1977 World Series

Fourteen years passed before the Yankees and Dodgers met again. Baseball underwent some significant changes in that time. After years of pitching dominance, Major League Baseball lowered the mound to a regulation 10 inches after the 1968 season. Both leagues added two new teams for the '69 season, causing both leagues to split into two six team divisions, with the winners meeting in a League Championship Series prior to the World Series. The AL added two more teams in 1977, by which point the AL was in its fifth year of using the designated hitter, and multi-use, cookie-cutter, Astroturf parks had become home to about a third of baseball's clubs.

-1977-

Despite all the changes, there was an air of familiarity as the World Series dawned in October. The Dodgers, who had made three World Series appearances since their last meeting with the Yankees, put an end to the Big Red Machine's reign of terror over the National League, outpacing Cincinnati by ten games for the NL West flag then dispensing with Philadelphia in the NLCS.

The Yankees meanwhile were making their second consecutive appearance in the Fall Classic. After faltering through the late sixties and early seventies they returned to the World Series in '76 only to be swept by the mighty Reds. The Yankees went through a soap opera season in '77, winning a three team battle with Boston and Baltimore for the division crown, and fighting a three headed battle amongst their owner, manager, and star slugger on the tabloid backpages throughout the summer. Despite the turmoil, they not only won the division, but knocked Kansas City out of the ALCS for the second consecutive year.

While none of the players had been around long enough to remember past Yankee-Dodger tilts, there were folks in each dugout who had plenty of memories. The Yankees were managed by the combustible Billy Martin, a veteran of four Subway Series against Brooklyn in the fifties. His coaching staff featured Yogi Berra and Elston Howard, who between them faced the Dodgers in ten World Series.

Meanwhile the Dodgers coaching staff featured Junior Gilliam, a veteran of four World Series against the Yankees. Dodgers rookie manager Tommy Lasorda had ties to both organizations. Lasorda succeeded the legendary Walter Alston with four games remaining in the 1976 season. Alston had been the Dodger manager since 1954, dating back to their days in Brooklyn. Three times his clubs faced the Yankees in the Fall Classic, and twice they had emerged victorious. Lasorda made eight appearances as a middling pitcher on those '54 and '55 teams. After washing out with the Athletics in 1956, Lasorda was traded to the Yankees and assigned to their top affiliate in Denver. The next year he was traded back to the Dodgers, spent three more years in their system, then began a career as a scout, minor league manager, coach, and eventually their skipper.

The Series began at Yankee Stadium on Tuesday October 11th. For the Dodgers, longtime ace Don Sutton was on the mound. The Yankees sent lefty Don Gullett to oppose him. Just 26 years old, Gullett was the Yankees' second biggest free agent signing the previous off-season. He broke in with the Reds as a 19 year old in 1970 and was a member of their back-to-back World Series winners in '75 and '76. Arm troubles had prevented Gullett from pitching a full season since 1974, and limited him to just 22 starts in his first season with the Yanks.

Gullett spotted the Dodgers to a 2-0 lead in the first, walking leadoff man Davey Lopes, allowing a triple to Bill Russell, and surrendering a sacrifice fly to Ron Cey. The Yankees got one back in the bottom half, as an RBI single from Chris Chambliss scored Thurman Munson. Gullett settled down from there, shutting the Dodgers out through the eighth. The Yankees tied in the sixth on a solo shot from Willie Randolph, and took the lead in the eighth, when Munson doubled Randolph home.

Given the lead, Martin elected to stick with Gullett rather than summon relief ace and eventual AL Cy Young Award winner Sparky Lyle. Lyle was coming off an outstanding season, tossing 137 innings of relief to a 2.17 ERA, saving 26 games and winning 13 more. Dusty Baker singled to start the frame, and after Manny Mota flew out, Steve Yeager walked. With the tying run in scoring position Lyle came on, and allowed a game tying single to Lee Lacy. The teams traded zeros into the twelfth, with Lyle retiring eleven in a row after the game tying hit. Randolph led off the bottom of the inning with a double. The Dodgers walked Munson to face light hitting defensive replacement Paul Blair, and the former longtime Oriole delivered a game winning base hit.

Game Two matched Burt Hooton against Catfish Hunter. Hunter fronted the A's rotation as they won three straight titles earlier in the decade, then signed with the Yankees as a free agent prior to the '75 season. Though only 31, Hunter had logged more than 3,000 Major League innings, and they had begun to take their toll upon his arm. He was limited to just 22 starts in '77, but he was a certified big game pitcher and his championship pedigree was considered to be a major influence in putting the Yankees over the top. Hunter couldn't recapture his past magic in Game Two though, lasting only two and a third surrendering five runs on homers to Ron Cey, Steve Yeager, and Reggie Smith. Hooton allowed just six base runners over nine innings, and the Dodgers evened things up with a 6-1 victory.

Two days later in L.A., veteran starters Tommy John and Mike Torrez got the ball for the Dodgers and Yankees respectively. This time, it was the Yankees jumping out to an early lead, riding back-to-back-to-back RBI hits from Munson, Reggie Jackson, and Lou Piniella to a 3-0 lead. The Dodgers drew even in the third on a three run homer from Baker. The following inning, a Mickey Rivers groundout pushed Graig Nettles across with the go-ahead run, and an RBI single from Chambliss the following inning made it 5-3. Torrez shut the Dodgers down the rest of the way, and the Yankees jumped up two games to one.

The Yankees sent Ron Guidry to the mound for Game Four. After appearing briefly in '75 and '76, Guidry established himself as a valuable starter in 1977, his five shutouts portending things to come. Once again, the Yankees gave their starter an early 3-0 lead, as RBIs from Piniella, Nettles, and Bucky Dent chased Dodgers started Doug Rau in the second. Guidry gave two back in the third on a homer by Davey Lopes, but it was all the scoring the Dodgers would do. Reggie Jackson added a home run in the sixth, and Guidry surrendered four hits, three walks, and struck out seven in tossing the Yankees second straight complete game.

With their back against the wall, the Dodgers went back to Sutton in Game Five. A first inning RBI single from Bill Russell gave them an early lead, then they pounded Gullett, Ken Clay, and Dick Tidrow nine more across the middle three frames. The Yankees had a late rally, scoring two in the seventh and two more in the eighth on solo shots from Munson and Jackson, but it wasn't enough, as they fell 10-4.

As the teams returned to New York for Game Six, Reggie Jackson was winding down a tumultuous first season in pinstripes. The prize of the first free agent class the previous winter, George Steinbrenner was hellbent on making a splash by adding Jackson's potent bat and flair for the dramatic to the heart of the Yankee order. Martin preferred Orioles second baseman Bobby Grich, with designs on using him to fill the Yankees gaping hole at shortstop. Per usual, Steinbrenner got his way. The three clashed repeatedly over the course of the season: over Jackson's spot in the batting order, over whether he'd be the right fielder or the designated hitter, over everything. When Martin felt Jackson loafed it fielding a ball during a summer game at Fenway Park, he replaced him mid-inning. The two nearly came to blows in the dugout. Jackson's social awkwardness and desire for attention made him a bit of a misfit in a clubhouse full of gruff personalities, and his spring training interview with Sport magazine, in which he claimed he was "the straw that stirred the drink" and took a swipe at respected team captain Thurman Munson, alienated him from nearly the entire roster.

