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Zim, r.i.p.

Farewell to Don Zimmer.

Red Sox Nation will miss him, even though he blew the 1978 pennant.

Pedro Martinez will miss him, even though he was attacked by Zim in the 2003 ALCS.

I will miss him, even though he tried to take my head off in the Sox clubhouse and had to be restrained by Vinnie Orlando. (Dennis Eckersley had given up a game-losing home run.  I asked Zim, “What did he throw?”  He said, “How should I know?”  I said, “You’re the manager.”  That did it!)

Everybody will miss Zim, because he was the curmudgeon everybody is supposed to like.

A poet, Elliot Kolker, has eulogized him in rhyming couplets:

Zim is out, face the facts,
Just a few, like Koufax,
Teammates left from his old Brooklyn teams.
Most of the shortstop’s chums
From World Champion Bums
Playing now on Ebbets Field of Dreams.

Long lived Boy of Summer,
Zim’s loss is a bummer
To his lifelong fans spread far and wide,
Like Zim’s fans at Wrigley.
When Will Clark got jiggley,
Zim’s Cubs’ fan’s lifelong fantasies died.

Sox Bill Lee waxed verbal
Named his skipper, “Gerbil.”
Blamed the metal plate glued in Zim’s bean.
Fans went apoplectic,
Zim looked epileptic,
Bucky Dent named by Sox fans, “Obscene!”

Once pugilist Pedro
Squeezed Popeye like Play-Doh,
When Zim was Joe Torre’s bench caddy.
Pedro later would say,
“I am glad he’s okay,
For Yankee fans know he’s my Daddy.”

So Farwell, Don Zimmer,
Fan’s game would be dimmer
Without your Hall of Fame history.
Now you’re back with “Dem Bums,”
On the bench with your chums,
In the dugout for eternity.