Final Flight - A Baseball Poem
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell; It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell; It pounded 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 'twas Casey at the bat.
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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.
Poem Runs: Baseball Poems and Paintings
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped— "That ain't my style," said Casey. Every year I got a Mets yearbook. I'd figured out a surefire system where I mailed my request letter to what address?!
www.farmersmarketmusic.com: Final Flight - A Baseball Poem eBook: Steve deWolfe: Kindle Store. Biff, bang it, clout it, hit it on the knob—. This is the end of every fan's desire. The burden of good pitching. Curved or straight. Or in or out, or haply up or down.
Like many kids, I collected, traded and flipped for baseball cards. You'd open a pack and revel in the tactile sensation of the matte finish of the fresh cards, and then the smell of bubble gum would hit you. Christopher Bursk's wonderful paean, "The Ars Poetica of Baseball Cards," celebrates the unsung ballplayers, leveling the field, immortalizing the pinch runners, the journeymen, the Texas Leaguers, the broken-down second basemen.
Baseball may best be played when one relies on timing and instinct, not overthinking the mechanics.
Look the ball into your glove. Run to where it's hit. Each of the following two poems are used with his expressed permission and can be found in his superb book A Fury of Motion: Poems For Boys ordering details below — a Baseball Almanac favorite that belongs on every fan of baseball poetry. Boyd Mills Press Before the bayonet replaced the bat, Jack Marsh played second base for Yale; his spikes anchored into the August clay, his eyes set deep against the setting sun.
The Mighty Casey
The scouts all knew his numbers well, had studied his sure hands that flew like hungry gulls above the grass; but Uncle Sam had scouted too,. The slits of his eyes hidden in shadows beneath the bill of his cap, he watches and waits like a patient cat to catch what comes his way.
Charles Ghigna is a former poetry editor of The English Journal for the National Council of Teachers of English and has served as the poet-in-residence for the Alabama School of Fine Arts where he directed the writing program. For a complete bibliography, reviews, photos, and other information, please visit the Father Goose website and tell him you read about his poem on Baseball Almanac.
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