Despite all that, Jackson entered Game Six doing what he did best: shining on the big stage. His legend began as an A, with a monstrous home run off a Tiger Stadium roof transformer in the 1971 All-Star Game. That fall, in post-season play for the first time, Jackson knocked two more homers in a losing effort in the ALCS. A leg injury suffered in the ALCS the following year kept Jackson out of the '72 Series, but he returned with homers in the '73 Series against the Mets, the '74 Series against the Dodgers, and the '75 ALCS against the Red Sox.

When Jackson stepped into the batters with one on and no one out in the fourth inning of Game Six, he had already homered twice over the Series' first five games. With a chance to clinch, the Yankees were trailing 3-2, a Chris Chambliss home run not enough to overcome Steve Garvey's two run triple and Reggie Smith's solo shot. As he so often did though, Jackson game through when it mattered most. He took Hooton's first offering and launched it into the right field stands.

Jackson came up the following inning. The Yankees were now leading 5-3. Willie Randolph was on first with two outs and Elias Sosa had replaced Hooton on the mound. Jackson took Sosa' first offering and deposited into the right field seats to make it 7-3 Yankees. Three innings later, Jackson led off against Dodger fireman Charlie Hough. Jackson jumped on the knuckleballer's first pitch, blasting into the black bleacher seats in dead center field. In doing so, Jackson joined Babe Ruth as the only men to hit three homers in a World Series game. Torrez gave one back in the ninth to make it 8-4, but when he squeezed a pop bunt of the bat off Lee Lacy for the game's final out, the Yankees had their first championship in fifteen years.

Off Night Links

[Again via 30fps]

Yet another baseball-less night. Here are a few things to help pass the time.

Navin Vaswani, better know on Twitter, in the blogoverse and on occasion in our comment section as "eyebleaf" is doing a project for the Toronto Globe and Mail during which he'll travel by bus and visit all 30 Major League ballparks in 60 days. He's a Jays fan and filed his report of yesterday's Yankees and Rangers game from the refreshing perspective of an outsider. Tonight, he's off to see the Mets play the Cubs at Citi Field before he continues his journey. If, like me, you are extremely jealous of the awesome trip Navin is embarking on, you can keep up with his dispatches here.

+100 to Matthew Pouliot of Hardball Talk for this headline.

The Yankees are heading to the White House next Monday.

Will Leitch has an excellent feature in New York Magazine about advanced defensive metrics awesomely-titled "Databases Loaded".

Both Joe Posnanksi and Larry from IIATMS took a look at the Forbes Business of Baseball Rankings. It's really staggering how much more money the Yankees make than everyone, particularly at the gates.

Sam Dolnick of the New York Times wrote a piece about the street named after Thurman Munson. There's a great quote from Munson's widow, Diana, in it:

“He wasn’t about the big superhighway and mainstream streets,” she said. “It fits his personality so much more that it would be an out-of-the-way street and be something that not a lot of people would embrace.”

In conjunction with his new gig at RotoGraphs, Mike from River Ave. Blues made an appearance on FanGraphs Audio this weekend to talk about fantasy baseballing.

Last week, a message informing people of a Metro North train with service to Yankee Stadium was accidentally replaced with a warning of a bomb threat at several stations. Oops.

The Wire + Baseball = Win.

More Soxenfreude, this time from Charles P. Pierce who thinks that it's not too early to panic over the Red Sox. As much as I'd like to agree with him, it is. We're only through 7.5% of the season and although they've stumbled out of the gate, they're going to find their way soon enough.

Morgan Ensberg wrote a post at his blog this weekend about the real reason the pace of play in the MLB is so much slower than it used to be: Bud Selig. Not really, it's the commercial breaks and FOX, ESPN and TBS get an extra 30 seconds every time. But the players are only allotted 8 seconds of at bat music because that's the real menace.

Dave Cameron, who just joined FanGraphs full time, talks about the Mariners' baserunning so far this year and attempts to draw the line between aggressive and reckless.

Ubaldo Jiminez threw a no hitter this weekend, which is cool and everything, but he had six walks and needed the 10th most pitches of the Retrosheet era to do it. It's still an impressive feat without a doubt, but wouldn't, say, a two hit, two walk complete game shutout technically be better?

An interesting note from that game: Matt pointed out that Jiminez started throwing exclusively from the stretch after the 6th inning and didn't give up a walk after that.

Sagiv from Fire Jerry Manuel took Jon Heyman to task for saying that Andy Pettitte is going to the Hall of Fame for pretty much the same reasons he said he wouldn't vote for Bert Blyleven.

Speaking of firing Jerry Manuel, Matthew Carruth at FanGraphs took him to task for allowing not only holding back Francisco Rodriguez from pitching until the 19th inning on Saturday, but letting him warm up in every single inning before that, throwing over 100 pitches. Warm up pitches aren't imaginary, Jerry, they tax pitchers' arms too.

Do the Mets need Jesus in their lives? Mike Francesa doesn't see why he would choose them over any other team in the division.

There are parallel characters in The Sandlot and Reservior Dogs? You bet.

That's all for tonight. Catch you in the AM.

1 Day Until Spring Training: Bobby Murcer

One day. One more day until one of my favorite sentences in the English language will be uttered: "Pitchers and catchers report". I know it's cliched. I know unofficial workouts have been taking place in earnest for a few days now. But there's something special about having an official date when we know the offseason is over. A date when we know we'll soon be talking about real baseball stories instead of speculating about where Johnny Damon or Chien-Ming Wang will sign. A date when we can stop speculating about if and when Derek Jeter will re-sign, and for how long and how much, and who will eventually replace him next year, or in 2014, or whenever.

I would hate to be the guy to replace Derek Jeter. The burden of expectations might be too much to bear. Last year we saw Mark Teixeira struggle somewhat early on in replacing Jason Giambi, who in turn had struggled in replacing Tino Martinez, who had struggled in replacing a Yankee legend in Don Mattingly. In Derek Jeter we're on a different level. We're talking about a Yankee icon with a grip on the psyche of the fanbase that goes beyond what even Donnie Baseball had. A sure first ballot Hall of Famer. A five time (at least) World Series champion. The Captain of the Yankees. One of the top two or three shortstops ever to play the game.

Yankee history has had more than its share of legends. And for every legend to hang up his cleats some poor soul has had the unenviable taks of replacing him. Some have done so with great success; others were not so fortunate. Babe Dahlgren begged Lou Gehrig not to take himself out of the line up. Yogi Berra succeeded Bill Dickey with aplomb, as did Mickey Mantle in replacing Joe DiMaggio. Thurman Munson was worthy heir to the Dickey-Berra-Howard line of catchers, then poor Jerry Narron and Brad Gulden had the unthinkably difficult job of taking the Captain's place just days after his untimely death. But perhaps no one in Yankee history was saddled with greater expectations than Bobby Murcer.

Bobby Murcer was supposed to be the next Mickey Mantle. Murcer, like Mantle, was from Oklahoma. Murcer, like Mantle, was a baseball and football star in high school. Murcer, like Mantle, came up through the Yankees system as a shortstop. Murcer so badly wanted to follow in the foot steps of his hero Mantle that he signed with the Yankees in 1964 for $10,000, half of what the Dodgers offered him. The scout that inked him to that deal was Tom Greenwade, the same man who had signed Mantle fifteen years earlier. When Murcer made his Major League debut in late 1965 at 19 years old, the same age at which Mantle debuted, The Mick still had three full seasons of his career ahead of him. It didn't matter. The press and the fans were hungry to anoint the next chosen one, and it was Murcer. Hitting a game winning home run in just his second Major League game only increased the level of expectation.

