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The Twilight Zone Review: The Mighty Casey

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By William Kozy

At bat this week is “The Mighty Casey” which avoided getting shut out, receiving only 3 votes in the survey that asked “What is your favorite episode of the original Twilight Zone series?” This put it in a tie with 6 other episodes for 133rd thru 139th place—too many games out of first place to make the postseason. Based on one of Serling’s own plays, written before “The Twilight Zone”, “The Mighty Casey” gets a bad rap from many fans; you’ll often see it mentioned as one of the least favorite, and although it indeed commits many errors, I find myself appreciating in some small measure, its lightness. Few episodes flit by as quickly. When it’s over you almost want to check the running time because it feels so short, but sure enough it’s just as many innings as the other episodes.

It’s got a very good premise to start with that raises questions about artificial intelligence and its role alongside humans as AI continues its march toward physicalization in the form of robots. We’re not so far as many assume when it comes to computers thinking like humans. In “The Mighty Casey” we see an example of that line blurring.

The story opens with manager “Mouth” McGarry (the ever-reliable Jack Warden) looking on at the sorry state of his team, the fictional Hoboken Zephyrs, as they hold a practice. Although there never has been an MLB team that called Hoboken its home city, the episode pays homage to Hoboken for being the birthplace of baseball. Historians cite Elysian Fields in Hoboken as being the locale of the start of organized baseball. Back in 1846, The New York Nine took on the Knickerbocker Club in a game and from there, its popularity grew quickly with over 10,000 attendees at games during the 1860’s.

But this Hoboken squad here has McGarry dismayed. They look sloppy and not even in the best health as one pitcher limps after every toss. McGarry and the team’s general manager have a contentious discussion in the dugout over the sorry state of the team, and this being one of the comedic episodes, there are a lot of humorous barbs batted back and forth. Some of the jokes actually land fairly well, but some of them don’t. That’s a trend that the whole of the episode follows.

A phone calls comes in to the dugout with word that a new pitcher has come to try out. A nebbishy Dr. Stillman appears (he’s “still” a “man”), but he is representing a ball player named Casey, who is not. Stillman introduces the quiet Casey who gives a bone-crushing handshake to McGarry while wearing an odd facial expression that the actor will use throughout—curling his lower lip up underneath his upper lip. Admittedly, it does lend an infantile vibe to the character, who after all, is only three weeks old, as Dr. Stillman explains to McGarry. Stillman confesses that Casey is a robot that he has created, and shows McGarry the blueprints.

But McGarry soon becomes a believer when the two men observe Casey’s uncanny pitching prowess. Filmed at the minor league Los Angeles Angels’ Wrigley Field (with California palm trees and mountains in the distant background that exist nowhere near Hoboken) Casey whiffs the batters with blazing fastballs, a curve ball (that moves more like an insane knuckleball) and a “slow ball” which I suppose is his change up, complete with extra long slide whistle sound effect. Hey, it’s a comedy.

Cut to: The team takes the field for a real game. The stands are crowded, and Casey is pitching. As McGarry and Stillman watch, the doctor answers McGarry’s “What’s in it for you doc?” by telling him, “Just scientific, really. Purely experimental.” He tells him its an acid test to see if he has indeed created a sort of superman, and he chose the worst team in baseball, to see if Casey can turn them around. McGarry’s umbrage at this feels unduly pissy: “Thanks a lot doc. Ya gotta lottta class.”

The obligatory passage of time montage of newspaper headlines announces the Zephyrs’ streak of wins as they climb up in the standings. But then Casey is injured, and is taken to the hospital for examination. The team physician says Casey will be fine. Everyone exhibits relief at the good news, but as the doctor continues his check-up on the Casey, he trails off in mid-sentence, puzzled that he can’t detect a pulse. (There is a hilarious performance by TZ alum Sydney Pollack in the film “Death Becomes Her” as he plays a doctor perplexed by the same observance. Pollack’s reaction is terrific). McGarry tries intervening but he’s too late and the doctor tells them that Casey doesn’t seem to have a heart. Stillman tells McGarry the truth will have to come out now, and he tells the assembled that Casey is a robot. The doctor announces that he has to tell the commissioner about this, and McGarry tells the bedridden Casey, “Casey, move over.” It’s a funny joke, but no one’s in the mood.

