Since 1888 Thayer’s poem,
“Casey at the Bat”
has been lauded as the
pinnacle of baseball despair.
Give me a break.
Casey, it’s just one strike out,
and there is always
another game tomorrow.
And come to think of it,
what’s the size of Mudville anyway
when compared to New York Mets’
million of of fans who wailed
when their beloved team lost
three games in a row to
the powerful Tampa Bay Rays.
No joy, but serious depression.
How many fans ran to their analyst?
Yes, I know it is a long season,
but I lack the patience
to endure losing streaks, even
they are only three games.
(New Yorkers are notoriously
impatient – they want to be
guaranteed victory every day.)
I only hope my Mets
don’t continue lo lose,
or I will be forced to write
my own poem of diamond
anguish and heartbreak.
Maybe this is it.