Jesse at the Bat
with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Pour House ten that day:
The score stood twelve to ten, with but one inning more to play.
And then when Nick died at first, and Benji did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the drunkies at the game.

Kristen and Frace got up to go in deep despair. Abby and D West
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Jesse could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Jesse at the bat.

But Wigs preceded Jesse, as did also Josh Mosk,
And the former was a lulu and the latter's bat was lost;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Jesse's getting to the bat.

But Wigs let drive a single, to the monumental wall,
And Mosk, the much admired, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the Howzers saw what had occurred,
There was Mosk safe at second and Wiggy a-hugging third.

Then from Zim's throat there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the memorial, it rattled in the mall;
It knocked upon the Potomac and recoiled upon the flat,
For Jesse, mighty Jesse, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Jesse's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Jesse's bearing and a smile on Jesse's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he proudly pointed to his tat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Austin Sunshine at the bat.

Matty's eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Parents covered children's ears when from his mouth a cuss did blurt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into her hip,
Defiance gleamed in Jesse's eye, a sneer curled Jesse's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came lofting through the air,
But Jesse took his eye off it to spy a dog a-standing near.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded "sped" -
"That ain't Pizza Hut worthy," said Jesse. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the space near the river, green with Howzers, there went up a muffled roar, Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Come On Blue!" laughed both Mel's up on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-kept it up had not Jesse raised his hand.

With a smile of Texas charity great Jesse's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Jesse chocked up a spicy hot dog, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"HORSESHIT!" cried the maddened dozens, and Jon's echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Jesse and even Chuck was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And Justin stood there hoping that Jesse wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Jesse's lip, "LEFTY" he yells in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence the Orange Crush upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now she lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Jesse's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The Outfield is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere Kross is laughing, and somewhere Budde's motorcycle shouts; But there is no joy at the Pour House - mighty Jesse did pop out.

"Phin"