Tuesday, August 24, 2010

By Bob Markus

By rights, I should have been in class at the University of Illinois-Chicago. But I had gone instead to my dentist, who also was my cousin, to have an abcessed tooth extracted. Those were not the golden days of dentistry and I was in considerable pain, an ice pack planted against my swollen jaw, as I watched the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants battle for the National league pennant in the rubber match of their three game playoff series.

The Giants had been chasing the Dodgers for seven frantic weeks, having fallen behind by 13 1/2 games in mid-August. There was no way the Giants were going to do it. It was like asking a sprinter to give Usain Bolt a 10-meter head start in a 100 -meter dash. But the Giants went 37-7 over the final 44 games and finally caught up with the hated inter-borough rivals on the final day of the season. Now, it appeared that it was all in vain. Entering the ninth inning, the Dodgers had a 4-1 lead and their ace, Don Newcombe, pitching. I was rooting for the Giants for reasons I cannot now remember or explain and I saw no reason to be optimistic. Newcombe had already thrown 18 complete games and seemed to be in total command. But by the time Bobby Thomson stepped into the batter's box with one out, there were runners at second and third and the deficit was only 4-2. I was beginning to regain hope, because Newcombe was out of the game and even if reliever Ralph Branca handled Thomson, he still had to contend with the ondeck hitter, Willie Mays.

Thomson had beaten Branca and the Dodgers with a two-run homer in the first game of the playoff series, but I was looking only for a single, which would tie the game. Thomson was looking for more and Branca was looking for a place to hide after Thomson poked the ball barely over the short left field fence in the Polo Grounds. It wasn't the longest home run ever hit, but it was the most dramatic and it made legends out of both Thomson and Giants' announcer Russ Hodges, whose call: "The Giants win the pennant, the Giants win the pennant," resonates down through the ages. I can still see Dodger left fielder Andy Pafko slumped against the left field wall, having run out of real estate in his vain chase of the lethal fly ball, I can still see Eddie Stanky jumping into Leo Durocher's arm as the jubilant Giants swarmed the field. It was then and remains still baseball's most memorable moment.

Thomson's passing last week brought back those memories in technicolor, strange, because the game was played in black and white. It got me to thinking: What other single moments will be remembered as long as baseball is played. If you want to walk down that road, however, you'd better beware. As Harry Caray used to say when a tough hitter stepped up to the plate: "There's danger here, Cheri." It is all too easy to get caught up in the moment and image that moment will linger into eternity. I confess I've been guilty of it myself. I remember a game where the Pittsburgh Pirates center fielder, Matty Alou, dropped a fly ball that gave the Chicago Cubs a critical victory late in the 1970 season. Writing for the Chicago Tribune, I said that the play would live in infamy or some such balderdash, but in reality it was long forgotten by the time the Pirates had won the N.L. East by five games over the Cubs. Later that year, while covering my first world series game, I wrote that a pivotal play at the plate, which gave the Baltimore Orioles a 4-3 win over Cincinnati, would be remembered for as long as the world series was played. Except for the players involved, I'm probably the only one who remembers it. But baseball, perhaps because of the nature of the game, the rhythm of the season, probably has more myth-making moments than any other sport. Here are my top 10:

No. 10--Ted Williams hits three-run homer off Claude Passeau with two out in the bottom of the ninth to give American League a 7-5 victory over the Nationals in the 1941 All-Star game. Or, if you prefer, Williams' four hit, two homer performance in a 12-0 rout of the NL in the 1946 game. The second blast came off Rip Sewell's famous ephus pitch.

No. 9--Ozzie Smith's walkoff homer in the fifth game of the 1985 NLCS, made memorable because it was his first ever homer as a left handed hitter after 3009 at bats. Also memorable was Jack Buck's call: "Go crazy, folks. Go crazy."

No.8--Ray Chapman dies after beaning. Chapman, the Cleveland Indians shortstop, was not a run-of-the-mill player. He was a gifted fielder, who batted .300 or better three times and led the Indians in steals four times. He was hitting .303 with 97 runs scored at the time of his death. On Aug. 16, 1920, Chapman, who apparently did not see the ball clearly, was hit in the head by Yankees pitcher Carl Mays. The sound of the impact was so loud that Mays, thinking the ball had contacted Chapman's bat, fielded the ball and threw it to first base. Accounts vary, but Chapman apparently took a step toward first base before collapsing. He was helped off the field, supported by several players, and taken to a hospital, where he died 12 hours later. The Indians went on to win their first ever pennant and world series.

