Last night I stumbled upon the MLB Network's rebroadcast of Game 1 of the 1968 World Series. In that game, St. Louis Cardinals great Bob Gibson struck out a World Series record 17 Tigers en route to a 5-hit shutout that gave his Cardinals a 4-0 victory and a leg up on the Series. The photo shows him pitching to the hapless Norm Cash, who contributed three strikeouts to Gibson's record total, including #16, with which Gibby passed Sandy Koufax's old Series record. That 16th K came in the course of a stirling ninth inning, in which, after a lead-off single, Gibson struck out future Hall of Famer Al Kaline, to tie Koufax; Stormin' Norman; and slugger Willie Horton, caught looking to end the game.

Now, I would have much preferred watching Game 7, in which the Tigers, behind the Human Pear, Mickey Lolich, finally defeated Gibson to win the World Series 4-3, which was, at that point, the highlight of my sports spectator life. That improbable victory (improbable because over three postseasons, Gibson had won seven World Series games in a row and because of his overwhelming season in 1968, described below) capped a thrilling come-from-behind resurrection for the Tigers, who had trailed the Cardinals three games to one after Gibson had once again mastered the Bengals and rival Denny McLain in Game 4. But Lolich, having won Game 2 for the Tigers, took Game 5, in Detroit, and McLain finally pitched to form in Game 6, with a victory that knotted the Series at three games apiece and set up the confrontation of two two-win pitchers (Gibby and Mickey) both going on short rest.

But knowing of that joyous outcome actually made it possible for me to watch Gibson's destruction of the Tigers batting order in Game 1 with less anxiety. And with considerable admiration.

He stood on the mound as a master, legs slightly parted and with his right hand dangling behind his back loosely holding the ball. Think of Michelangelo's David in a baseball uniform, and you'll have a sense of the blend of grace and majesty that Gibson embodied. His pose seemed tranquil, but it was really barely contained power. He took the sign from catcher Tim McCarver, rocked, and fired, ending his effort with a balletic pounce toward the firstbase line evident in the photo. It was as though he pored every ounce of his being into the pitch. Then he righted himself and returned to his stance, quiescent but pulsing with power.

He was a panther, ready to pounce.

Here are Gibson's strikeout totals, by inning, in that game: 1st--2; 2nd--3; 3rd--2; 4th--1; 5th--1; 6th--2; 7th--2; 8th--1; 9th--3.

Gibson's 1968 season is one of the most impressive statistically in baseball annals. He went 22-9 and posted a microscopic 1.12 ERA. He logged 13 shutouts that year. Thirteen! And he struck out 268, leading the National League in that category as well as ERA. He also led the league in WHIP with an astounding 0.853. The most amazing thing about that season, of course, was that despite a 1.12 ERA, he actually lost nine games! He should have sued his teammates for nonsupport.

Yes, Gibby's remarkable year came in the fabled Year of the Pitcher, when Denny McLain became the last man to win 30 games (he logged 31), Luis Tiant led the AL in ERA with a miniscule 1.60 mark, and Don Drysdale threw 58 straight scoreless innings (that's more than six games worth, folks).

That doesn't taint the achievement of one of baseball's best pitchers--and most fearsome competitors. (I remember reading a story about Gibby in Sport magazine when I was a kid that mentioned that he was such a fierce competitor that he refused to let his little daughter win at checkers.)

Thank you, Bob Gibson, for being great, even if you were a Cardinal.