Cupid at the Bat

A parody of Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook’s seeming brilliant for your favorite team today!
Turn the television on and watch the home team play.
Grab a bag of popcorn. Pour some beer into a cup.
And try not to think of how the home team could mess up.

Sometimes you play against the likes of Evers, Chance and Tinker,
And the opposing pitcher’s got a fastball, curve and sinker.
But like the Mudville faithful, you have not a cause for doubt,
Until your team’s star slugger swings too early and strikes out.

When the other team is leading by a score of double digits
And their center makes your team look like band of midgets
There’s still hope to pull it off, so do not blow a gasket!
Until from your three-point line, the ball goes in the basket.

It’s Sunday afternoon and your defense is looking shackled.
And before he gets to throw the ball, your quarterback is tackled.
It ain’t over ‘till it’s over, so don’t begin to moan,
Until the other team completes a pass in your endzone.

Your country’s strongest athletes may fulfill Olympic dreams,
Let’s see how they compare to Northern Europe’s seasoned teams.
Your countrymen look good way up there in the northern cold,
Until another country sweeps the silver, bronze and gold.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the people all embrace
The news that they are winners, and that you have lost the race.
If you fall short of the pennant, then just repeat this line:
If there’s no joy in your hometown, you are still my Valentine.