Entering the following season, Murcer was considered the favorite to win the starting shortstop job, the position vacated with the retirement of Tony Kubek. The Yankees broke camp with Murcer platooning with veteran Ruben Amaro, but through seven games, and just three starts, Murcer had struggled to a .071/.071/.071 batting line and had made three errors in just 31 defensive innings. Manager Johnny Keane buried him on the bench, and eventually he was sent to AAA. He returned when rosters expanded in September, but struggled through the season's final month.

Unlike Mantle, Murcer did not have a 4F exemption from military service, and he lost the entirety of the 1967 and '68 seasons while in the Army. He returned for the 1969 season, just as Mantle announced his retirement during Spring Training. Murcer won the third base job and was htting the tar out of the ball. But after committing fourteen errors through just thirty one games, Murcer was moved to right field, the same position where Mantle began his Major League career. He spent the next three and half months there, and by the end of August, he had inherited the same center field that Mantle and DiMaggio patrolled before him.

Murcer spent the next four plus years as the Yankee center fielder. Though the team languished around .500 (save for a surprising 93 win season in '70), Murcer thrived. Through the first five full years of his career he hit .287/.362/.482, good for 143 OPS+ and averaging 26 HR per season. He won a Gold Glove, started three consecutive All-Star Games, and had three consecutive top ten MVP finishes. He led the AL in OBP, OPS, and OPS+ in '71, then followed that by leading the League in runs and total bases the following year. He had several top ten finishes on the League Leader board for average, on base, hits, walks, times on base, total bases, doubles, home runs, and RBI. He might not have been the next Mantle, but as Joe Posnanski pointed out earlier this year, he was in the discussion for best player in the game during this stretch.

Things went south for Murcer in 1974. With Yankee Stadium undergoing renovations, the Yankees moved to Shea Stadium. There, without the friendly right field porch, Murcer dropped to .274/.332/.378 (106 OPS+) with only ten home runs, just two of them coming at Shea. By late May, manager Bill Virdon had shifted Murcer to right field, upsetting the veteran who valued his being the successor to Hall of Famers Earle Combs, DiMaggio, and Mantle. After the season, Murcer was traded for Bobby Bonds in a blockbuster deal. While it was surely difficult for the team and the fans to see a homegrown talent shipped away, Bonds turned in an outstanding 1975 for the Yankees and then was flipped for Mickey Rivers and Ed Figueroa, two key cogs of the teams that went on to win three consecutive pennants and back-to-back World Series.

Murcer's numbers rebounded in San Francisco, but Bobby made no secret of his dislike of windy Candlestick Park, where he hit just 17 home runs over two seasons. From there it was on to the friendly confines of Wrigley Field for the '77 and '78 seasons. Then, in late June of '79, Murcer was traded back to New York, where he had always wanted to be. His return would be bittersweet. Not because he had missed out on the winning of '76-'78, but because he was about to lose his best friend.

Thurman Munson and Bobby Murcer had forged a close friendship during Murcer's first go-round in New York. Munson debuted late in 1969, during Murcer's first full season with the club. In the bottom of the sixth inning of Munson's second career game, Murcer led off with a home run. Munson followed with a long ball of his own for his first Major League homer, then Gene Michael followed with a third straight home run. It was just the third time in club history that the Yankees had gone back-to-back-to-back. Murcer and Munson became sort of a next generation of the M&M boys, and the two young superstars were amongst the few bright spots as the Yankees emerged from one of the few extended down periods in their history.

Murcer had been back with the Yankees for just over a month when they arrived in Chicago for a three game series on July 30th. Murcer still had a home in the area thanks to his time with the Cubs, and rather than stay at the team hotel, Murcer and his wife Kay hosted Munson and Lou Piniella throughout the series. On Wednesday August 1st, the series concluded with the Yankees taking a 9-1 victory. After the game, Bobby and Kay drove Munson to the airport, where he hopped in his plane and flew home to Canton, Ohio for the off day. It was the last time anyone from the Yankees would see him alive. The next day Munson crashed practicing takeoffs and landings.

On the morning of Monday August 6th, the entire Yankees team, coaching staff, and front office was in Canton. They were scheduled to play the division leading Baltimore Orioles in New York that night. Commissioner Bowie Kuhn had advised the team against attending Munson's funeral, but George Steinbrenner would hear nothing of it. The man who once said winning was second to only breathing was prepared to forfeit the game if the Yankees couldn't get back in time. But there was no way his club wouldn't be attending their Captain's funeral.

There, Piniella and Murcer, Munson's roommates for the last few nights of his life, eulogized him. Murcer broke down during his and on the flight home manager Billy Martin told the emotionally drained Murcer he would have the night off. Murcer refused, saying he felt he needed to play. So Martin penciled Murcer in as the left fielder, and batted him second. He would go on to have his signature night as a Yankee.

In the seventh inning, Murcer stepped to the plate with two outs. The Yankees were down 4-0; Bucky Dent was on third, Willie Randolph on second. Murcer was 0 for 3 on the night, having fanned, flown out to right, and lined to short. This time his luck changed, as he yanked a Dennis Martinez offering into the right field stands to cut the O's lead to one.

In the ninth, Murcer came to the plate again. Again Dent was on third, Randolph on second. The score was still 4-3. There were no outs, and now left handed Tippy Martinez was on the mound. Under normal circumstances the lefty swinging veteran would have been lifted for a pinch hitter. But Martin let him hit, and Murcer delivered with a base hit to left, giving the Yankees the game. Murcer drove in all five Yankee runs in the 5-4 win. He and fellow eulogist shared a hug in the dugout and Murcer saw to it that Munson's widow Diane received the bat.

Murcer remained with the Yankees for three more years, posting great numbers in part time duty in '80 and '81. He finally reached the World Series in '81, but went 0 for 4 in limited duty as the Yankees blew a 2-0 lead and fell to the Dodgers in six games. His numbers slipped a bit in '82, and after getting off to a slow start in '83, Murcer retired to make room on the roster for a young player named Don Mattingly.

The end of his playing career marked the start of Bobby Murcer's second career with the Yankees. He proceeded immediately to the broadcast booth, and worked there for the '83 and '84 seasons. He became an assistant general manager in '85 and briefly attempted a comeback that year, abandoning it after four minor league games. He served as a coach in '87, and in '88 he returned to the broadcast booth for the Yankees' final season on SportsChannel. In '89 he was part of the original Yankees' crew for their first season on MSG, then reunited with Phil Rizzuto on WPIX in '90. Murcer remained with WPIX until they lost the Yankees' broadcast rights following the 1998 season. He spent the next three seasons doing Yankee games for FOX5, and then joined the YES Network for its launch in 2002. Murcer also became part owner of his the AAA club in his hometown of Oklahoma City in 1989, and served as the club president for a few years. He was a regular at Old Timers Day throughout his retirement. In later years, Murcer was miked up and would announce from the field. He also took to employing current Yankees as his personal hitting coach for the Old Timers game, as Hideki Matsui, Jason Giambi, and others unsuccessfully attempted to coax one more homer out of Murcer.

