Yah, Green Weenie knows most of his Gen X readers are too young to remember the 1960 World Series and the excitement it brought to the City.
First, a little context. Back then, Pittsburgh was a city with an inferiority complex, known far and wide for its muscle, not its couth, nothing at all like the cultural mecca and knowledge HQ that the City has since become. In 1960, going to the museum and looking at a dead dinosaur's bones was as good as it got; heck, the sky was dark at noon. New York was...well, New York.
As far as baseball, it had been 33 years since a World Series appearance and 35 since a title for the sad sack Buccos, who suffered through a decade of defeat in the fifties, much like the times the team is going through today. But the Pirates were the City team; the Pens didn't exist, the Steelers were as bad as the Bucs, and college sports were for alums, not general consumption.
Everyone sat on their stoop with a cold Iron City and a transistor radio listening to the Gunner and the Possum, and in 1960, Benny Benack's "Beat 'Em Bucs..." "The Bucs Are Going All The Way, All The Way, All The Way, The Bucs Are Going All The Way This Year..." got played enough to make Elvis Presley envious.
Pittsburgh in 1960 and its Pirates were a match: scrappy, roll-in-the-dirt underdogs.
And hey, the Series was up and down between baseball royalty and its ragamuffins; alternately, the Yankees got nosed out, then the Bucs got clobbered. Game Seven was Pittsburgh's turn, and they took advantage, somehow outslugging the New York nine to an improbable 10-9 win.
Green Weenie was just a breakfast link then, a ten year old walking home from St. Wendelin's school in Carrick along Spencer Avenue with a transistor radio pasted to his ear when Maz unloaded. GW got home in time to see the mob scene on the black and white RCA TV, and later piled into the family wagon and joined the bedlam. Drunks, honking cars, and shredded newspapers filled the City.
So hey, when you see the graybeards gather in Oakland, remember that we're reliving more than a moment of our youth, but also our era, before we shuffle off and join the dinosaurs at the museum. And we hope that the Pirates leave you younger fans with a moment to remember, too.
(ESPN's Dave Schoenfield's piece "The Greatest Game Ever Played.")
Showing posts with label 1960 pirates. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1960 pirates. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Sunday, October 12, 2008
October 13, 1960 - Game Seven
It was an momentous end to a magical season. In 1960, the little Bucs that could won the National League pennant by a comfortable seven games over the Milwaukee Braves of Hammerin' Hank Aaron, Warren Spahn, and Eddie Matthews fame.
They won 95 games and overcame a September broken wrist by captain Dick Groat, who was superbly replaced by Ducky Schofield. Groat would lead the league in batting (.325) and be awarded the 1960 NL MVP.
The Pirates had eight NL All-Stars, paced by pitchers Vernon Law, Bob Friend, and ElRoy Face, and players like Roberto Clemente, Bob Skinner, Bill Mazeroski, Smokey Burgess and Groat.
Bill Virdon didn't get an all-star nod, but played the spacious meadow that was Forbes Field's center field like a maestro. Dick Stuart and Don Hoak filled the corners for the starting eight. Harvey Haddix provided a third dependable arm, and the whole shebang was orchestrated by manager Danny Murtaugh.
But a snowball in...well, they weren't given much of a shot against the mighty 1960 Yankees of Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle, and Casey Stengel. During the 1950's, the Yankees won six World Series ('50, 51, '52, '53, '56, '58) and eight American League pennants.
The Bucs were coming off a decade where they were better known as the Rickey-Dinks, baseball's laughable losers. They had dropped 90 games or more seven times in those years, and 100 or more three times. But there's a reason why they play the games.
The Bucs started with a split of the first two matches at Forbes Field, winning the opener 6-4 and getting pummeled in the next game, 16-3. The Bronx Bombers pushed their advantage when they got home, shooting the Pirates down 10-0. The rout was on, right?
Wrong. The Deacon, Vern Law, and the Kitten, Harvey Haddix, had the Yankees eating out of their hands, taking the next two at Yankee Stadium, 3-2 and 5-2. On to triumph in the Steel City, hey? Hold your horses, cowboy.
