Falcons Forum

The Outlook wasn't brilliant for the Falcon nine that day:
The score stood six to three, with but one inning more to play.
When the leadoff died at first, and the next man did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, if only Junior could get but a whack at that -
We'd put up even money, now, with Junior at the bat.

But Ash preceded Junior, as did also Perry F,
And the former wasn't BooBoo and the latter wasn't Chef;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Junior getting to the bat.

But Ash let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Perr, the much belov-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Perry safe at second and Ash a-hugging third.

Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Junior, mighty Junior, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Junior's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Junior's bearing and a smile on Junior's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Junior at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Junior's eye, a sneer curled Junior's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Junior stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped-
"That ain't my style," said Junior. "Strike one," the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And its likely they'd a-killed him had not Junior raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Junior'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 Junior still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Junior and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Junior wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Junior's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Junior'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;
But there is no joy in Whitby - mighty Junior doubled out.

(With Thanks to Ernest Thayer)

Well it wasn't exactly like that, but like the Mudville Nine, the Falcons went down in the playoffs losing the first game to Rebels by a score of 11 - 9, beating the A's in the second game by a score of 20 - 5 and falling short against Mayhem by a score of 6 - 3 bringing a great 2010 season to an end.