On Christmas Eve 2006 Murcer was diagnosed with brain cancer. He faced his diagnosis with the same bravery and dignity that marked his playing and broadcast career. He returned to the booth after receiving treatment, but suffered a relapse in 2008. He succumbed to the disease on July 12th.

Bobby Murcer didn't turn out to be the next Mickey Mantle, but he had a full and successful career. For one generation of fans, he was the Yankee superstar as they scuttled through the early 70s. For my generation, he was our Phil Rizzuto, the kindly, entertaining former great in the broadcast booth. Easy to relate to and impossible not to like. But whether one remembers him as a player or as an announcer, for any Yankee fan of the past 45 years, it's impossible not to remember Bobby Murcer. Just as he titled his autobiography, Murcer will always be a Yankee for Life.

15 Days Until Spring Training: Thurman Munson

Aside from the natural ability to hit and play the position, Thurman Munson had plenty of characteristics that perfectly suited him to be the Yankees' catcher. He was pugnacious, rugged and passionate, willing to sacrifice his body on any given play. He was simultaneously proud and humble, holding the game of baseball in the highest regard. Furthermore, he had a mean-ass mustache and hated the Red Sox. Boy, did he hate the Red Sox. I'd like to think that if he was alive today, old Squatty Body would have rather liked the name of this blog.

The above sequence is from a game at Fenway, on August 1st, 1973. Stick Michael was up to bat in the top of the 9th with the score tied, and failed to make contact on a suicide squeeze, unleashing Munson down the third baseline towards Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. Munson led with a left forearm and Pudge went low, sending the two tumbling over home plate. Fisk held onto the ball, Munson was out, and they quickly got to their feet and began exchanging blows.

Munson and Pudge had a contentious rivalry which extended beyond your typical rival hatred. Although some elements of the feud may have been exaggerated in Munson's biography written by Christopher Devine, there was a legitimate dislike between the two that was exacerbated by the teams they played for.

Perhaps the seeds of Munson's hatred of Boston were planted, like mine, in the time he spent there as a young man. In the summer of 1967, Joe "Skippy" Lewis, manager of the Chatham A's of the Cape Cod Baseball League offered Munson a spot as their starting catcher, along with a side job with the Chatham Parks Department for $75 a week. In 39 games that summer, Munson hit .420 as a catcher, .65 higher than any other other player in the league and was named MVP of the league. Now, the winner of the CCBL batting title receives the Thurman Munson Award.

It was during his time on the Cape that he was discovered by the Yankees. They selected him with the fourth overall pick in the 1968 Amateur Draft, gave him a $75,000 signing bonus and a $500 per week salary.

Munson made his debut in 1969 but appeared in only 26 games. In 1970, he won Rookie of the Year, netting 96% of the vote after batting .302/.386/.415. While remaining solid behind the plate, Munson had two years in 1971 & '72 where he was above league average, but unspectacular offensively.

Although it was not recognized as such by the MVP voting, 1973 was Munson's finest year as a hitter. He raked 29 doubles, 20 homers and hit .301/.362/.487, good for a 141 OPS+. That season was also the beginning of Thurm's three year Gold Glove and six year All-Star appearance streaks. In each of those six years, Munson placed in the MVP voting and played 144 games or more behind the plate.

He was named Yankee captain in 1975, claiming a post that Lou Gehrig vacated with his farewell speech in 1939. In 1976, Munson clocked 17 homers, 27 doubles, drove in 105 runs and was rewarded with the AL MVP, receiving 18 out of a possible 24 first place votes. A testament to his hard-headed, competitive nature, that year he stole 14 bases but was caught 11 times. In fact, over his career, he was actually caught more than he was successful, stealing only 48 bases in 98 tries.

Munson was behind the plate for Ron Guidry's legendary 1978 season, where he went 25-3 with a 1.74ERA. Guidry later said about Munson, "I went through the whole year never shaking him off one time. He always knew when to say something, and when to shut up."

Munson had three children who lived with his wife in Canton, Ohio, where he grew up. He often grew homesick and decided to take flying lessons to make it easier to commute back and forth to see his family. On August 2nd, 1979, he was practicing take-offs and landings at Akron-Canton Regional Airport when he met his untimely end.

On the approach to the runway, Munson dropped the flaps on the wings of his Cessna Citation I/SP, but waited too long before giving the plane more power. As a result, the aircraft came up well short of the intended target. Munson had failed to fasten his shoulder strap, was paralyzed during the initial impact and trapped inside the cockpit when the plane finally came to a rest after rolling and sliding for over 500 feet. His flight instructor, David Hall and his friend Kenny Anderson attempted to free Munson, but the plane caught on fire and they were forced to retreat. His last words were "Get me out of here! Please get me out!" A tragic and powerless cry for help that in no way reflected the way he lived. He was 32 years old.

Munson's funeral was held four days later on August 6th in Canton, Ohio. Lou Pinella and other Yankees spoke while Bobby Murcer delivered the eulogy that morning. That same day, the team took the field back in the Bronx to face the Orioles. Ron Guidry started but through the top of the 7th, the Yanks were down 4-0. Then with two outs in the bottom half of the frame, Bucky Dent worked a walk. Willie Randolph followed with a double, bringing up Murcer. Facing Dennis Martinez, Murcer blasted a three run shot, bringing the Yanks within one.

Guidry remained in the game, holding the O's at 4 through the tops of the 8th and 9th. Just as it was in the 7th, Bucky Dent reached base on a walk in the 9th, putting the tying run on base. Next up, Willie Randolph laid down a bunt in an attempt to move Dent over but Tippy Martinez made a throwing error that allowed the runners to advance to second and third. This brought up Murcer once again and he poked a single to left which drove in the tying and winning runs. Guidry got a complete game win and Murcer drove in all five runs for the Yankees.

Despite it's brevity, Thurm's career was one of constant success. In each of his nine full seasons as a player, he captured either the Rookie of the Year, Gold Glove, MVP, or a World Series Championship.

When someone dies young, they are enshrined in our minds in their youth. There is a different legacy left than when we watch a person decline with age, grow frail and forget people's names. We see the sad portrayal of modern day Muhammad Ali, but only remember the dynamic vibrance of a prime Jimi Hendrix.

Munson's number was retired immediately after his death and an empty locker with the number 15 was kept in the Yankees Clubhouse through the closing of the Old Stadium. Written by George Steinbrenner, his plaque in Monument Park reads:

Our captain and leader has not left us, today, tomorrow, this year, next ... Our endeavors will reflect our love and admiration for him.

The 30th annual Thurman Munson Awards dinner will be held tonight at the Grand Hyatt in Manhattan and will honor Joba Chamberlain, Darryl Strawberry and Lou Pinella, among others. The foundation has raised over $10M for children and adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities since its inception.

21 Days Until Spring Training: Paul O'Neill

According to George Steinbrenner, #21 is a Warrior. Given his respect for the immortal General Douglas MacArthur, I’m entirely sure that there can be no higher praise from the Boss.

O’Neill is my 2nd favorite Yankee ever after the chronically under appreciated Bernie Williams. His intensity for the game was unmatched matched. He truly cared about the team and his success. He was the antithesis of the increasingly common type of athlete who just wants to make sure his salary is being paid. His desire is best summed up by the number of water coolers that have slammed the concrete of the old Yankee Stadium dugout and the number of his bats that have been furiously tossed on the famed Kentucky Bluegrass of the diamond.

