MLB Music: Chart-Topping Hits for the 2009 Season

Is it just me, or is Bon Jovi getting annoying?

Once the kings of pop metal, the band that serenades us during postseason commercial breaks has become a watered-down country-rock group with none of the edge they used to have.

With that in mind, here are 10 songs that could have been the anthems of the 2009 baseball season.

I'm Sorry Lou, He's Out (to the tune of "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" by Bruce Springsteen)

Ground ball to the shortstop,
Tough play but he makes the grab
Stands, pivots and hurls
The throw beats the runner to the bag

But Piniella doesn't see it that way at all
He's running on the field now
And he starts to argue the call, ump says

"I'm sorry Lou, he's out,"
"I'm sorry Lou, he's out"

Holliday (to the tune of "Holiday" by Green Day)

In Denver, you were a big name
After the trade you were simply not the same
When you were in Oakland it was clear you were off your game

Another trade and you came alive
In St. Louis your skills just got revived
Behind, Al Pujols you seemed to really thrive

And though you flubbed that easy catch in Game Two
Soon you'll see teams throwing money at you
Matt Holliday

Cry of the Tigers (to the tune of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor)

As the year turned to September
They were winning the division
Had a big lead, but it was not enough
They could not hold on against the Twins

Hear the cry of the Tigers; though they won all the fights
Against the Tribe, and the White Sox, and the Royals
But the Twins were the ones who won that October night
In Detroit you can still hear the cry of the Tigers

Imagine (to the tune of "Imagine" by John Lennon)

Imagine there's no minors
It's easy if you try
No prospects to bring up
When all your players, you buy

Imagine tons of contracts
It isn't hard to do
Burnett, A-Rod, Sabathia
Mark Teixeira, too

You may say I'm a dreamer
But hey look, we finally won
After nine years we are the champions
And I spent two billion

All Along the Team Showers (to the tune of "All Along the Watchtower" by Bob Dylan)

All along the team showers
Manny got shampoo
While all his teammates came and went
The reporters too

Outside in the cold ballpark
Joe Torre did scowl
The Dodgers lost the series
And the fans began to howl

Still Countin' My Stats (to the tune of "Still Countin' My Cash" by Chamillionaire)

Blowin' past all the bats of all the legends of the past
Better hitter than Ruth, and without all the fat
I'm takin' over the game, I'm stompin' old records flat
My achievements won't fit on just one Hall of Fame plaque

The crowd's up on its feet, and they're all cheering for me
They say that I'm number one, and it's hard not to agree
I can hit any pitcher, Halladay, Greinke, or Lee
Yeah, I'm reppin' St. Louis, 'cause I'm the real MVP

Haters was hatin', they thought that I wouldn't last
But they still see me shine, I can see why they mad
'Cause I'm still countin' my stats, I'm still countin' my stats
I'm still countin' my stats, I'm still countin' my stats
So do the math

A Whole New World Series (to the tune of "A Whole New World" from Aladdin)

I can show you the World Series
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me, Clifton, when did you last
Pitch a game watched nationwide?

A whole new world
A chance to win the big prize
You're in the show, your ERA's low,
And no, you aren't dreaming

A whole new world
Here in Philly
A thrilling chase, a playoff race
For you, Cliff Lee

Hey Blue (to the tune of "Hey Jude" by the Beatles)

Hey Blue, you made it bad
Took a close call, and made quite a stir
Remember, if it bounces inside the line
It's a fair ball, of that I am sure

Hey Blue, you let me down
Many missed calls, in this October
We've seen now, that umpires aren't smart
Let's get some new ones before
Next year, next year, next year, next year

Na, na, na, na na na, na, hey Blue
Na, na, na, na na na, na, hey Blue

Just Stop Believin' (to the tune of "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey)

Just a small town team
Playing just to make a dream
But we all know they're not going anywhere

Nothing but bad news
Never win, they always lose
And we all know they're not going anywhere

Just stop believin'
The Cubs' woes ain't easin'
Wake up, people

Just stop believin'
Don't waste your time grievin'
Wake up, people

Seasons of Luck (to the tune of "Seasons of Love" from Rent)

Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred at-bats
Five hundred, twenty-five thousand times at the plate appeared,
Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred at-bats
How do you measure, measure a year?

In strikeouts, in runs scored, in homers or sabermetrics
But what if, the whole thing is just a roll of the dice?
In, five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred at-bats
How can you measure and be truly precise?

How about, luck?
How about, luck?
How about, luck?
Measure in luck