In classical Persian poetry, there is a practice called “taqlid” – literally “immitation”. One takes either the rhyme or the meter or an actual verse of a great poem and uses it as a point of departure for a poem of his own.
The firm for whom I work just finished their softball season in the American Institute of Architects league in Houston. I went to one of their games a couple of weeks ago and it turned out to be quite an exciting episode. As things turned and given the name of the last player involved, I was reminded of the famous poem Casey At The Bat.
So here is my “immitation”:
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Stars of KHA
They were down by five to FKP, one inning more to play
But then a rally was afoot; three hits, bases loaded up
Before the Partners could catch their breath, the fourth hit cleaned them up
Then two outs, but no despair, OBP* was in the house
One swing, his screaming liner had them scurry like a mouse
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 Randy, mighty Randy, was advancing to the bat
There was ease in Randy’s manner as he stepped into his place
There was pride in Randy’s bearing and a smile on Randy’s face
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Randy at the bat
Ten thousand eyes, or just six, saw him rub 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 Randy’s eye, a sneer curled Randy’s lip
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air
Randy jumped on this very pitch, it flew to who knows where
OBP was rounding second base, a fielder made a throw
One cutoff man missed by miles, for another the ball too low
One run across and now it seemed it was all in Randy’s feet
A mad scramble for the ball ensued as Randy would not be beat
He rounded third, now Randy’s eyes were set squarely on home plate
The ball came in and could there be just one more twist of fate?
The catcher tried to make the play as dust began to fly
The umpire made the final call, “He’s safe!”, my Oh my!
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
Alas, there’s joy in Mudville – mighty Randy pulled it out.
_______
* OBP is On Base Percentage – in baseball lingo it is a combination of one’s batting average and one’s number of walks. This is Chris’s nickname because at the time he had yet to make an out the entire season.
the City 