Posts Tagged ‘October’

Chris Chambliss, Billy Martin, and the 1976 American League Playoff

Thursday, May 11th, 2017

The baseball traveled on its parabolic destiny, rising through the mid-October night and dropping a few dozen feet in front of the Manufacturers Hanover Super Checking billboard at 11:43 p.m. Eastern.  It was a moment of exhilaration, followed nanoseconds later by pandemonium in a crowd that hadn’t tasted a championship in more than a decade.

Chris Chambliss’s three-run homer brought the 1976 American League pennant to the New York Yankees in the ninth inning of the fifth and deciding game of the playoffs against the Kansas City Royals.  Score:  Yankees 7, Royals 6.

“And I want to tell you, the safest place to be is up here in the booth!” exclaimed WPIX-TV announcer and former Yankee shortstop Phil Rizzuto when several hundred fans stiff-armed decorum, poured onto the Yankee Stadium turf, and jumped up and down like the prospectors who discovered gold in mid-19th century California.

New York City hadn’t seen a celebration like that since V-E Day.

To say that Chambliss’s safety was in jeopardy is neither hyperbole nor ignorance.  Suddenly, survival instinct surpassed the duty of touching home plate, an impossibility given the swarm of fans excited by the victory and oblivious to the hero’s wellbeing; Chambliss didn’t even make it to third base.  Hoping to embrace their hero, Yankee rooters risked injuring him—maybe even trampling him.  Had it not been for the uniform and the baseball diamond, one might have thought Chambliss was a running back as he plowed his 6’1″, 195-pound frame through the crowd towards the refuge of the dugout and, in turn, the Yankee clubhouse.

Chambliss came to the Yankees in a 1974 trade—along with Chambliss, the Indians sent Dick Tidrow and Cecil Upshaw in exchange for Fritz Peterson, Fred Beene, Tom Buskey, and Steve Kline.  Not a power hitter, Chambliss was known as a dependable batsman—188 hits, 32 doubles, and 96 RBI in 1976.  With 17 home runs during the season, a dinger was feasible, but a hit off Royals pitcher Mark Little seemed more likely.

Chambliss, in the end, returned to the field under the guard of two police officers.  Alas, home plate vanished in the anarchy, so, to be sure, Chambliss stepped on the area.

Below the fold on the front page of the New York Times, media geography usually used to convey issues of national and of international importance, Murray Chass’s article informed the newspaper’s readers who went to bed before the ninth inning about the latest notch to Yankee Stadium’s greatest moments—a roster including Lou Gehrig’s “Luckiest Man” speech, Babe Ruth’s wistful farewell as he leaned on a bat with his frail body, and Don Larsen’s perfect game.

It was nostalgic, if not appropriate, that Billy Martin helmed the Yankee ball club.  Hired during the 1975 season, Martin had a reputation as a turnaround expert in stints with the Twins, the Tigers, and the Rangers.  But returning to the Bronx had an even sweeter taste for Martin—he played with the gloried Yankee teams of the 1950s, idolized manager Casey Stengel, and suffered a betrayal from Yankee management, specifically, Stengel.  Or so he believed.

When several Yankee players captured headlines with a fight at the Copacabana in New York in 1957, the front office shipped Martin to the Kansas City A’s after the season because of the embarrassment—it happened when Mickey Mantle, Hank Bauer, Yogi Berra, and Whitey Ford and their wives gathered to celebrate the 29th birthday of Martin, who went stag.  “Yanks Bench 2 in Copa Brawl” screamed the front page of the New York Daily News.  Confronting hecklers from a bowling team called the Republicans, the Yankees stepped up when nasty comments tinged with racism emerged from the hecklers aimed at Sammy Davis, Jr., the Copa’s performer, with whom the fellows from the Bronx were acquainted.  One bowler, a deli owner named Edwin Jones, claimed Bauer clocked him.

