Tuner's Rime
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Casey at the Bat -- or -- Rime of the 2017 Mariners ... 's all usually just a break here or there makes the difference between fame and just-fer-fun.
The original poem "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" speaks of a sailor (below, the 'umpire') back from an adventure. The sailor grabs a passerby (the victim-guest) by the elbow and slowly lulls him into the story, until the victim-guest buys in to the supernatural sense of foreboding. The sailor weaves a tale of a cumulative, gathering danger, which makes Tuner's little joke such a genius application for our AL enemies in 2017.
Tuner doesn't make it easy, but the Mainframe will add a few light annotations:
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I am the ascendant Mariner,
And I striketh soon of thee.
by my whipsaw arm and crafty spin,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? (1)
He looketh me with wav’ring eye—
My victim-guest stood still,
And listened like a three years' child
As the umpire spoke his ill. (2)
I flung without my iron hand,
“Where was the pitch?” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, swift-thrown doom!”
Eftsoons he striketh three. (3)
My victim-guest sat on the bench:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that umpire man,
Of the ascendant Mariner.
The inning came now to the home,
From out dugout came I
One Maniger bright, and with my might
Shot through the infield fly. (4)
The victim-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that umpire man,
Of the ascendant Mariner. (5)
Valencia came and I
Was tyrannous and strong:
I swung with my o'ertaking wings,
And wallop’d the ball er-long. (6)
My wroth was cheered, the bases cleared,
As Zunino did merrily pop
above the kirk, above the hill,
above the lighthouse top. (7)
Higher and higher with every swing,
Till over the mast at noon—'
The victim-guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the trump of doom.
My Gamelian strike into the ball,
Strong as an oxen free;
Nodding my head I swung their dread
A merry velocity
A good south wind sprung up behind;
Seagerian blast to follow,
And in every play, in daunting way,
The victim-guest did wallow (8)
With sloping soul and dipping heart,
As those pursued by dread
The foe sank fast, whimp’ring his last,
As downward aye he fled.
Thirteen to three, a mighty tree
As to a gangling sprout
I am the west divisions’ best,
victorious in the rout
The truth is here, the truth is there,
The truth is all around:
It cracks and growls, and roars and howls,
A reverberating sound
Rings out “Ascendant Mariner!”
From the crowd a joyous cry
Now all will know by bat and throw
Ascendant Mariner am I! (9)
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(1) Best personified in Ariel Miranda, it sez here.
(2) Like an SSI denizen who didn't watch the games, but once he read about what was going on, couldn't help turning the TV on.
(3) Sometimes it's difficult to tell what a Great Art-iste is trying to get at. If he's referring to the umps' lack of respect for the M's, he's got my vote again. But it would be even better as a reference to Zeus, who cracked the first lightning-bolts of warning as to the M's intentions in October.
(4) The turns of phrase here are remarkable. Tuner is an English Lit major or frustrated novelist or ?
(5) A chorus or refrain: the idea is that DaddyO didn't want to watch, but his apathy turned to unwitting fascination turned to horror turned to belief in the mystical ...
(6) Valencia?! HEH
(7) Now c'mon. Following Zunino's back-wall shot. Was that verse not killer. Give it up.
(8) This Tuner guy needs to spend his estimable time in something more productive. I think we can all agree on that.
(9) K-Pax at seven, boys.
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Jolly good shew,
Dr D