World Series Flashback - 1968



In 1968, Bob Gibson set the mark for lowest ERA

in the modern era at 1.12. Gibson won both the NL MVP

and the NL Cy Young awards that season, winning 22

games and pitching 13 shutouts.  Photo credit:  SI Vault

The K Record -- In one of the most brilliant pitching performances in World Series play, Bob Gibson of the Cardinals struck out 17 Detroit Tiger batters in Game 1 of the 1968 Series.  Outspoken Tigers starter Denny McLain, who had won 31 games during the season, vowed before the game that he would “humiliate” Gibson and the Cardinals.  McLain, however, ended up yielding three runs in the fourth and leaving for a pinch-hitter in the fifth.  Gibson replied to McLain’s comments by overpowering nearly every Detroit hitter, shutting out the Tigers 4-0 on only five hits, and emphatically ending the game by striking out Willie Horton for his record 17th K.

Box Scores from Baltimore

 

When I got hooked on baseball in the late sixties, there were precious few avenues by which a fan could access the players and the games.  Television coverage of the sport was sporadic at best.  An AM radio broadcast of a Major League game was constantly interrupted by fade-outs and fade-ins, and the commentary was often obliterated by the ever-present static.  A good in-depth interview of an every-day player was hard to find, since the major sports magazines focused only on the stars.  Following baseball during that time required work…but the industrious fan could always find ways to keep in close touch with the game.

Legendary broadcaster Chuck Thompson was

the voice of the Baltimore sports scene for

30 years, calling Orioles and Colts games

before stepping down in 1987.

The words of the radio announcers, when they did come through clearly, stirred the imagination, while the columns of the newspaper and magazine sportswriters brought unique perspective and wit to the fans throughout the season.  A plentiful selection of baseball books could be found in the town library for those fans wishing to explore the history of the grand game.  Most of all, that ingenious invention referred to as the box score kept every baseball fan up-to-date on the performance of their favorite players and teams.  The daily newspaper, particularly the evening edition with the late west-coast scores, became an invaluable asset to this budding fan.

I was exploring as many of these outlets as I could while I searched for a team that would satisfy my passion for good baseball, and perhaps inspire my permanent loyalty.  The National League team closest to the suburbs of Harrisburg was the Philadelphia Phillies, while the nearest team from the American League was the Baltimore Orioles.  For some reason, the Phillies did not spark my interest…their players didn’t seem very exciting, and outside of Richie Allen, they had no MVP-type superstars.  On the other hand, Baltimore boasted of not one, but two league MVPs in triple-crown winner Frank Robinson and gold-glove third baseman Brooks Robinson.  The Orioles also had one of the finest young pitching staffs in all of baseball, led by lefty ace Dave McNally and future Hall-of Famer Jim Palmer.

It took a midsummer outing with my Dad to seal the deal.  One Sunday afternoon in July 1968, my Dad took me and my brothers fishing near a south-central Pennsylvania dam.  Close by was another fisherman, who happened to have his radio tuned to an AM station in nearby York.  On the radio was the ballgame between the Orioles and the Detroit Tigers.  As a result of the beautiful weather and the proximity of the radio station, the game was coming in crystal clear.  I became less and less interested in fishing and more interested in the game as it extended into the late innings.  The announcers continued to make the point that Baltimore was closing in on the first-place Tigers, and that today’s doubleheader could vault the Orioles into second place should they sweep.

"Boog" was short for "Booger," which his father

called him when he was little, and it's always

fun to have a guy named Booger on the team.

The game was a close one, tied 2-2 going to the top of the sixth.  Orioles’ right-fielder Frank Robinson, who already had an RBI single in the fourth, smashed a one-out double off Tigers’ starter Earl Wilson to put the lead run in scoring position.  The O’s needed a clutch hit from the next batter to take the lead, and Orioles’ first baseman Boog Powell did not disappoint.  He slashed a single up the middle into center field to send Robinson home and push Baltimore into the lead.  I had never heard of this guy before, but after he drove in that go-ahead run, I somehow sensed that I had found a new hero.  This guy with the coolest of names would soon become one of my favorite players.

