But the facts are clear: kids who choose to play sports do subject themselves to a sometimes-cruel scrutiny. They must accept that when they accept the challenge. I have seen an interview with an old guy who played college football at a place where this activity draws rabid interest - the guy dropped a fateful key pass. Years later he fields questions about it. He may do so with a smile. But what kind of pain might churn underneath?
I remember the son of a Minnesota Twins star of the 1970s. The son played basketball with a Big 10 team and missed pivotal freethrows at the end of an important contest.
In the movies we see the sympathetic character make these shots. Consider the short guy with "Hickory" in "Hoosiers" doing the underhand technique. What if he had missed? In real life such situations don't follow script. Has a movie ever dwelled on a missed shot or dropped ball?
All of which brings us to the subject of the 1968 World Series. The Detroit Tigers played the St. Louis Cardinals. The Cardinals had won it all the year before by beating Boston. The '68 Fall Classic stretched to seven games. Curt Flood roamed the spacious center field territory for the Cards. His prowess in the field was unquestioned: seven Gold Gloves!
Fate intervenes in strange ways, like with the ball getting lost in the shirts of the crowd. Nothing a mortal can do about that. People talk to this day about Flood's failure to catch a drive hit by Detroit's Jim Northrup. Northrup had the nickname "Gray Fox." I have seen the variant "Silver Fox." Can't we all remember a male high school classmate who showed up for a reunion prematurely gray? Here's a shout-out, Ted!
Minnesota Twins broadcaster Larry Calton couldn't mention Northrup's name, it seemed, without the "Gray Fox" moniker. Calton had a transitory presence in Twins baseball and happened to be a jerk. That's irrelevant in connection to the topic here today.
Stage is set: two baserunners
The baseball universe was focused on Busch Stadium of St. Louis on October 10 of '68. Northrup was a good if not superstar player. He sure looked like a superstar when hitting grand slams. In the top of the seventh in Game 7, Northrup hit the ball a long way but not over the fence. The game was scoreless.
Legends have been spun. And Flood was forced to reflect in the aftermath of it all. Northrup too was asked to assess this moment in the years to come: was the ball catchable? Would it have been a hit even with Flood executing smoothly? The questions are asked by people like me, sports journos. The athletes themselves are the truly commendable ones as they assume the risks of just going out and playing ball.
Flood did not fall but his momentum was derailed. He recovered fairly quickly but the ball was hit with such authority, it fell behind Flood, several yards in front of the warning track. The two runners came in. Northrup pulled in at third. The next batter, Bill Freehan, doubled to make the score 3-0. And the Tigers went on to win 4-1 to take Game 7 and the title.
How has history passed judgment? Frankly it's a mixed decision. Painstaking review of the play appears to yield no authoritative conclusion. Maybe Flood could have made the catch, perhaps not.
Flood got the "goat" label by some. Some have observed that the ball landed in a spot where a center fielder, especially one of Flood's skill, could have made the play.
Flood commented later that he did in fact lose the ball in the crowd. His manager was Red Schoendienst who professed that Flood surely could have made the play, had he not come in at first. There's hardly a consensus. A well-known Detroit sportswriter said at the time of Northrup's passing that no one could have caught that drive.
Everyone had an opinion
If you want to put stock in what Denny McLain says, the great winner of 31 games in '68 proclaimed that no way could Flood have gathered in the ball. McLain has a checkered background. At present he's doing well on the panel for the "No Filter Sports" podcast. His comment on the subject came in 2011. And yet on another occasion he offered a contradictory take. He noted in his autobiography, "Nobody's Perfect," that Flood "blew it," that he "couldn't find the ball."
The late Flood had his own autobiography called "The Way It Is." The Cardinal of note gives scant attention to the Game 7 play. He admitted he gained "unfavorable attention." He said part of the problem was that he was "bushed." So, tired? Exhausted? There's a biography as well as autobiography of Flood, the former having been written by Stuart Weiss. Weiss tried to dissect the comment that Flood made in his book. Weiss was left feeling puzzled by "bushed." He felt it could not account for Flood's initial misjudgment.
Lost the ball in the shirts? Not sure how any player could overcome this wrinkle - if it's lost, it's lost. Heck, so easy for us sports journos or fans to second-guess a guy who has followed his passion for the game. The passion should be at the forefront of our thoughts. A game is made up of many plays that can affect the outcome. Did you know that a throw from the outfield by Roger Maris in the 1962 World Series may well have won it for the Yankees? The pinpoint execution caused a Giants runner to hold at third base.
Bob Gibson recalled his thoughts: he felt as the ball went skyward that his center fielder would make the play. He had seen Flood make many boffo plays. He bemoaned Flood taking his first fateful step toward the infield. Catcher Tim McCarver saw the moisture or mud as a key impediment. Even Northrup acknowledged the muddy conditions in the outfield.
