"Mighty Casey" Brian Kavanagh Casey, 1859-1946 , Amarillo, TX - Statues of Historic Figures on Waymarking.com

"Mighty Casey" is a bronze sculpture of the
legendary baseball player in Ernest Lawrence Thayer's
poem "Casey At The Bat". The pose depicts the overly
confident Casey allowing two strikes to pass as he
leans on his bat. The team's name "Mudville" is
sculpted across the back of the uniform.
Casey is standing on a bronze circle of ground with
a portion of home plate in front of him.

The character of Casey proved so popular in the American imagination that the library of Congress assigned him a first and middle name and a birth and death date; all books about the poem and single volume versions of the poem published in the U.S. should include the subject heading "Casey, Brian Kavanagh, 1859-1946 Poetry."
The poem is about a baseball team from the fictional town of Mudville, which is losing by two runs with two outs in their last at bats, but might win "if only" the team could somehow get "mighty Casey" up to bat. Two weak hitters manage to get on base, and Casey comes to bat with the tying run in scoring position. However, the overconfident Casey strikes out, ending the game and sending the crowd home unhappy.

The poem is filled with references to baseball as it was in 1888, which in many ways is not far removed from today's version of the game. Casey, Mudville's star player, is beloved by the fans and so confident in his abilities that he doesn't swing at the first two pitches, both strikes. As a work, the poem encapsulates much of the appeal of baseball, including the involvement of the crowd.

Life-size: 7'
The surprise ending made "Casey at the Bat" one of the most beloved sports poems in history and became the cornerstone for many other works, some of which reside at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown. A copy of the score of composer William Schubert's 1975 musical, "Casey," as well as numerous books and paintings about the poem are in the Hall of Fame's extensive collections.
Artist is Mark Lundeen.

Poem
Casey at the Bat
By Ernest Lawrence Thayer
Taken From the San Francisco Examiner - June 3, 1888


Casey At Bat 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 pall-like 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 but get 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 hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat;
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

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

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on 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 lit 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 flashed 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 some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere 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 has fled from Casey's lip, the 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 little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.

URL of the statue: [Web Link]

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