When Paul finished his Yankee career, which began in 1993, he hadn't complied the most impressive numbers. Prior to his tenure with the Yankees, O'Neill's numbers were even worse. He was sported a line of .259/.336/.431 in Cincinatti and only hit more than 20 homers once (in 1991) before was traded to the Reds for Roberto Kelly. Yankees fans were LIVID. Stick Michael, being the genius that he is, thought he could become something much better with the help of the short porch in Yankee Stadium. During the dynastic run of the late 90's, Paulie was the heart and soul of the team.

O'Neill had his share of postseason drama at Yankee Stadium, but none more poignant than the clinching Game 4 of the 1999 World Series against Atlanta. That morning, Charles "Chick" O'Neill, Paul's father, had died of lung and kidney failure at age 79. Paul had visited his father daily at Manhattan's Lenox Hill Hospital where the senior O'Neill had undergone heart surgery. Paul openly wept in the clubhouse before the game, but told Torre he felt he could play. Said first-base coach Jose Cardenal, "Paulie wanted to see if he could get through batting practice first. He thought being in the game would take his mind off things."

O'Neill also had what was perhaps the best plate appearance in Yankees history. In Game 1 of the 2000 World Series, down 2-1 in the top of the 9th against the Mets, O'Neill worked a 10 pitch one-out walk against Mets closer Armando Benitez. Subsequent singles by Luis Polonia and Jose Vizcaino loaded the bases before the Yankees tied the score on a sacrifice fly by Chuck Knoblauch. The Yanks won it in the 12th on a bases-loaded single by Vizcaino and went on to win the Fall Classic in 5 Games.

In 2001, his last year with the Yankees, at age 38, he became the oldest player ever to have a 20/20 season.

Since his retirement, his number 21 had not been worn by any Yankee player, leading to speculation that it will be officially retired. Yankees relief pitcher LaTroy Hawkins briefly wore the number in the 2008 season but, on April 16, 2008, Hawkins switched to number 22 in response to the criticism and boos he received from many Yankee fans.

O'Neill was a Cincinnati native, but like fellow Ohio native Thurman Munson, embraced New York fully. "Playing in New York really worked out for me," O'Neill said. "It was the best time of my life."

Paulie has also provided great Seinfeld memories. In the episode entitled "The Wink," O'Neill is accosted by Cosmo Kramer in the Yankees' locker room and is told by Kramer that he must hit two home runs in the same game so that Kramer can retrieve a birthday card signed by all the Yankees from a little boy who wasn't supposed to get it in the first place. O'Neill angrily replies that this is very difficult and that he is not usually a home run hitter; he then asks Kramer, "How'd you get in here anyway?" In the ensuing game, O'Neill does hit two home runs, but one of them is an in-the-park home run and scored a triple due to the other team's error, so the little boy Kramer is trying to appease is not totally satisfied. Kramer manages to get the Yankee-signed birthday card back from the boy, but he has now promised the boy that O'Neill will catch a fly ball in his hat during the next game.

His playing career ended on a sour note when Luis Gonzalez's blooper fell onto the turf in Arizona but he received a poignant send off during his last game in the Bronx. In Game 5 of the 2001 World Series when the Yankees were losing to the Diamondbacks 2-0 in the top of the 9th Inning, Yankees fans, anticipating the fact that it would be O’Neill’s last game ever at The House That Ruth Built, cheered for him by chanting his name endlessly. Paulie responded with tears in his eyes and by tipping his hat.

O'Neill was one of the few Yankees that fans have embraced completely despite coming up with a different organization. Part of it was that he expressed the frustrations that fans sometimes feel by he slammed his bat or destroyed a water cooler. It has even more to do with the fact that Paulie came on-board in 1993 when the Yanks were still finding their way out of the dark period of the late 80's and stayed with them until they were on top of the baseball world.

Could Derek Jeter Get In The HoF Unanimously?

Jeff Pearlman thinks he could.

It's been a while, but I don't think there is any other way to approach this than FJM-style. Maybe I was inspired by yesterday at Deadspin. Or maybe there is so much wrong in this post that I tried to react to it using blockquotes but it was impossible without it seeming like I was quoting him out of context.

(Before you tell me in the comments, I have no delusions that I am as brilliant or funny as the FJM fellas, but when you disagree with just about everything in a piece, there aren't too many ways of responding to it other than bolding what they say and reacting in regular font.)

Is Derek Jeter an all-time, all-time, all-time great, a la Mantle, Ruth, Rickey Henderson, Bob Gibson, Sandy Koufax, etc? No.

But he is an all-time great—the shortstop with the most hits, a four-time World Series champ, an undisputed leader and grinder.

Luis Aparicio had the record for hits as a shortstop before Jeter and he received just 84.6% of the vote and it wasn't even his first ballot.

Phil Rizzuto was the Yankee shortstop for 7 World Series titles but had to be elected by the Veterans Committee 38 years after he retired, and unlike Jeter, he won an MVP.

Lots of people disputed Jeter's leadership when he didn't stand up for A-Rod. Others have said that Jorge Posada was the real, fiery leader in the Yankee clubhouse.

And "grinder" is a nebulous, bullshit term that has been used to describe the least talented player on every high school team ever assembled.

That’s why, I truly believe, Jeter may way become the first unanimous Hall of Same selection.

I really do.

All of those things in combination are pretty impressive, but none of those guys who you named as being better than Jeter were elected unanimously.

I know… I know—some moron voter will make a stand by voting NO; his chance to say, “If Ruth wasn’t unanimous, Jeter shouldn’t be.”

You really don't think he'll get in unanimously, then. So what was the point of this article again?

But Jeter, well, Jeter is perfect. First, look at his lifetime statistics. Second, look at the three Gold Gloves (yes, his defense isn’t what it once was. But, in 2009, it’s been very good). Third, look at the four titles. Fifth, look at the captaincy. Sixth, look at the clutch situations—especially The Flip against Oakland. Seventh, look at the dignified way he carries himself.

Okay, since you brought them up, let's actually look at these things instead of just listing them offhandedly, shall we Jeff:

First, look at his lifetime statistics.

Yes his statistics are very good, particularly his batting average and OBP, especially when you consider that he plays shortstop. I'm with you.

Second, look at the three Gold Gloves (yes, his defense isn’t what it once was. But, in 2009, it’s been very good)

It's not that his defense wasn't what it once was, it's that there are very smart people who contend that it was never very good to begin with. Derek Jeter isn't going to the HoF for his defense.

Third, look at the four titles.

Those four championships came in his first 5 years and he hasn't won one since then despite playing on the team with the highest payroll in the league every year during that time even though Jeter has been great all along. Which kind of goes to show that championships are a pretty terrible way of measuring individual performance.

[Fourth...] - Apparently because you used "four titles" in your 3rd point, you didn't include a #4. Clever.

Fifth, look at the captaincy.

Mmmkay, I'm looking. And I see Jason Varitek, who is the captain of the Red Sox, and the only way he's getting into Cooperstown is by driving down Interstate 88 and ponying up the $16.50 entry fee. I also see Thurman Munson who, despite winning a Rookie of the Year (like Jeter), and MVP (unlike Jeter) was not inducted because his career was tragically cut short. It's about the numbers not the "captaincy".

Sixth, look at the clutch situations—especially The Flip against Oakland.

