I cannot believe the side-band conversation going on in my personal email regarding my Honorverse parody of
Casey at the Bat. I'm dumbfounded. It is completely unexpected. One girl tells me she has copied it and reads it several times a day. A few people have stated that they love my poem so much that they researched the original. They admitted to never having read
Casey at the Bat. How can anyone not be acquainted with such a stellar work of poetry? And these are Americans. Even my Romanian friends love the parody, but were already familiar with the original. They told me that the original is often used by foreigners learning English because of the precise rhymes; they know that the end words are suppose to sound alike and fluid speech can be practiced. Very informative.
A friend of mine has copied, reprinted and framed it and had me come over to sign it! He has built a man-cave with so many odds and ends on his hodge podge of an emotionally warm main wall. Friends stand around and recite the parody! Much to my embarrassment. We are all Honor fans.
Two of my friends, male and female, have expressed similar sentiments - acknowledging that they have always loved the original but being less enamored with the ending. They love my version because the 'good guys' win and it's the bad guys who have struck out.
And then there's side band analysis. My poem is being analysed like a homework assignment? Incredible.
"How expertly you used Second and Third Fleet paralleling second and third base. And in the original a favorite line is Jimmy Blake tearing the cover off the ball. You have Alice Truman's Katanas tearing the hell out of Haven's LACs. And the single missile Mckeon kept launching at Genievieve's ships mimicking the single hit by Flynn in the original..."
Listen people. I appreciate the praise, and I am in awe of your awe. But
Casey at the Bat is my all time favorite poem running neck and neck with Poe's
Raven. Every so often, I have a taste for Casey and reread it. It has endless appeal. I had reread it just days before the parodies began to post and I knew I had to use it. I also had a feeling it would lend itself well to the task at hand. I had
no idea how well. That final climactic
Battle of Manticore had so much material to use, and
Casey at the Bat stands on its on, ripe for parody. It was simply a stroke of luck on my part. A stroke of genius on the authors.
Admittedly, the only thing I specifically planned was an acceptable
good guy ending.
I
am quite pleased to have exposed a few to Ernest Lawrence Thayer's
epic poem. Epic in scope -
after all, there's an entire baseball game covered.It has gone thru several iterations in an attempt to perfect. As requested, a repost.
************Honor at the Bat*************
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Home Fleet ships that day;
The score stood four to two with but two more fleets to play;
And then when D'Orville died up first and Kuzak did the same
A sickly silence fell on most the ships that had remain'd.
A straggling few rose up to fight but only in despair,
They knew they'd only die, in haughty grandeur there.
Clinging to their stations, hope eternal in the breast;
All we need is Sally — Mander she's our best.
They thought, if only Honor could get but a whack at that,
They'd put up even credits, now, with Honor at the bat.
But Chin preceded Honor in shaping what's at stake,
When Smirnoff's LACs chimed in, holy hell had lit the cake.
Upon that stricken list of ships melancholy sat,
There seemed but little chance of Honor getting to the bat.
But 'Keon let rip a single, raised hell in Genevieve's packs
And Alice Truman's Katanas tore the hell outta Haven's LACs.
When debris had shifted, CIC plotted what had occurred
Although plenty was left of Second, just enough was left of Third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled in the quadrant, it echoed 'Oh? Do tell.'
A prayer went thru the junction and an answer came at that,
For Honor — mighty Honor, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Honor's manner as she hypered into place;
There was purpose to Honor's bearing, and scorn on Honor's face.
And when she ignored the remnants, of Third Fleet in the realm,
No single spacer could ever doubt, 'twas Honor at the helm.
Thousands counted on her as she wiped her hands like dirt
Had settled between her fingers, but the brass gleamed on her shirt.
While the cocky Genevieve placed hands upon her hips
Defiance gleamed in Honor's eye, a sneer curled Honor's lips.
The enormous salvo shot from the massive pods she'd rolled;
Genevieve said, "No worry, they're too far out I'm told."
But then Chin contemplated 'of all the lunacy in the land,
If Third Fleet was just destroyed, then who was this at hand?'
Close by sturdy Apollo, the missiles unheeded sped –
"They're much too far to reach," said Chin, "Strike one," Honor said.
From the bridges, black with people, there went up a muffled roar;
Like the beating of the bulk-heads on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill her! Kill her Honor!" Shouted someone in the stand.
And it's likely they'd a-killed him had not Honor raised her hand.
With a smile of Tester's author'ty Honor's visage shown;
She stilled the rising tumult; She bade her ship go on.
When comprehension dawned on Chin she threw a mortal fit,
"Eighth Fleet! The Salamander! Hyper Out!" she said, "Oh shit!"
The Salamander didn't linger — turned to tactical and said
"Target that other fleet, fire sixty missiles instead.
By the time they reach them, strike two, Fifth will all be dead."
The sneer is gone from Honor's lips as she pounded Fifth to its fate
There's calm and cool on Manticore, no more fighting as of late.
And Tourville's confidence is shaken as Honor lets it go;
His hopes of winning another gone, from the force of Honor'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 somewhere children shout;
Haven came to play with gall — mighty Honor struck them out.
.
and, Mangy Fur the Smart Alick Spacecat.