We stayed at the fishing hole long enough to hear Orioles’ second baseman Davey Johnson tag Wilson for a home run in the top of the seventh, and after thanking the gentleman with the radio, we headed back home for a fish dinner.  Thanks to the half dozen fish my Dad and my brothers caught (I proved a very unsuccessful and distracted fisherman that day), we had an excellent feast.  Later that evening, I tried in vain to pick up the second game of the doubleheader on the York station, and perhaps catch the final score of the opener, but could not reproduce the clear signal from that afternoon.  I would have to depend on tomorrow’s paper for the box scores.

I was thrilled the next day when I opened the evening sports section and read that Baltimore had indeed swept the doubleheader, and was now 5 1/2 games out of first place.  I followed the baseball box scores every day after that as the 1968 American League pennant race continued in earnest.  I tried to listen to the Orioles' games on the York AM station whenever I could, fighting through the static to hear bits and pieces of the action, and making sure that I knew the final score of each game as soon as it was finished.  Imagine my surprise when, on a Monday afternoon that August, I made a startling discovery.

VINTAGE ZENITH TABLETOP TUBE RADIO, K731

My mother had recently bought a new AM/FM console radio, and had set it on a bookshelf in our living room.  She was listening to a classical FM station that afternoon when I asked if I could try the new radio.  As I turned the dial looking for a popular music station, I heard the unmistakable voice of Orioles broadcaster Chuck Thompson flash by.  I quickly turned the dial back, half-expecting that what I had heard was just a commercial.  When I tuned in the station, I could not believe that I had stumbled upon an FM broadcast of the Orioles game with the Oakland A's!  It was like finding my own personal Holy Grail...a radio station on the high-tech FM band which carried Baltimore baseball games.  I listened intently as the starting lineups were recited, completely static-free and well beyond what I considered as crystal clear.

I ran to get a kitchen chair, and placed it right in front of the bookshelf.  I soon found out that the broadcast originated from Hagerstown, Maryland, and that it was clearly audible during the critically important early evening hours (the normal time that AM stations began to fade out).  I sat there riveted to the newly discovered station as Orioles took an immediate first-inning lead on a Brooks Robinson two-run homer and a bases loaded walk.  With two down, the bases remained loaded as Orioles pitcher Dave McNally came to the plate.  Not expecting McNally to do much as a hitter, I got ready to run into the kitchen for a soda.  Before I could get up, McNally blasted a pitch out of the park for a grand slam.  I jumped up and yelled as Thompson excitedly informed the listening audience that the Orioles now had a 7-0 lead.

This dominant duo put together some very impressive
numbers during their nine seasons together. In the five-year
period from 1969 to '73, Palmer (22) and McNally (19)
combined to go 194-97.

Because I was so overjoyed after that hit, my mind began to race.  What a team this Baltimore squad is!  Two MVP's!  A first baseman named Boog!  Pitchers who hit grand slams!  Five games behind Detroit for first place!  I realized at that moment that these Orioles were not just a passing fancy; I understood that I had unquestionably found my team.  Not only that, with my new Hagerstown FM station, I could listen to uninterrupted coverage of Orioles games, day or night.  I stayed in that kitchen chair in front of that radio for the next five hours, listening to entire broadcast of both ends of the twi-night doubleheader.  McNally, thanks to his excellent pitching and his five RBIs in the opener, won his 17th game of the season by a score of 8-2.  The nightcap featured a pitchers' duel between Oakland's Catfish Hunter and the Orioles' Gene Brabender, won by Oakland with two late runs, 2-0.  These games were the first I had ever heard over the radio from beginning to end.

As the season came down the stretch, Baltimore had only a few more opportunities to close on the Tigers.  After sweeping a doubleheader from the A's on August 27th, the team was four games back with a 78‑54 record.  The Orioles then dropped two in a row to Washington before their most critical series of the year - against the Tigers in Detroit.  The O's and Tigers split the first two games, but the Tigers took the rubber match behind Denny McLain's 27th victory of the season.  The Orioles began to fade after that series, finishing under .500 over their last 30 games and finally settling for second place, 12 games behind the pennant winners.