Whitey Ford shut down Pittsburgh, 12-0. Hey, nothing to get the juices flowing like a game seven, and this would end up as one of the greatest finales ever played in World Series history.
Vernon Law, making his third start of the Series, held the powerful Yankees' attack at bay through four innings, giving up just a two-out single to Hector Lopez and another to the Mick. The Pirates flew out of the box, lighting up Bob Turley.
They scored twice in the first, when a two-out walk to the Hound, Bob Skinner, was followed by a Rocky Nelson homer, a "no doubt about it" shot to right. Pittsburgh tacked on another pair in the second. Shake, Rattle and Roll Smokey Burgess singled, the Tiger, Don Hoak, walked, and the bases were juiced after Billy Maz, trying to sacrifice, ended up with a gift bunt single.
Law bounced back to the hill for a DP while Burgess crossed the plate, and the Quail, Bill Virdon, singled home Hoak. It was looking good for the Bucs, especially with their Yankee-killer, the Deacon, on the mound.
Johnny Blanchard touched him up for a fifth inning long ball, and then the wheels came off in the sixth. Bobby Richardson got it rolling with a single, and then Tony Kubek walked. Murtaugh called on the Baron of the Bullpen, Roy Face, to quench the fire.
Face already had saved the Pirates first three wins, but his legendary forkball, an early version of the splitter, failed him utterly that autumn afternoon. The Oklahoma Golden Boy singled in a run, and Yogi Berra took Face yard to right. The 36,683 fans collectively gasped as the early lead went by the boards. New York was up 5-4 now, but baby, don't fret, because you ain't seen nothin' yet.
ElRoy settled down in the seventh, and got Roger Maris and Mantle quickly to start the eighth. But disaster was just around the corner. A two-out walk to Yogi opened the floodgates. Moose Skowron and Blanchard singled, followed by a Clete Boyer double, and the Pirates were down 7-4 with six outs to go. OK, now you can worry.
But not for long. Gino "That's My Boy" Cimoli, batting for Face, led off with a single against Bobby Shantz (who would pitch for the Pirates in 1961). Then Virdon bounced a sure DP ball to slick-fielding SS Tony Kubek, but the baseball gods (and Forbes Field's infamous Sankrete infield) conspired to have the ball take a carom that caught Kubek in the throat, putting the Quail on first and Kubek in the trainer's room.
Groat singled in Cimoli, and Jim Coates got the call from the bullpen. Skinner laid down a successful bunt, and Nelson flew out to short right. But two-out lighting was about to strike. The Great One singled home a tally, and catcher Hal Smith, in the game because Burgess was lifted earlier for pinchrunner Joe Christopher, blasted a three-run shot over the left field wall. Still, don't head for the car quite yet.
The Bucs were up 9-7 with an inning to go, but the fat lady wasn't singing. She knew that the Series drama needed a fitting finishing act.
The Yankees were a great team, and great teams don't lay down. Murtaugh chose Bob Friend to come in to close the game. But Friend was greeted by singles off the bats of Richardson and pinch hitter Dale Long, an ex-Buc. There was no grin on the puss of the Smilin' Irishman Murtaugh when he went to the mound to put the hook in Friend and bring on the Kitten.
He coaxed Maris to foul out to the catcher, but Mantle singled in Richardson to make it first and third, one out, 9-8, Pittsburgh. Berra rolled one to first base, and as Nelson beat him to the bag, Gil McDougal, in to run for Long, scored to tie the game.
Ralph Terry, who got the final out of the eighth, came out to pitch. Bill Mazeroski was hitting lead-off, with Dick Stuart on deck to pinch hit for Haddix and Virdon in the hole. But the fat lady was ready now, and Maz was about to become an icon of Pittsburgh sports lore.
With a count of one ball and no strikes, the Pirates second baseman mashed Terry's pitch over the left field scoreboard's Longine clock as a dumfounded Berra turned and watched it soar towards Schenley Park. It was the first game-ending walk off home run in Series history, and still the only one to win a game seven. It launched Billy Maz towards his eventual and well-deserved spot in Cooperstown.
