THE GAME OF A LIFETIME (Part 2)

or

HOW I HELPED THE YANKEES WIN THE WORLD SERIES

This is the second part of an entry begun yesterday.  The first part can be read here.

Tuesday,18 October 1977--  Willie John and I went into the Bronx from our business on Long Island, jacked about attending Game Six of the World Series between the hometown Yankees and the transcontinental rivals the Los Angeles Dodgers.  The Yankees held a slim three games to two edge on the Californians.  If the Yankees could win tonight, they’d clinch the World Series.  If not, it would force a decisive Game Seven the next day.

The late afternoon was overcast.  The temperature was a little cooler than usual, in the mid-fifties with a moderate wind blowing in from across the Hudson.  The forecasters weren’t calling for rain, and none fell as Willie steered his old black Lincoln Continental Mark III around slower traffic headed into the city on the Long Island Expressway.

He parked the car in the private lot of a bar he moonlighted at in The Bronx, a couple of miles from the Stadium.  He got one of the help to drive us the rest of the way and deposit us right at 161^st Street and River Avenue at the entrance to the ball park.

We quickly found our seats in the lower deck on the third base side; good seats.  The stadium was packed already, with more fans streaming in during the opening ceremonies.  I looked out beyond the right-center field seating deck at the Bronx skyline and jabbed Willie with my elbow.

“Wouldja look at that!  There’s a fire in a building about four blocks away!  And look—there’s another one!”

“Whyd’ja think I parked at the bar?” he said.  “No way in hell I’m leavin’ my car on the street in this jungle—you kiddin’ me?  Forget about it.”

The game finally started.  Mike Torrez was on the mound for the Yankees.  He began all right, getting Davey Lopes and Bill Russell to ground out before Reggie Smith got on through an error by shortstop Bucky Dent.  Ron Cey, “The Penguin,” walked, and then Steve Garvey belted a deep shot down the left field line that fell in for a triple, scoring Smith and Cey.

56,407 leather-lunged Yankee fans suddenly got nervous.  And quiet.  Finally, Torrez got Dusty Baker to look at a third strike, stranding Garvey at third.

The Dodger hurler, Burt Hooton, who had earlier pitched a five-hit complete game gem, looked like he was ready to pick up where he left off, mowing down the Bronx Bombers 1-2-3.  This was not looking very auspicious for the home nine.  Fortunately, Torrez retired the Dodgers the same way in the top of the second.

Hooton walked the first Yankee batter, Reggie Jackson, on four straight pitches.  It was as the Yankee first-baseman Chris Chambliss walked to the plate that youthful exuberance, fortified by the pipeful of grass I had smoked on the Expressway and a couple of Buds I had consumed since arriving at the Stadium, kicked in.  I stood up, and looking at Hooton, I started pointing at him and yelling “Hoot-Hoot-Hoot!”

First, our friends in my row joined in.  Then the folks in our section chimed in.  Soon, the whole stadium was chanting “Hoot-Hoot-Hoot!”  Had I really started all this?  Far out, man.  Chambliss worked a visibly wild Hooton to a two-ball, one-strike count before launching the Dodger pitcher’s fourth offering in the direction of the burning buildings beyond the right-center field stands.  One swing, 2-2’s the score.

Top of the third, Torrez yields a homer to Reggie Smith, and the Yankees went down in order.  3-2 Dodgers.  In the fourth, Torrez surrendered a pair of harmless singles.  In the bottom of the fourth, the Yankee captain, Thurman Munson, singled.  Reggie Jackson, the self-proclaimed “straw that stirs the drink,” stood at the plate, waiting to take his first swing of the game, having walked on four straight balls in his first plate appearance.

And swing he did.  Jackson took Hooton’s first offering and gave it a ride to deep right field, scoring Munson and himself on the homer, and giving Hooton an early trip to the showers.  The Yankees regained the lead, 4-3, and added another run on a sacrifice fly from Sweet Lou Pinella before the inning was over

One swing, one home run.

Jackson got to bat again in the fifth inning with two outs and Willie Randolph on first.  Elias Sosa, the Dodger who relieved Hooton after Jackson’s previous homer, went into his stretch and threw his first pitch to Reggie.  Jackson swung… bye-bye ball, gone to the same area of the field as his first shot.  Bye-bye Sosa, too, to be relieved by Doug Rau.  Yankees now lead, 7-3.

Two swings, two home runs.

The sixth, seventh, and the top of the eighth passed without either team scoring a run.  Bottom of the eighth, Charlie Hough, the Dodger’s junkball reliever who came on in the seventh inning, toes the rubber and prepares to face… Reggie Jackson.

At this point, all fifty thousand people—drunks, handicapped, senior citizens, babies at their mothers’ breasts—are on their feet, cognizant of the possibilities.  Hough went into his wind-up, and his first pitch fluttered to the plate.

THWACK!  The white ball ascended on a graceful arc, back, back, w-a-a-a-y back, descending slowly, tantalizingly, before reaching its final resting spot high up in the empty center field seats that were painted black to provide batters with a neutral background behind the pitcher.  Jackson doffed, then waved his batting helmet to the crowd as he jogged triumphantly around the bases, soaking up the love and savoring his moment in time.

Three swings, three home runs.

The legend of Reginald Martinez Jackson, “Mr. October,” was born.

Post script:  The Yankees won the game, 8-4, and the Series, four games to two.  Reggie Jackson scored four times and batted in five runs, including himself three times on his homers, in that memorable game.

I had the good fortune to attend the Yankee home opener of the season the following year.  Over the winter, Reggie entered into an agreement with Standard Brands to promote the “Reggie Bar,” a circular candy with chocolate, caramel, and nuts.  Each paid admission to the game received a Reggie Bar as they entered the Stadium.

In his first at-bat in Yankee Stadium since his World Series heroics, Jackson stepped up to the plate and… homered.  The game had to be interrupted for about twenty minutes:  fans threw their Reggie Bars onto the field in celebration.

I think I might still have mine somewhere…

© 2009, Kenneth M. Rhodes