Piazza At The Bat
It looked extremely rocky for the New York nine that day;
The score stood two to one, with but an inning left to play.
The wind was blowing lightly on the mid-September night,
And the Braves reliever, Karsay, ground the ball with all his might.
A measly few got up to go, the rest stayed in their seat,
The crowd was silent, and all that was heard, was the drumming of some feet.
They needed a miracle now, to help them get this win,
They needed a miracle now, because they were playing as bad as sin.
The scoreboard read 2 to one, right next to the apple in the hat,
The scoreboard read 2 to one, but the Mets were coming up to bat.
The top of the order was coming, and for this, the crowd let loose a cheer,
But in the Atlanta dugout, the player's faces shown with a sneer.
The lowly right fielder, Lawton, was stepping up onto the plate.
Karsay stepped onto the mound, and the crowd's faces shown with hate.
He went into the windup, and he let the ball fly,
But Lawton managed just a ground out and hope began to die.
Alfonzo walked up to the bat, and the count went 3 and 2.
Karsay was showing signs of slowing down, but still, the spheroid flew.
It was no strike, not on your life, it was way above his head.
"A walk", screamed the crowd, "Ball four", the umpire said.
The Fonz came out to be replaced by Relaford,
And the cheers were loud enough to be heard by an overhead bird.
The cheers grew even louder as Mike Piazza walked up to bat.
Karsay wiped his brow, and Sanchez shifted his hat.
Martinez dug in at first, and Giles covered the second sack,
And fear filled the outfielder's eyes, as they were told to move back.
Bobby Cox gave the sign, and Karsay gripped the ball,
He stepped onto the rubber, yet Mike Piazza still stood tall.
The ball flew through the air, but Big Mike let it go by.
"Strike One", yelled the umpire. The crowd screamed, "That's a lie".
The crowd saw his face grow cold, they saw his fingers clench,
And a cheer erupted, from his own team's bench.
Just one more pitch was what he needed, and it was exactly what he got,
Karsay threw the ball, and he smashed it into a little dot.
It went up... up... away, into the sky, soaring really high,
And immediately, the fans knew you could kiss it, "good-bye".
Relaford crossed the plate, and Piazza touched the last base.
The crowds cheered with joy, and a grimace filled Karsay's face.
Ventura took strike three, and Shinjo grounded out,
But Benitez finished up the ninth, to make Brave players pout.
Oh, somewhere out there, the sun is shining down.
Somewhere, people cheer, parading through the town.
In New York, all people cheer, from adults to a little tyke,
But there is no joy in Atlanta, since the big homerun by Mike.
It looked extremely rocky for the New York nine that day;
The score stood two to one, with but an inning left to play.
The wind was blowing lightly on the mid-September night,
And the Braves reliever, Karsay, ground the ball with all his might.
A measly few got up to go, the rest stayed in their seat,
The crowd was silent, and all that was heard, was the drumming of some feet.
They needed a miracle now, to help them get this win,
They needed a miracle now, because they were playing as bad as sin.
The scoreboard read 2 to one, right next to the apple in the hat,
The scoreboard read 2 to one, but the Mets were coming up to bat.
The top of the order was coming, and for this, the crowd let loose a cheer,
But in the Atlanta dugout, the player's faces shown with a sneer.
The lowly right fielder, Lawton, was stepping up onto the plate.
Karsay stepped onto the mound, and the crowd's faces shown with hate.
He went into the windup, and he let the ball fly,
But Lawton managed just a ground out and hope began to die.
Alfonzo walked up to the bat, and the count went 3 and 2.
Karsay was showing signs of slowing down, but still, the spheroid flew.
It was no strike, not on your life, it was way above his head.
"A walk", screamed the crowd, "Ball four", the umpire said.
The Fonz came out to be replaced by Relaford,
And the cheers were loud enough to be heard by an overhead bird.
The cheers grew even louder as Mike Piazza walked up to bat.
Karsay wiped his brow, and Sanchez shifted his hat.
Martinez dug in at first, and Giles covered the second sack,
And fear filled the outfielder's eyes, as they were told to move back.
Bobby Cox gave the sign, and Karsay gripped the ball,
He stepped onto the rubber, yet Mike Piazza still stood tall.
The ball flew through the air, but Big Mike let it go by.
"Strike One", yelled the umpire. The crowd screamed, "That's a lie".
The crowd saw his face grow cold, they saw his fingers clench,
And a cheer erupted, from his own team's bench.
Just one more pitch was what he needed, and it was exactly what he got,
Karsay threw the ball, and he smashed it into a little dot.
It went up... up... away, into the sky, soaring really high,
And immediately, the fans knew you could kiss it, "good-bye".
Relaford crossed the plate, and Piazza touched the last base.
The crowds cheered with joy, and a grimace filled Karsay's face.
Ventura took strike three, and Shinjo grounded out,
But Benitez finished up the ninth, to make Brave players pout.
Oh, somewhere out there, the sun is shining down.
Somewhere, people cheer, parading through the town.
In New York, all people cheer, from adults to a little tyke,
But there is no joy in Atlanta, since the big homerun by Mike.
