June 3: "Casey at the Bat" Day

Today is the anniversary of the publication of one of the most popular of all American poems. Casey at the Bat was first published in the San Francisco Examiner on June 3, 1888. The author of poem was Ernest L. Thayer, a college friend of Examiner editor William Randoph Hearst. Thayer had worked with Hearst in college as a member of the staff of the Harvard Lampoon. When the poem was published it did not have Thayer's name; instead, his Lampoon nickname "Phin" was used. This lead to future disputes about the actual author of the poem.

While Thayer was certainly the writer, another man should probably be given credit for popularizing the poem. The actor William De Wolf Hopper first performed the poem to an audience that included members of the New York and Chicago baseball clubs in August 1888. Hopper's recitation was met with enthusiastic reviews, and he continued to share "Casey" with audiences around the country until it became not just America's favorite poem about baseball, but one of America's favorite poems period.

CASEY AT THE BAT

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 sickly 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 get but 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 lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy 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 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 Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose 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 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 its likely they'd a-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 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 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 L. Thayer


Today's Challenge: Step Up to Bat and Recite!
Read through "Casey at the Bat"; then, get a group of people together to do a reader's theater rendition of the poem. Get everyone involved in sharing the narrative of Casey and his hubris as he steps up to the plate, certain that he will bring victory to Mudville. Have the kids recite it before a baseball game or at a family picnic.

Quote of the Day: If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base. --Dave Berry