[90] Casey At The Bat
It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood two to four, with but an inning left to play.
So, when Cooney died at second, and Burrows did the same,
A pallor wreathed the features of the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go, leaving there the rest,
With that hope which springs eternal within the human breast.
for they thought: "If only Casey could get a whack at that,"
they'd put even money now, with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, and likewise so did Blake,
And the former was a pudd'n and the latter was a fake.
So on that stricken multitude a deathlike silence sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a "single," to the wonderment of all.
And the much-despised Blakey "tore the cover off the ball."
And when the dust had lifted, and they saw what had occurred,
There was Blakey safe at second, and Flynn a-huggin' third.
Then from the gladdened multitude went up a joyous yell--
It rumbled in the mountaintops, it rattled in the dell;
It struck upon the hillside and rebounded on 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 when the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance glanced 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 it in 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 muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on the stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumault, he made 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 the 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 the ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lips, 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 lets 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: Mighty Casey has struck out.
-- Ernest Lawrence Thayer
|
A number of poets are known for just one poem, but seldom is that one poem
as famous as 'Casey at the Bat'; seldom has it conferred upon its author the
deep-seated immortality that 'Casey' brought Thayer. "Casey at the Bat is an
enduring example of American baseball literature." writes the Cosmic
Baseball Assocaiation. "Read countless times to countless children as they
fall asleep; memorized and recited by countless orators to countless
audiences, it is a tale that sinks deeply into the American soul."
And a pretty good poem it is too. It has all the features one looks for in a
good narrative poem - a gripping story, a strong rhythm and a rhyme scheme
that advances the poem in a series of couplets, lending itself well to
recitation.
Of course, so famous and distinctive a poem has attracted its share of
parodies. Unfortunately, most of them aren't particularly good. Frank Jacobs
(of Mad Magazine fame) had a few nice ones, but they aren't online. A few
others may be found at <http://www.clark.net/pub/cosmic/catb1.html>
m.
For the full story behind the writing of the poem, see
<http://www.historybuff.com/library/refcasey.html>
Biography and Appraisal:
Born August 14, 1863 in Lawrence, Massachusetts, Ernest Thayer was the son
of a prosperous mill owner. His family eventually moved to Worcester,
Massachusetts where his father ran several wool mills.
Ernest graduated magna cum laude with a major in philosophy in 1885.
At Harvard he edited the college humor magazine, the Harvard Lampoon.
The eminent American philosopher William James was a teacher and
friend. Other classmates included William Randolph Hearst and George
Santayana.
After college, and typical of the sons of the well-to-do, Ernest went
abroad and settled for a time in Paris. Despite his father's desire to
have him work in the family business, Ernest took a job writing humor
pieces for his college friend Hearst, who was now running the San
Francisco Examiner newspaper. Returning to Worcester in 1888, Thayer wrote
"Casey" in May and Hearst published it in the June 3, 1888 edition of his
newspaper. Thayer wrote his columns for the newspaper using the pseudonym
"Phin" and it would be several years before the true authorship of "Casey"
would be determined.
Thayer eventually went to work for his father but ultimately quit
altogether when he moved to Santa Barabara in in 1912. It was in
California, at age 50 that he married Rosalind Buel Hammett, a widow
from St. Louis. They had no children.
Described as a slightly built, soft-spoken man who wore a hearing aid
after middle age, Thayer died in Santa Barabara, in 1940.
In his brief review of Thayer's life, Martin Gardner writes:
One might argue that Thayer, with his extraordinary beginning at
Harvard, his friendship with James and Santayana, his lifelong
immersion in philosophy and the great books, was himself
something of a Casey.
Just before Thayer died he attempted to put some thoughts down on
paper. However, he was too old or too sick to carry out the task and
he lamented, "Now I have something to say and I am too weak to say
it."
Nevertheless, Thayer will forever be remembered for one remarkable at
bat, a tragic-comic hit about a mighty hero who struck out.
-- The Cosmic Baseball Association
<http://www.clark.net/pub/cosmic/thayer.html>
Thayer was not without literary credentials. He had been the editor of the
Lampoon in his undergraduate days...(Famed poet-philosopher George
Santayana was his associate editor.) He accepted Hearst's offer, and soon
his weekly column began to appear under the pseudonym "Phin," an echo of
his Harvard days, where his friends had called him "Phinny."
Santayana might have provided a clue as to why his old editor made Casey
into a flawed hero.