You surely know the rest of the tale. The Yankees got the records and the Pirates got the rings. So raise your glass high to toast Maz and his boys of summer, and celebrate the greatest day in Pittsburgh Pirate history - October 13, 1960.
They won 95 games and overcame a September broken wrist by captain Dick Groat, who was superbly replaced by Ducky Schofield. Groat would lead the league in batting (.325) and be awarded the 1960 NL MVP.
The Pirates had eight NL All-Stars, paced by pitchers Vernon Law, Bob Friend, and ElRoy Face, and players like Roberto Clemente, Bob Skinner, Bill Mazeroski, Smokey Burgess and Groat.
Bill Virdon didn't get an all-star nod, but played the spacious meadow that was Forbes Field's center field like a maestro. Dick Stuart and Don Hoak filled the corners for the starting eight. Harvey Haddix provided a third dependable arm, and the whole shebang was orchestrated by manager Danny Murtaugh.
But a snowball in...well, they weren't given much of a shot against the mighty 1960 Yankees of Whitey Ford, Mickey Mantle, and Casey Stengel. During the 1950's, the Yankees won six World Series ('50, 51, '52, '53, '56, '58) and eight American League pennants.
The Bucs were coming off a decade where they were better known as the Rickey-Dinks, baseball's laughable losers. They had dropped 90 games or more seven times in those years, and 100 or more three times. But there's a reason why they play the games.
The Bucs started with a split of the first two matches at Forbes Field, winning the opener 6-4 and getting pummeled in the next game, 16-3. The Bronx Bombers pushed their advantage when they got home, shooting the Pirates down 10-0. The rout was on, right?
Wrong. The Deacon, Vern Law, and the Kitten, Harvey Haddix, had the Yankees eating out of their hands, taking the next two at Yankee Stadium, 3-2 and 5-2. On to triumph in the Steel City, hey? Hold your horses, cowboy.
Whitey Ford shut down Pittsburgh, 12-0. Hey, nothing to get the juices flowing like a game seven, and this would end up as one of the greatest finales ever played in World Series history.
Vernon Law, making his third start of the Series, held the powerful Yankees' attack at bay through four innings, giving up just a two-out single to Hector Lopez and another to the Mick. The Pirates flew out of the box, lighting up Bob Turley.
They scored twice in the first, when a two-out walk to the Hound, Bob Skinner, was followed by a Rocky Nelson homer, a "no doubt about it" shot to right. Pittsburgh tacked on another pair in the second. Shake, Rattle and Roll Smokey Burgess singled, the Tiger, Don Hoak, walked, and the bases were juiced after Billy Maz, trying to sacrifice, ended up with a gift bunt single.
Law bounced back to the hill for a DP while Burgess crossed the plate, and the Quail, Bill Virdon, singled home Hoak. It was looking good for the Bucs, especially with their Yankee-killer, the Deacon, on the mound.
Johnny Blanchard touched him up for a fifth inning long ball, and then the wheels came off in the sixth. Bobby Richardson got it rolling with a single, and then Tony Kubek walked. Murtaugh called on the Baron of the Bullpen, Roy Face, to quench the fire.
Face already had saved the Pirates first three wins, but his legendary forkball, an early version of the splitter, failed him utterly that autumn afternoon. The Oklahoma Golden Boy singled in a run, and Yogi Berra took Face yard to right. The 36,683 fans collectively gasped as the early lead went by the boards. New York was up 5-4 now, but baby, don't fret, because you ain't seen nothin' yet.
ElRoy settled down in the seventh, and got Roger Maris and Mantle quickly to start the eighth. But disaster was just around the corner. A two-out walk to Yogi opened the floodgates. Moose Skowron and Blanchard singled, followed by a Clete Boyer double, and the Pirates were down 7-4 with six outs to go. OK, now you can worry.
