The pitching staff is questionable and Carlos Beltran won’t play (until May)
And when Reyes went out because of Thyroid and Rodriguez’s eye was pink
A pall-like silence fell upon the camp, t’was heard “they’ll drive me to drink
A straggling few got up to go in what was deep despair. The rest are heard to say,
“it won’t be as bad as last year. I’m sure they’ll win. I’m sure they’ll play.”
They thought “if only Casey could but get a whack at this team.”
Perhaps the ol’ perfessor could find a way to dream.
Casey could tell the fans why there is still hope to find
He could get the team to dare. He could get them to shine
Heck, we’d put up even money now. We would have no doubt.
We’d fill the Citi’s bleachers if Casey was in the dugout.
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he handled all the press.
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile always on his face.
When the crowd would inevitably cheer he would lightly doff his hat.
No stranger to the New York fans. Casey’s talent was a fact.
The pitchers would certainly benefit from all the wisdom he could impart.
He saw all the best come and go. He saw the worst fall apart.
The hitters would have no doubt on when they were to swing.
The players would all know that Casey earned five consecutive rings.
The outcome for the season would surely be sealed “All I ask is that you bust your heiny on that field.”
The Mets would have new direction and purpose, playing the game with renewed vigor and lust
Contending would be certain; winning all would be “a must”
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing “take me out to the ball game” and all the fans’ hearts are light,
Somewhere championship banners are hung for teams that run the gamut.
There is no joy in Queens this year, Casey Stengel isn’t on the planet.
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