No.7--Gabby Hartnett's "homer in the gloamin'." Trailing the Pirates by 1/2 game, the Cubs entertained Pittsburgh in Wrigley Field on Sept. 28, 1938. Going into the bottom of the ninth the score was tied 5-5. Darkness was closing in and Wrigley, of course, would not get lights for another 45 years. It was obvious the umpires were going to call the game after the Cubs' final at bat and the game would need to be replayed. But Hartnett, the Cubs' catcher and manager, took matters into his own hands when he sent a two-out, two-strike pitch screaming into the gathering dark. The Cubs went on to win the pennant.

No.6--The Merkle bonehead play. Locked in a tight pennant race, the Chicago Cubs and New York Giants met on Sept. 23, 1908, in New York. With the game tied in the ninth and Moose McCormick on first, Merkle, a 19-year-old rookie and the youngest player in the majors, singled McCormick around to third. Al Bridwell's single brought McCormick home with the winning run and thousands of ecstatic fans swarmed onto the field. But, wait. In part to protect himself from the mob, Merkle got halfway to second and peeled off to get to the Giants' dugout. Seeing this Cubs' second baseman Johnny Evers called for the ball. One was produced from somewhere and Evers tagged second base, essentially forcing Merkle at second. Evers appealed to umpire Hank O'Day, who ruled that Merkle was out. The game was ruled a tie and when the two teams tied for first place in the National league it was replayed, again in New York. The Cubs went on to win the game, the pennant, and the world series. Little did they know that 102 years later they'd still be looking for another world championship

No.5--Willie Mays' catch. The Cleveland Indians were heavy favorites to beat the New York Giants in the 1954 world series. But in Game one in the Polo Grounds, Mays made a catch that turned the entire series upside down. With two runners on base the Indians' Vic Wertz launched a drive to dead center field where the wall stood nearly 500 feet from home plate. It appeared a certainty that the drive would easily score both runners, but Mays turned his back to the plate and sprinted in hot pursuit, finally making an over-the-shoulder basket catch a few strides from the wall. The Giants went on to win the game and the series in a stunning four-game sweep.

No. 4--Bill Mazeroski's walkoff homer. It was game seven in the 1960 World Series and the Yankees had just tied the game 9-9 with a pair of runs in the top of the ninth. But the tie didn't last long. Mazeroski, not known as a home run hitter, drove a Ralph Terry pitch over the wall, the first walkoff homer in a world series clinching game. It was a strange series in other ways. The Yankees' three wins were by scores of 12-0, 10-0, and 16-3. The Pirates four wins all were in tight games. Yankees second baseman Bobby Richardson had a monumental series, with 11 hits, five of them for extra bases, and 12 runs batted in. But it was the Pirates' second baseman who always will be remembered.

No.3--Babe Ruth's called shot. This one is as close to myth as it is to reality. Did Babe Ruth point to center field in Wrigley field, before launching a titanic homer to that very spot in the 1932 world series? Who knows? Who cares? It may be a made up story, but its such a good story it's not going to die. I once looked up the Tribune sports page for the day after the Ruthian swat and found that of the half dozen writers who had stories or columns that day only Westbrook Pegler referred to the called shot.

No.2--Kirk Gibson's shocker. Gibson was not supposed to play in the 1988 world series, having injured both legs in the NLCS victory over the Mets. That's one reason the Oakland A's were the heavy favorites to win the series. Gibson was just a spectator for eight and a half innings, but in the bottom of the ninth with two out and a man on base, trailing 4-3, Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda called for his MVP. Gibson limped to the plate, ran the count to 3-2 against relief ace Dennis Eckersley, then bashed the game-winner into the right field seats. He limped around the bases, pumping his fist, while Jack Buck screamed into his microphone, "I can't believe what I just saw." Neither could most fans. That was to be Gibson's lone appearance in the series, but it inspired his teammates to a five-game series triumph.

