Missing Among The Memorables?

"I never feel more at home in America," wrote Robert Frost (in Sports Illustrated, 1956), "than at a ball game, be it in park or in sandlot. Beyond this I know not. And I dare not." Neither do I.

Which is why I take a break from kvetching about the usual kvetchables - All-Star fiascoes, disingenuous owners pushing communication-challenged players to yet another strike, Ted Williams in the deep freeze because he turns out to have raised an avaricious (and maybe elder-abusive) vampire for a son, dubious Yankee bashers (no Yankee fan here, but less bashing and more asking why other clubs - markets big and small - can't bother minding their monies, finding their own new revenue sources, appropriately replenishing their squandered revenues, please), and Florida Marlins/Cleveland Indians/Montreal Expos wheeling and dealing, that sort of fun stuff - to kvetch about the ballot for picking baseball's most memorable moments.

Understand: None of the thirty memorables offered for voting on the ballot (a voter may choose five) is anything less. You did not have to be there to know what it was, for example, when Christy Mathewson threw three shutouts in the 1905 World Series, or when Lou Gehrig showed the quality of courage the day he considered himself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. Teddy Ballgame's .406 and Joe D.'s 56; Willie Mays's across-county-lines World Series catch (ever see a center field 480 feet from home plate?) and Don Larsen's across the extraterrestrial divide World Series perfect game; Carlton Fisk's "body English" homer and Reg-gie's three straight Game Six homers; Henry Aaron passing the Bambino and Nolan Ryan (with no-hitter number seven) passing disbelief; Mark and Sammy, and the Shot Heard 'Round the Universe.

Deny those and you deny your Americanhood. But, surely, even Bud Selig Era's baseball stewards could have made room for fifty choices and allow ten picks per ballot? Here, for whatever they are worth, would have been my additional choices.

1908: Boner's Ark. Following the custom of the day, Fred Merkle, New York Giants first baseman, bolted off to the clubhouse when the winning run crossed the plate. Chicago Cub second baseman Johnny (The Crab) Evers - whose team had been burned earlier in that skintight pennant race, on a Cub move just like Merkle's - called for a ball that may or may not have been in actual play and got the out rung up at second. The Giants lost the subsequent do-over game and the pennant; the Cubs went on to their last verifiable World Series win.

1923: Casey At The Bat. You can look it up - the first World Series home run ever hit in Yankee Stadium was hit inside the park, yet by a man who would, in due course, manage them to ten pennants and seven Series titles (including five straight) in twelve seasons. Only Casey Stengel did it in a New York Giant uniform. His drive to the original left-centerfield Death Valley and his sprawling run around the bases were immortalised by Damon Runyon. And, the Ol' Perfesser wasn't finished: he also hit the second Series homer ever in the House That Ruth Built - this time, he drove it over the fence.

1925: One For The Road. Aging, allegedly hung over Grover Cleveland Alexander waddled in from the bullpen to strike out Tony Lazzeri with the bases loaded in the seventh of Game Seven. He went on to close the deal with a little help from Babe Ruth - the Bambino was fool enough in the ninth to try stealing second (as a base stealer, he was one hell of a power hitter), with Bob Meusel hitting and Lou Gehrig on deck. Game, set, and match, St. Louis Cardinals.

1931: Humble Howard. Philadelphia Athletics owner-manager Connie Mack took a chance that an aging, washed up veteran had one more win in his spent arm, and wheeled him out to start a World Series game. Howard Ehmke had more than one more win left in him - he set a World Series single-game strikeout record that held for 22 years until Brooklyn Dodger righthander Carl Erskine broke it by one. Ehmke's lucky number: 13.

1934: Is Brooklyn Still In The League? New York Giants manager Bill Terry pulled that crack pre-season and gave Brooklyn a season-long migraine. Mired in sixth place, the comic opera Dodgers - managed by Casey Stengel - got classic revenge on the final weekend of the season. With the Giants and the Cardinals (who weren't quite yet called the Gas House Gang, though this was that very team) going into their final two games in a flatfoot tie for first place, the Dodgers - and a few thousand of their fans - trouped up to the Polo Grounds and flattened the Giants, 5-1, behind speedballer Van Lingle Mungo. The next day, Dem Bums made a meal out of the Meal Ticket: future Hall of Famer Carl Hubbell, who came on in relief with the game tied at five - the Dodgers jumped him for three runs for the ball game. And, it turned out, for a Cardinal pennant: while the Dodgers were burying the Giants (said one placard among the Flatbush faithful at the game: Is Brooklyn Still In The League? And How!), the Redbirds were making an easy two-game sweep of the Cincinnati Reds to nail the pennant.

