The Writtens

Sports Desk Roast

I missed the memo so I'm not dressed too fine,
but I'm sick and tired of being sports desk punchline,
so I flipped the script and did this in rhyme.

JK put the request in, and Blank didn't want to hear this —
He's jealous because he tries to write witty, but my writing's peerless.
Wait! What's that about ESPN?
Blank, shut up! You didn't really win —
your entry ended next to the desk in the recycle bin.
And one more time, while we can still rub it in —
The call last fall? Oh yeah, BoSox win!

Which brings us to BMac, Captain Passive-Agressive,
who never tells you he's mad, but lets everyone sense it.
Dispenses commentary while remaining solitary
keeping his agenda silent, but deadly.

Steadily Karabell keeps churning out copy
but get JK loaded and he's awkward and sloppy:
"I don't know what's going on … I'm drunk." He's hoppy,

but at least he's not bitter,
like Dave Moses, Our Boy, who owns the verbal shitter —
crapping out columns nobody reads,
because when Sean May has big games, D-Moses bleeds
the blood of a column corrected
now that the lottery is where May's expected
in the NBA draft

Unlike Malloy who would have been last
pick for sports editor, but everyone passed
on the app and his head got all gassed.
Dan, go back to DC and cover your Nats.
Nah, wait, people read that — go cover the Caps!

But don't think the snaps got reserved for the guys
Ladies, man up and don't be surprised.
We'll start with DeRosa — Gaby should open her eyes.
She's a Broadway baby who should leave sports for Sondheim.
And she does have a knack for writing good leads.
Too bad they're for wohoops and field hockey, which nobody reads.

Duby needs to pack up and leave for Ohio
and not come back until she learns to write, yo.
She's just as well off figure skates laced up tight, though —
skate around superstars, but there's no one you're fooling.
And by the way, no one cares how the Buckeyes are doing.

Briana's kinda goofy, but usually quiet.
Who knew ripping pedophiles would stir up a riot
of defensive girls who just didn't buy it.
And good luck with SpoSat, she's like an ex-wife —
we had to part ways, but treat her bad and get knifed.

Rife with quiet is our girl Rachel Soder,
came over from copy and looks like a stoner.
Does a job like it too — worse than a CCI loaner,
which is like Derek: a temp,
a replacement part when the original's bent.
D, be careful what you wish for, soon your time will be spent
cooped up in the office; deadlines never relent.

As for the rest of y'all who aren't on blast,
here's a fuck off and kiss my Brooklyn ass!
Except for the front desk, who I'm shouting out last.