Around The Horn

Ernest L. Thayer wrote “Casey at the Bat” in Worcester MA, 50 miles west of Boston in May of 1888. He was the editor of the Harvard Lampoon where he was a classmate of William Randolph Hearst and George Santayana. In June of that year Hearst published Casey in the San Francisco Examiner. Many people assumed Mudville was really Boston, but the Red Sox did not exist in Thayer’s day   Now 118 years later, the ending could finally be changed. This writer was lucky enough to be part of the 36,232 in Fenway Park on June 11, 2006. When the ninth inning began, all I kept thinking about, were two lines from Thayer’s work. “The score stood four to two, with one inning more to play.” The score really was Texas 4 and Boston 2 as the ninth inning began. The other line I kept thinking about was,  “We’d put up even money now, with Casey at the bat.” With do respect for Mr. Thayer I change some of his words, and came up with a ballad that no longer was fiction called:

 
                                 Papi at the Bat

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Beantown nine that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Harris died at first, and Loretta 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 Papi could but get a whack at that —
We’d put up even money now, with Papi at the bat.”

But Trot preceded Papi, as so did Coco Crisp,
And the former was a lulu, while the latter was a wisp;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Papi getting to the bat.

But Trot let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Crisp, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Coco safe at first and Trot a-hugging third.

Then from 40 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 Papi, mighty Papi, was advancing to the bat.

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

80 thousand eyes were on him as he spat on his hands with dirt.
40 thousand tongues applauded when he clapped them in front of his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Papi’s eye, a sneer curled Papi’s  lip.

He stilled the rising tumult, even though he had strike two;
 He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Papi swung like Carbo and barely a foul tip, and the crowd all went phew
And the umpire said “You didn’t miss it, but you still have strike two!”

Phew!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered phew;
But one scornful look from Papi and the crowd said one more pitch to do.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Papi wouldn’t let that ball go by again.

The sneer has fled from Papi’s lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Papi’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 little children shout;
And there is joy in Beantown — mighty Papi has just hit one out.

I am
The Fan’s Commish
Rick Swanson

All the medical news these days coming out of Kennett Square, Pennsylvania about Barbaro gives that locale the most extensive news exposure since the days of Herbert Pennock, the man they called “The Knight of Kennett Square.”

One of the top hurlers of his time, Pennock went directly from high school to a major league debut May 14, 1912 with the old Philadelphia Athletics.

His final game was August 27, 1934.

Classy, he was a horticulturist, a breeder of red silver foxes at his country home near Kennett Square, Pennsylvania.

Pennock was known for a flowing pitching motion punctuated by fidgety movements on the mound.

He did not overpower batters. He let them hit the ball, giving up more than a hit an inning in his career.

But, he still was a big winner with this approach, notching 35 lifetime shutouts.

Legendary sports writer Grantland Rice said Pennock pitched each game “with the ease and coolness of a practice session.”

The loose southpaw was just another one of the talented players the Yankees stripped away from the Boston Red Sox. He came to the Yanks in 1923 and led the league in winning percentage (.760), the first of four over .700 seasons.

He followed with a 21-9 record in 1924, and was 59-25 in 1926-28.Yankee manager Miller Huggins called Herb Pennock the greatest lefthander in baseball history, marveling at the “Squire’s” World Series record: 5-0, 1.95 lifetime ERA.

In 11 Yankee seasons, Pennock was 162-90 for a .643 winning percentage.

In December 1943, Bob Carpenter purchased the Philadelphia Phillies. Pennock hit it off with the new owner and was hired “for life” as General Manager.

Pennock did not hit it off with Branch Rickey in 1947, attempting to block Jackie Robinson’s breaking of the color line.

Pennock reportedly had a telephone conversation with Rickey during which he said that the Phillies would not take the field if Jackie Robinson were in uniform for a series starting May 9.

It was reported that Pennock told Rickey: that you “just can’t bring the nigger here (to Philadelphia) with the rest of your team.”

The Dodgers came, and Jackie Robinson came, too.

Racial hatred was on parade at the ball park for four days. Robinson played on despite the horrid spewing of racial epithets. It was so horrific that Dodger infielder Eddie Stanky, out of Alabama, challenged all those in the Philly dugout - this within earshot of Pennock and Carpenter.

“The Knight of Kennett Square” had many marvelous and uplifting moments on the baseball field. His attitude towards Jackie Robinson was not one of them.

HF

Harvey Frommer is now in his 32nd. consecutive year of writing sports books. His “Old Time Baseball” will be published in 2006. He is the author of 38 sports books, including the classics: “New York City Baseball,” “Shoeless Joe and Ragtime Baseball,” “Rickey and Robinson,” “A Yankee Century,” and “Red Sox Vs. Yankees: The Great Rivalry” (with Frederic J. Frommer). Frommer sports books are available direct from the author - discounted and autographed.