Both Boog Powell and Frank Robinson had excellent seasons in 1968, with Powell leading the team in the power categories (22 homers and 85 RBIs) and Robinson leading in batting (.268 average, which was actually very good in this Year of the Pitcher).  Brooks Robinson provided solid offensive support to go along with his unparalleled gold-glove defense at third.  Dave McNally finished the season with a 22-10 record, a 1.95 ERA and 202 strikeouts in 35 starts, statistics which may have led the league in any other year, but were not nearly good enough to top McLain's incredible 31 wins, Sam McDowell's 283 strikeouts and Luis Tiant's 1.60 ERA.  Baltimore finished with a respectable 91 wins, pretty good for a second-place team, but far behind the outstanding 103 wins of Detroit.  Despite their late-season fade, the Orioles had a core group of very talented players, and would only get better with the addition of Mike Cuellar to the pitching staff the following year.  With a team as good as this, I was sure that Baltimore would be back in 1969 with a vengeance.

I often look back with fondness on my first full season as a baseball fan.  The groundwork for a lifetime of sporting enjoyment was laid in those first exciting weeks when I began following that great Baltimore Orioles team.  The players became larger than life, through the numbers in the box scores and the veritable poetry of the radio broadcasts.  By today's standards, the tools I used in 1968 to stay in touch with the sport seem positively antiquated.  But on the other hand, hearing a game on the radio and perusing box scores in the paper brings back a certain nostalgic excitement not to be duplicated by instantaneous internet updates and high-definition cable television images.  The presentation of the game of baseball has changed by quantum leaps through the years with ever-improving technology, but the essence of the game remains the same, fueled by the power of imagination and locked in the simplicity of the past.

Photo Credits:  Chuck Thompson, Boog Powell, Zenith AM/FM Console Radio, Dave McNally and Jim Palmer, Frank Robinson.

Thanks to baseball-reference.com for boxscores and statistics from the 1968 season.

Once in a Lifetime - Rose Ties Musial

The 1981 baseball season was filled with promise for the Philadelphia Phillies.  The Phils had just captured their first ever World Series crown, and were in prime position for a repeat run with stars like pitcher Steve Carlton, third baseman Mike Schmidt, and the ever-hustling Pete Rose.  Schmidt was the defending National League and World Series MVP, and Carlton was the 1980 Cy Young Award winner, coming off a 24-win season as well as a Series-clinching Game 6 win over the Kansas City Royals.  But the sparkplug of the team, the last piece of the puzzle who finally put the Phillies over the top, was Rose.

The consummate switch-hitting lead-off man, with a career .310 batting average and .380 on-base percentage, the 40-year-old Rose was a veritable hit machine.  By the start of the 1981 season, he had recorded ten 200-hit seasons and amassed a total of 3557 hits, only 73 hits short of Stan Musial's all-time National League record of 3630 hits.  This milestone was very important for Rose; as competitive as he already was, he was about to go head-to-head statistically with some of the giants of baseball history.  Only Musial, Henry Aaron (3771 hits) and all-time Major League leader Ty Cobb (4191 hits) stood in the way of Rose's quest to become the most prolific hitter ever.   Based on his career hits per game average, Rose was projected to break Musial's record somewhere around Game #58.  According to the Phillies schedule, that game would occur on June 14th.  By then, however, the wheels may have already fallen off the 1981 baseball wagon.

The baseball season which could be the Phillies' finest ever was threatened by a universal players' strike.  The baseball owners had been complaining for years about free agency and ever-rising player salaries, even though these very same owners were essentially responsible for the record salaries and long-term contracts.  The players wanted to maintain the current status-quo, unwilling to give up the recent legal gains which brought them free agency initially in 1976.  The owners could not reign in their spending without being accused of collusion and anti-trust violations, so they sought to restrain free agency by demanding compensation for lost free agents.  This compensation plan, a demand that every top free agent lost to a team would be replaced by another Major Leaguer from the signing team, was the crux of the disagreement between players and owners.  If such a plan remained on the bargaining table by mid-June, the players would strike and there would be no baseball for the foreseeable future.

Amid the roiling controversy over free agent compensation, the Phillies started the season very well, recording 31 wins in their first 52 games, and maintaining a 1/2 game lead over the St Louis Cardinals in the Eastern Division on June 7th.  The race was shaping up to be a close one between the Phils, the Cards and the Montreal Expos, portending a great stretch-run pennant chase in September.  The Western Division was a two-horse race between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Cincinnati Reds, with defending division champ Houston eight games behind.  Despite Houston's poor overall performance, Astro's fireballer Nolan Ryan was having a stellar season, with a 6-4 record, a 1.39 ERA and 68 strikeouts in ten starts.  In fact, Ryan had recently passed Bob Gibson for third place on the all-time Major League strikeouts list, with only contemporary rival Gaylord Perry and the legendary Walter Johnson still ahead of him.  Even with Carlton close behind on the list and racing for the same strikeout record, Ryan was likely to top Johnson's mark by early 1982.  Ryan, like Pete Rose, was also chasing history.


