Strange & Amazing Baseball Stories

by Gutman; Bill

  When the smoke cleared, the Red Sox had beaten the Browns, 29-4, the most one-sided victory in major league history. Bobby Doerr had three home runs and eight RBIs. Walt Dropo blasted a pair with seven ribbies, while Ted Williams had two circuit clouts and five runs batted in. Johnny Pesky and Al Zarilla had five hits each in the twenty-eight-hit assault. There were only 5,105 fans in Fenway Park that day, but they got about five games' worth of Red Sox offense in a little more than two-and-a-half hours.

  While lopsided scores are rare, they can still happen today. On June 11, 1985, the New York Mets were at Veterans Memorial Stadium in Philadelphia to face the Phillies. The New Yorkers didn't score in the first, and Philadelphia outfielder Von Hayes led off the home half of the inning against left-hander Tom Gorman. Hayes promptly planted one in the rightfield stands for a leadoff home run. And it didn't stop there.

  When Von Hayes came up a second time, it was still the first inning. Now, the bases were loaded and the Philly outfielder was facing right-hander Calvin Schiraldi. Boom! He connected again, this time a grand slammer, making him the first player in baseball history to hit two homers in the first inning of a game.

  But Hayes wasn't the only one doing the damage. The PhiIs had nine runs before the first inning was over, and seven more by the time the Mets got them out in the second. When it was over, Philadelphia had a 26-7 victory and the Mets retreated to lick their wounds.

  A further irony was that the New Yorkers had been in a horrible team batting slump. The seven runs represented the most they had scored in over a week. Naturally, local sportscasters picked up on it, several opening their broadcasts by saying something like, "Good news for Mets' fans. The team got seven runs tonight." Then came the bad news....

  After the game, Mets' manager Davey Johnson tried to be philosophical. "I hope we learn a lesson from this," he said. "As far as I'm concerned this is a rallying cry. We have to stand up. I'm going to make sure twenty-five players are good and teed off."

  Mets' general manager Frank Cashen summed up his feeling by saying, "I just feel like I've been through World War III."

  A 26-7 score can make someone think like that. Fortunately it doesn't happen too often, but that's not to say it won't happen again. So managers and general managers, beware!

  There are plenty of axioms associated with baseball, rules to help play the game better. But here's one people may not have heard before. If your name is Jones, you'd better keep your baseball shoes polished. It might just help your team win the World Series.

  Sound crazy? Not really. It's just one of those amazing stories that can only happen on the diamond. And this one happened twice, some twelve years apart. The first time was in the 1957 World Series between the then Milwaukee Braves and New York Yankees.

  The Yanks had a two-games-to-one lead as the clubs were battling it out in game four. After nine innings, the score was tied at four apiece. But in the top of the tenth, the Yanks broke through for the go-ahead run off Milwaukee ace Warren Spahn. A 3-1 lead in games would be tough to overcome, and the Braves had just one at-bat to prevent that from happening.

  Spahn was due to lead off, so the Braves sent up a pinch hitter, Vernal "Nippy" Jones, a journeyman player in the final year of his career Yankee lefty Tommy Byrne was on the mound and his first pitch was low and inside. Umpire Augie Donatelli called it a ball. But wait a minute. Nippy Jones began to argue. He claimed he was hit by the pitch and should be awarded first base.

  When DonateIii failed to change the call, Jones asked for the baseball. He showed the umpire a shoe polish mark on the baseball, which he said occurred when the ball hit his shoe. The ump then reversed his call! Jones was hit, he said. The shoe polish proved it. Despite Yankee pleas, he awarded Jones first.

  That play changed the course of the game. Byrne became unnerved and the Braves scored three times, the last two riding home on a two-run Eddie Mathews homer. They won it, 7-5, tied the series, and went on to win in seven games. And to many, the turning point was the polish on Nippy Jones's shoe.

  It was a play unlikely to happen ever again. But don't bet on anything in baseball! During the 1969 World Series between the New York Mets and Baltimore Orioles, there was an encore presentation. This time it was the fifth game, the Mets leading, three games to one. But in game five, the Orioles had a 3-0 lead as the Mets leftfielder Cleon Jones led off the bottom of the sixth inning.