1938: Who Knows What Homers Lurk In The Bats of Men? The Shadows Know. Darkness falling. Gabby Hartnett. Wrigley Field. The Homer In The Gloamin'. The Cubs win the pennant.

1941: All-Star Lights Out. Ted Williams goes walkoff yard with Joe DiMaggio on base ahead of him. American League manager Del Baker could have just kissed the Splinter - and did, right smack on the forehead.

1946: Slaughtered Boston. Enos Slaughter inspires the Road Runner. Johnny Pesky can't hear any teammates hollering at him to throw home through the crowd racket. Slaughter lives up to his family name, and as the Cardinals ruin the first Boston Red Sox World Series since a kid named Ruth was sold to the Yankees, Johnny Pesky will (unfairly enough) never be allowed to live him down.

1950: Abie's Out At Home! With the pennant on the line (the teams ended the season in a flatfoot tie), Brooklyn Dodger third base coach Milt Stock takes a chance and waves rookie outfielder Cal Abrams home, when Duke Snider rips a base hit up the middle - after Philadelphia Phillies super pitcher Robin Roberts misses a pickoff sign that would have had Abrams dead at second. Center fielder Richie Ashburn, with the worst arm in the league, played shallow enough to throw Abie out at home and send the single-game pennant playoff to the tenth inning. Dick Sisler goes yard and the Philadelphia Whiz Kids...go to the slaughter: the upstart Phillies get squashed in four straight by the Yankees.

1954: Man(tle) In Orbit. Old Yankee Stadium was merely unthinkable for most righthanded hitters to go long. Griffith Stadium in Washington was impossible: the longest center and left-centerfield in the league. Nobody bothered to tell Mickey Mantle, however. With the Damn Yankees (the book that inspired that musical, The Year The Yankees Lost The Pennant, appeared that year) playing the Washington Senators ("Washington - First in war, first in peace, and last in the American League"), The Mick squared off, righthanded, against former Red Sox pitcher Chuck Stobbs and went yard - out of the yard. The blast cleared the back wall of the left field bleachers and landed in a backyard across the street from the rear of the park.

1955: Wait 'Till This Year! At long last, the Brooklyn Dodgers knock off the Yankees for the world championship. Kid pitcher Johnny Podres shoots down the Bombers twice - with a lot of help from a nimble Cuban left fielder named Sandy Amoros. In a play just about equal to Willie Mays in the previous year's Series, Amoros gets on his horse and picks off a long, sinking opposite field line drive by Yogi Berra and lets the ball fall into his glove - then wheels and hits shortstop Pee Wee Reese on the fly, letting Reese throw over to first to double up Gil McDougald. It's the only World Series title ever brandished in Flatbush. Sidebar: Podres got drafted before the following season, prompting a protest (ultimately futile) from Ted Williams.

1959: Candles In The Wind. The cavernous Los Angeles Coliseum resembles a seance. As night falls, over 90,000 fans (you can look it up) hold candles aloft in tribute to future Hall of Famer Roy Campanella, the Dodger catcher who never got to finish his career in LA, thanks to the auto accident after the 1957 season that left him a quadriplegic.

1963: You Go, Gramps! Warren Spahn became a 20-game winner - for the thirteenth time in his career. At age 42.

1965: Dandy Sandy. Exhausted, nothing left to throw but a fastball that does a bad imitation of the one that makes this sweet-mannered man a one-man terror machine on the mound, Sandy Koufax - on two days' rest - nails a World Series by shutting out the Minnesota Twins for a second consecutive time. (Eat your heart out, Jack Morris!)

1966: They Also Served. In a short speech that stunned the audience, Ted Williams' accepted his induction into the Hall of Fame with both an emotional thanks to his mentors and Boston fans...and a passionate salute to the Negro League greats who were not in the Hall because they were not allowed back into the Show until 1947. The Williams speech may well have prodded the creation of the committee that, in due course, evaluated and enshrined the absolute best of the Negro League stars - beginning, deservedly, with Satchel Paige's enshrinement in 1971.

1966: Tony the (Flying) Tiger. A record for consecutive grand slams (two) in one game is set - by a pitcher. Atlanta Braves ace righthander Tony Cloninger (later a successful enough pitching coach) had a modestly decent career on the mound, but which do you think he is remembered for best?

1968: Dennis the Menace. Yanking the Detroit Tigers to the American League pennant (and a stirring seven-game World Series win over the St. Louis Cardinals), Denny McLain becomes the first major league pitcher to win 30 games in a season since Dizzy Dean pulled it off in 1934. Neither the so-called Year of the Pitcher nor McLain's own self-destructive personality (his inability to shake his taste for hustling, gambling, and shady business doings, in search of the fast bucks he spent even faster, eroded his baseball talent - three years later, he was a 20-game loser - and landed him into two prison terms in due course) could diminish that achievement - not even in the Year of the Pitcher.

