Manny at the Bat

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the LA nine that day;
The score stood three to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Hudson died at first, and Martin did the same,
A pall-like 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 Blake could get a whack at that —
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."

Kemp and Manny Ramirez both preceded Casey Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, and the latter was a flake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Kemp smashed a hard grounder, to the wonderment of all,
The shortstop charged to get it, but flubbed and kicked the ball;
The throw to first went far amiss, a maddened chase occurred;
Meanwhile Kemp was rounding second, on his way to third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
If Manny could but keep the team alive for one at-bat
Then Casey, mighty Casey, would advance up to the bat.

There was ease in Manny’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Manny’s bearing and a smile lit Manny’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Manny at the bat.

And now the pitcher took the mound, saw the sign, and aimed
But Manny turned the other way, ‘cause some fan called his name
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped —
"Hey, what’s up?" said Manny. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

With a smile of foolish apathy, great Manny’s visage shone;
He told the fan “Keep quiet this time,” then bade the game go on;
He leaned in towards the plate as once more the dun sphere flew;
The ball bounced off of Manny’s toe: the umpire said "Strike two!"

“That hit me!” Manny said, “Here look, I have a bruise.”
He pointed to his foot and began to untie his shoes.
“It hit you, yes, but that’s your fault,” the umpire did state,
“You were leaning in—that wasn’t inside, it was right over the plate.”

The grin still rests on Manny’s lip, soapy water in his hair
Watching Manny strike out would more than the fans could bear.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Manny’s blow.

As the ball sails into the stands, the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing in LA, and Dodgers fans’ hearts are light,

But the happiness and ecstasy is all in Manny’s head;
There is no joy, nor a home run—Manny flied to right instead.