  Oriole left-hander Dave McNally had been coasting up to that time. But one of his deliveries to Jones was a low, inside curveball that skimmed the dirt. Jones backed off and umpire Lou DiMufo called it a ball. Like Nippy Jones a dozen years earlier, Cleon said the

  ball hit his shoe. Out came Mets' manager Gil Hodges, who grabbed the ball and proceeded to show DiMufo a smudge of polish. Once again the ump accepted the polished proof and sent Jones to first.

  An upset McNally then threw a gopher ball to Donn Clendenon and the Oriole lead was down to 3-2. From there the Mets went on to win the game, 5-3, and the series. And for the second time in twelve years, a smudge of polish off the shoe of a player named Jones had been a turning point.

  Baseball players always have a great deal of time on their hands. During road trips they are away from families. It's no wonder that practical jokes are often common among the players.

  There are the standard things, like nailing down a pair of shoes, putting strange items in another player's locker, dropping water bags out of hotel windows and setting off smoke bombs. Childish? Maybe. But it's often been said that baseball consists of a group of men playing a boy's game.

  One of the most original practical jokes was played by a trainer, Frank Bowman of the Cardinals. The victim was young slugger John Mize, who became one of the top power hitters of the later 1930s and 1940s. Early in his career, the man known as the Big Cat was taking a rigorous spring workout. He began perspiring freely and took his sweatshirt off before continuing.

  When Mize wasn't looking, trainer Bowman put a flammable substance on the shirt. Later, when Mize finished and went back to get the doctored shirt, Bowman intervened. He said he suspected Mize had broken training rules by drinking a few beers the night before, and to prove it dropped a lighted match on the sweatshirt. It immediately burst into flames.

  "See," Bowman said, "you were sweating out the booze. This proves it."

  The flabbergasted Mize couldn't believe it. He looked at the blazing sweatshirt again, then begged the trainer not to say anything about the incident. Bowman agreed as he tried desperately to keep himself from laughing.

  Of course, what's sometimes laughable to some isn't very funny to others. Take the case of Bob Buhl, a pitcher for the Milwaukee Braves, Chicago Cubs, and Philadelphia Phillies during a career that lasted fifteen years and saw him win 166 games. Not a bad pitcher.

  But pitchers have to hit, too, and that's one thing that Bob Buhl couldn't do. Couldn't do at all. Unbelievably, during his long career, Bob Buhl compiled a lifetime batting average of just .089. But that wasn't even the worst part of it. During the 1962 season, when he started thirty-five games as a pitcher, he failed to get a single hit as a batter, going zero for seventy. Not one hit.

  In fact, he had a streak that started in late 1961 and lasted into early 1963 in which he went hitless eighty-eight straight times, a major league record. Maybe others were laughing, but not Bob Buhl.

  "I tried it all," Buhl said. "I batted right-handed; I batted left-handed. Nothing worked. Even the few hits I did get were accidental."

  Buhl speaks the truth. When he got a base hit to end his zero-for-eighty-eight slump, it was a pop to third which a gust of wind blew toward the outfield. As the shortstop and third baseman converged on it, they tangled and tripped, and the ball dropped in for a hit.

  It's really amazing to think that a professional baseball player, whether a pitcher or not, could go to bat nearly 100 times without a base hit. But it's equally amazing to think that a player with only one arm could go to bat in sixty-one different big league games and hit
over .200. It's true. It really happened.

  The player was Pete Gray, who lost his right arm in a truck accident yet decided to pursue a baseball career just the same. Gray made his decision at a good time. It was the early 1940s, during World War II, and many players were in the armed forces. Major league teams were strapped for talent, and players who normally wouldn't have had a chance made it to the bigs.

  By 1944, Pete Gray was playing for Memphis in the Southern Association. Incredibly, he put together a Most Valuable Player season, batting .333 with five home runs and sixty-eight stolen bases. When you realize that he could only swing the bat with one arm, his achievement was amazing. In addition, when he caught a fly ball or picked up a base hit in the outfield, he had to toss the ball in the air, discard his glove, and catch the ball again before making his throw.