1969: One Small Step For Man, Several Flying Leaps For Mankind's Miracles. Shock number one: The New York Mets winning the National League East in a near-runaway after the equally upstart Chicago Cubs collapse in August. Shock number two: They win the National League pennant in a dazzling three-game sweep of the Atlanta Braves. Shock numbers three, four, five, and six: After losing Game One, the Mets - who already have the King's Royal Rifles on the mound - also turn into the Flying Wallendas in the field. The Baltimore Orioles, expected to squash the game little Metsies, get a four-game lesson in destiny. Quote of the Year: "When those astronauts walked on the moon, I knew we'd win. I knew then that anything was possible." - Met relief pitcher Tug McGraw.

1972: The Ritz Carlton. The 1972 Philadelphia Phillies stunk up the joint - except when lefthander Steve Carlton pitched. Carlton won 27 games with a dead last club, the most by a Phillie since Robin Roberts won 28 in 1952 and the most by a National League pitcher since Sandy Koufax said farewell with a 27-win 1966.

1976: They're Baaa-aaack! After a twelve-year drought that not even their worst enemies would have predicted (which proves how much they ignored the parching of the famed farm system even before 1964), the Yankees win the pennant the old-fashioned way: with a little last-minute drama. Hirsute first baseman Chris Chambliss belts a walkoff home run in the bottom of the ninth of the deciding League Championship Series game against the Kansas City Royals.

1978: The Bloom Comes Off The Rose. Pete Rose's 44-game hitting streak is stopped in his final at-bat of the night - by an Atlanta Braves pitcher whose specialty was nastily-dancing, sidearm-delivered off-speed breaking stuff. Rose almost ruined the splendor of his achievement (it was the longest streak since Joltin' Joe) when he practically had a hissy after the game - kvetching about how rude it was for the pitcher not to have challenged him with a fastball. Never mind that Gene Garber had a fastball that compared to a DC-3. Or, that you might think, after sixteen seasons in the Show, that Pete Rose of all people would have learned how to lay the wood on an off-speed curve ball. Time to give Garber his props for what he was: the man who stopped Rose's hitting streak, fair and square.

1978: Bucky Bleeping Dent. Fenway Park. No wonder Red Sox Nation believes itself cursed. A shortstop who usually has the long-ball pop of the Venus de Milo bops one into the nets behind the Green Monster. Forgotten: Reggie Jackson hitting the actual game-winning homer later in the game.

1982: The Crackerjack Jack The Crackerjack Old-Timers' Game, RFK Stadium in Washington. To give the old guys a break, the outfield fences were cut in practically to Little League dimensions. For the National League old-timers, Hall of Famer Warren Spahn started the bottom of the first. Leading off for the American League geriatrics: Luke Appling, the Hall of Fame shortstop of the Chicago White Sox. Spahnie delivered something doing an imitation of his once-famous screwball. Old Aches and Pains didn't need the cut fence: at age 75, Appling swung and the ball disappeared - all the way into the left field seats. "Oh, thank you, Spahnie! Thank you, Spahnie!" Appling hollered happily as he rounded the bases...with Spahn playfully chasing him all the way, whacking him on the behind with his glove.

1985: A Royal Pain. First base umpire Don Denkinger commits the most infamous blown call in World Series history and makes room for the Kansas City Royals to tie the World Series at three each. Game Seven: Still steaming, the St. Louis Cardinals spend more time fuming than playing baseball. Can't really blame them that much, because guess who turned up calling balls and strikes that night. The Royals showed as much mercy as Queen Athaliah, burying the Redbirds, 11-0, for game, set, and Series. Cardinal Sin Dept: When testy St. Louis starter John Tudor got blown out of the game early, he vented his frustration by punching an electric fan in the clubhouse, injuring his hand. In the press box, where Tudor's often sour demeanor made him a favourite target of sportswriters, the news was greeted gleefully: Aha, cracked one reporter, the shit just hit the fan!

2002: Godspeed, Teddy Ballgame. Fenway Park celebrates a life more than it mourns a death. The ballpark announcer, after giving a warm and empathetic recap of the most singular career in Red Sox history, finishes - stirring a thunderous standing ovation - by saying what Ted Williams himself, as a boy growing up in San Diego, admitted he most wanted people to remember him by as a baseball player: There goes Ted Williams...the greatest hitter who ever lived!

Oho, you want to recognise the whacky memorables? You got it!