The Astros arrived in Philadelphia for the start of a three-game series beginning on June 8th, with Ryan and Carlton slated as the starting pitchers for game 3.  The Phillies took the first two games of the series, winning by scores of 4-3 and 10-3, setting up a potentially great pitcher's duel between the respective aces from the two staffs.  But one additional draw to this particular game was the fact that Pete Rose had reached 3629 career hits, and was just two hits short of breaking Stan Musial's National League hit record.  Witnessing Pete Rose break Stan the Man's record against the greatest strikeout pitcher in the game would be an incredible once-in-a-lifetime experience for any baseball fan, if one was lucky enough to be there, at Veteran's Stadium on June 10th, 1981.

I was among those fortunate baseball fans on hand to see this classic game, a game resonant with historic overtones and brimming with tremendous potential.  I was attending college in Philadelphia at the time, and had become a rabid Phillies fan, forsaking my childhood favorites, the Baltimore Orioles, for the powerful and determined home town team.  I was anxiously following Rose's daily performance, and attending as many games as my meager budget would allow.  As Rose approached the record, I made it to the stadium by hook or by crook for every home game.  In the first game of the Astro's series, I saw Rose single off Don Sutton for hit number 3627.  Returning to the ballpark the next night, I saw Rose go 2 for 4 with two singles to reach 3629 hits.  I was aware that the baseball season could come to a screeching halt two days hence, and realized that this could be my last chance to see Rose break the record.

The game began quietly, with Carlton retiring the side in order in the top of the first.  The excitement in the stadium was palpable as Rose stepped in against Ryan to lead off  the bottom of the inning.  Rose dug in from the left side against the righthander Ryan, and promptly knocked a liner over the second baseman's head and into right-center field for a single.  He's done it!  Rose has just tied Musial!  The place erupted with loud and wild cheering, because we all knew that Rose would likely have at least three more chances this game to break the hallowed record.  Although the Phillies didn't score and Rose was stranded at second base, the fans all knew that something special was about to happen.

As the game progressed, a classic pitching duel was indeed taking shape.  By the top of the third, Carlton had given up just one hit and had struck out four.  Ryan was matching Carlton thus far, and was about to face Rose again in the bottom of the third.  When Rose came up with one out, the Astro's righty was just pushing it into the next gear.  Ryan easily struck out Rose en route to striking out the side.  Carlton continued to pitch well despite giving up a fourth inning home run to Jose Cruz, and the Astros held a 1-0 lead going into the bottom of the fifth.  After retiring the first two batters, Ryan again faced Rose, and again struck him out with his patented fastball.  The game was running out of innings, and Rose was running out of chances.  Up until that point, Ryan had given up only Rose's first inning single, and had struck out six.

The hometown cheering had quieted considerably after Rose struck out for the second time, and became downright feeble after Houston extended its lead to 4-0, thanks to Tony Scott's two-run double in the top of the seventh and Art Howe's sacrifice fly in the top of the eighth.  It looked as if Rose would have only one more chance to get a hit, since the great Nolan Ryan was easily setting down the Phils in rapid succession.  Rose was due up second in the bottom of the eighth, right after Greg Gross pinch-hit for Carlton.  Gross flied out to left, and Rose came up to the plate for what could be the final time in this game, and potentially for the final time of this season should a player strike consume the remaining schedule.  This was it...I could tell from my upper deck seat that Pete was pressing.  In all probability, Rose had rarely felt this much pressure at any other point in his career.  Ryan came in with his heater, and immediately put Rose behind in the count.  Just one more strike, and my dream of seeing the all-time National League hit record fall on this night would be over.

Rose dug in for one more pitch...Ryan let it go...swing and a miss...Rose strikes out!  Pete was so disappointed that he slammed his bat into the ground as he walked away from the plate.  The future strikeout king had beaten the future hit king in this matchup with three strikeouts to one hit.  That hit, Rose's leadoff single to begin the game, remained the only one that Ryan had surrendered in 7 2/3 innings.  With his one-hitter intact, Ryan faced pinch-hitter George Vukovich as a large portion of the crowd began to file out of the stadium.  While I watched the crowd thin out, I heard my Dad's voice whispering in my head..."It ain't over until it's over..."

