The Outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day
The score stood four to two with but one inning left to play
The visitors brought in Glen Perkins, a lefty with some heat
He struck out the first two batters and the save was near complete
A straggling many got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Looked at their phones to get the scores from the games out West.
Some thought, if only Casey could get a chance to gleam
These were fans with Mighty Casey on their fantasy team
But Duda preceded Casey as did also Eric Young
The former hacked at pitches and the latter barely swung
The sportswriters, their stories done, sat waiting, their arms crossed
Even with Casey in the hole, the game seemed all but lost
But Duda blooped a single barely over the shortstop’s head
Young’s ground ball that seemed an out was thrown away instead
When the dust had lifted, and replay had its final word
Young stood safe on second with Duda huggin’ third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell
The rest were fighting traffic in the parking lot from hell
Two men on, two men out, and everyone was hopin’
Mighty Casey stepped to the bat. But with first base open
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place
On the speakers, his walkup music, Lady Gaga’s Poker Face.
The manager went to the mound to have a little chat
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes locked on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Then he stepped out, stepped back in, picked something off his shirt
Adjusted his glove, kicked the ground, took a swing, asked for time
Stepped back out, stepped back in, looking like a mime
Only then was Casey ready to do the baseball harm
Behind him, the catcher stood and held out his long right arm
The writhing pitcher tossed a pitch that floated way outside
“What the bleep?” the fans yelled; “Ball one,” the umpire cried.
Oh the crowd did boo, and they did shout, “This is a disgrace.”
“Doesn’t he even know that puts the winning run on base?”
But without another thought, the catcher extended his arm again
One pitcher threw another ball, one warmed up in the pen
Home announcers praised the move from high above the stands
They said it’s smart to take the game right out of Casey’s hands
They didn’t seem to care about one stat writ in the scriptures
Casey was hitting .189 against left-handed pitchers
Easy ball three, easy ball four, yes, this is baseball fever.
The manager walked to the mound and called for a reliever
The Mudville skipper topped this move, pinch-hitting for his pinch-hitter
And several hundred more Mudville fans left to pay the babysitter
A wild pitch followed a walk, and then the game was tied
It went to extra innings, more people went outside
Mighty Casey was due in the 12th but there had been a blunder
The Mudville skipper, smart man he, pulled him for a pinch runner
Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright
Bruce Springsteen’s playing somewhere, and villains are contrite
Sandlerless movies are being made, and people see old friends
But there is no joy in Mudville for the game that never ends