The day was approaching, the time fast drew near.
'Twas the tenth and last month of the twentieth year.
Now players transported from worlds far and wide--
On space curves and gravity tides did they ride.

But once in two decades did galaxies play:
Andromeda All-Stars against Milky-Way.
At stake was THE GAME that brought fame to new heights,
And twenty years' claim to all space bragging rights.

The play-by-play spacecasters Red, Mel, and Murph,
Surveyed the great force-field of green Astral-Turf
While Orbi-Sphere Stadium rotated 'round
The intergalactic spaceball battleground.

A frenzy of fans filled the grand old grandstands
Representing all beings, all worlds and their lands.
And trillions more watched and deposited bets
In theaters with insta-televitron sets.

The umps were a reasoned and well-seasoned crew
With know-how and know-when and know-what-to-do.
Having all been to Inter-G battles before,
They pronounced themselves ready for what was in store.

The Intergalactical Anthem was sung
By a chorus of songsters from planets far-flung.
But before they had finished the fans stood and cheered
As out on the field the Way-Slayers appeared.

There was Dan the Inhu-Man, and Hada-Saru,
Whizzy and Snazzy, and Cy Clobber too,
And the Gruesome Girls, Jodie and Sandra-the-K,
Not to mention Yank Baron and Millie Say-Hey.

On the Milky-Way bench there was plenty more punch
With "Tiny" Tim Savior and "King" Konnie Krunch,
And "Bootless" Bo Bopper and Ambi-D too,
Plus the great Mickamazer, to mention a few.

Andromeda sported bright stars of its own,
Like "Jumbo" Frank Franchise, a product homegrown,
Rollin' Orion and Rockdoc O'Shea,
Rosey Hardnosey and Yog A-OK.

Plus Gabriel Brute and the swift Robbie Jack,
Osay Canuseeko, and Homerin' Hack.
The slick Quickie Quantal and Dickey McRick,
Theodora O'Fanway and Carrie Bigstick.

The Milky-Way manager, Spacey Svengal,
Professed to know all, and was everyone's pal.
Andromeda had its own Johnnie MacJaw,
A rough raw-boned leader who laid down the law.

Andromeda led from the first crack of bat,
Scoring two runs in the first, just like that!
Two more in the second, and four in the third,
While nary a Way-Slayer peep had been heard.

With Milky-Way pitchers all out of control
Andromeda hitters continued to roll.
Runs in the fourth and the fifth did they score,
While the All-Star fanatics kept screaming for more.

Meanwhile, Milky-Way batters did nought.
With a single bunt bingle, their team was distraught.
They were handcuffed by buzzballs and fuzzballs and swerves,
And fell for old scroogies and cracknuckle-curves.

They K'd on sensational slickety-splits,
Swished at occasional lickety-spits,
And their frustration was greatly increased
When they went down on the "pisces deceased."

They whiffled at high balls and waffled at lows,
Got up and went for the git-up-and-gos,
Waved at so-so balls and super-slo-mos,
Auroral glo-balls and dippety-doughs.

Now Milky-Way fans, having had quite enough,
Let their team know it was not up to snuff.
They unleashed a medley of ear-jarring jeers,
Nerve-frazzling razzing and Bonkerzonx cheers.

Milky-Way followers 'spersed through the 'verse
Deemed that their team never played any worse.
To fight the funk mood that pervaded their plight
They quite rightly ate all the junk food in sight.

They feasted on What-nuts and Thing-a-ma-gobs,
Creme-filled Cholesterolls, Globs-on-the-cobs,
Dollups of Jiggerdew, Mallows from Mars,
Fizzlestix, Snaxjax, and Superstarsbars.

And when they had eaten far more than their fill,
They washed it all down with the swellest of swill.
Consuming a lot of Exhilarbrew Light
With Fuming Godzillerbrew got them quite tight.

In the top of the ninth, well--the bottom fell out.
Following Clementine's cumulus clout,
Gabe Brute produced a prodigious poke,
And Steelsteed's sock-rocket left orbital smoke.