No. 1--Thomson's homer, of course.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

By Bob Markus



Before pronouncing the last rites over Tiger Woods' career, it might be well to make sure that the deceased is really dead. Although we are all aware that Woods shot a career worst 18 over par in last week-end's Bridgestone Invitational, very few of us actually witnessed the ghastly event. So wretchedly did Woods perform that by the week-end, when the majority of viewers are free to watch golf on television, Tiger was relegated to the dawn patrol, seen only in sound bites, having started--and finished--his rounds before the live cameras were turned on. Perhaps it's just as well. Even those who can no longer abide the sight of the once universally admired golfer would not have enjoyed watching his self-immolation. My first thought was of the last words of Edward G. Robinson's character in the movie "Little Caesar." A depression era gangster modelled on Al Capone, the mortally wounded Rico Bandello, chillingly portrayed by Robinson, gasps: "Can this be the end of Rico?



Can this be the end of Tiger? Probably not. Can this be the end of the Tiger Woods who has dominated golf almost from the day he earned his pro tour card? Much more likely. Woods' fall from the pinnacle of his profession to the depths of golfing hell is shocking and unprecedented. I've tried to think of another athlete in any sport who has fallen so far and so fast. I can't. First of all, few athletes have ever risen to the heights that Woods attained. Sure, baseball has had its Steve Blass, a world series hero one year, a has-been pitcher the next, unable to throw the ball over the plate if his livelihood depended on it. Which it did. The Chicago Cubs even now are wondering what happened to Carlos Zambrano, a double digit winner for six consecutive seasons who started going south almost the very minute he signed a mega-million dollar contract.



Likewise the Detroit Tigers, who acquired Dontrelle Willis in a trade three years after the crowd pleasing lefty had won 22 games for the Florida Marlins. The Tigers shuttled the increasingly ineffective pitcher back and forth to the minors for two years before finally shuffling him off to Arizona. Fortunately for Detroit General Manager Dave Dombrowski's sanity the trade with the Marlins also brought them Miguel Cabrera, one of the game's elite hitters. Probably an even better example is another Detroit pitcher from an earlier era, Mark Fidrych, who captivated baseball fans in his rookie year when he went 19-9 with 24 complete games and did it with panache. He won only 10 games over the next four seasons and was out of baseball at the age of 26. But none of those pitchers was even close to being the dominant performer that Woods has been.

The closest I can come to finding a precedent for Tiger's situation is race car driver Tim Richmond, who burst onto the scene in 1980 as rookie of the year in Indianapolis and two months later embarked on a NASCAR career that would see him win 13 races in a six-year span. The last two years of his life would be shrouded in mystery and controversy. He died in 1989 at the age of 34, having lived the life advocated by Nick Romano, the hero of Willard Motley's novel "Knock on Any Door," whose mantra was: Live fast, die young, and have a good looking corpse. I covered the 1980 Indy 500 for the Chicago Tribune and although I knew him for only three weeks, Richmond became one of my favorite drivers. He was the talk of the Speedway in the week leading up to qualifying, but on pole day he crashed during the morning practice. That cost him any shot at the pole, but he qualified with relative ease and was racy enough on race day to earn Rookie of the Year honors. He led one lap, finished ninth and ran out of fuel with three laps to go. The last I ever saw of him he was hitching a ride back to the pits on race winner Johnny Rutherford's front wing. The crowd loved it. A few months later, Richmond switched to NASCAR and I switched to baseball, but I followed his progress as best I could. He mostly was spinning his wheels for the first five years, but in 1986 came a switch to the Rick Hendricks team and a breakthrough year. He won seven races that year and finished third in the point standings. But he missed the Daytona 500 at the start of the 1987 season and already the rumors were starting. He was on drugs. He had AIDS. The official reason for his absence was described as double pneumonia. He came back later in the year to win back-to-back races at Pocono and Riverside, two of his favorite tracks. He raced only once more that year and in September resigned from the Hendricks team. His final days were dogged by continuing rumors. He attempted a comeback in 1988, but NASCAR banned him for alleged drug violations which he disputed until his dying day, Aug. 13, 1989. The cause of death was listed as AIDS, which he was said to have contracted from an unknown woman.

Motor racing at the time was only a niche sport and Richmond was nowhere near to being as famous as Tiger Woods. But his story might well serve as a cautionary tale. While Tiger is trying to sort out his life and his game, and fans wonder whether it's his driving or his putting that that has led to his startling collapse, the answer is obvious. It's the rut iron, as writer Dan Jenkins so succinctly described it. The driving and the putting can be fixed, although it won't be at this week's PGA championship, the last of this year's four majors. For once the venue, Whistling Straits, seems to have Woods overmatched, considering its length and devilish contours and the state of his game. What will be harder to fix will be the damage Woods has done himself with the rut iron. Perhaps he should just keep it in his bag.