But not for long. Gino "That's My Boy" Cimoli, batting for Face, led off with a single against Bobby Shantz (who would pitch for the Pirates in 1961). Then Virdon bounced a sure DP ball to slick-fielding SS Tony Kubek, but the baseball gods (and Forbes Field's infamous Sankrete infield) conspired to have the ball take a carom that caught Kubek in the throat, putting the Quail on first and Kubek in the trainer's room.
Groat singled in Cimoli, and Jim Coates got the call from the bullpen. Skinner laid down a successful bunt, and Nelson flew out to short right. But two-out lighting was about to strike. The Great One singled home a tally, and catcher Hal Smith, in the game because Burgess was lifted earlier for pinchrunner Joe Christopher, blasted a three-run shot over the left field wall. Still, don't head for the car quite yet.
The Bucs were up 9-7 with an inning to go, but the fat lady wasn't singing. She knew that the Series drama needed a fitting finishing act.
The Yankees were a great team, and great teams don't lay down. Murtaugh chose Bob Friend to come in to close the game. But Friend was greeted by singles off the bats of Richardson and pinch hitter Dale Long, an ex-Buc. There was no grin on the puss of the Smilin' Irishman Murtaugh when he went to the mound to put the hook in Friend and bring on the Kitten.
He coaxed Maris to foul out to the catcher, but Mantle singled in Richardson to make it first and third, one out, 9-8, Pittsburgh. Berra rolled one to first base, and as Nelson beat him to the bag, Gil McDougal, in to run for Long, scored to tie the game.
Ralph Terry, who got the final out of the eighth, came out to pitch. Bill Mazeroski was hitting lead-off, with Dick Stuart on deck to pinch hit for Haddix and Virdon in the hole. But the fat lady was ready now, and Maz was about to become an icon of Pittsburgh sports lore.
With a count of one ball and no strikes, the Pirates second baseman mashed Terry's pitch over the left field scoreboard's Longine clock as a dumfounded Berra turned and watched it soar towards Schenley Park. It was the first game-ending walk off home run in Series history, and still the only one to win a game seven. It launched Billy Maz towards his eventual and well-deserved spot in Cooperstown.
You surely know the rest of the tale. The Yankees got the records and the Pirates got the rings. So raise your glass high to toast Maz and his boys of summer, and celebrate the greatest day in Pittsburgh Pirate history - October 13, 1960.
October 13, 1960 Redux
There's not much left of old Forbes Field but the memories.
Pitt's Posvar Hall currently occupies the former infield. Roberto Clemente Drive now bisects the site and runs about 10 feet under what used to be the playing surface of the outfield. Home plate remains in almost its exact original location, but it is now encased in glass on the first-floor walkway of Posvar Hall.
A small patch of red brick still stands, the old left field wall of Oakland's ballyard, right beside Mazeroski Field, a Little league diamond. The wall has "457" painted on it. That's how deep left center was. It was so unreachable that they parked the batting cage in its niche. There's an old flagpole there, too.
The late Saul Finkelstein showed up alone to listen to a cassette tape of Game 7 of the 1960 World Series at that spot in 1985 and started a tradition. Before long, people gathered to relive the game that's become woven into a Pittsburgh meme, spread more by memory and word of mouth than by the world wide web.
Now a couple hundred folk bring lawn chairs and coolers to celebrate the day Maz cut the mighty Yankees down, a David and Goliath tale that still resonates with the locals. Pay attention, Neal Huntington, if you want to find out what makes Pirate fans' hearts tick.
There will be all kind of people there - curious college kids, fans that were at the game, or watched on TV, or heard the radio broadcast. Believe it or not, almost everybody in Pittsburgh followed the team back in the day, and proudly. Fans that were born too late come to catch the day Pittsburgh become the center of the baseball universe. And, of course, there will be old Bucs galore.
Everyone's eyes still get a little misty when they listen to the recording of NBC broadcasters Chuck Thompson and Jack Quinlan calling every pitch of Game 7. They hang on every play, from the bad hop off of Tony Kubek's throat to Hal Smith's big blast. But especially, they wait for Maz's at bat in the ninth against Ralph Terry.
It never fails to get a rowdy explosion of cheers from the assembly, almost like they were experiencing the actual game. It's awesome.