  Yet by 1945 the St. Louis Browns decided to give Gray a chance to play in the majors. He appeared in sixty-one games that year, hitting .218. It was obvious that his handicap was too great for him to become a permanent major leaguer. By 1946 the war veterans had returned and there was no more room for marginal players. But when you consider what he accomplished with one arm, Pete Gray has to be classified a great athlete. And it could only happen on the diamond.

  Pete Gray wasn't the only handicapped player to perform in the majors. The same year he played with the Browns, a pitcher named Bert Shepard appeared in one game for the Washington Senators against the Boston Red Sox. Shepard worked five-and-one-third innings in relief, giving up one run and three hits. He struck out a pair of Red Sox batters.

  What made it amazing was that Bert Shepard was pitching with an artificial leg! He lost his right leg below the knee when his plane was shot down in World War II. But he had the guts to come back and he made it to the majors for one game.

  Another pitcher, Monty Stratton, also pitched pro ball after losing a leg. The difference was that Stratton was already an established big leaguer, having won fifteen games in both 1937 and 1938 for the Chicago White Sox. But an off-season hunting accident cost him his right leg.

  Stratton tried to make it back with an artificial leg and actually won eighteen games as late as 1946 for Sherman in the East Texas League. Though he never pitched in the majors again, Stratton's life was so inspiring that it was made into a major motion picture, The Stratton Story, with actor James Stewart portraying the ill-fated pitcher.

  Baseball players are a superstitious lot. They have been for a long time. Sometimes, the superstitions are simple, like a player being careful not to step on the foul line as he comes on and off the field. Other players won't change or wash certain items of clothing while they're winning or going real good. Still others are superstitious about duplicating their exact movements when they're on a hot streak: the way they walk, what they eat, how they sit on the bench, how they drink from the water cooler. Any deviation, no matter how slight, might break the streak and bring on a slump.

  But there has also been a more mystical side to baseball, as well. There have been many stories written about baseball players who somehow acquire super powers and lead their teams to a pennant. Somehow, stories about ballplayers with a touch of the supernatural have always captured the public's fancy. There have been books, motion pictures, and Broadway shows that have utilized this theme down through the years.

  Pitchers may be the most superstitious of ballplayers. There have been a number down through the years who have even tried practicing some voodoo rites to try to break out of slumps. Lucky or magic charms are not uncommon, either. The great Satchel Paige always wore a lucky string bracelet on his right wrist when he pitched in the Negro Leagues. After he came to the majors, someone complained about the bracelet being a distraction and the umpire made Satch remove it. Not to be denied, Paige attached the bracelet to his ankle under his uniform where it couldn't be seen. But he wouldn't pitch without it.

  The lure of the mystical side of baseball continues. The April 1, 1985, issue of Sports Illustrated magazine told the story of the New York Mets giving a secret tryout to a pitcher named Sidd Finch who could throw a baseball upward of 160 miles per hour. The fastest big leaguers only approach 100 miles per hour. In the story, Finch turns his back on baseball to pursue a more mystical life studying far-off religions.

  As it turned out, the article was an April Fools' joke and Sidd Finch was a fictitious creation. But it showed once again how people are still taken by stories of baseball players with skills and powers beyond those of mortal men.

  In fact, years ago, whenever a slugger would begin threatening Babe Ruth's legendary record of sixty homers in a season, there were stories that it was the Babe's spirit that stopped them. And, indeed, the two players who came closest, Jimmie Foxx and Hank Greenberg, suffered some tough breaks in the final weeks of their seasons. Otherwise, both might have surpassed sixty. Though the Babe was still alive then, he was viewed as such a larger than life character that some people actually did believe it was a kind of mystical presence that kept others from breaking his mark.

  Perhaps when Roger Marls finally broke the mark in 1961, the Babe's spirit just figured it was time to let go. His place in baseball history was already secure. You never know. Stranger things have happened in baseball, and will continue to happen as long as the game is played.

