McGwire Has Poetic License

“There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped up to his place;

“There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face,

“And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed 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 applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.

“Then, while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip

“Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip. “

****

It has been called “the grand old poem for the grand old game,” baseball’s signature muse.

It’s as valid today as it was 110 years ago this month when it was first published in the San Francisco Examiner.

Today’s Casey is the Rt. Honorable Mark David McGwire, resident first baseman and star slugger for the St. Louis Cardinals. And all of baseball.

He’s the prototypal Casey, everything but the sneer upon his lip. If you sent to Central Casting for a Casey at the Bat, they would send you Mark McGwire. If you could build one from scratch, you would come up with Mark McGwire. He’s that ever-lovin’ cliche--what Baseball is all about.

He couldn’t be anything else. Look at him: 6 feet 5, 250 pounds, big smile, python biceps, red hair, he radiates strength and power. Babe Ruth II.

The thing about this Casey is, he has the mythic presence. A lot of the record homer-hitters didn’t. Roger Maris, for example. Maris hit more homers in a season, 61, than anyone, but he never really scared a pitcher. He never hit 40 homers in any other season and he hit more 315-foot home runs over Yankee Stadium’s inviting 298-foot right-field fence than any slugger ever did.

Fame frightened Maris. Ruth dined on it. Oddly enough, the only slugger I ever saw who would have fit as comfortably in it as Ruth was the late amiable Luke Easter. But Luke got in the big leagues too late.

How many home runs will McGwire hit this year? Would you believe 70? More? He’s on pace for 81.

Consider this: McGwire hit his 25th home run May 25. Do you know when Ruth hit his 25th the year he hit 60? June 30. Think about it. McGwire is one month ahead of the greatest cluster of home run-hitting in history (Maris played 10 more games than Ruth).

Do you know when Maris hit his 25th in the year he hit 61? June 19. Maris hit his 25th in his 63rd game. McGwire hit his in his 49th.

Nor is he aiming at a friendly defenseless fence. Busch Stadium is an adult, unforgiving complex--330 feet down the lines, 402 to dead center and a daunting 372 in the alleys. Of course, when a ball meets McGwire’s bat, it will go not only out of Fenway Park, it will go out of Yellowstone.

McGwire’s credentials are impeccable. He has hit more than 50 homers twice. Last year, he hit 58. Only four players in history have hit that many, Ruth (twice), Maris, Jimmie Foxx and Hank Greenberg.

Ironically, because he was traded, McGwire’s 58 didn’t win a league title. His 58 would have been an all-time best in the National League (where Hack Wilson’s 56 in 1930 is the league’s top mark). But he hit only 24 in the National League, the rest in the AL before he got traded.

But Casey is at the bat in the grand old game again. St. Louis is Mudville. All baseball is Mudville. Crowds come to watch batting practice when McGwire is in town.

There’ll be joy in Mudville this year of Our Lord as the modern-day Casey breaks a hallowed record. There were frowns when Maris displaced Ruth. No one will mind if McGwire replaces Maris.

He won’t need postseason awards. He already got one. The other day, the Cardinals were playing the Giants. Bottom of the 14th, two out, nobody on, score tied. The new Casey at the bat. Does this mighty Casey strike out? Naw. The Giant manager walks him intentionally.

Now, there is a hoary baseball adage adhered to by almost all managers: Never, ever, put the winning run on base.

Dusty Baker ignores it. Two innings later, he wins the game. His strategy works.

So, do we now rework the grand old poem ending? To make it read:

“Oh! Somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright

“The band is playing somewhere and somewhere crowds have gawked

“But there is no joy in Mudville, mighty Mac has just been walked!”