Lyrics:

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 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 each have a drummer
In the 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