In ’75, oh, what a beautiful sight
The flight of a Spalding on an October night
The iron man Fisk hit a prayer in the air
And with the wave of his arms
He kept it fair
And with the wave of his arms he kept it fair
Now it’s ’93 and wouldn’t you know
They gave him his streak and then they let him go
Oh, the catchers, the drummers
And the anchormen
The most dependable joes that ever been
They squat at the plate
And don’t seem to mind
They don’t play the notes
But they keep the time
They give all their heart to holding the line
You never hear these guys say when
Catchers, drummers, anchormen
During lunch there’s a vendor in the park
Taps the day away and heads home by dark
Said he played the skins in a Motown band
At the Newport Jazz shook Buddy’s hand
At the Newport Jazz shook Buddy’s hand
Now he says he hears his songs all the time
But the way they signed ‘em
Then he don’t see a dime
Chorus
Everyone knows a catcher doin’ good
And we all have a drummer
In our neighborhood
They’re the silent support
They’re the odd men out
They’re the anchoring point
You don’t hear about
In ’75, oh, what a beautiful sight
The flight of a Spalding on an October night
The iron man Fisk hit a prayer in the air
And with the wave of his arms
He kept it fair
And with the wave of his arms
Chorus
Mike Clem © 1995 J. Fish Music/ASCAP