I have for many a moon prided myself in sharing Ernest L. Thayer’s Casey at the Bat with whoever would listen, or wouldn’t listen, or who’d prefer not to, or who’d heard it before – I didn’t give a damn, I’d recite Casey at the slightest provocation.
I held out Ernest L. Thayer, who wrote the poem for the San Francisco Examiner in 1888, as my hero. A guy who loved baseball, who could write. I noted in a column 15 years ago that his poem, written when he was a teen-aged flack in the Examiner’s sports department and casually offered to his editor – “Use it if you want to” – put him into the Baseball Hall of Fame. I was contacted by the Baseball Hall of Fame three days after my column was published, and told that only players, managers and owners are “enshrined” in the HOF. As a matter of fact, Thayer is better than “enshrined” – a statue of his Mighty Casey graces the entrance to the Hall.
Now, the U.S. Mint is vetting baseball players worthy of having their visages struck onto US coins. I have nominated, through Scott Ostler of the San Francisco Chronicle’s sports department, Mighty Casey, with Ernest L. Thayer’s likeness in a half-tone in the background.
And in closing, I note many readers’ opinions that Scott Ostler himself be included in the Hall, as a Ford Frick Award recipient – where baseball’s writers and announcers are included (can’t use the word “enshrined,” I’ll get jumped on again!)