Trent on the Mound

Originally published December 10, 2009

Casey at the Bat vs. Trent on the Mound

from The Stigma of Juvenilia by cigmata

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood two to four with just one inning left to play.
The Mudville fans all wrung their hands for much to their lament,
In strode Wespen Falls' new closer, phenom rookie Jackson Trent.

Mudville's Bobby Cooney, often injured, overpaid,
Thrice swung and missed and the crowd hissed, dejected and dismayed.
Charlie Barrows had huge stats, lead the league in OBP,
But when crunch time came he came up lame and the strikes were totalled three.

The rookie Jackson Trent, he surely had his stuff that day:
The heater popping, the curveball dropping two feet below its prey.
Trent only needed one more out to slam the door for good,
And looking at the lineup Mudville feared that Jackson would.

In the box stood Flynn, an aging slugger with no eye.
On deck was Jimmy Johnny Blake, the king of weak pop flies.
So long as mighty Casey couldn't get a chance at that-
The fear was Casey, MVP, would step up to the bat.

 

But Flynn let fly a single, to the wonderment of all,
And on a hanging curve Blake tore the cover off the ball.
And when the cut-off man was hit, Trent saw what had occurred:
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

The Mudville fans united and there rose a frenzied yell,
For every shirtless goof to every pink-hat-wearing belle
Stood tall, applauded one and all, ceased all idle chat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was showmanship in Casey as he strutted to his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a grin upon his face.
The armor on his arm was fixed and on the ground he spat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Poor Jackson Trent stepped off the mound and tossed the rosin bag.
The cheers turned into jeers for him from those in Casey swag-
"Well this sure sucks," thought Jackson as he gripped the baseball's seams,
For it wasn't long ago that Casey batted for his team.

See Wespen Falls was small-time, the smallest payroll in the game,
And just last year big Casey left for fortune and for fame.
A year ago they proudly hung the pennant for the league,
And promptly traded all their stars, even closer Dougie Teague.

Mudville with their pockets deep and their checkbook primed to spend,
Went on a spending spree that guaranteed they would contend:
They first signed two more starters: Rick Chavez and Ike Lefleur;
They signed two guys, then signed two guys, and then they signed two more.

They spent more than the GDP of any third-world nation;
They even gave their batboy eighty grand in arbitration,
But worst of all they inked the mighty Casey, and his stats
Ensured that pitchers trembled when mighty Casey was at bat.

With no Doug Teague the Wespen bullpen had a glaring hole,
With none willing and none able to step in the stressful role,
But from the draft a twelfth round pick, the youngster Jackson Trent,
Rose quickly through the ranks as every bat he did torment.

One and all in Wespen Falls made Trent his favorite son,
When his strikeouts started piling up and his WHIP dipped under one;
The common fan of Wespen Falls who counted every cent,
Could admire and identify with the jersey that read "Trent."

But here he stood facing murderous wood and sweat dripped from his brow;
He knew that he could beat him but he didn't quite know how-
One look towards his dugout filled young Jackson with despair:
His manager was holding four fat fingers in the air!
With first base open, common sense said issue a free pass,
Trent shook his head and glared right back as if to say, "My ass!"
The catcher called for time and ran onto the pitcher's mound;
The manager came after and the infield gathered 'round.

"I should bench you and demote you and send you to double A!
For the childish disobedience that you have just displayed!
You belong on the bench in the locker room, you belong up on a shelf!
So young man, if you think you can, what say you for yourself?"

The natives grew rude and restless and the screams did shock his ears:
The lewdest names and verbal flames drenched in too many beers.
Trent closed his mind, he shut them out, looked his manager in the eye-
"Please coach, all I ask of you is that you let me try.
Just look at big cash Casey and his million dollar grinning!"
Trent's blood boiled, "Mudville is spoiled, they're too used to winning!
Their playoff spot is clinched and our season's hopes have died,
If you say so then I'll walk him," Trent took a breath and sighed-
"They play for ratings revenue, what we play for is pride."

 

The ump then joined the huddle and he did puff his chest-
"This meeting has gone on too long, now back to the contest!"
The manager nodded and gave a manly smack to Jackson's rear-
"I have no doubt, just strike him out and let's get out of here."

Trent checked the man at second and he checked the man at third,
His leg went up his foot went down and the ball hurtled homeward:
It nipped the inside corner and lit up the radar gun;
The catcher's mitt exploded and the umpire screamed, "Strike One!"

The crowds broke loose in fury and the patrons all did curse-
"Use the good eye, ump!" one said, and others shouted worse.
Then Casey fixed his helmet and Jackson fixed his shirt;
Then Casey dug his heels far in and Jackson toed the dirt.

Trent settled in the stretch, more confident than before;
He unleashed a twelve to six curveball that snuck in the back door.
All noise abated as the crowd waited for what the ump would do:
He paused for just a moment, then the umpire yelled, "Strike two!"

Casey faced the ump and yelled, "You chump, that was outside!"
"Say that again, I'll kick you out," was what the ump replied.
Casey stepped back to the batter's box, no longer with a grin,
Trent waited for his catcher's signal: hard and up and in.

 

And now the crowd is rising in support of their hero.
And now young Trent, free from fear, faces his mighty foe.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go.
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey'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 all are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey has struck out;
And in Wespen Falls the joy will soon be washed away by tears,
For one and all know Jackson Trent will be traded in three years.


(Thanks to Ernest Thayer for the original poem and to Alex Pean for naming Jackson Trent.)