Back a few years ago, baseball was going through some hard times. There were doping scandles, poor attendance, investigations from Congress and it did not look like the brains that ran baseball knew what they were doing. So I wrote about it. Of course I stole a little from Casey at the Bat but my heart was in the right place.
The Outlook isn't brilliant in Cooperstown these days:
The score shows Congress leading and players all but played.
And with Bonds under indictment and Clemens soon the same,
A sickly 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 breast;
They thought, if only Baseball could make some sense of that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Baseball at the bat.
But Mitchell named Canseco and Canseco squealed on more,
Tom Davis and then Waxman said lets even up the score;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Baseball fixing that.
But Bonds stuck to his story, to the wonderment of all,
And Clemens, though its shaky has refused to take a fall;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Pettit safe in New York and Tejada playing third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Baseball, mighty Baseball, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Baseball's manner as they stepped into the place;
There was pride in Baseball's bearing and a smile on Baseball's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, they lightly took their seat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Baseball they can’t beat.
Ten thousand eyes were on them as they blamed Radoenski;
Five thousand tongues applauded when they named Brian McMamee.
Then while Congress sat their cringing, their hands upon their hips,
Defiance gleamed in Baseball's eye, a sneer curled Baseball's lips.
And now the Congress questions came hurtling through the air,
And Baseball stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by old stately Baseball questions unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Baseball. "Strike one," the Congress said.
From the trenches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill them! Kill the Congress!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed them had not Baseball raised a hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Baseball's visage shone;
It stilled the rising tumult; it bade the talks go on;
It signaled to the Congress, and once more the questions flew;
But Baseball still ignored it, and the Congress said, "Strike two."
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Baseball and the audience was awed.
They saw Baseball’s face grow stern and cold, as they all racked their brain,
And they knew that Baseball wouldn't let that chance go by again.
The sneer is gone from Baseball's lip, their teeth are clenched in hate;
They pounds with cruel violence at the questions on their plate.
And now the Congress holds the cards, and now they lets them go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Baseball's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Cooperstown - mighty Baseball has struck out.