Fandango's fungo and Moon Shott's hot rope
Smashed any dashes of Milky-Way hope.
Six passed the portal before the first out
And THE GAME had become an incredible rout.

With bases still loaded, the count three-and-two,
Just what could old Spacey the manager do?
Giving the Umps both the "T" sign and sound,
He silently made his way out to the mound.

Well, surely all Way-Slayer hurlers were hexed,
And the fans simply wondered just who would be next.
Now, taking the ball, Spacey kissed it and then
Doffed his blue cap as a sign to the Pen.

And slowly, so slowly, he strode into sight.
But wait--could it be? Is it him? Are we right?
It was! No one other than Ole Patch El-Sage
The Earth-myth, the legend of space-timeless age.

The Milky-Way fans felt their spirits uplift,
For they'd heard that Ole Patch was far OUT THERE, adrift.
And the fabulous floating ovation they gave
Was capped by the rarely-seen "Standing Sine Wave."

Now Space rubbed the ball up, then tossed it to Patch,
And they winked at each other as Patch made the catch.
The wink of the tested, the wise, and the true.
For Ole Patch had saved it, and only Space knew.

Patch studied the field, and the curve of the stands,
Examined the ball, felt its weight in both hands.
Now, setting it spinning on one fingertip,
Patch raised it on high and then let the pitch rip.

The ball darted forward and wove in and out,
Then started to wobble and wander about.
Now it fluttered a moment, atwirl like a top,
Then it slowed...and it slowed...to a very dead stop!

The fans rubbed their eyes and proceeded to stare
As the ball simply stayed there, afloat in mid-air.
Half-way to the plate it had now come to rest,
Putting the umps and THE GAME to the test.

Well, out comes MacJaw, yelling "Foul! I protest!
That confounded pitch is illegal at best.
I've seen every beebee to come from the hill,
And this is the lowdownest cheatin'est pill."

The umpires huddled in back of the mound
To check the ball's distance and height above ground.
They looked at the glove and the cap of Ole Patch,
But no sticky-scratchy stuff there would they catch.

The umps, with no answer, agreed that they must
Leave this tough call to an ump all could trust.
And so with the ultimate UUMP they conferred,
And to that device the decision deferred.

The UUMP was Unbiased, Universal and cool;
A Monitor Program, a tool none could fool.
It scoured all rules in THE BOOK, every one,
And studied the replay--holographically done.

The moment was tense for all fans, true and tried,
For there in the balance hung baseball and pride.
Now UUMP, having searched all the memories it could,
Announced a decision that few understood.

"Once released by the pitcher, the ball is IN PLAY,
And during its free flight, IN PLAY does it stay.
No one may deflect it or alter its fate
'Til it touches the Turf or approaches the plate."

The fans started hissing and booing out loud,
And whistling and stomping, a real raucous crowd.
They launched lots of flotsam, then tossed it about,
And "Un-plug-the-UUMP" was the shout that rang out.

At first THE GAME's sponsors reacted like cads,
Filling the time with ad nauseum ads.
But then they did decently cease and desist
While the spacecasters Red, Mel, and Murph reminisced.

The fans soon fell silent, their gazes transfixed
By the ball that just hung there, between and betwixt,
And fans the worlds over, observing the scene,
Began to consider what UUMP's call might mean.

Their minds wandered freely through space and through time,
Through old fields, to old friends, to moments sublime.
As thoughts turned to heroes and thrills of their youth,
It was clear that UUMP's call was a moment of truth.

A few fans broke silence with whispered restraint:
"Is it over?" "It's over!" "No--over it ain't!"
"It looks like it's over for you and for me,
But we know it ain't over 'til over it be!"

As the hours went by the fans left, one by one,
And the teams and the umps realized they were done.
Then Spacey and Patch, with their arms round-about,
Took one final long look, and were last to go out.

Now a centum has passed, but the fans they still go
To the site of THE GAME played so long, long ago,
Where the ball to this day--to this day--hangs suspended
Like that great game, that past time, that
just...
never...
ended.