by Joe Pacheco
The outlook was so brilliant for the Brooklyn Nine that day.
The score stood four to three with but one inning left to play.
And when Sturm died on first and Red Rolfe did the same,
A mighty expectation filled the faithful at the game.
They thought if Casey could deliver as he had not yesterday,
The series would be tied with three more games to play.
But Henrich was now batting, with DiMaggio standing by,
And there was three and two on Tommy when Casey let it fly,
And when the moistened sphere broke down upon the plate
Henrich swung and missed it — Strike Three! — the roar was great,
Except that Mickey Owen, All-Star catcher of the year
Had let the ball roll by him with no other player near.
So upon the stricken multitude a sudden panic sat,
The game had not yet ended and DiMaggio was at bat.
Joltin’ Joe let drive a single to the dread dismay of all,
And Charlie “King Kong” Keller tore the cover off the ball,
And when the dust had lifted and they looked to see the score:
New York Yankees five, Brooklyn Dodgers only four!
But Casey wasn’t finished as the Flatbush Faithful found.
The game is never over with Casey on the mound.
A walk and another double put icing on the cake.
Two more runs for seven on Casey’s last mistake.
O nowhere in the Flatlands were there eyes without a tear.
From Coney Isle to Bushwick, they kept crying in their beer.
Fourteen more years they waited for a World Champion to be crowned,
Thanks to Owen’s All-Star catching and Casey on the mound.
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