One of David Mamet’s most striking contributions to the theory of drama is his concept of the “Death Of My Kitten Speech.” He introduces this concept in his book Three Uses of the Knife.

A curious point comes in most plays and movies about seven-tenths the way through: all of a sudden the action stops, and the hero, weary to the bone, about to embark on the final chapter of his quest, a quest that will either show him successful or utterly ruined, starts talking to the gods.

The more amateurish attempts very often mention the death of a beloved family pet. “When I was young I had a kitten… it died.” The hero, forced to undergo a journey he didn’t choose and for which he is ill-prepared, grieves to the gods, and remembers the first moment he began to understand death.

Mamet’s point is that we, as dramatists and as storytellers, should be aware of this weakness and cut it ruthlessly from our work. That which is not relevant to the story does not belong in the story. He also speculates on the origins of this peculiar phenomenon — perhaps it is the vestigial remnant of an earlier stage of the evolution of the human mind and its capacity for following a story. Greek drama was originally a religious festival, and direct address to the gods was originally an important, even central, part of the festivity.

I wish to contribute only this observation: that the Seventh Inning Stretch is also a Death Of My Kitten Speech. In the middle of the seventh inning, we, the crowd, in one voice, rise to our feet, and confess our Love Uh Da Game.

According to baseball-almanac.com, the reaction of one early ballplayer was this:

“In the seventh inning fans all get up and sing ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game,’ and they’re already there. It’s really a stupid thing to say and I don’t know who made ‘em sing it. Why would somebody that’s there get up and sing take me out to the ball game? The first person to do it must have been a moron.” - Pitcher Larry Anderson

This is the hallmark of a Death Of My Kitten Speech. One party will almost invariably turn to the other and say, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

You may not know there are several other verses to the original song. Here is song in its entirety:

Katie Casey was base ball mad.
Had the fever and had it bad;
Just to root for the home town crew,
Ev’ry sou Katie blew.
On a Saturday, he young beau
Called to see if she’d like to go,
To see a show but Miss Kate said,
“No, I’ll tell you what you can do.”

“Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
I don’t care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don’t win it’s a shame.
For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out,
At the old ball game.”

Katie Casey saw all the games,
Knew the players by their first names;
Told the umpire he was wrong,
All along good and strong.
When the score was just two to two,
Katie Casey knew what to do,
Just to cheer up the boys she knew,
She made the gang sing this song:

“Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
I don’t care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don’t win it’s a shame.
For it’s one, two, three strikes, your out,
At the old ball game.”

– Jack Norworth, 1908