Marvelous Marv' Throneberry - Pinch hits in the ninth, game two of a doubleheader against the Pirates. Hits a walkoff three-run homer to win the game. Takes a curtain call from the top steps of the Polo Grounds clubhouse - with nothing on but his underwear and his uniform stirrups.

Jimmy Piersall - Hits his 100th career homer as a 1963 Met...and shuffles around the bases backwards. (This actually prompted a rule change making it official that you can only run forward to any base.)

Chuck Stobbs - The same hapless Senator who gave up Mickey Mantle's across-the-street bomb in 1954 also threw the wildest pitch in baseball history: it went past the hitter, past the catcher, past the ump, and up into the stands until it slammed into a concession stand. They still don't know which had more mustard on it - the pitch, or the fan who got spattered when the ball hit a mustard dispenser.

Byung-Hyun Kim - Playing the Yankees (who'd abused him so infamously in the previous World Series) in New York in an interleague game, Kim broke the cloud of Yankee power that hung over him like his slider hung to Scott Brosius, nailing a save with a snappy job in the ninth inning. Handed the ball from the game-ending play while still at the mound, Kim couldn't resist winging it away in triumph - and it flew all the way into the net behind the left field fence. (Hey, if he ever gets tired of pitching, maybe he's got a second life as an outfielder in his future, with an arm like that...)

Ray Oyler - Normally a shortstop, he did a Seattle Pilots catcher a favour and went out to warm up a pitcher before an inning...and took a fast ball right in the cup, falling in a heap to the ground.

Bill Robinson - The Mets' first base coach walked out to the coaching line in a nationally-televised game...almost oblivious to his right heel that was on fire thanks to flaky relief pitcher Roger McDowell having nailed him with a hotfoot.

Rodney McCray - Who can ever forget the then-Met prospect plowing through the outfield fence, a la Bump Baily in The Natural, while catching a flyout. The difference: McCray survived, only to prove a mediocre major leaguer.

Mark (The Bird) Fidrych - You could name his entire 1976 season to this list.

Billy Hatcher - After he had instigated the accusations of bat-corking that dogged New York Met breakout slugger Howard hit. He whacks a homer as hit bat breaks on the swing...and his bat turned up with a load of cork!

Dempsey kept that routine in the act for a couple of years. Thought of a couple of more...

1977: Who Turned On The Lights? - The Chicago Cubs and the New York Mets were playing at Shea Stadium (on today's date, as a matter of fact) when the second major power blackout in twelve years hit New York and parts of the surrounding area. The game was suspended but the Mets got an inspired idea - several Met players drove their cars onto the field, flipped on their bright lights, and put on a baseball mime to entertain fans until it was deemed safe to try driving home from the park.

Arlie Latham - A notorious clown with the ancient St. Louis Browns (the franchise which eventually became the Caridnals, not the future American League sad sacks), Latham got steamed when darkness looked like it would fall soon (this was way before night ball) and decided to force the issue - lining up a number of thick candles atop the dugout and lighting them. The ump blew out the candles; Latham re-lit them; they repeated the routine until the ump finally threw Latham out of the game and awarded a forfeit against the Browns.

Bob Gibson's 1968 season would rate consideration if it hadn't been for his 1967 season - leg shattered by that line drive, Gibson still finished the inning and then came out, missed a couple of months, and came back to win three in the World Series against the Boston Red Sox. That's a far more impressive achievement than even his 1.12 1968 was (and, without it, Juan Marichal's season would be considered far superior to Gibson's - in fact, aligning them properly together, up and down the board, the case exists that Juan Marichal and not Bob Gibson was the outstanding righthanded pitcher in baseball in the 1960s). Gibson in 1967 proved that his 1964 manager Johnny Keane wasn't just mouthing a platitude when - explaining why he left Gibson in in Game Seven of the 1964 Series when Gibson was obviously gassed and the Yankees obviously making serious inroads against him late in the game - he said, "I never thought about taking him out. I had a commitment to his heart."

There's a whacky moment said to be going up for auction on foxsports.com: Diamondback pitcher Curt Schilling, a nut with a camcorder, is auctioning a tape he calls SchillingCam, featuring some goofiness in the Snakes' clubhouse - including a shot of Byung-Hyun Kim catching a nap on a clubhouse couch (Kim has a reputation for being able to sleep through any racket man can make - his teammates have nicknamed him the Lion, as in "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," though I don't know if the BOB public address people have yet worked up the nerve to play the song when he comes into a game), with wisecracks from Schilling and others in the background, and Kim awakening long enough to flash a mock "flip off" look, move his cap over the right side of his face, and turn onto his left to doze on. The tape is said to have a few other gems on it, too - the Diamondbacks are said to be one of the most loosey-goose teams in the clubhouse in the league.

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