Checking in with the Cubs: Castro to Barney to Pena

While my Orioles are floundering of late, the Cubs have been on a tear. Not only have they won three of the four games I've watched over the past week but if they beat the Astros today, they'll have won five consecutive series. Not bad at all for a team that looked like it was packing it in for the season in late July.


Castro photo via Bleacher Nation

My good friend Mock, a learned man, commented on my last Cubs post with a very famous poem:

Baseball's Sad Lexicon by Franklin Pierce Adams

These are the saddest of possible words:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,

Tinker and Evers and Chance.

Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,

Making a Giant hit into a double –

Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Shortstop Joe Tinker, second baseman Johnny Evers and first baseman Frank Chance all played for what was the most recent Cubs dynasty, the last North Side team to win the World Series, in both 1907 and 1908. Probably thanks in large part to the poem, all three men are in the Hall of Fame. As an interesting historical note, these three players forever immortalized in tandem couldn't stand each other personally.

How famous is this poem? I first learned of it from my grandmother. Like most of my family, my grandma found my fascination with sports baffling. She was, however, an Illinois native and a lover of words. One day as I was surely prattling on endlessly about baseball, she gave me a playful look and said simply "Tinker to Evers to Chance" and told me about the poem.

The current Cubs infield boasts my recently-discovered favorite Cub: rookie Darwin Barney. I love a scrappy second baseman and I love a scrappy #2 hitter. Barney is both. Do the Cubs have their own Dustin Pedroia in training? Sure, why not? I don't know if I have a favorite Oriole. Forced to choose, I guess I'd go with center fielder Adam Jones.


Barney photo via Indystar.com

Watching pitchers attempt bunts pretty much every time they come up with a runner on, I couldn't help wondering about the sabermetric considerations. One of the central tenants of sabermetric philosophy is that sacrifices aren't sensible - an out for a base is not a worthy trade for the offense. But with a weak-hitting pitcher at the plate, shouldn't the team get something for the out he's likely to produce? Predictably, there's plenty of healthy debate on this very subject on the Web. Even many of the most devoted sabermetricians seem willing to concede that bunts are occasionally okay and pitcher bunts are likely to fit that category.

Baseball's a funny game to watch as a fan. It's a team game but more than with other sports, I find myself occasionally pulling for an individual player on the opposing squad. For instance, it's hard to root against a hitting streak like the one Dan Uggla (2B, Braves) recently had going. It finally came to an end against the Cubs on Sunday at 33 consecutive games. Of course, as the contest was heading into the late innings with the streak hanging in the balance, I did hope that Uggla's hit would come as a single with no one on base.

It's also difficult not to pull for a career minor-leaguer suddenly lighting up the Majors, as is the case for current Braves' left fielder Jose Constanza. Or Braves closer Craig Kimbrel whose help I really could have used in fantasy baseball on Sunday. Or Astros pinch hitter Brian Bogusevic who, with just his second Major League homer, crushed a walk-off grand slam against the Cubs last night. Of course, it's easier to be charitable when the Cubs are playing well.


Pena photo via The Ballad of Brian Wilson

I leave you with a sad story - a tale of cruelty, betrayal and woe. On Saturday, we got a lovely note from DirecTV, thanking us for being loyal customers and rewarding us with three free months of their Sports Pack. I actually laughed maniacally in the car as I pondered being able to watch the rest of the Orioles' season at my leisure. But alas, no! Out of market games are blacked out! It makes sense, I realize. They don't want you to circumvent the need to buy the MLB Extra Innings package on top of the Sports Pack. Still, it was brutally disappointing. Oh well, I was concerned that it would cut into my reading time - a worthy exchange, mind you!

Baseball in Verse: Casey at the Bat

Baseball has its own poem. How fantastic is that? Following is the text in full:


Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in 1888
by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

Published in The Examiner, 6/3/1888

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly 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 Casey could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Casey at the bat.

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into 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.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd a-killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shown;
He stilled the rising tumult; he made the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his 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 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 men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.

"Phin"

The poem is a cultural institution all its own and portrays a game which, at its heart, has changed very little over the past 123 years. As fans, we still hold out hope that the stars of our team will bail us out in the end. Still, whether because of their arrogance or the inherent injustices of the game, they fall short more often than not.

Consider Ichiro Suzuki, certainly the most dependable contact hitter of the current era, though just as surely a humbler persona than Casey. For his major league career, Ichiro has a .315 batting average, meaning he has failed to hit safely 68.5% of the time - more than 2/3. He's better in Casey's situation: .348 with runners in scoring position and two outs. But that's still a 65.2% failure rate. As outstanding as this first-ballot Hall-of-Famer is, he still disappoints the Mariner faithful far more often than not.

Following are a few pop-culture interpretations of Casey.

There's not much to offer visually here but what better speaking voice to start us off? Just imagine if Darth Vader had been the Mudville manager!



Disney's rendering



Penn & Teller take a swing