  Chapter 4

  IT TAKES TEAMWORK

  It takes teamwork to accomplish many things in baseball. Individual players help a team to win, but no one can do it alone. A team may need its superstars, but it also needs its role players--the relief pitchers, pinch hitters, pinch runners, defensive specialists, spot starters, guys that can step in and do the job when called upon.

  And sometimes it takes teamwork for other things, too. Bench clearing brawls involve a whole team. Ballclubs that forge a certain identity do it because of the individual men that make up the team. Even when a ballclub makes a miracle push to a pennant, or conversely, when a club collapses and folds up in the final weeks of a season, it's a team effort. Both good and poor play is often contagious.

  The following stories are definitely about teams, though they don't necessarily involve every single player. But whether it's five, ten, fifteen, or all twenty-five players involved, it takes teamwork... or it wouldn't have happened.

  Teamwork was the byword of the 1960 World Series between the New York Yankees and Pittsburgh Pirates. But for most of the series, it seemed that each club took turns working as a team. The result was one of the most amazing World Series on record.

  As usual, the Bombers had a power-laden lineup, with the likes of Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, Moose Skowron, Elston Howard, and others. In fact, the following year this Yankee team would set a major league record of two hundred and forty home runs, with Maris hitting sixty-one and Mantle fifty-four. So a case could be easily made for this Yankee ballclub being Murderers' Row II.

  Only the Pittsburgh club of 1960 wasn't intimidated. They were a group of scrappers and determined to offset Yankee power with their own brand of winning baseball. It turned out to be a great World Series, going the full seven games, and not decided until the ninth inning of the finale. Then, after a seesaw struggle, Pittsburgh second baseman Bill Mazeroski belted a series-winning home run off the Yankees' Ralph Terry.

  But that wasn't the strange part of the 1960 World Series. The strange part was how the games were decided. When the Yankees won, they were Murderers' Row all over again. They unloaded for scores of 16-3, 10-0, and 12-0 in games two, three, and six. It seemed like total domination. When the games were closer, however, the Pirates won, taking games one, four, and five by scores of 6-4, 3-2, and 5-2.

  Then came the seventh game, which was a wild and woolly affair. The Pirates had an early, 4-0 lead, but by the eighth inning the Yankees had bounced back on top, 7-4. It looked over. Only Pittsburgh wouldn't quit. The Bucs rallied for five big runs in the bottom of the eighth to go ahead, 9-7. Now it looked as if they had it. Not yet. The Yanks made one more stand with two in the ninth to
tie, but they were only setting the table for Mazeroski's series-winning blast in the bottom of the final frame.

  For the seven-game series, the Yankees outscored the Pirates, 55-27, and outhit them, 91-60. They set World Series records for total bases (142), highest team batting average (.338), most runs, most hits, and most runs batted in (54). The Bronx Bombers? Murderers' Row II? Maybe. But there's never an escape from the bottom line. The Yanks lost. With all the runs, all the hits, all the records, they still lost! That's baseball. It certainly can be strange.

  It takes teamwork to win, and sometimes it takes teamwork to

  lose. It also takes teamwork for two major league teams to get into a

  beanball war. One of the worst ever occurred on August 12, 1984, between the Atlanta Braves and San Diego Padres. Before it ended, thirteen members of both teams were ejected, and a potentially

  explosive situation had been created.

  Things heated up on the very first pitch of the game. The Braves' Pascual Perez hit San Diego's Alan Wiggins and the party was on. In the second inning, Padres' pitcher Ed Whitson threw one behind Perez's head. It was retaliation, no doubt about it. Both teams came out on the field, but cooler heads prevailed, at least for the moment.

  But in the fourth, Whitson sent Perez to the ground again. This time the umps tried to cool things down. Whitson was ejected for intentionally throwing at a batter and San Diego manager Dick Williams got bounced for ordering it.

  Perez came up again in the fifth and this time relief pitcher Greg Booker threw at him ... and missed. Consequently, Booker and acting manager Ozzie Virgil were thumbed out. Then in the eighth, Perez came to bat for a fourth time and reliever Craig Lefferts finally nailed him. Obvious, to say the least. The Padres' pitchers were still trying to retaliate for that first pitch of the game. And this time the brawl began in earnest.