Let's disregard the flip play that you mentioned because he has done something like that exactly one fucking time in his career on which Jeremy Giambi might have been safe anyway. If we are basing Hall of Fame voting on fluke plays in the playoffs, let's add Mookie Wilson and Aaron Boone while we're at it. But let's focus on the larger point; his performance in clutch situations in general.

If you had actually looked at his career numbers on B-R like you told everyone else to in point #1, you would know that Jeter's OPS in the regular season is .846. How about in late and close situations during the regular season? .811.

His OPS in the postseason is exactly the same as the regular season right now, .846. He's been great in the ALDS at .957. In the ALCS, though? .743, pretty close to leage average. In the World Series, the clutchiest of all baseball gaming situations? .809. There's something to be said for staying close to his great career norms under intense pressure, which is more than most can claim. But let's not pretend that Jeter has delivered transcendent "clutch" performances throughout his career whenever the pressure rises. Because no one does that. Because "clutch" comes and goes.

Seventh, look at the dignified way he carries himself.

Amazingly, this might be the most salient point of them all. He hasn't done anything to offend the people voting for him and he won't lose any votes to vindictive writers like many others have. But recent inductees Cal Ripken and Tony Gywnn carried themselves with the same level of class and still came up 8 and 13 votes short, respectively.

I'll add one thing of my own, which I mentioned above... #8 - He's never won an MVP. I personally don't think that should keep him off the first ballot, but that might have been the difference between the 5 voters who went for Ripken but not Gywnn. Or maybe they were racists. In which case 2 or 3 of them should vote for Jeter.

I thought it utterly insane that Rickey Henderson had a handful of voters who didn’t support his Hall bid, but the Rickster was, factually, arrogant and a wee-bit selfish. He didn’t deserve any Nays, but he didn’t always carry himself with professionalism.

And that handful will be the same people who, in defense of Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Christy Matthewson and Honus Wagner, won't vote for Derek Jeter.

Jeter is, for lack of a better word, perfect.

You already said that. Putting in a one sentence paragraph doesn't make it a better point.

To vote against the man would be illogical. And downright stupid.

The BBWAA doing something illogical? Or stupid? I refuse to believe it.

Derek Jeter is a surefire first ballot Hall of Famer is he never records another hit. He's the greatest Yankee shortstop of all time and like Tim Marchman said, he's as winning a winner as ever won. But there are going to be at least a few complete assholes out there who, instead of individually deciding whether or not they they he belongs in the Hall of Fame, will take it into their own hands to block his unanimous induction. It's ridiculous but it's reality.

However, had Pearlman made his case with actual facts or sound logic, we could have saved ourselves a lot of time.

Remembering The Mick and Scooter

August is a tough month. As a kid, August always represented the summer dying - vacation dwindling down, school supplies creeping into stores, the grass burning from green to brown, maybe even the first leaves falling from the trees.

As a fan of both baseball and music, August seems to be a tough month as well. We talked about the anniversaries of the deaths of Thurman Munson and Jerry Garcia earlier this month. Today came the news that guitar legend Les Paul passed away. Later this month the anniversaries of Allen Woody and Stevie Ray Vaughan's deaths will pass as well.

Today marks the 14th anniversary of Mickey Mantle's death. Maybe it was because he had high profile celebrities like Billy Crystal and Bob Costas who worshipped the ground he walked on and romanticized every bit of his legend, but Mantle's death struck me as being just as much as the end of a cultural phenomenon as it was the passing of a baseball legend.

For a generation of American males, Mickey Mantle was an icon. I suppose his death in 1995, as that generation moved into middle age, was not only the passing of their boyhood idol, but also the severing of one of the last remaining connections to their youth. I guess each generation of fans faces this at some stage, but that's not something I even want to consider right now.

Like many of that generation, my father's favorite player from his childhood years was Mantle. The Mick was winding down his career as my father began following the game, but he still had some of his former magic. A yellowed cover of The Daily News from when Mantle hit his 500th homerun still hangs in my parents' basement.

I grew up down the street from a golf course that used to host celebrity tournaments. When I was an infant, Mantle was playing in a tournament there. Mom convinced Dad to take a ride up the hill, and sure enough, there was The Mick. Awestruck, my father was rendered speechless for the entirety of the encounter. My mother was unimpressed enough to get a picture.
Though seperated for a number of years, Mickey and his wife Merlyn never divorced, and she was at his side at the time of his passing. Eerily, she passed away Monday.

Today is also the second anniversary of Phil Rizzuto's passing. Phil Rizzuto Day was the first Major League game I ever attended. It didn't dawn on me until today that Rizzuto and Mantle died on the same date. Oddly, Mantle's death in some way contributed to Rizzuto finally leaving the broadcast booth. WPIX decided that Bobby Murcer, another close friend of Mantle's, would represent the network at Mantle's funeral, forcing the Scooter to stay in Boston to call the Yanks game. The decision upset Rizzuto greatly, causing him to leave the booth mid-game, and announce his retirement shortly thereafter. He was persuaded to return for one final season in 1996. After I mentioned Jerry Remy's return to the Sox booth last night, I guess it's in some way appropriate that today we also remember a beloved Yankee announcer.

Game 108: Maybe This Time

It's been just under two months since the Yankees and the Red Sox squared off which, over the course of a baseball season, seems like forever. The last time they played was a month before the All-Star Break and 47 games ago. Now the Yanks get to face Boston in 7 out of their next 17 games and will have a chance to start paying off some of the debt they accrued during the first 8 machinations of the season series.

Regardless of what some financial institutions and Mark Teixeria would like you to believe, Yankees vs. Red Sox is different from any other rivalry in baseball. It's the reason that I could call this site "Fack Youk" and knew people would not only understand what it meant but agree with the sentiment. Aside from liking the Yankees, the next thing that we all have in common is hating the Red Sox. There's more mutual disdain and attention and anticipation, especially this time around. You don't see Cubs bloggers writing open letters to Carlos Zambrano that sound like this when the Cardinals come into town (even though Joba has never actually hit him).

For those waiting to hear the New Stadium sound like the Old House, tonight is the night. For the first time since he was outed for failing the steroid test in 2003, David Ortiz will be welcomed back to the Bronx with a raucous chorus of boos and "STER-OID" chants. For the first time since September 16th, 2006, the Yankees play host to the Sox with a lead in the division. But the desperation from that 0-8 start will be palpable.

It's not a do or die series for the Yanks; they could get swept again and still be just 1.5 games back with 7 head to head games still remaining. But it's most certainly going to feel like it. When a season series is as one-sided as this one has been, it feels like it is due for a correction. We went through it in early June, feeling that with each passing game that the Yanks we just due to take one. It feels that way now more than ever. The Sox are playing .500 ball away from Fenway and the Yankees are 35-17 at home. The Yanks are 20-10 over their last 30 while the Sox are 15-15. Everything but the season series favors the fellows donning the Pinstripes.

The biggest game of the series is tonight's. The Bombers need to get off the mat in the worst way, before the pressure keeps building, the fans start booing and things get ugly. The pitching match up tonight gives us more reason to be optimistic.

The Sox send John Smoltz, who has been disappointing since joining the team in late June. He's made seven starts and given up 29 runs in 36 2/3 IP, which translates to a 7.12 ERA. He's only walked 5 while striking out 30, but has allowed 50 hits and 6 home runs.

