JJ on the court to the sound of Casey At The Bat
by Ernest L. Thayer  (re-write Jason Ryals)

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Kville five that day,
As the score stood they were down within only minutes left to play.

And then when Demarcus got rejected and Paulus did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the Duke fans of the NCAA.

A straggling few got up to go in a deep despair.
The rest clung to that hope which springs eternal in the air.
They thought, "if only JJ could hit a three.
We'd put up even money now, with JJ on the bench."

But Sheldon preceded JJ, by dropping a few more home;
and the hook shot, while the latter was a dunk.

So upon that stricken multitude, grim melancholy sat;
for there seemed but little chance of JJ getting his chance.

But McRocberts left his feet with a driving dunk.
And an Alley-oop from Paulus, left little doubt.

And when the sweat had lifted,
and men saw what had occurred,
there was Duke up by 4, but only 2 minutes left to play.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;

it pounded through on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat;
for JJ, mighty JJ, was back on the court not to be left out.

There was ease in JJ's manner as he stepped to the free throw line,
there was pride in JJ's bearing and a smile lit his coach's face.

And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly tossed his jumper,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt t'was JJ, but not is this town .

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with sweat.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped it on his shirt.

Then, while the writhing opponent dropped the ball through net,
defiance flashed in JJ's eye, his team was down a net.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
and JJ stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.

Close by the sturdy ball player the ball unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said JJ.

"Clunk!" the sound it made, a foul there was not called.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.

"Kill him! Kill the Ref!" shouted someone on the stand,
and it's likely they'd have killed him had not K raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity, great JJ's visage shone,
he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on.

He signaled to the bench, and once more the dun sphere flew,
but JJ still ignored it, and the ball was swatted back.

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from JJ and the audience was awed.

They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
and they knew that JJ wouldn't let that Tourney go down again like that.

The sneer has fled from JJ's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate.
He pounds, with cruel violence, the ball on the court.

And now the opponent holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now the air is shattered by their opponents mighty free throws.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright.
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And, somewhere men are laughing, and little children shout,

but there is no joy in Kville --
mighty JJ was shut out.