I looked over at Coach Colbrunn. and he gave me the nod to go ahead and
hit. This was exactly like "Casey
at the Bat." Casey had let the first two pitches go by and he swung on the
third. Like Casey, I clenched my teeth in cruel hatred, and I pounded the bat
violently on the plate (hard to do if you're a dog), envisioning the glory and
the liver snacks that would soon be mine.
But then...oh the horror
of it all... I remembered the rest of the poem. Casey struck out! In the last
line of the poem, mighty Casey struck out. My heart was filled with dread such as I'd
never known. What if I, too, struck out? I froze.
There was no time to
think. The pitcher threw a thunderous fast ball and his aim was true. I swung.
As in the poem, the air was shattered by the force of my bat on the ball. (My
teeth were a little jarred as well in spite of the mouth guard.)
The crowd was cheering
and chanting, "Go Sox, Go Sox, Go Sox." And then suddenly they switched:
"Go Molly, Go Molly, Go Molly."
"The ball is flying. My goodness, that dog is all
heart. You should have seen the force she let loose on the ball! The crowd is
hysterical. You can't imagine the crying and the screaming. The ball is high up
in the air. It's going... it's going... it's going... and it's gone - A home
run! The Sox win five to four. What a thrilling ending to a game! Red Sox fans
are going to remember this play for a long time."
I pranced around the
bases for the winning run; then I trotted up to the mound and gave the pitcher
a nice lick on his nose to make sure there were no hard feelings.
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