle was made Of many a pair
To try for a run Two Jeffs they could team
Blauser and Treadway Beaters of pitchers
Including their own Offense their all.
For defense a duo Of doubtful bats
Little Mark Lemke Light-hitting he was
But he was the Babe Beside teammate Belliard.
Lonnie in left Legend of lost days
Hit could he still But his legs were gone.
And silently came Swift Otis Nixon
Late in leaving The last player added.
Managing these men A task for a master
Cox had come down From crafting the team.
Coaches he had: Corrales his comrade
Williams the wary And Jones watched the hitters.
Mastermind Mazzone Legend in making
Practiced his pitchers In program most pure.
On eve of season Everyone knew
Braves would be beaten But maybe they’d bring
Hope for awhile. This humble team
Knew not what awaited (Needless to say).