The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1902-01-05
Casey Mt the Int.

It looked extremely rocky for the Boston
nine that day:
The score stood two to four, with but an
inning left to play.
So. when Cooney died at second, and Bur-
rows did the same.
a pallor wreathed the features OF the pat
rons of the game.
there the rest.
With that hope which springs eternal with
in the human breast,
For they thought: IF only Casey could get
a whack at that
They'd put up even money now. with Ca
sey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey. and likewise so
did Blake.
And the former was a pudd'n, and the lat
ter was a fake.
So on that stricken multitude a deathlike
silence sat.
For there seemed but little chance of Ca
sey's gettin' to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single" to the Won
derment OF all. .
And the much-despised Blakey ''tore the
cover off the ball"
And when the dust had lifted. and they
saw what had occurred.
There was Blakey safe at second. and
Flynn a-huggin' third.
Then. from the gladdened multitude went
up a joyous yell.
II rumbled in the mountain tops, It ratified
in the dell;
It struck upon the hillside and rebounded
on the fiat;
For Casey. mighty Casey, was advancing
10 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 DOTTED 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 arplauded when he
wiped them on his shirt;
Then when the writing pitcher ground the
ball into his hip
Defiance glanced in Casey's eye. a sneer
curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came
hurtling through the air.
An Casey stood a'watchip' 1t in naughty
grandeur there
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball I'M
needed sped;
That amt my style" said Casey. Strike
one" the umpire said.
From the benches. black with people there
went up a mufied roar,
Like the beating of storm waves on the
stern and distant shore;
xiii him, Kill the umpire!' shouted some
one 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 shope;
He stilled the rising tumult he made the
game go on;
He signaied TO the pitcher. and once more
the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored 1t. and the umpire
said Strike two"
Fraud cried the maddened thousands.
and the 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 the
ball 90 by again.
The sheer is gone from Casey's lips. his
teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel vengeance his bat
upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball. and
now he LET'S it go.
And now the air ia 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 some
where hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and
somewhere children shout.
But there is no joy in Boston; mighty
Casey has struck out.
Ernest I. Thayer.