GW was last there in 2006 (yah, sneaked outta work again. GW's lucky to have understanding bosses.) The mayor, Bobby O'Connor, who was a great baseball fan and all-around sportsman, had just been admitted to the hospital then, sadly never to return. In fact, he was a coach for one of the JCC baseball teams that played at Frick Field.
But his wife Judy and son Corey were there in his stead, along with state Senator Jimmy Ferlo and an assortment of other political suits. Steve Blass, Manny Sanguillen, Bob Friend, and Bobby Del Greco were there, with a couple of other Pirates GW missed; we think Grant Jackson showed up, too. It was baseball Vahalla.
But GW digresses (and not for the first or last time, either.) This year's shindig, in conjuction with the City's 250th anniversary, is gonna be a blowout.
Starting at 12:30 Monday, Pitt will serve free hot dogs and other munchies. At the flagpole by the wall, members of the Game 7 Gang and Forbes Field Wall Working Group will raise a new 12-by-6 Forbes Field pennant. Then they'll turn on the tape.
To while away the boring moments - and there weren't many in that game, believe me - there will be a tent set up in Schenley Plaza with Pirate and Homestead Gray pictures and memorabilia for you to graze through. Maybe you can look for the plaque on Clemente Drive that marks the spot where Maz's ball landed.
But don't forget why you're there. Make sure you're within earshot of the wall by 3:36 PM, the time when Maz hit the homer that Pittsburgh will never forget. Forbes Field may only be a memory, but sometimes that's enough. Nothing that you remember is ever truly gone.
Pitt's Posvar Hall currently occupies the former infield. Roberto Clemente Drive now bisects the site and runs about 10 feet under what used to be the playing surface of the outfield. Home plate remains in almost its exact original location, but it is now encased in glass on the first-floor walkway of Posvar Hall.
A small patch of red brick still stands, the old left field wall of Oakland's ballyard, right beside Mazeroski Field, a Little league diamond. The wall has "457" painted on it. That's how deep left center was. It was so unreachable that they parked the batting cage in its niche. There's an old flagpole there, too.
The late Saul Finkelstein showed up alone to listen to a cassette tape of Game 7 of the 1960 World Series at that spot in 1985 and started a tradition. Before long, people gathered to relive the game that's become woven into a Pittsburgh meme, spread more by memory and word of mouth than by the world wide web.
Now a couple hundred folk bring lawn chairs and coolers to celebrate the day Maz cut the mighty Yankees down, a David and Goliath tale that still resonates with the locals. Pay attention, Neal Huntington, if you want to find out what makes Pirate fans' hearts tick.
There will be all kind of people there - curious college kids, fans that were at the game, or watched on TV, or heard the radio broadcast. Believe it or not, almost everybody in Pittsburgh followed the team back in the day, and proudly. Fans that were born too late come to catch the day Pittsburgh become the center of the baseball universe. And, of course, there will be old Bucs galore.
Everyone's eyes still get a little misty when they listen to the recording of NBC broadcasters Chuck Thompson and Jack Quinlan calling every pitch of Game 7. They hang on every play, from the bad hop off of Tony Kubek's throat to Hal Smith's big blast. But especially, they wait for Maz's at bat in the ninth against Ralph Terry.
It never fails to get a rowdy explosion of cheers from the assembly, almost like they were experiencing the actual game. It's awesome.
GW was last there in 2006 (yah, sneaked outta work again. GW's lucky to have understanding bosses.) The mayor, Bobby O'Connor, who was a great baseball fan and all-around sportsman, had just been admitted to the hospital then, sadly never to return. In fact, he was a coach for one of the JCC baseball teams that played at Frick Field.
But his wife Judy and son Corey were there in his stead, along with state Senator Jimmy Ferlo and an assortment of other political suits. Steve Blass, Manny Sanguillen, Bob Friend, and Bobby Del Greco were there, with a couple of other Pirates GW missed; we think Grant Jackson showed up, too. It was baseball Vahalla.
But GW digresses (and not for the first or last time, either.) This year's shindig, in conjuction with the City's 250th anniversary, is gonna be a blowout.