Vukovich delivered the second hit of the game for the Phils, a single into center field, and then the unexpected happened.  What's this?  Ryan is coming out of the game?  Astro's reliever Frank LaCorte made his way to the mound as Ryan slowly left the field.  Apparently, he somehow tweaked his back during the Vukovich at-bat, and did not feel comfortable enough to continue.  Anyway, he pitched extremely well and was very likely to come away with the victory for his efforts.  Or maybe not.  LaCorte promptly gave up a run-scoring double to Gary Matthews, threw a wild pitch while walking Mike Schmidt to put runners at the corners with two out, and gave up another run on a Dick Davis single.  The Phils were making some noise.  Perhaps those people that left early had made a mistake.

The next batter was Phillies center fielder, Garry Maddox.  Although not known as a power hitter, Maddox could still deliver in the clutch, so LaCorte worked carefully.  Perhaps feeling the pressure of a rough relief appearance where he had already placed the tying run on base, LaCorte grooved one to Maddox, who rifled it deep to left-center.  As the ball carried over the fence for a three-run homer, I stood there in complete disbelief.  The Phillies had gone from being thoroughly dominated by Nolan Ryan to exploding for five runs in the bottom of the eighth to take the lead!  Something magic did happen tonight, although it wasn't the magic moment I had expected.

The top of the ninth provided its own suspense and promise, as pinch-hitter Harry Spilman singled with one out off reliever Mike Proly.  As Phillies closer Tug McGraw appeared from the bullpen, I thought to myself, "If the Astros tie the score, Pete will get another at bat in the ninth!  And it won't be against Ryan!"  There was still hope, should the Astros rally, to see Rose break the record.  The remaining fans were thinking exactly as I was, and we all let out a mighty cheer for Astro's pinch-hitter Terry Puhl.  Puhl was universally despised by Phillies fans because of his timely RBIs against the Phils, which had dropped the hometowners to defeat on many an occasion.  To hear Phillies fans cheering madly for a known Philly-killer was absolutely amazing, something out of an alternate universe.  Unfortunately, Puhl popped out to short for the second out, and was roundly booed in an apparent return to normalcy, although he was booed for NOT getting the game-tying hit!

Tug McGraw was as dependable as they come, and he struck out the Astro's final batter to end the game.  With an amazing comeback win, the Phillies had swept their 1980 NLCS adversaries in three straight.  Sporting a record of 34-21, the Phillies still led the Cardinals by 1/2 game in the standings, but the season was about to implode.  The players called a strike on June 12th, and all of the momentum that the Phillies had developed during the early part of the season evaporated into nothing.  By the time the strike was settled, two months had passed, and one-third of the season was lost.  When the season resumed in Philadelphia on August 10th, Rose broke Stan Musial's NL hit record in rather anticlimactic fashion against St Louis with an eighth inning single off Cardinal's reliever Mark Littell.  I was not at the game, having become disillusioned by the legal wrangling and the long strike, and vowing not to return to Veteran's Stadium for the rest of that season.

During the season's "second half", the Phillies finished under .500, and their dreams of a World Series repeat quickly disappeared.  On the other hand, the Astros got hot and finished 1 1/2 games ahead of the Reds to qualify for the expanded playoffs.  I remained a disinterested observer as the Phils fell in five games to the Montreal Expos in a manufactured "Divisional Series Playoff".  The Astros fared no better against the Los Angeles Dodgers despite the outstanding pitching of Nolan Ryan; Houston took a 2-0 lead in their series, only to lose three straight in LA.  It was very odd that neither the Cardinals nor the Reds qualified for the split-season playoffs, even though these two teams had the best respective full-season winning percentages in the NL East and NL West.  The Dodgers, who might never have even won their division across a full season, ended the nightmare with a mostly hollow World Series victory over the New York Yankees amid widespread national apathy.  The season which began with such promise for the Phillies' faithful had ended in a total disaster.