We cut to the baseball commissioner reading from the rule book that “a team shall consist of nine men. End of quote!” and he shuts the book hard. “Men! Understand? Not robots.” Casey is suspended. The GM and McGarry plead their case, but the commissioner counters, “How could he be human without a heart?”
McGarry: “Beasley hasn’t got a heart either and he owns 40% of the club.” That line lands nicely.

Stillman rises up and says, “Suppose we gave him a heart.” He follows up with an offer to make a heart for Casey. Since that was the commissioner’s sole/soul argument, he relents and checks in with Casey, asking “You wanna play?” Of note is that behind Casey’s head on his bed’s headboard is an oil can like the one in “The Wizard of Oz” used to oil the Tin Man, who also sought a heart. McGarry interjects again, “Of course he wants to play.” Clearly, it means more to him than anybody else involved. In looking to the physician for guidance, the commissioner is told, “He had me fooled even without one.” In a conciliatory compromise that allows him to pass the buck, the commissioner says “With a heart I’ll give him a temporary okay until the league meeting in October. Then we’ll have to take it up. Oh, the other clubs are going to scream bloody murder.”

We next see the team in the locker room, but they seem down. That’s because Casey isn’t there and Beasley is having trouble reaching Dr. Stillman on the phone. They assume the operation must still be underway. The comparatively heartless McGarry huffs, “What’s the matter? He can’t use one hand to pick up a phone?” He can’t wait any longer and gets up to give his pep talk. It’s peppered with the usual clichés as he holds court, and right in the middle of it Casey enters the room. In mid sentence, when McGarry sees him, he off-handedly says, “Hi Casey” and continues before doing the double take. Warden is good enough, but I would have liked to see Vincent Gardenia play the role, who so wonderfully and hilariously played the baseball manager in the funny baseball tearjerker “Bang The Drum Slowly.”

McGarry is elated of course and so is the team as they rush up to greet Casey, including according to imdb, an uncredited Dom DeLuise (I assume they mean the actor at the 19:25 mark pushing his way past the others to shake Casey’s hand). McGarry tells Casey to suit up for the game, handing him his uniform with the National League 75th anniversary patch on the left sleeve, which marks this story as taking place in 1951.

But just as Jack Warden’s James A. Corry has his heart broken over a robot in the TZ episode “The Lonely”, here Warden’s McGarry has his heart broken by Casey the robot, who ironically has found his own heart. The Zephyrs got thrashed terribly by the Giants. Casey pitched terribly, because in his new incarnation he “just couldn’t strike those poor fellows out. I didn’t have it in me to do that. To hurt their feelings. I felt compassion.”

Casey gives a fond goodbye to the disconsolate McGarry, and Dr. Stillman slides Casey’s blueprints over to him offering, “A little memento might cheer you up.” McGarry picks them up and in a nicely played and timed reaction Warden looks them over with a slowly rising comprehension. He goes running out, calling after the doctor and we cut to a wide angle long shot from high in the stadium of McGarry catching up to Stillman, presumably to pursue the idea of building another Casey. Serling’s closing narration has a mysterious and playful tone that is just right: “There’s a rumor, unsubstantiated of course, that a manager named McGarry took them to the West Coast and wound up with several pennants and a couple of world championships. This team had a pitching staff that made history.” Little did Serling know that just one year after this episode aired, The Brooklyn Dodgers who had just moved to the West Coast would field a team of Hall of Fame pitchers Sandy Koufax Don Drysdale (and possibly Johnny Podres if he gets voted in next year) and Hall of Fame centerfielder Duke Snider. That team won three pennants (1963, 1965, 1966) and two World Series (1963, 1965).

I rate this episode 5 hits.

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