I asked ai to make a poem about mlb the show
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I thought it was pretty good
I fire up the console, my confidence high,
"Today is the day that my batting will fly!"
I search for a match with a grin on my face,
Then I’m paired with a kid named "GoatInOuterSpace."
His record is 90 and 4 on the year,
My stomach does somersaults fueled by the fear.
He’s got P5 Randy, the tall "Big Unit" soul,
I’ve got a PCI like a donut hole.
The first pitch is coming, a blur of pure white,
A 103 heater that’s out of my sight.
I swing at a slider that’s stuck in the dirt,
My pride is the only thing feeling the hurt.
He’s dotting the corners, he’s painting the black,
I’m flailing at pitches and losing the track.
"Just sit on the fastball!" I scream at the wall,
As I lunged at a changeup and looked like a fool.
Then it’s my turn to pitch, and I try to be slick,
But this kid reads my mind like a devious trick.
I throw a sinker, buried low in the zone,
He blasts it to orbit, I’m left all alone.
The ball hasn’t landed, it’s halfway to Mars,
While I’m staring blankly at digital stars.
He bunts for a hit, then he steals every base,
While "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" mocks my disgrace.
He’s pausing the game just to mess with my head,
I’m wishing I’d gone to my laundry instead.
Another home run—mercy rule is in sight,
I’m losing my sanity, pitch by pitch, tonight.
The game finally ends, I am battered and blue,
I swore I was done, and I think that it’s true.
But then I see "Ranked" and the beckoning glow...
"Just one more game," says the curse of The Show.