Pete Rose would go on in later years to exceed Henry Aaron's hit total, and then to reach the 4000 hit mark as a member of the Expos in 1984.  On September 11, 1985, once again playing in the uniform of his beloved Cincinnati Reds, Rose surpassed Ty Cobb's legendary all-time Major League hit mark with his 4192nd hit off Eric Show of the San Diego Padres.  As player-manager for his hometown Reds, Rose had reached his ultimate goal, but his joy would be short-lived.  A few years later, Rose went under investigation by Major League Baseball for alleged gambling activities while playing for and managing the Reds.  He was banned from baseball in 1989, and to this day remains ineligible for the Hall of Fame.  Despite his permanently tarnished reputation, Pete Rose is the all-time hit king of baseball, and his final record of 4256 hits is unlikely to ever be broken.

Nolan Ryan, who continued to pitch successfully into the 1990s, did go on to become the top strikeout pitcher in Major League history.  After a nearly five-season battle with Steve Carlton for the top spot, Ryan finally pulled away in 1985, finishing that season with 4083 career strikeouts.  He wasn't even close to being done then, continuing his career with the Texas Rangers in 1989, and striking out his 5000th batter in August of that year.  Ryan won his 300th game on July 31, 1990 against the Milwaukee Brewers, and pitched two more no-hitters for the Rangers in 1990 and 1991, giving him an astonishing seven no-hitters for his career.  He finished his career in 1993 at the age of 46, amassing an untouchable record of 5714 strikeouts.  Unlike Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan was well respected in the baseball community, and was elected to the Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility in 1999 with nearly unanimous support from the voters (491 votes out of 497 for a percentage of 98.8%).

When I think about the 40-plus years I have been a baseball fan, my mind often drifts to those heady days in the spring of 1981, when my Philadelphia Phillies were the defending World Series champs, and were well on their way to a possible repeat.  The games played before the June 12th strike showed every indication that the Phils of 1981 were even better than the 1980 team that went all the way.  The unparalleled excitement of Pete Rose's quest for the NL hit record combined with the phenomenal pitching of Steve Carlton and the mammoth home runs of Mike Schmidt provided me with many indelible memories.  But the greatest memory from that season, and one of my greatest baseball experiences ever, was watching Nolan Ryan deny Pete Rose the hit record on June 10, 1981, a rare confluence of events never seen before and never to be seen again.




Photo Credits:  Phillies Logo, Pete Rose 1980 Topps, Veterans Stadium, Nolan Ryan 1981 Fleer, Garry Maddox 1977 Topps, Sports Illustrated Cover, Time Magazine Cover, Nolan Ryan 1992 Upper Deck.

Many thanks to Baseball-Reference.com for Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan and Steve Carlton career statistics, as well as for the play-by-play of the Phillies-Astros game of June 10, 1981.

Keeping Score

My earliest memories of baseball date back to a hot summer afternoon in the summer of 1965, when my Cub Scout troop and I trekked across southeastern Pennsylvania to Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia to watch the Phillies play the Cincinnati Reds.  Along with my dad and several troop leaders, I sat with the other kids in the bleachers through a very long 11 inning game, finally won by the Reds by the score of 2‑1.  Because of the fact that I could hardly see the action from what seemed like half a mile away, I wasn’t very interested in the game itself, although I had fun pestering the ushers and the nearby fans with my Cub Scout buddies.  Dad was annoyed by the heat and the huge poles that blocked our view, but especially by the ushers, who had locked the bleacher gates, preventing freeloaders from entering the park, but also preventing us from leaving until the game was over.  Not the greatest of introductions to baseball fandom…

A few years later, a much more classic matchup than the Phillies vs. the Reds inspired a quantum leap forward in my budding passion for baseball.  The 1967 World Series featured the St Louis Cardinals and pitching ace Bob Gibson against the Boston Red Sox and triple-crown winner Carl Yastrzemski.  Dad was excited that his favorite team, the St Louis Cardinals, had made it to the Series, and in the days leading up to the opening game, he began telling me stories of the great Cardinals teams of the ‘40s.  I was particularly fascinated by the story of the Mad Dash, the famous play where Enos Slaughter scored from first base on a single to win the 1946 World Series for the Cards.  I later came to realize that Dad had a special nostalgic interest in this series, as it not only featured his beloved Cardinals, but also the very same Boston Red Sox whom Slaughter and the Cards defeated in 1946.

