Cleats to clay 
60 feet 6 inches 
Low and away 
Or high and tight clear the benches 
The sniper takes the hill 

He Eyes his prey
Over Leather horizon 
It’s a guarantee 
If they’re leaning they’re dying
When he turns to deal 

And It’s not for the money 
It’s not for the crowd 
It’s not so they remember his name
The grit in his eye 
And that never say die  
Is for the love of the game

Snap and spin 
Late break off the table 
Their only chance at all is
to foul it off if their able 
Chances are they can’t 

4 Seam flame 
Nibbles the Edge of the zone 
Circle change 
They’re as good as gone 
Before it leaves his hand 

And It’s not for the money 
It’s not for the crowd 
It’s not so they remember his name
The grit in his eye 
And that never say die  
Is for the love of the game

But There’s only so many innings
In one elbow
He can feel his starting to give 
He should probably take some off 
But the tying run’s on second
And this is the payoff pitch 

So whether it takes ice
Or a surgeon
Or even if it is never again the same   
in this war of attrition 
He’ll leave em Swinging and missing 
sharing mighty Casey’s fate