In his 2015 biography Billy Martin:  Baseball’s Flawed Genius, Bill Pennington wrote, “It was later learned that Casey had protected Billy from the Senators trade and two other trades.  But [Yankee General Manager George] Weiss was not to be dissuaded this time.  Not with this player in these circumstances.  Not when he wanted to send a message to the rest of the team.  Besides, Kubek was already in New York, ready to play shortstop.  For the Yankees’ youth movement in the middle infield to be complete, Richardson had to take over at second base.”

Stengel had not only managed Martin on the Yankees, they also worked together on the Oakland Oaks, a Pacific coast League championship team in 1948.  Returning to Yankee Stadium as a managerial descendant of his mentor may not have completely healed old wounds whose scars remained resonant, but it did give Yankee fans a continuity to the past, Martin a chance for redemption, and players the benefit of their manager’s baseball wisdom honed by Stengel’s tutelage two decades prior.

The Yankees lost the 1976 World Series to the Cincinnati Reds in a four-game sweep, but rebounded to win the series in 1977 and 1978, both times against the Los Angeles Dodgers.  Billy Martin went through several stings as the Yankee skipper, being fired and rehired by owner George Steinbrenner.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on February 13, 2017.

Mazeroski, Pittsburgh, and the 1960 World Series

Wednesday, January 11th, 2017

At 3:37 p.m. on October 14, 1960, Bill Mazeroski became a blue-collar legend.  A stellar second baseman with eight Gold Gloves, Mazeroski played his entire 17-year career in a Pittsburgh Pirates uniform, never more prominent than in the moment he slammed a Ralph Terry pitch into the stands at Forbes Field.  And thus, the Pirates won the 1960 World Series against the New York Yankees, a team stocked with icons named Mantle, Maris, Berra, Ford, and Howard.

In the New York Herald Tribune, legendary sportswriter Red Smith wrote, “Terry watched the ball disappear, brandished his glove hand high overhead, shook himself like a wet spaniel, and started fighting through the mobs that came boiling from the stands to use Mazeroski like a Trampoline.”

It was a victory steeped in fantasy.  The Yankees dominated baseball after World War II, winning 11 of 13 World Series between 1947 and 1964, so their presence in the 1960 edition of the Fall Classic was, in no small measure, a foregone conclusion.  Scores reflected Yankee excellence—the Bronx Bombers won Game Two, Game Three, and Game Six with scores of 16-3, 10-0, and 12-0, respectively.  Pittsburgh’s triumphs in the remaining games had closer scores, none with a differential more than three runs.  In Game Seven, the lead changed hands several times before Mazeroski’s blast in the bottom of the ninth inning ended the contest with a score of 10-9.

“The accepted storyline of the 1960 World Series was that the New York Yankees hammered the Pittsburgh Pirates with haymakers, but the Bucs won the match on a split decision,” wrote Thad Mumau in his 2015 book Had ‘Em All the Way.  Yankee manager Casey Stengel, according to Mumau, led with baseball acumen contrasted by intuition flooded by over-thinking strategies for Mantle et al.  Mumau wrote, “He was a superior handler of personnel.  But he operated on instinct as much as guile, and sometimes his hunches fizzled.  Not just in terms of the immediate results, but also in terms of the whiplash effect on his players.  He loved playing chess on newspapers’ sports pages.  The pawns were not always amused.”

Bing Crosby, a 20th century entertainer at the apex of the Hollywood food chain, owned part of the Pirates.  With a bankroll built by success in music and in films, Crosby further feathered his financial cushion with business dealings, including a slice of Minute Maid Orange Juice.  Crosby’s dedication to the Pirates submerged to nerves in 1960—to avoid watching the World Series, he went to Paris with his wife, Kathryn; the Crosbys listened to Game Seven on the radio.  For future viewing, Crosby arranged for a recording of the game by kinescope, a process of filming a television screen.  In December 2009, nearly 50 years later, an executive of Bing Crosby Productions discovered the film while excavating the crooner’s thorough preservation of acting and singing performances for a possible DVD release authorized by the Bing Crosby estate.