The Yanks counter with their hottest pitcher at the moment, Mr. Joba Chamberlain. He's been solid over his past 7 starts (4-0, 3.05 ERA) and downright dominant during his past 3 (3-0, 0.83). He's given up 8 hits in his last 21 1/3 innings while striking out 19. This is the Joba everyone was waiting for when he was struggling earlier in the season. He's made four career starts against the Sox, averaging 6 innings a pop with a 1-1 record. He struck out 12 in just 5 2/3 his last time out against them, but allowed 4 runs in the process. He's a better pitcher away from Yankee Stadium than he is at home, but as a notorious nose for the big moment.

Today is also a special day in Yankee history. As we mentioned last Friday, it's been 30 years since Thurman Munson passed away. Tonight marks the 30th anniversary of his funeral where Bobby Murcer delivered the eulogy and drove in all five runs in a 5-4 victory over the Orioles later that night.

We're bringing out the big guns for the song tonight; this is serious business. Hopefully we'll be hearing more from this gentleman later on tonight.

She's gonna hold me fast,
And I'll be home at last,
Not a loser anymore,
Not like the last time, and the time before.

All of the odds are, in my favor,
Something's bound to begin,
It's gotta happen, happen sometime,
Maybe this time I'll win.

Remembering The Captain

We'll take a brief respite from the trade dealine madness to remember what is likely the most tragic day in Yankee history. Sunday marks the thirty year anniversary of the death of Thurman Munson.

As we counted down to Spring Training, Jay had a great look back at Munson. That was before my time at Fack Youk, and as we approach this sad anniversary I wanted to offer my own remembrance. Despite his passing more than thirteen months before I was born, Munson has long been one of my favorite Yankees. I suppose it stems from my father; with the possible exception of Mickey Mantle, Munson is his all-time favorite.

As I grew interested in baseball, it was of course my father who taught me about baseball history and about Yankee history, and of course, there was the obligatory Munson lesson. At some point in my youth I inherited the #15 Yankee t-shirt my father had outgrown. Age and wear and tear eventually rendered that shirt unwearable, but a Munson shirt I purchased in Cooperstown some years ago remains my shirt of choice when venturing to the Bronx.

One of the first games I can recall going to was shortly after the tenth anniversary of Munson's death. I can recall visiting his plaque in Monument Park that day, as well as receiving the commemorative issue of Yankees Magazine that I read until it fell apart. A few years later I came upon Munson's autobiography, co-authored by Marty Appel, and read that one over and over. I recently completed Appel's comprehensive Munson biography. I have mixed feelings about the book - and may well review it here at some point - but by default it has to be considered the definitive work on Munson and I would recommend it to anyone wanting to know more about him.

What is it about Munson that makes him so beloved thirty years after he last played? Certainly his untimely demise plays into it, as his does his role as the face of the Yankees during the most colorful period of their history. A Rookie of the Year award, MVP award, three Gold Gloves awards, three pennants, and two World Championships certainly help too, as does serving as the first Yankee Captain since Lou Gehrig.

But more than that, I think there was something inherently likeable about Munson. Despite his midwestern roots and sensibilities, his personality was also sarcastic and confident enough to endear him to New York fans. His squatty, unathletic-looking build made him appear as a scrappy over-achiever, despite his natural talents. He perpetually played hurt, and despite the madness of the Bronx Zoo years, Munson usually managed to stay above the fray. He was the face of the franchise as they emerged from the worst stretch of their post-deadball history back to being a championship club.

But those are just my impressions looking back on a player I wasn't lucky enough to see. So what do you say Fackers? For those of you who saw him play, what are your memories of The Captain?

(I know I'm breaking our black and white image policy,

but I love the orange catcher's gear)

Fack Youk Field Trip: The Big A

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm stuck out in Southern California this week for work. I suppose there are worse places to go, but I'm an East Coast guy through and through. The pace of life out here just isn't my speed (e.g. going to dinner Friday night and having to wait a good five minutes before the bartender even acknowledged my presence - and it wasn't busy). Besides, going away for a week for vacation is one thing, having to get out of the usual routine and leave home for a week for work is another - especially when it costs me a precious weekend.

But it's not all doom and gloom out here. Having just got into town the night before and with the time difference in my favor, I woke up fairly early Saturday morning and managed to get my work done before noon. With that behind me, I hopped in a cab and shot over to the Big A to take in a game between the Halos and the Twinkies - I couldn't let Jay be the only Facker to spend Saturday afternoon at the ballpark. Despite my earlier misgivings about the relative safety of doing so, you'll be happy to know (or maybe unhappy to know), that I made it through the experience unscathed - no beer bottles to the head, no gun shot wounds, etc.

A tribute to Nick Adenhart still exists in front of the Stadium. Having just finished Marty Appel's Thurman Munson biography on the flight out (probably not the best setting to read a book about a guy who died in a plane crash), it was eerie to see the memorial to another man who died while an active Major Leaguer - a situation the Angels have dealt with far too many times in their relatively brief history.

The differences between The Big A and Yankee $tadium were apparent from the get go. Ballpark parking in Anaheim is $8 compared to $19 in the Bronx. I walked up to the box office and scored a field level ticket, twenty two rows back in leftfield, for $33. That kind of money won't even get you out of the terrace in New York. The beer is a lot cheaper as well - $6.50 for 16 oz.

I had hoped to take in BP, maybe even score a ball given my seat's proximity to the field, but it wasn't to be. There was no batting practice Saturday with the day game after the night game - or at least there wasn't at about 11:45 when I got to my seat. Rather than bake in the sun for an hour and a half, I decided to take a walk through the stadium to see what I could see.

As I passed by the Guest Sevices office, I dropped in to see if there were any attractions in the ballpark. I realize that not everyone has a Monument Park or a ballpark museum, but I figured there had to be something. Apparently not - my question was greeted with nothing but quizzical looks.

History apparently is not something readily embraced by the Angels organization. The retired numbers are located behind snack carts in the rightfield upper deck. The Angels Hall of Fame consists of a few paintings on a wall in the mezzanine - including one time Yankees Don Baylor and Jimmie Reese.

Also on the mezzanine level are wall sized photos of former Angel "greats". I laughed out loud at seeing the great Mike Witt up there. Witt, you may recall, was sent to the Yankees for Dave Winfield in 1990, and was perpetually injured, starting just 27 games over four seasons and pitching to a 4.91 ERA, all for the low low cost of $7.5M.

Without a horse in the race, I was just hoping for something interesting to happen during the game. So I was turning into a Twins fan after Nick Blackburn was perfect through three. That all came to a screeching halt in the fourth, as the Angels put up a nine spot on their way to an 11-5 victory.

I did get to see something interesting though, as a fan decided to take to the field in the late innings. He eluded security for a good bit, making it all the way to the outfield grass behind shortstop after jumping on from the right field line. Security usually lives for a situation like that, but the takedown was pretty weak. As the police escorted him out right by my section, the PA announcer made sure to remind the fans that running on the field is now classified as a felony. A felony! With one dead fan and one paralyzed one under their belts already this year, perhaps the local authorities should be more concerned with protecting the fans in their seats rather than prosecuting the ones out of them.

You'll also be happy to know that Bobby Abreu did not come within twenty feet of a fence all afternoon. I hope to be able to get back once more before I skip town.

