Casey at the Bat
by Ernest L. Thayer
1888
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The
outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day,
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A
straggling few got up to go in deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast.
They thought, "if only Casey could but get a whack at that.
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But
Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake;
and the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake.
So upon that 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 men saw what had occurred,
there was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then
from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
it pounded through on 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 lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt t'was 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 flashed 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 a 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 tumult, he bade the game go on.
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere 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 has fled from Casey's lip, the 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 little children shout,
but there is no joy in Mudville -
mighty Casey has struck out.
Folks who love baseball will always remember and quote Casey, even if it's just the most famous portion of the last line. The poem is part of baseball, just as is the playing of the National Anthem or singing, Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch.
Casey at the Bat - the story
It's Saturday September 3, 1887. The Mudville Nine are playing a baseball game. It's the bottom of the ninth inning and the home team is losing 4 runs to 2 runs. The Mudville Nine need the power of their right fielder's bat to win the game.
Brian Kavanagh Casey, age 28, is a Mudville native. At the time of the game, Mudville's star right fielder has a batting average of .504 with 200 runs scored and 99 homeruns hit.
But Casey is the fifth batter due up in the inning so it isn't even certain he'll get to the plate. Especially after shortstop Scooter Cooney and first baseman Otis Barrows, make two quick outs. Casey's chances to perform heroics are fading dramatically.
But the third batter up is leftfielder Peter "Rough-House" Flynn and he hits a single. The next batter, third baseman and dance band leader James Elmer "Bobo" Blake, blasts a double.
So, yes, mighty Casey will be coming to the plate...
About Ernest Thayer
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.