It was the equivalent of Indiana Jones finding the Lost Ark.  In the web site The Daily Beast, baseball writer Allen Barra quoted Nick Trotta, a licensing executive for MLB Productions, regarding the film’s rarity:  “We have film footage going all the way back to 1905, but only a handful of complete baseball games before 1965.  For decades, it was the home park’s obligation to record a game, and the process was very costly.  It’s a shame, but the truth is that nobody knew in which games Willie Mays was going to make a spectacular circus catch or Mickey Mantle was going to hit a 565-foot home run.  We have newsreels of the great World Series moments, but very few entire games.”

Mazeroski had 138 career home runs, but he is best remembered for one swing that injected a tidal wave of pride throughout Pittsburgh on an October afternoon.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on November 30, 2015.

61 in ’61

Wednesday, November 16th, 2016

In 1961, John F. Kennedy was inaugurated as the nation’s youngest elected president, The Dick Van Dyke Show débuted, and Alan Shepard became the first American astronaut in space.

1961 was also the year of Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle.  The M&M boys.

As members of the 1961 New York Yankees, Maris and Mantle chased the ghost of Babe Ruth, vying to break Ruth’s single-season record of 60 home runs.  Ruth set his magic number of 60 as a member of the legendary 1927 Yankees.  It was a seemingly unbreakable record.  But if Maris or Mantle broke the record—or if both of them did—it would symbolize the home run torch being passed to a new generation of power hitters, keep the single-season home run record in the Yankee family, and explode the myth that certain records are unbreakable.

Maris, an import from the Kansas City Athletics, won the 1960 American League Most Valuable Player Award in his first year as a Yankee.  Mantle, a Yankee who spent his entire career in pinstripes, had his share of achievements, including the Triple Crown Award in 1956. Mantle dropped out of the race in September because of an illness.  Yankee broadcaster Mel Allen referred Mantle to Dr. Max Jacobson, who gave Mantle a shot.  It made Mantle’s situation worse.  And he wasn’t the only celebrity to suffer, either.  In her 2010 book The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America’s Childhood, Jane Leavy wrote, “Mantle said he never knew what was in Jacobson’s syringe, and he never paid the bill, either.  Mark Shaw, the Kennedy family photographer, paid with his life, dying of amphetamine poisoning in 1969.  Tennessee Williams’s brother told the Times that the playwright had spent three months in a mental hospital that year as a result of taking drugs prescribed by Jacobson.  Truman Capote collapsed after a series of injections and had to be hospitalized with symptoms of withdrawal.  When Mel Allen was fired by the Yankees after the 1964 season, the infamous medical referral was widely cited as cause.”

Leave also reported that nearly 50 counts of “fraud or deceit” involving amphetamines led to the revocation of Jacobson’s  medical license revoked in the 1970s.

Sidelined, Mantle’s home run tally stopped at 54.  Maris broke Ruth’s record on October 1, 1961, when he smacked a pitch by Tracy Stallard into Yankee Stadium’s right field stands in a Yankees-Red Sox game—the last game of the 1961 season for the Yankees.

A faction of baseball enthusiasts believes that Maris did not technically break Ruth’s record.  This theory rests on the number of regular season games for each player.  Ruth had 154 games.  Maris, 162.  The American League’s expansion to Los Angeles and Washington, D.C. in 1961 prompted the addition of eight games.

Ruth also had less at bats in ’27 than Maris did in ’61.  But Maris had challenges that Ruth did not face, including night games, air travel, and black players increasing the depths of competition.

Tommy Holmes of the New York Herald Tribune reported that the paying crowd totaled 23,154, a figure far below the capacity of Yankee Stadium.  “The crowd kept yelling,” wrote Holmes.  “It wouldn’t stop until Maris—Not once, but twice—climbed the steps of the dugout, bared his crewcut and waved a smiling acknowledgment.  He looked a bit like Kirk Douglas at a moment of triumph in Spartacus.

Roger Maris won the 1961 American League Most Valuable Player Award.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on February 15, 2014.

World Series Pranks and Franks

Tuesday, November 8th, 2016

As dusk anticipated relieving the sun of its duties during the twilight of October 3, 1956, Paul Newman hustled through the stage entrance of the Mansfield Theatre, an august Broadway institution on West 47th Street in Manhattan.  Before he achieved icon status in the 1961 movie The Hustler, Newman plied his acting trade in legitimate theatre and live television dramas.  But his appearance at the Mansfield did not require his thespian skills.

