Growing up in northwest Ohio in the summer meant one thing: Baseball!...and you couldn't get enough of it!
My childhood years were like many of others, broken home issues...yea, we qualified as dysfunctional, and the result for me was I spent most of my childhood years being raised by my Grandma and Grandpa.
My Grandpa had a small farm near the outskirts of town and "daily chores" were mandatory if I were to pursue daily personal interests. My beloved Grandpa was an avid baseball lover, and I am sure this had an influence on my love for baseball as well.
Anyway, a typical summer day for me was to arise around 5:00 a.m. and get all the "farm chores" done, mostly attending to the various crops my Grandpa was growing at the time, and be done by around 9:30 am so I could pursue my passion: Baseball!
Around 9:30 a.m. , I would then go to what was deemed in that era as the "City Playgrounds", where there were daily activities readily available ....including baseball!
And man, did we play baseball! The first game was usually scheduled around 10 a.m. and games would go throughout the day until 5:30 p.m. Gratefully, my Grandma would pack my daily lunch in my "Marshall Dillon's" lunch box, and by the time the games had concluded, I was usually pretty exhausted.
A good shower...supper...a little T.V....and my typical summer day would come to a close...only to begin again at 5 a.m. the following morning!
I remember in the early fall one year, school was just getting underway, and one of the early assignments I received in my English class was to choose a poem, memorize it, then recite it in front of the entire class. It was a "pretty, scary assignment" ...and this is the poem I chose:
"Casey at the Bat"
This poem was written in 1888 by a Ernest Thayor, an American writer, and it involves a baseball team from a fictional town of Mudville. Mudville is in it's last at bats, down by 2 runs, and their only hope is to get the "Mighty Casey" to the plate...Mudville's star player!
Here then is: "Casey at the Bat"
The poem first appeared in the San Francisco Examiner in the year 1888:
" The outlook wasn't brilliant, for the Mudville Nine that day;
The score stood 4 to 2, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney "died at first", and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A struggling few got up to go in deep despair, the rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could but get a "whack" at that,
We'd put even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake
And the former was a lulu, and the latter was a cake.
So upon the stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, "tore the cover" off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second, and Flynn a-huggin' third.
Then from 5000 throats and more there arose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood-a-watching in a haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style" said Casey, "Strike One!", the umpire said.
From the benches black with people, there went up a muffed roar,
Like the beating of the stormwaves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone in the stands;
And tis likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shown;
He stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike Two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands and echo answered: "Fraud!".
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain;
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he let's it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville...the mighty Casey has struck out!
Note:
1. The author Ernest Thayor originally published the poem under the pen name of "Phin". He considered the poem a "doggerel", meaning to have little literary value, and chose to keep a secret identity before finally "confessing" he was the author of this "poem of low merit".
2. Residents of Holliston, Massachusetts had a neighborhood called "Mudville"...and claims ownership of the team described in the poem. Residents of Stockton, California which prior to 1850, was known as "Mudville" also claims to be the inspiration of this poem.
Thayer himself later claimed neither place had "any basis in fact" to the poem itself.
3. Many authors and numerous versions have been done in portraying this poem. In fact, there was an actual Mike "King" Kelly who played for the "Boston Beaneaters" in the late 1800's, and one version actually changed the poem to "Kelly at the Bat".
4. There was a movie made in 1927 entitled: "Casey at the Bat" with Wallace Beery as Casey.
5. Jackie Gleason, the late great comedian did a persona in his " Reginald Van Gleason III", dressed in full Mudville uniform, recited the entire poem on his weekly television program.
6. Many and numerous parodies have been made of this poem.
7. "Vaudeville" thrived acting out this very poem.
So, what can one learn of this? Well, be careful not to get to overconfident of your God-given talents and/or abilities...stay grateful...and walk in humility...
Proverbs 16:18 " Too much self-pride will always bring a "crash", the bigger the ego...the harder the fall!"
My childhood years were like many of others, broken home issues...yea, we qualified as dysfunctional, and the result for me was I spent most of my childhood years being raised by my Grandma and Grandpa.
My Grandpa had a small farm near the outskirts of town and "daily chores" were mandatory if I were to pursue daily personal interests. My beloved Grandpa was an avid baseball lover, and I am sure this had an influence on my love for baseball as well.
Anyway, a typical summer day for me was to arise around 5:00 a.m. and get all the "farm chores" done, mostly attending to the various crops my Grandpa was growing at the time, and be done by around 9:30 am so I could pursue my passion: Baseball!
Around 9:30 a.m. , I would then go to what was deemed in that era as the "City Playgrounds", where there were daily activities readily available ....including baseball!
And man, did we play baseball! The first game was usually scheduled around 10 a.m. and games would go throughout the day until 5:30 p.m. Gratefully, my Grandma would pack my daily lunch in my "Marshall Dillon's" lunch box, and by the time the games had concluded, I was usually pretty exhausted.
A good shower...supper...a little T.V....and my typical summer day would come to a close...only to begin again at 5 a.m. the following morning!
I remember in the early fall one year, school was just getting underway, and one of the early assignments I received in my English class was to choose a poem, memorize it, then recite it in front of the entire class. It was a "pretty, scary assignment" ...and this is the poem I chose:
"Casey at the Bat"
Here then is: "Casey at the Bat"
The poem first appeared in the San Francisco Examiner in the year 1888:
" The outlook wasn't brilliant, for the Mudville Nine that day;
The score stood 4 to 2, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney "died at first", and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A struggling few got up to go in deep despair, the rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Casey could but get a "whack" at that,
We'd put even money, now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake
And the former was a lulu, and the latter was a cake.
So upon the stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, "tore the cover" off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second, and Flynn a-huggin' third.
Then from 5000 throats and more there arose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood-a-watching in a haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style" said Casey, "Strike One!", the umpire said.
From the benches black with people, there went up a muffed roar,
Like the beating of the stormwaves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone in the stands;
And tis likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shown;
He stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike Two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands and echo answered: "Fraud!".
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain;
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he let's it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville...the mighty Casey has struck out!
Note:
1. The author Ernest Thayor originally published the poem under the pen name of "Phin". He considered the poem a "doggerel", meaning to have little literary value, and chose to keep a secret identity before finally "confessing" he was the author of this "poem of low merit".
2. Residents of Holliston, Massachusetts had a neighborhood called "Mudville"...and claims ownership of the team described in the poem. Residents of Stockton, California which prior to 1850, was known as "Mudville" also claims to be the inspiration of this poem.
Thayer himself later claimed neither place had "any basis in fact" to the poem itself.
3. Many authors and numerous versions have been done in portraying this poem. In fact, there was an actual Mike "King" Kelly who played for the "Boston Beaneaters" in the late 1800's, and one version actually changed the poem to "Kelly at the Bat".
4. There was a movie made in 1927 entitled: "Casey at the Bat" with Wallace Beery as Casey.
5. Jackie Gleason, the late great comedian did a persona in his " Reginald Van Gleason III", dressed in full Mudville uniform, recited the entire poem on his weekly television program.
6. Many and numerous parodies have been made of this poem.
7. "Vaudeville" thrived acting out this very poem.
So, what can one learn of this? Well, be careful not to get to overconfident of your God-given talents and/or abilities...stay grateful...and walk in humility...
Proverbs 16:18 " Too much self-pride will always bring a "crash", the bigger the ego...the harder the fall!"
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