stephen flaherty - what a game lyrics
father (spoken):
you’ll like baseball. it’s a civilized pastime
father:
in a world gone mad
there is comfort to be had
in the game father played at school
men of cl-ss
competing on the gr-ss
where sportsmanship
and fellowship
and courtesy are the rule
umpire
play ball!
(the polo grounds. a game is in progress. the stands are packed with raucous fans from all walks of life. father and the
little boy are conspicuous. so is father’s uneasiness the noisy, sweaty, raucous people around him. they are not father’s
kind at all. in the excitement, one fan even throws one arm around father’s shoulder.)
giants fans
ain’t this the kind o’ weather
braves fans
for smackin’ leather
giants fans
for playin’ baseball
all
the kind o’ weather makes a man
hit like h-ll!
(hock, spit)
fan #1
let’s go, you sons o’ b–ches!
fan #2
let’s see some pitches!
all
let’s play some baseball!
fan #3
the kraut is strikin’ out again!
fan #4
schmidt, ya smell!
(hock, spit)
braves fans
the giants haven’t got a prayer
giants fans
aah, yer underwear!
braves fans
up yer alley!
all
go back to where yer mother once came!
(all make some rude gestures.)
hit that ball!
fan #5
run, you b-st-rd!
all
hit that ball!
fan #6
k!ll the kraut!
all
what a game!
(hock, spit)
fan #2 (calling to field)
hey, schnabel! take your head out of your -ss!
(to the little boy)
i guess that’s telling him, huh?
the little boy
hey, schnabel! take your head out of your –!
(father firmly clamps his hand over the little boy’s mouth.)
father
at harvard
we were gentlemen
men were gentlemen
everyone else
so’s yer sister!
father
we called each other “mister”, and…
fans #5 & #7
doyle, ya suck!
father
don’t listen!
our games were very quiet
we’d never riot, we’d…
fans #4, #8, & #9
eat that baseball!
father
the worst we ever said would be…
fans #3 & #6
run, ya schmuck!
father
don’t listen!
now there’s this noisy rabble
this foreign babble
who let this happen?!
there’s hardly one american name!
fan #10
yah, herzog!
all
hit that ball!
fan #11
stupid polack!
all
hit that ball!
fan #8
k!ll the kike!
all
what a game!
(hock, spit)
it’s braves and giants, two to two
the pitcher’s name is hub purdue
jack murray’s now
up at bat…(ball crack)
(the little boy stands up. he knows what will happen next. father realizes with a start the ball is coming right at them
the little boy holds up his hand and catches it.)
all
my god, would somebody look at that!
ain’t this the kind of weather
to get together and
fan #6
bash his t–th in!
all
the kind o’ weather makes a man
hit like h-ll!
(the fans fight.)
all
a fine, upliftin’ atmosphere
bring yer children here
teach them baseball
the game all true americans
do d-mn well!
it’s like the const-tution
the inst-tution
of dear ol’ baseball
where every man is treated the same!
k!ll that mick!
fan #1
run, you polack!
all
strike the kike!
fan #2
k!ll the kraut!
all
what a…
what a…
what a…
the little boy
up yer alley!
father
sshh, edgar!
all
game!
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