"Ernest...seemed to be a man apart...who saw the broken edges of things
that appear whole." Casey could have been the lead character in a Greek
tragedy, for he was given an opportunity to fulfill a truly heroic
destiny, but his hubris caused him to take two pitches, either of which a
less haughty man would have jumped on in an effort to win the game. But
Casey, in Ted Williams fashion, was "waiting for his pitch." If only he
had had Williams' eyes, his trigger reflexes, his fluid swing. But if he
had been thus blessed, he would not have been playing in
Mudville/Stockton, he would have been across the Charles River from
Harvard, playing for the Red Sox or the Braves. And Thayer, although he
had consorted with the likes of James and Santayana, was no Euripides. We
get no clue of Casey's impending doom. We are sure that despite all the
Mudville misfortune that had preceded the mighty one's fateful at bat, he
would come through as he always had.
[...]
The poem became somewhat of a curse for Thayer. He was embarrassed when
people hailed him as the author. When asked to recite it, he did so
reluctantly and not well. He never accepted royalties for it and never
submitted another for publication.
[...]
Santayana was right. Thayer was "a man apart." He lived in quiet
retirement until his death 1940. His 15 minutes of fame echoed down
through the decades in five minute and 40 second segments as Hopper,
Connors and countless others regaled audiences from Little League picnics
to Hall of Fame induction banquets with Phin's immortal muse.
-- Bob Brigham, 'Where the Mighty Casey Struck Out'
<http://www.geocities.com/Colosseum/Field/1538/TDA59B/casey.html>
From: "Ilza Carvalho" <ilza@>
this line is not correct
it is violence, not vengeance :
He pounds with cruel VIOLENCE his bat upon the plate;
From: Emason214@
Hello out there! The kids and I want to know if the poem "Casey at the Bat"
is based on a real player's experience or just a figment of Thayer's
imagination? If Casey was a real player, what is his full name? Thanks, Eve
From: MR3436@
I read your poem in my Reading Instruction and Assessment class at Cleveland
State University. I enjoyed it.
Katherine R.
From: "Sullivan, Gary" <Gary.Sullivan@>
Find a copy of Garrison Keillor's collection "The Book of Guys." He has an
extraordinarily good parody of this poem, from the point of view of the
other team. He describes the joyous riot following the game in this way:
(I know I'm paraphrasing) "We went out to the parking lot and rubbed their
bus with cheese/That smelled like something died from an intestinal
disease."
Gary Sullivan
Manager, Reservation Sales Training
gary.sullivan@
From: CDuffer2000@
I really love this poem and I read it over and over again. But one of your
lines is wrong. It should be "he pounds with cruel VENGEANCE his bat upon the
plate" instead of violence. The vengeance version is in "Poems to Be Read
Aloud".
Maria
Coleman
From: "Frank Crane" <frankpcrane@>
The Garrison Keillor version is extraordinarily funny. But it's even
funnier to listen to Keillor deliver it himself!!
From: Ann Savonen <annsavonen@>
My version from a book titled Treasury of the Familiar edited by Ralph
Woods, says vengeance, not violence. I believe that is how it read
originally.
From: Theodore Thayer <tjthayer34@>
It's interesting. I am somehow attatched to this poem, not only because we have a Disney animated short about the story, but my father & I are trying to research whether or not we are somehow related to Ernest Lawrence Thayer. I've always loved this little poem! Such an endearing & entertaining piece! ~ T.J. Thayer 7/2003
---------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
SBC Yahoo! DSL - Now only $29.95 per month!
From: WUZUPPUR@
To Emasion214:
Thayer said that Casey was based on a guy named Daniel Casey he got into it
with in high school. you can read about it at Thesportingnews.com
And by the way, the original version does read violence, but there are many
many versions of this poem.
Also, you can hear De Wolf Hopper recite the poem at baseball-almanac.com
Rachel :-)
From: Bob Mullen <bomullen@>
I'll check: I think one of the lines is
"the latter was a cake."
goes better with the puddin'.
From: woods@ Thu Dec 16 13:41:16 2004
Actually, the line violence / vengeance isn't wrong or right. There are
several different versions of this poem out there. It was recited so
many times in performance that surely it wasn't the same each time.
From: "Colleen Hansen" <colleen.hansen@>
I've seen many different versions as well . . . because the poem is best
delivered aloud, there's bound to be many different ways to recite it.
I've always remembered the opening line as:
"The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day"
And the last line of the first stanza as:
"A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game."
(I also remember it with "vengeance" and "the latter is a fake".)