An Ode To Jeff Francoeur: A Dayton Moore Production Using “Lovers’ Eyes” by Mumford & Sons

Well, love was kind for a time
Now just aches and it makes me blind

I was there to see you drafted, Jeff. There to buy you out of your Clemson scholarship because you held hostage all other organizations saying you’d only play for the Atlanta Braves. How classy. How great. Here was this hometown kid willing to alienate an entire industry just to play for his hometown team. Needless to say, I was smitten at first sight.

Since then, the attraction has turned to a deep yearning. You’re all I can think of, and I’m willing to derail a roster to make you know it.

This mirror holds my eyes too bright
I can’t see the others in my life

I can’t avert my gaze. I can’t stop my thoughts. You’re all I can think about. I rushed to the market to commit two guaranteed years to keep you as my over day right fielder; just as you rushed to the depths of my heart with your infectious smile.

Were we too young? Our heads too strong?
To bear the weight of these lover’s eyes.
‘Cause I feel numb, beneath your tongue
Beneath the curse of these lover’s eyes.

There are times I think we’ve gone too far. Heck, your Wikipedia page was updated to say you were a member of my underwhelming major league roster before you actually were. Our bond, while over-the-top and insanely predictable, knows no bounds.

But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,

Wil Myers. Needed. To. Go. There’s no way I could stand by and watch the fans and the media tear you apart as you flailed and flopped your way through another season. I had to remove their temptation. I had to remove your competition. Now you’re front and center, as you should be.

Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.

Stupid bloggers.

Should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
Oh, let me die where I lie
‘Neath the curse of my lover’s eyes.

So what if I took a 72-win team, traded one of baseball’s best offensive prospects and your inevitable replacement, for two arguably marginal upgrade pitchers for the cost, and left you in line to get 600 more plate appearances. I will be forgiven because I’m driven by my affection for you. If that’s the worst that can be said about me, then we’re doing alright, me and you.

‘Cause there’s no drink or drug I’ve tried
To rid the curse of these lover’s eyes
And I feel numb, beneath your tongue
Your strength just makes me feel less strong

I tried it for a couple of years, Jeff, being without you on my team. From the moment I took this job there were jokes made at our expense that our hook-up was only a matter of time. Well, they were right. I inherited David DeJesus, I tried Jose Guillen, but it was always you that I wanted.

But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,

Sixteen million of the best dollars I’ve ever spent. I bought high on you in every way possible.

Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.

Stupid bloggers.

Should you shake my ash to the wind
Lord, forget all of my sins
Or let me die where I lie
Neath the curse of my lover’s eyes.

When Wil Myers becomes an impact bat with plus-level plate discipline at a fraction of your price, it still won’t matter. I got two years of a 31-year-old pitcher, and back-and-forth reliever-starter…and I got you.

And I’ll walk slow, I’ll walk slow
Take my hand, help me on my way.
And I’ll walk slow, I’ll walk slow
Take my hand, I’ll be on my way.

{Instrumental interlude complete with dreams of field-frolicking happiness}

And I’ll walk slow, I’ll walk slow
Take my hand, help me on my way.
And I’ll walk slow, I’ll walk slow
Take my hand, I’ll be on my way.

Forever, me and you. Forever. My leader. My winner. My Jeff.

La la la, La la la, La la la, la la
La la la, La la la, La la la, la la