Life, 1912-09-05 · page 16 of 44
Life — September 5, 1912 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This poem by Sam S. Stinson celebrates the **New York Giants baseball team**, using the medieval poetic form of a ballade to reflect on baseball mortality and legacy. The satire contrasts **present-day Giants players** (praised for their "spitball," "fadeaway," and batting prowess) with **legendary dead or retired players** from earlier eras—Amos Rusie, "Dad" Clark, Dan Brouthers, Bucky Ewing, Gore, O'Rourke, and Connor. The refrain "Where are the Giants of yesteryear?" echoes Villon's famous medieval poem, applying its melancholy meditation on death and transience to baseball. The joke is **treating dead ballplayers with the grand, solemn language reserved for actual death**—mocking both baseball obsession and the inevitable decline of even celebrated athletes. The decorative cherub borders reinforce the mock-funeral tone. The piece appeared around **1900-1910**, when these players were genuinely passing from living memory.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ballade of the Quick and the Dead HA to the Giants of mighty swat, Of bingle, and bunt and homer gay, Who burn the bases with scorching, trot; These, are the Giants we sing to-day; The spitball gent, with his baffling spray, The portside twirler, who hurls the sphere, The peerless one with his fadeaway. Where are the Giants of yest 2 Hail to the Giants without a blot ‘To mar their scutcheon, or say them nay, The sons of Fame, whom the gods begot ; ‘These are the Giants we sing to-day. But memory harks through the ye: ‘To the bleachers’ yell and the gran For Rusie, Meekin, Dad Clark, Where are the Giants of yesteryear? so gray, ind cheer Hail to the Giants! Forbid them not. December has naught to do with May. Forget that fame is so soon forgot. ‘These are the Giants we sing to-day. Old Dan Brouthers has gone the way Of Bucky Ewing, the cannoneer, Of Gore, O'Rourke and Connor, Eh? Where are the Giants of yesteryear? LExvot,. Prince, is it true we are made of ¢ Y ‘These are the Giants we sing to- Laie “Where,” asks Fate, with a scorer’s sneer, “Where are the Giants of yesteryear?” Sam S. Stinson. comicboohte us.