I would have loved to have followed that entire Series, but to my dismay, I quickly realized that World Series day games during the week were essentially "blacked out” for all elementary school children who didn’t have a radio hidden in their desk.  Because of this dilemma, I sought to eavesdrop on the conversations of the veteran radio-concealing eighth graders during class changes for any tidbits from the ongoing Series games.  My first bit of exciting World Series news came during Game 2, when I overheard some eighth grade fans talking about how Jim Longborg of the Boston Red Sox was just then throwing a no-hitter.  A no-hitter in the World Series!  As soon as the last bell went off, I raced the mile home from school, turned on the 13-inch black and white family TV, and discovered to my dismay that Julian Javier of the Cardinals was standing on second base after breaking up the no-hitter in the eighth inning.  As I watched Longborg finish off the one-hitter, I had but one thought in my mind – I’ve got to get my own radio!

Of course I missed all but the final inning of the seventh-game clincher from the 1967 Series (the game was on a Thursday, yet another school day), but the fire had been lit.  With my interest thus piqued, I sought out Dad more and more to expand my baseball perspective.  I soon discovered that he was a fountain of baseball knowledge, giving me his eye-witness accounts of things like Stan Musial’s cobra-like stance, Marty “The Octopus” Marion’s impenetrable defense, Ted Williams’ unerring eye for the strike zone, and Leo Durocher’s fiery managerial style.  Dad had grown up in Brooklyn, and had seen many a game at Ebbets Field in the ‘40s and ‘50s featuring the greatest National League stars of the time.  I wanted so much to carry on Dad’s love of the game, and to cement my own unique relationship with him as a devoted follower of the great American pastime.

A prime opportunity to do just that occurred on a lazy Sunday afternoon in July, 1968.  My mom along with my brothers and sisters were out at the YMCA community pool, but I felt like staying home that day with Dad.  I was just relaxing on the couch watching a movie on TV, and Dad was working in the garage.  When he came inside, he mentioned that the Mets were playing the Phillies in a doubleheader that afternoon.  I eagerly switched the channel to the pregame show, and we listened as the lineups were read by the TV announcer.  Just then, Dad asked me if I wanted to learn how to keep score.  With a bit of uncertainty, I said OK, so Dad went and grabbed a pad and pencil from the desk.  After drawing out the grid and writing in the starting lineups, he gave me the pad and designated me as the official scorekeeper of the Mets-Phils game.

With great care and patience, Dad showed me how to write down each play on the scoresheet using the coded symbols and numbers known only to rabid baseball fans.  As the game progressed through the first few innings, I began to feel like I was part of some secret club as I wrote down the 6-3 shortstop-to-first groundout and the partial diamond figures to designate base hits and baserunners.  I began to realize that Dad was giving me a great gift, the ability to understand and interpret the game of baseball at its most fundamental level – the play-by-play scoring record.  The entire story of the game was there to see on the scoresheet, complete with inferred strategies, lineup logic and complete statistics.  The simple idea of keeping score would soon propel my love of baseball to stratospheric levels.

As the opener of the doubleheader progressed into the middle innings and Dad went back outside to finish his work, I diligently filled out the scoresheet, and began to ponder the most important question in sports: which team should I root for?  The Phillies were a mostly average team, somewhere in the middle of the standings, but the Mets were horrible.  Dad told me before the game started that the Mets finished in last place for their entire existence except for one season where they finished ninth.  Dad took a shine to the Mets, not only because they were so bad, but also because he could never forgive the Dodgers for moving to LA, and the Mets were the only logical substitute.  After mulling all of this over, I decided to root for the Mets.

Through the first four innings, the game remained scoreless.  In the top of the fifth, the Mets led off with singles by Ed Kranepool and Kevin Collins, putting men on first and third with none out.  Phillies pitcher Rick Wise got Al Weis to hit into a double play, but the run scored.  The Mets were leading 1-0!  I got even more excited in the eighth when RBI singles by pitcher Dick Selma and left fielder Art Shamsky knocked out Wise and gave the Mets a 3-0 lead.  A solo homer by Johnny Callison in the bottom of the eighth cut the lead to two, but I was sure that the Mets would still wrap up the win.