Northrup never attained the prime stardom of Al Kaline or Willie Horton. His penchant for grand slams came forth in the '68 Series, as he connected with the bases full in Game 6 off Larry Jaster. He had eight RBIs in the seven-game series, seven hits, two home runs and four runs scored.
Maybe Flood got relief because he became famous for something away from the diamond: challenging the unfair power of owners legally. His case set the tone for player inroads later.
Let us note there was another suggested goat for the '68 Series, the great Lou Brock. We're looking at Game 5 and the fifth inning. St. Louis has three runs, Detroit two. Speed merchant Brock was poised at second base. Surely any hit would bring him in.
Julian Javier is batting. The Detroit pitcher is Mickey Lolich who would end up pitching three complete game victories (and be MVP of course). Javier drove the ball to left. Horton patrolled left, not a particularly skilled defensive player. Sometimes he got pulled in the late innings for a defensive replacement. He had bad knees. He charged in and fielded the ball on the hop. His arm wasn't bad. Don Wert might have been the cutoff man but Horton's throw eluded him. It bounced once, then it arrived at Freehan's mitt. The backstop blocked the plate. (Good thing it wasn't Pete Rose barrelling in at him, heh heh.)
Then, a fateful decision: Brock opts not to slide. Not to slide! As with Flood's floundering out in center, this episode went into the annals of turning point plays with a possible "goat." But wait, Brock's judgment should not have been deemed surprising, because all season long the blurry-fast runner had opted not to slide into home. A psychological ploy on his part? A way of dissing opposing teams and their futility to catch a guy as fast as Brock?
So, Brock stood up straight. He couldn't sneak around Bill Freehan. Pete Rose would have chanced killing Bill Freehan! (Remember when Ray Fosse was the victim in the All-Star Game?)
Ump Doug Harvey proclaimed "out!" The Cardinals argued the call but to no avail. The Cardinals wouldn't score again in the game. It ended 5-3 with Detroit winning.
It's foolish to say the one Brock play "took the wind from the Cardinals' sails." That would be the language of sportswriters like me! My satisfaction is that while I can critique sports to no end, I'll never have to review a single play or misstep from my remote past, over and over. The underhand freethrow shooter in "Hoosiers" experienced the ecstasy of victory. Obviously it doesn't always turn out that way! (Speaking of how it turned out, did Gene Hackman really get the girl?) Athletes must accept their lot.
Addendum: The 1968 Series made music history when Jose Feliciano did his "edgy" interpretation of the National Anthem. Well, it was edgy by the standards of the time! I wrote a blog post on this for my other blog site, "I Love Morris." I invite you to review that history:
https://ilovemorris73.blogspot.com/2018/09/jose-feliciano-and-national-anthem-1968.html
My song about '68 Tigers
I wrote song lyrics inspired by the champion Detroit Tigers, and had them originally appear with my post about pitcher Earl Wilson. I have copied those lyrics to appear here as well. I was 13 years old in 1968.
"Ode to 1968 Tigers"
by Brian Williams
I was just a teenage boy
Back in '68
Baseball was a source of joy
Tigers made it great
There they were on baseball cards
Winning hearts of all
They were primed and playing hard
Answering the call
Yes it was a stressful time
In the USA
War and riots on our mind
So we had to pray
We had baseball to escape
'Cause we needed fun
Tigers were a team first-rate
Runner-up to none
Kaline was a superstar
Up on the marquee
In our city that made cars
He was royalty
Tigers were a Cadillac
In the A.L. race
They displayed their potent bats
And the gloves were great
Mayo Smith was manager
He could hardly miss
Never did a doubting word
Come across his lips
Yes it helped he had a squad
Talented and deep
They would play right into fall
Past the summer heat
Pitching on a pedestal
Garnering such fame
One guy won a bushel-full
Denny was his name
Freehan wore the catcher's mask
Back behind the plate
He was up to ev'ry task
Lifting up his mates
Norman had the first base glove
Tiger to the core
Symbol of a winning club
Breaking down the door
Stanley was in center field
Covered lots of ground
Then he got a whole new deal
Shortstop made him proud
Lolich was a southpaw gem
On the pitching mound
His resolve would never bend
As they sought the crown
Though his weight was tilting high
No one had to care
It would not affect his pride
None the worse for wear
Mister Wert just rode the tide
Playing third with ease
Strasburg P.A. felt its pride
When he took the field
Dick McAuliffe did the dance
In the infield scene
He had quite the batting stance
We could all agree
Horton could bring oohs and aahs
With his boxscore line
Cause his bat was really boss
As the Tigers climbed
Then there was the "Silver Fox"
Northrup was his name
Holding down an outfield spot
In the grand old game
There was Sparma on the hill
For the clinching game
He came through and filled the bill
Tigers never waned
Earl Wilson there to pitch
Did his job just fine
And this guy could really hit
For the Tiger nine
I was just a teenage boy
Back in '68
Baseball was a source of joy
Tigers made it great
When I dream they come alive
From my memory
Like they're still between the lines
For the fans to see
Tigers were my team
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com
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