Important note-disclosure: Credit for the inspiration, rhyme scheme, cadence and stanza strategy belongs to the late, great Ernest L. Thayer, poet-sportswriter who composed the immortal "Casey At The Bat," which reportedly first saw print in 1888.
By Cathy Harasta,
Dallas freelance sports journalist
"Cuban At The Helm"
(With apologies to "Casey At The Bat")
The big cigar that Nellie smoked
Was Cuban Thursday night,
When Golden State looked oh-so-great
And Dallas had no fight.
The Oracle exploded when
The Mavericks bit the dust.
The big palooka ended up
The NBA's big bust.
"Guard him, guard Nowitzki,"
Hollered someone in the stands.
But no one had to guard him
When the ball was in Dirk's hands.
Each time he held the basketball
And when he let it fly,
The rim would shrink to match the girth
Of just a needle's eye.
The biggest "big" was Baron D.
In a series fraught with bile.
But he had help from Dallas
And its lack-of-effort style.
And how 'bout Stephen Jackson
Scoring like Wilt Chamberlain?
And Big D fans knew then and there
The Mavs would fail again.
But the all-star goat was Cuban
Who had prodded Nellie's core
With swipes about the Nelson fade
In post-seasons of yore.
Dirk's MVP award slid south
When the Warriors proved for real.
The Mavs' demise was Cubanized,
And the team just sealed the deal.
Should Avery have suited up
To run the point himself?
Then would Big D still be alive
And not upon the shelf?
A 25-point loss is all
That Big D has to cheer
When football doesn't start again
For one-third of a year.
Across the vast North Texas plains
The Friday dawn was bleak.
But, somewhere, footballs spiraled
And the talk was Romo-Speak.
"There's justice in the NBA!"
The Cuban-haters shout.
But there is no joy in Dallas,
Dirk Nowitzki has crapped out.
_ Cathy Harasta
By Cathy Harasta,
Dallas freelance sports journalist
"Cuban At The Helm"
(With apologies to "Casey At The Bat")
The big cigar that Nellie smoked
Was Cuban Thursday night,
When Golden State looked oh-so-great
And Dallas had no fight.
The Oracle exploded when
The Mavericks bit the dust.
The big palooka ended up
The NBA's big bust.
"Guard him, guard Nowitzki,"
Hollered someone in the stands.
But no one had to guard him
When the ball was in Dirk's hands.
Each time he held the basketball
And when he let it fly,
The rim would shrink to match the girth
Of just a needle's eye.
The biggest "big" was Baron D.
In a series fraught with bile.
But he had help from Dallas
And its lack-of-effort style.
And how 'bout Stephen Jackson
Scoring like Wilt Chamberlain?
And Big D fans knew then and there
The Mavs would fail again.
But the all-star goat was Cuban
Who had prodded Nellie's core
With swipes about the Nelson fade
In post-seasons of yore.
Dirk's MVP award slid south
When the Warriors proved for real.
The Mavs' demise was Cubanized,
And the team just sealed the deal.
Should Avery have suited up
To run the point himself?
Then would Big D still be alive
And not upon the shelf?
A 25-point loss is all
That Big D has to cheer
When football doesn't start again
For one-third of a year.
Across the vast North Texas plains
The Friday dawn was bleak.
But, somewhere, footballs spiraled
And the talk was Romo-Speak.
"There's justice in the NBA!"
The Cuban-haters shout.
But there is no joy in Dallas,
Dirk Nowitzki has crapped out.
_ Cathy Harasta
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