I was only slightly disappointed in the top of the ninth, when the Mets failed to score even with the bases loaded and none out, but began to feel uneasy when Roberto Pena and Tony Gonzalez hit consecutive one-out singles for the Phillies in the bottom of the ninth.  Up until this July day, I had never paid attention through an entire baseball game, but with the magic of the scoresheet and the inspiration of my dad, I was riveted to this one.  One out, bottom of the ninth, two on, and Richie Allen coming up.

I didn’t know that Richie Allen was the best hitter on the Phillies, so I thought that Mets’ reliever Ron Taylor would have no trouble getting him out.  As Allen worked the count full, I was yelling with every pitch…”C’mon, strike him out!  Strike him out!!”  The three-two pitch came into Allen’s wheelhouse, and he crushed it deep to left…I watched in horror as the ball disappeared into the left field bullpen…Phillies win 4-3…I can’t believe what I just saw…

When Dad came back in the house, he saw me sitting there in shock.  I was staring at the three completed diamonds from the bottom of the ninth inning at the edge of the scoresheet, the third of which was in Richie Allen’s row.  Right above Allen’s completed diamond was the inscription “HR”, and in the lower right-hand corner of the box were three small x’s signifying 3 RBI.  I had been rooting for the Mets all of one day, and I felt at that moment as if they had just lost the World Series.  I asked Dad, “How could this have happened?”

He just smiled and said, “That’s baseball."

Thank you to Baseball Reference for refresing my memory as to the play-by-play details of the Mets-Phillies game played on July 7, 1968.  Photo Credits:  1967 World Series program, World Series Game #2, Ebbets Field, Mets Rookies, Richie Allen, Jack Buck home run call

This post is dedicated to my Dad...thanks for giving me the gift of baseball!  Happy Father's Day!! 

World Series Flashback: 1946

The Mad Dash -- The seventh game of the 1946 World Series was knotted at 3-3 as the Cardinals batted against the Red Sox in the bottom of the eighth inning.  Enos “Country” Slaughter managed to lead off the inning with a single, but the next two Cardinals were retired.  Slaughter and the next batter, Harry Walker, then played a successful run-and-hit as Walker singled over shortstop.  After easily making it to third on the play, Slaughter ignored the emphatic stop sign of the third-base coach and rocketed toward the plate.  Red Sox shortstop Johnny Pesky took the relay throw from the outfield, and glanced for a split-second at Walker before rifling a late throw home, caught totally off-guard by the bold baserunning of Country Slaughter.  The run held up as the Cardinals won the game and the series.

The box score for this game may be accessed here at Baseball Almanac.  Image of Enos Slaughter from The Pecan Park Eagle.

The Knothole

One of the more charming images from the early days of baseball is that of little kids, unable to afford the admission price to the ballgame, peering through the knotholes in the fence to try and catch a glimpse of the action inside the park.  Perhaps these kids would be lucky enough to spot one of the early stars of the game, like Cy Young, Cap Anson or Ed Delahanty.  Since its earliest days, baseball has truly been America's favorite pastime.  The draw of the game, with its leisurely pace punctuated by moments of incomparable excitement, is just as strong today as it was then.

I have been an extreme baseball fan since I was 10 years old.  As a boy, I followed the great Baltimore Orioles teams of the late 60's and early 70's, paying particular attention to the stellar defense and timely offense of my favorite player, Brooks Robinson.  My knothole to the action was through the Orioles radio broadcasts hosted by Chuck Thompson and Bill O'Donnell (I lived too far away from Baltimore to pick up their TV broadcasts).  I remember hiding a transistor radio in my desk at school so that I could follow the 1970 World Series between the Orioles and the Reds.  To capture the images of the games, I could rely only on my imagination and the words of the announcers.

It seems almost unbelievable to me how sophisticated the knothole has become.  In this day and age, every game is televised in high definition (often with a late rebroadcast), instant game updates are available on the internet, and highlight shows abound (ESPN and MLB Network), so that it is nearly impossible for a baseball fan to miss anything.  Such intimate access to the game through instant replays of every hit and sometimes every pitch (shown from several different angles) would certainly astonish those kids standing around outside the ballpark in the late 19th century.

My intention for this blog is to provide the reader with different looks at the game of baseball...the way baseball was played in different eras...the way I remember baseball of my youth...the stories, the heroes, the underdogs and the champions of the game from generations past and present.  I want to help the reader peer through the knotholes in the fence of history, and catch a glimpse of baseball's fascinating past using the tools of the present.  I hope you enjoy the view!!