Dedicated to Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer.
Welcome back from the break
all you baseball fans.
Here we are in the bottom of the ninth,
now Murphy's on the mound.
It's packed here at the park tonight,
no one's left the stands.
The score is now 4 to 3,
a man on first base, 2 down.
This series has been quite a battle,
it all comes down to this.
Both these teams are hard to rattle,
they've each been here before.
A seventh game of a World Series,
one truly not to miss.
The players for both teams are standing,
this is a what dreams are made for.
Coming to bat for the home team
is the veteran Vernon Cahill.
Of course everyone knows the Big Daddy,
he's had an illustrious career.
He's pinch hitting for the pitcher O'Leary
who had a great night on the hill.
Cahill's career has been in decline
I'd say, for the past several years.
Big Daddy used to be quite a player
back in his youthful prime.
He had power, finesse and blazing speed,
and an arm like a gun at times.
Most folks consider him Hall of Fame bound,
the all 'round best of his time.
This guy could hit 'em long my friend,
he was truly one of a kind.
I feel sad for the big fella now,
this may be the last chance he gets.
A career average over 300
600 dingers and 3000 hits,
Now he's just a shadow of himself,
no longer a dominating threat.
This could be his last season.
This could be his last at bat.
This kid Murphy is quite a young talent,
as he steps on Baseball's big stage.
A rookie phenom and premier closer,
with 10 wins and 49 saves.
He's certainly matured throughout this season,
he's cool and reserved for his age.
I'm not so sure I'd want to be him now,
I recall the jitters of younger days.
Cahill places one foot near the box,
looks 'round, leans his bat on his hip,
Murphy puts his right foot on the rubber,
drys his fingers so the ball doesn't slip.
Daddy tugs his sleeves, spits in his hands,
rubs them together for a better grip.
Murphy bends over, checks the runner,
eyes his catcher then gives his hat a slight tip.
As Cahill steps into the batter's box
he digs in like a focused bull.
He eyes Murphy, waves his bat with one hand,
across the plate 3 times full.
This is Big Daddy's calling card,
it's his traditional ritual.
The umpire holds up his right hand
and looks purposely looks toward both foul poles.
He gives Murphy the go ahead sign
than shouts that familiar "Play Ball!".
Big Daddy now crouches slightly,
bends his war worn knees.
He stares straight ahead at the pitcher,
as he looks for Murph's signature fastball.
Murphy, now ready, stands up straight,
rocks back with a slight hesitant freeze.
With hands together, he peeks at the runner,
steps forward to deliver his pitch.
His offering has a sideways rotation,
arcs slightly, then bends with a twist,
Cahill crouches then braces himself,
of course he's seen pitches like this.
Daddy cocks his bat back, just a little,
then steps forward, not expecting to miss.
A mighty swoosh is heard by the catcher,
as Vern errantly waves at the curve,
The umpire throws his right index finger up
and hollers out "strike one!"
Cahill looked like he got fooled by the kid,
he eyes him like he had some kind of nerve,
Murphy turns for the rosin bag,
the ump signals the count oh and one.
The Youngster now has the upper-hand,
I wonder what next sign he'll get?
Cahill settles in once again,
he gives his britches a little hitch,
Murphy shakes off a sign, then another,
then eyes his catcher's mitt.
He rocks and throws a fireball
as straight as it can possibly get.
Cahill swings as hard as he can,
"Whack!" the ball orbits into flight.
A hush immediately comes over the crowd,
as the whole stadium in awes the sight.
The umpire throws away his mask
and watches the high flying kite.
It sails down the right field line
then curtails suddenly right.
The ump waves his hands like he's directing a plane,
"Foul" he vehemently calls.
Well my friends, Vern made his point,
he almost ended it all,
He walks back to the box, tugs his sleeve,
then picks up his bat.
Murphy, now shook, steps back on the mound,
takes a breath and adjusts his hat.
The crowd's now into it, the tension's tight,
the whole stadium's at a buzz,
All camera's are focused on Daddy and Murph,
they're being cheered now by their teammates, too.
I tell you what, this sure is exiting,
the air's thick as it ever was.
Both men take their places, get ready again,
while the umpire flashes oh and two.
Once again, Cahill digs right in,
trying to estimate Murphy's next pitch.
The young pitcher, now, not quite as cool,
paws the rubber with his right cleat.
Daddy cocks his bat behind his head,
his right elbow gives a confident twitch.
Murphy now seems ready to throw,
as he steadies himself on both feet.
All the world is watching these two,
this is what Baseball's about.
Win or lose, both men deserve
the respect of the novice and devout.
Each can make his historic mark,
one triumphant and one without.
Let the record books show the battle,
of minds that defined this classic bout.
Murphy's body's again in motion,
this could be the deciding pitch.
He rocks back then delivers an awesome slider,
that breaks down and slides masterfully left.
Cahill loosens his body, rares back once again,
then uncorks a well-timed and mighty swing.
Simultaneously his bat collides with the ball,
as, again, Big Daddy connects.
All heads turn at once in unison,
watching the rainbowed flight.
The ball heads towards the bleachers, deep in center,
then angles a bit to the right.
At first there seems to be slight confusion,
as it disappears clean out of sight.
And then a murmur of silent commotion,
majestically crescents in the night.
Waves of cheers start to rise,
throughout the jubilant crowd,
As Daddy begins to circle the bases,
people start to chant out loud.
He looks at all their delirious faces,
feels complete and humbly proud.
He touches home plate, embraces the moment
then is mobbed as emotions abound.
What a magical ending to a storied career,
This is one for grandchildren chat.
An aged old pro, along in his years,
pulled a rabbit out of his hat.
On a cool Fall night, in his quiet hometown,
In a series he could have just sat.
A hero emerged in the bottom of the ninth,
A legend in his final at bat.
Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney
km021
102009
