The outlook wasn't brilliant for the GDA that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when SCipio died at first, and Byda did the same,
A pall-like 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 Keltset could but get a whack at that--
We'd put up even money now, with Keltset at the bat."
But Doc preceded Keltset, as did also Casca,
And the former was hoodoo, while the latter a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Keltset getting to the bat.
But Doc let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Casca, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Casca safe at second and Doc a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand Klingons and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Keltset, mighty Keltset, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Keltset's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Keltset's bearing and a smile lit Keltset's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Keltset 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 Kroma dropped the tutu below his hip,
Defiance flashed in Keltset's eye, a sneer curled Keltset's lip.
And now the leather-covered Tutu came hurtling through the air,
And Keltset stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the dress unheeded sped--
"That ain't my style," said Keltset. "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 stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Keltset raised his hand.
With a smile of Klingon charity great Keltset's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the lizard, and once more the tutu flew;
But Keltset still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousand, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Keltset and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they say his muscles strain,
And they knew that Keltset wouldn't let that tutu go by again.
The sneer has fled from Keltset's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the lizard holds the tutu, and how he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
Kroma is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Keltset has struck out.
VGG Kroma...I just didn't have enough hull for the Princess Ballerina!
Topic: A Tribute to....<cough> Kroma! (Read 1168 times)