!Defeat Snatched from the Jaws of Victory¡


Image derived from: www.lowbird.com (original)
Original image found & inspiration provided by Sofia Ajram.
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Texas Rangers today;
The score stood six to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Elvis died at first, and Josh 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 Cruz could get but a whack at that –
We’d put up even money, now, with Cruz at the bat.

But Beltre preceded Cruz, as did also Michael Young,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was well, young;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Cruz’s getting to the bat.

But Beltre let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Young, 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 Michael safe at second and Beltre 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 Cruz, mighty Cruz, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Cruz’s manner as he stepped into his place; There was pride in Cruz’s bearing and a smile on Cruz’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat, No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Cruz 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 Cruz’s eye, a sneer curled Cruz’s lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air, And Cruz stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped- “That ain’t my style,” said Cruz. “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 Cruz raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Cruz’s visage shone; He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew; But Cruz still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”

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

The sneer is gone from Cruz’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 Cruz’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 Texas, the mighty Rangers have struck out.

modified version of Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer, 1888
Uugh. Blah. So sad, so so very sad, my heart is sore. I just want to throw up or pound my fist thru a wall¡ Expecially after we were but 1 strike away from our 1st World Series Championship TWICE last nite. So many missed opportunities. )–; grrrrrrrrrrrrr-%$!#&%¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡1111111¡
Regardless, Congratulations and Thank you Texas Rangers for a wonderful and exciting season!  We just came up 1 strike and 1 game short.  See ya Next Spring!
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