Newman arrived at the theatre to prepare for a prime time television appearance on I’ve Got a Secret, a game show featuring Garry Moore as host and a panel of four celebrities trying to deduce the contestant’s secret through questions and answers.  On this October night, Newman was a contestant.  His secret?  He paraded around Ebbets Field as a Harry M. Stevens vendor during Game 1 of the World Series between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Yankees earlier that afternoon.  And he sold a hot dog to panelist Henry Morgan without Morgan realizing his identity.

After Morgan surrendered his guessing, Moore encouraged Newman to go offstage.  Then, he followed with a description of the prank:  “Henry, we not only knew that you went to the World Series ball game this afternoon.  We even contrived to have a friend call you up and invite you to go to the ball game.  We knew what seats you were sitting in.  We knew exactly where you were.  Through the good offices of Sports Illustrated, we did have a photographer out there taking pictures from time to time.  But you don’t remember the occasion.  Paul, are you ready?  Maybe you’ll recognize him better this way.  Paul, come out!”

Newman returned in his vendor garb, shouting a familiar refrain with heavy Brooklynese in his voice:  “Get your hot franks here, ladies and gentlemen!  Get your hot franks!”  Morgan replied, “I didn’t know that you looked so ordinary!”  He then certified Newman’s Ebbets Field presence.

Morgan:  “Weren’t you the one that we had all the trouble with?  You waited on like fifty people?”

Newman:  “Yes.”

Morgan:  “And we were screaming and yelling.”

Newman:  “I understand that you were very irritated because you were very hungry and didn’t have any breakfast.”

Morgan:  “You were there.”

Going incognito as an Ebbets Field held an inherent risk of recognition.  Newman built an extensive résumé with credits including a breakthrough role as Middleweight Champion Rocky Graziano in Somebody Up There Likes Me, a film that premiered during the summer of ’56.  Additionally, a week prior to the Ebbets Field charade, Newman starred in The United States Steel Hour television adaptation of Bang the Drum Slowly, the second book in Mark Harris’s literary quartet of baseball fiction featuring pitcher Henry Wiggum.

After the secret’s revelation, Newman admitted that he was “terribly nervous” in carrying out the hoax.  But his commitment to the role would have made Thespis beam with pride—he sold dozens of hot dogs to unsuspecting fans!

Morgan remarked that Game 1 was “some game!”  Newman exclaimed, “I didn’t see any of the game!”

The Dodgers beat the Yankees 6-3.  Mickey Mantle, Billy Martin, Gil Hodges, and Jackie Robinson went yard.  Mantle’s dinger knocked in two runs for the Yanks; it was the Oklahoma-bred slugger’s only hit for the day.  Enos Slaughter went 3 for 5 and scored on the Mantle home run.  Martin’s was a solo shot and also his only hit.

A version of this article appeared on www.thesportspost.com on December 1, 2013.

All Aboard the Hooterville Cannonball! Celebrating the 50th Anniversary of “Petticoat Junction” (Part 3 of 5)

Tuesday, September 24th, 2013

After CBS canceled Petticoat Junction in 1970, the Hoyt Hotel took the Emma Sweeny for permanent display.  Its tenure in Portland was short-lived, however.  The Hoyt Hotel went bankrupt in 1972, prompting a sale to businessman Sam Gordon.  Gordon used the Emma Sweeny as a visual allure for Sam’s Town, his tourist and truck stop located on Highway 50 near Placerville, California.  Placerville is the county seat of El Dorado County, which sits in the central-east part of California adjacent to the Nevada Border.

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Paul Newman’s World Series Pranks and Franks

Thursday, May 9th, 2013

As dusk anticipated relieving the sun of its duties during the twilight of October 3, 1956, Paul Newman hustled through the stage entrance of the Mansfield Theatre, an august Broadway institution on West 47th Street in Manhattan.  Yes, that Paul Newman.

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