What a Game

Lyrics

[FATHER, spoken] You'll like baseball. It's a civilized pastime.  (sung) In a world gone mad There is comfort to be had In the game Father played at school Men of class Competing on the grass Where sportsmanship And fellowship And courtesy are the rule [UMPIRE, spoken] Play ball! [GIANTS FANS] Ain't this the kind o' weather [BRAVES FANS] For smackin' leather [GIANTS FANS] For playin' baseball [FANS] The kind o' weather makes a man Hit like hell! *Hock, spit* [FAN #1] Let's go, you sons o' bitches! [FAN #2] Let's see some pitches! [FANS] Let's play some baseball! [FAN #3] The Kraut is strikin' out again! [FAN #4] Schmidt, ya smell! [FANS] *Hock, spit* [BRAVES FANS] The Giants haven't got a prayer [GIANTS FANS] Aah, yer underwear! [BRAVES FANS] Up yer alley! [FANS] Go back to where yer mother once came! Hit that ball! [FAN #5] Run, you bastard! [FANS] Hit that ball! [FAN #6] Kill the Kraut! [FANS] What a game! *Hock, spit* [FAN #2] Hey, Schnabel! Take your head out of your ass! I guess that's telling him, huh? [LITTLE BOY] Hey, Schnabel! Take your head out of your— [FATHER clamps his hand over LITTLE BOY'S mouth.] [FATHER] At Harvard We were gentlemen Men were gentlemen [FANS] 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 here's this noisy rabble This foreign babble Who let this happen? There's hardly one American name! [FAN #10] Yah, Herzog! [FANS] Hit that ball! [FAN #11] Stupid Polack! [FANS] Hit that ball! [FAN #8] Kill the Kike! [FANS] What a game! *Hock, spit* It's Braves and Giants, two to two The pitcher's name is Hub Perdue Jack Murray's now Up at bat... *Ball crack* [LITTLE BOY stands up. He knows what will happen next. FATHER realizes with a start the ball is coming right at them. LITTLE BOY holds up his hand and catches it.] [FANS] My God, would somebody look at that! [FATHER, spoken] My son! [FANS] Ain't this the kind of weather To get together and [FAN #6] Bash his teeth in! [FANS] The kind o' weather makes a man Hit like hell! A fine, upliftin' atmosphere Bring yer children here Teach them baseball The game all true Americans Do damn well! It's like the Constitution The institution Of dear ol' baseball Where every man is treated the same! Kill that Mick! [FAN #1] Run, you Polack! [FANS] Strike the Kike! [FAN #2] Kill the Kraut! [FANS] What a— What a— What a— [LITTLE BOY, spoken] Up yer alley! [FATHER, spoken] Edgar! [FANS] Game! *Hock, spit* Yeah!