Casey on the Juice

“Love has its sonnets galore. War has its epics in heroic verse. Tragedy its sombre story in measured lines. Baseball has Casey at the Bat.” – Albert Spalding

This is my modern take (my remix, if you will) on Ernest L. Thayer’s classic 1888 poem, Casey at the Bat. Anyone that takes the time to check their fantasy squad daily (or multiple times daily for you real nerds) but has never taken the 60 seconds required to read this poetic piece of baseball lore should offer up their testicles (or ovaries, ladies) for batting practice.  After reading Señor Towel’s piece, mentioning baseball’s most sacred stanzas, I got to wondering what it would be like if Casey had played in my lifetime instead of Wee Willie Keeler’s.  And I’m sorry Wee Willie but these days – chicks dig the long ball!

Casey On The Juice

Everyone remembers Mudville, and the game that went awry,

When all the fans had put their faith into that Casey guy

They thought he was their savior, the one to bring them joy

But behind all that arrogance stood a scared little boy

As Casey sauntered to the plate he gave all of them hope

But three strikes was all it took to turn him to a joke

Angry fans jeered! A lie! A fraud! Mudville should have won!

But what if Casey came to bat in 1991?

Same confidence and swagger, as arrogant I am sure

But what if this time Casey’s blood wasn’t quite so pure?

By this time big was in and Casey had fans like the Beatles

But often in the locker room he stuck himself with needles

He stared into that pitcher’s eyes, saw he was in his head

He felt even more confident, blessed by steroid’s edge

This time Mudville cheered! This time there was no excuse

Mighty Casey dropped a walk-off bomb, all thanks to the juice