Above The Clouds

Both of my parents were still in high school in 1969, so I really have no concept of what the world was like at that point. It was the year Mickey Mantle announced his retirement and Stan Musial was voted into the Hall of Fame. The league had just added four teams (the Royals, Padres, Expos and Seattle Pilots who eventually became the Milwaukee Brewers) so the Yankees were now playing in the AL East as opposed to the AL at large.

There was no DH and the Yanks had a four man rotation headed by Mel Stottlemyre. Thurman Munson and Bobby Murcer were just breaking into the league as full time players at age 22 and 23 respectively. The team finished a forgettable 80-81 under Ralph Houk but one of those 80 victories (and 11th inning walk-off, no less) came 40 years ago today on Bat Day at Yankee Stadium.

I only mention that because a far more significant event took place during the course of the contest: the climax of the Apollo 11 mission. Our pal Lar at wezen-ball (who was also just a dot on the horizon when it happened) dug up several accounts from around the Majors to see how they handled such a transcendent moment and found an impossibly detailed account of the announcement made during the Yankees game that day from Leonard Koppett of the New York Times:

'Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please,' came the voice of Bob Shepard, the public address announcer.

The umpires, according to prior arrangements, waved their arms and stopped play.

[...]

'You will be happy to know,' Shepard continued, 'that the Apollo 11 has landed safely...'

And a tremendous cheer drowned the words 'on the moon.'

The cheering continued for about 45 seconds. On the scoreboard, the message section read 'They're on the moon.' People stood. They waved the bats back and forth. Shepard kept talking, but his words could not be made out through the din.

Sounds like a pretty incredible moment, doesn't it? Click through to read the whole post. Lar is great at finding contemporary accounts of historical baseball moments and this is one of my favorite posts of his. He also has a graphic of the territory covered once the astronauts actually walked on the moon, superimposed over a baseball diamond. Wezen-ball is certainly a quality over quantity type of baseball blog and I would highly recommend adding that to your reading rotation.

The moon landing now seems to be distant history and something that I must admit I take for granted. The moment shows up in popular culture so much, like in Forrest Gump, the Ali G Show, the intro a Gang Starr song, and Dumb and Dumber, it's easy to become familiar with it, without actually appreciating the full magnitude of what it meant at the time.

It would be as if Columbus' chance encounter with North America was instantly relayed to Europe at the exact moment that it happened. Except NASA knew exactly what they were doing when they landed on the moon; they weren't trying to get to Mars. The level of science, technology and innovation necessary to put a man on a moving planetary body 238,855 miles away is still staggering 40 years later. It redefined what was possible.

In Koppett's account, he mentions that Sheppard, along with the other voices who made the announcement paused for a moment of silent prayer for the mission's safe return. Since we already knew how the story ends, I hadn't thought about the level of uncertainty involved with the second half of the journey until I read that.

Sure, it was sort of a pissing contest between the U.S. and the Soviets to see who could get there first and there weren't any tangible direct societal benefits from it. But sometimes it's good to do something just to do it. It's why people climb Everest and swim the English Channel. For the sake of saying you did. So now when people look at the Moon, it doesn't seem that far away.

Number of Days Until Spring Training: Thurman Munson (#15)

Thurman Munson was the embodiment of the core values of a Yankee catcher. He was pugnacious, rugged, could hit and play great defense, had a mean-ass mustache, and hated the Red Sox. Boy, did he hate the Red Sox. I'd like to think that if he was alive today, old Squatty Body would have rather liked the name of this blog.

The above sequence is from a game at Fenway, on August 1st, 1973. Stick Michael was up to bat in the top of the 9th with the score tied, and failed to make contact on a suicide squeeze, unleashing Munson down the third baseline towards Sox catcher Carlton Fisk. Munson led with a left forearm and Pudge went low, sending the two tumbling over home plate. Fisk held onto the ball, Munson was out, and they quickly got to their feet and began exchanging blows.


Perhaps the seeds of Munson's hatred of Boston were planted, like mine, in the time he spent there as a young man. In the summer of 1967, Joe "Skippy" Lewis, manager of the Chatham A's of the Cape Cod Baseball League offered Munson a spot as their starting catcher, along with a side job with the Chatham Parks Department for $75 a week. In 39 games that summer, Munson hit .420 as a catcher, .65 higher than any other other player in the league, regardless of position. He was named MVP of the CCBL and the award for the batting title each year is named in his honor.

It was during his time on the Cape that he was discovered by the Yankees. They selected him with the fourth overall pick in the 1968 Amateur Draft, gave him a $75,000 signing bonus and a $500 a week salary.

Munson made his debut in 1969 but appeared in only 26 games. In 1970, he won Rookie of the Year, netting 96% of the vote after batting .302/.386/.415. While remaining solid behind the plate, Munson had two years in 1971 & '72 where he was above league average, but unspectacular offensively.

Although it was not recognized as such by the MVP voting, 1973 was Munson's finest year behind the plate. He raked 29 doubles, 20 homers and hit .301/.362/.487, good for a 141 OPS+. '73 also began Thurm's three year Gold Glove and six year All-Star appearance streaks. In each of those six years, Munson placed in the MVP voting and played 144 games or more behind the plate.

He was named Yankee captain in 1975, claiming a post that Lou Gehrig vacated with his farewell speech in 1939. In 1976, Munson clocked 17 homers, 27 doubles, drove in 105 runs and was rewarded with the AL MVP, receiving 18 out of a possible 24 first place votes. A testament to his hard-headed, competitive nature, that year he stole 14 bases, but was caught 11 times. In fact, over his career, he was actually caught more than he was successful, stealing only 48 bases in 98 tries.

Munson was behind the plate for Ron Guidry's legendary 1978 season, where he went 25-3 with a 1.74ERA. Guidry later said about Munson, "I went through the whole year never shaking him off one time. He always knew when to say something, and when to shut up."

Munson had three children who lived with his wife in Canton, Ohio, where he grew up. He often grew homesick and decided to take flying lessons to make it easier to commute back and forth to see his family. On August 2nd, 1979, he was practicing take-offs and landings at Akron-Canton Regional Airport, when he met his end.

On the approach to the runway, Munson dropped the flaps, but waited too long before giving the plane more power, which resulted in the Cessna Citation I/SP coming up well short of the intended target. Munson had failed to fasten his shoulder strap, was paralyzed during the initial impact and trapped inside the cockpit when the plane finally came to a rest after rolling and sliding for over 500 feet. His flight instructor, David Hall and his friend Kenny Anderson attempted to free Munson, but the plane caught on fire and they were forced to retreat. His last words were "Get me out of here! Please get me out!" A tragic and powerless cry for help, that in no way reflected the way he lived. He was 32 years old.

When someone dies young, they are enshrined in our minds in their youth. There is a different legacy left than when we watch a person decline with age, grow frail and forget people's names. We see the sad portrayal of modern day Muhammad Ali, but only remember the dynamic vibrance of a prime Jimi Hendrix.

Munson's number was retired immediately after his death and an empty locker with the number 15 was kept in the Yankees Clubhouse through the closing of the Old Stadium. Written by George Steinbrenner, his plaque in Monument Park reads:

Our captain and leader has not left us, today, tomorrow, this year, next ... Our endeavors will reflect our love and admiration for him.

Like Don Mattingly, the brevity of Munson's career will keep him out of the Hall of Fame, but that doesn't matter to Yankees fans, who have their own Hall of Fame in left field.