What’s-His-Face at the Bat

It was the bottom of the ninth, home team at bat,
World Championship hopes were about to fall flat.
The fifth-place hitter came up with hope in his eye,
But was quickly retired on a short pop fly.
The next hopeful batter swung, giving it his all,
But only came up with an easy, routine, ground ball.
Being down by two and two outs, no one could talk,
But suddenly the next man drew a four pitch walk.
Then every man, women and child let out a shout,
As the next batter also defied the third out.
Then all got quiet, with the pitcher due to hit,
While waiting for the decision, no one could sit.
Suddenly the crowd let loose a happy out-cry,
Their greatest slugger would give it another try.
The crowd was going wild, they couldn’t be tame,
Surely their great slugger would not lose them the game.
From the dugout, he walked, and then he tipped his hat,
But suddenly he fell, tripping over a bat.
The crowd was aghast, looking at a man once bold,
For he would not bat today, for he was out cold.
The manager searched his list for someone to play,
But he had used all but one batter that long day.
So taking his bat, covered by dusty layer,
Up to the plate walked an old, thin, washed-up, ball player.
Every single fan let out a “Boo” and a “Hiss,”
Surely the long season had not come down to this.
‘Cause up at bat, was all of baseball’s saddest case,
All the home team’s hope were riding on What’s-His-Face.
The first pitch came zipping in; it was high and tight;
Strike one, as What’s-His-Face swung with all of his might.
And now the emotionally drained crowd was split,
Half were booing, half silently prayed for a hit.
The next pitch was so very low and way outside;
But, strike two, as he tried to send it for a ride.
Now the fans were silent, you couldn’t hear a peep,
Half were still praying, half were about to weep.
The pitcher stares in, on his face a hateful sneer,
Whats-His-Face stares back, with a grin from ear to ear.
Now the pitcher with lightning speed, lets the ball fly,
Whats-His-Face swings, determination in his eye.
This historic game has been discussed to no end,
From a father to his son, and from friend to friend.
And it is still talked about to this very day,
But there’s only one man who can honestly say,
They have the greatest trophy at home in a case:
The Series winning home run hit by Whats-His-Face!
And on that great ball, his autograph you can see-
“I can finally rest easy! -Signed The Mighty Casey.”