World Series 2005 GP2K6 Food Wagers

Casey At The Bat
by Ernest L. Thayer

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 through 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 t'was 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 someone 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.

Friendly Baseball bet White Sox/Astros - CraigK Since the Chicago White Sox have been deprived of a World Series Championship since 1918 (and the Cubs even longer) and since the Astros have never been in a series before and let's just say Houston hasn't had the best of luck this year regarding weather, it is time to start meal planning for next year's GP2006, which WLL have great swell, but NOT involve Hurricane evacuations from Hurricane Zeta! The Chicago White Sox are 2-0 against the Houston so far. We soundly disposed of the Red Sox and then sent Anaheim back to choke on some more smog for the duration. Most of us up here believe in curses and are still expecting somehow that the BlackSox scandal of 1919 will come back to haunt us and the White Sox will fold --- if not surely Judgement Day cannot be far behind, but that would only happen if the Cubs win! Only my long-gone grandparents remembered a winning Chicago baseball team -- of course World War I had just ended and my grandmother was busy wrapping bandages for the doughboys. So if the White Sox do indeed lose the World Series, I will bet the following: I will provide the GP group with the following delectibles---from Chicago-- 1) Chicago baby back ribs from the South Side's best -- Robinson's Ribs 2) Several cases of the White Sox favorite brew from the land of Cheese and brats, Pabst Blue Ribbon 3) Fried Great Lakes smelt 4) Fresh Red Cabbage from Delicatessen Meyer 5) Eli's Cheese cake -------------------------------- Fans of the Astros, should they lose, will have to come up with a Houston-centric menu for the group. Interested, Griz ?? Anyway, hope you guys on the east coast will enjoy the swell from Wilma and Alpha that will come! We are having quite a nice season here in the chilly Lakes for surf. This AM air was in the 30s, but I got some clean NW swell at 2-4 ft., period of 9 seconds. Cheers, Craig	Casey At The Bat by Ernest L. Thayer 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 through 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 t'was 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 someone 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.
DaGriz replies: Damn right I'll take this bet. Menu to be determined but something along the lines of... BBQ dinner (from the following brisket, ribs, chicken, potato salad, beans, other stuff) or fried catfish w/all the fixings Shiner beer???? Caribbean fudge rhum pie Sea-ya
RickM chimes in: They make BBQ outside of NC? Huh. :) Vinegar or sauce? If we have to BBQ anything we need to make sure that the cook is back to the house early so we don't turn said meat into a giant chunk of charcoal. I'll provide the Overproof Rum.
RickM later adds: It looks like Drew is going to be manning the grill. :D My offer for Overproof Rum still stands though. What you don't drink you can use to clean engine parts with.
CraigK: Despite the fact that NO team has ever come back from a 3-0 deficit to win a world series, I would not count out any hapless Cheicago team. We have a losing tradition that goes back generations. And we are at the bottom of the "surfing hierarchy" to boot! (Although the clean 3-4 ft offshores surfed by moi this morning in 36F air ---would not be believed by youz.) Also, should I be responsible for "baseball bet evening", I have changed the menu. Doing a BBQ in the south is a little like a German who has lived in Chicago most of his life going beack to Germany and showing the Germans "his" version of Spaetzle. Therefore, I think (since it is a surf outing), it is more approprieate to feast on big Lake Superior Whitefish and Norwegian styled smoked coho salmon (also from L superior) as an appetizer. Fish boils in Door County, Wisconsin and the UP Michigan are famous in these parts! Oh and PS, the Chicago Bears enjoyed the poultry of the Baltimore Ravens for dinner. Where's Rod?
More From CraigK: As I was seated in my eL train, the train approached Addison St. Out the window sat Wrigley Field, silent and quiet. As I turned the page of the Chicago Sun Times and I saw the four words I never thought I'd see in headline print: "Chicago Wins World Series!" But there are very few long faces in Wrigleyville today! This is the best thing to happen to this city since the Cubs swept the series in---1906! And I was the first family member to toast such a win...since my great grandfather. And now I can rest up for the marathon in NYC. Now I will be savoring the taste of Texas BBQ at the GP. And the one thing I have to say about Houstonians, from all accounts I've read, they're good sports... and nice people for helping out so many of the Katrina victims. And for our next feat, perhaps the Great Lakes will produce a champion surfer! So get down from the surf snobbery mountain....because you just never know! Hey Rod, cool that you checked out river surfing. Other places I'd like to check out for surfing...and will someday, are the Caspian and Black Seas. Welcome home!
DaGriz posts Casey At The Bat (see to the left above)
CraigK graciously responds: Hey great response Drew! But how can you be in Mudville when you have a roof over the baseball field and it never gets muddy? I've always enjoyed that verse. Replace Mudville with Wrigleyville and that is how Cubs fans have felt for almost 1 century. And we have to endure the gloating South Siders now! (Chicagoan Cubs fans now say they are Bi-Soxual!) Hope everyone is getting waves. It's gettin' downright chilly here and I broke out the 5/4/3 a few weeks ago. Here's a few from the last week or so on Lake Mich. http://lakesurf.com/images/SouthEndMorn.jpg http://lakesurf.com/images/SouthEndDawn.jpg