Starting at 12:30 Monday, Pitt will serve free hot dogs and other munchies. At the flagpole by the wall, members of the Game 7 Gang and Forbes Field Wall Working Group will raise a new 12-by-6 Forbes Field pennant. Then they'll turn on the tape.
To while away the boring moments - and there weren't many in that game, believe me - there will be a tent set up in Schenley Plaza with Pirate and Homestead Gray pictures and memorabilia for you to graze through. Maybe you can look for the plaque on Clemente Drive that marks the spot where Maz's ball landed.
But don't forget why you're there. Make sure you're within earshot of the wall by 3:36 PM, the time when Maz hit the homer that Pittsburgh will never forget. Forbes Field may only be a memory, but sometimes that's enough. Nothing that you remember is ever truly gone.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
o ye of little faith
1960 Bucco logo from Baseball Almanac
Does this sound familiar? A new general manager takes over a Pirate team that's laughably incompetent on the field. He blows up the roster, builds up the minors, and promises that he'll produce a contender. But the team fails to produce and goes eight more years before it comes up a winner - for a different GM. The new guy dumps a couple of vets, makes a tweak or two and viola, a world championship a decade after the plan began.
No, it's not the story of today's Bucs. But it worked for us before, and maybe it'll work for us again.
In 1950, Branch Rickey was faced with a Pirate team even worse than our current version. He blew it up and home grew some ballplayers. But by 1955, his time had come and gone. The Pirates lost 100 or more games three times in five years (they called his teams the "Rickey-Dinks"), and Joe Brown took over the reins. But Rickey, the father of the farm system, didn't leave Brown with a bare cupboard.
Dick Groat, Bob Skinner, Bill Virdon, Bill Mazeroski and Roberto Clemente were already in place. The pitching was set at the top end with Bob Friend and Vernon Law. ElRoy Face was in the bullpen as baseball's first great closer, a Danny Murtaugh innovation (Murtaugh, in my mind, is a much underappreciated manager.) Brown added Dick Stuart and Rocky Nelson in the 1958 draft and picked up super sub Dick Schofield from the Cards for Gene Freese and Johnny O'Brien, one of our twin infielders. Ducky Schofield showed the wisdom of that move when he filled in for 1960 MVP Groat in September, when he broke his wrist after getting plunked by Lew Burdette. Schofield hit .333 in that span and played golden D, helping the Bucs pull away from the Milwaukee Braves and St. Louis Cards.
He made one big deal before the 1959 season, getting Don Hoak, Harvey Haddix and Smoky Burgess from the Redlegs for slugger Frank Thomas, Whammy Douglas, Jim Pendleton and Johnny Powers. He had the starting lineup now in place and a solid middle of the pack starter.
Brown added to his depth after the 1959 season by getting Gino Cimoli and Tom Cheney from the Cards for aging vet Ronnie Kline. His blockbuster was getting Hal Smith from KC for Dick Hall, a dependable starter, Ken Hamlin and Hank Foiles. He had his catching platoon set up and a talented if wild hurler in Cheney for the bottom of the pitching rotation (not much call for the fifth starter back in the day except for doubleheaders and injuries) and long relief. Rookie Joe Gibbon served as what passed for that era's set-up man.
And sometimes the best deal is the one you don't make. During the off season, the Bucs almost traded Dick Groat straight up for Roger Maris. But Murtaugh squelched the swap, and Groat went on to win the batting title and NL-MVP in 1960.
Brown only had to make one more move early in the 1960 season, getting Vinegar Bend Mizell from the Cards for Julian Javier, who was effectively blocked by Maz, and Ed Bauta (the Cards threw in Dick Gray, too) to replace Hall in the rotation. And we all know what happened in 1960. The rest, as they say, is history.
Now do we have a core of ballplayers in place like Brown did? Does Huntington have Brown's eye in making up a lineup and deciding the role players from the position players? Do we have an excess in one position or players blocking other younger guys to deal to fill needs? And is Russell another Murtaugh? Or are we closer to the stage when Rickey took over, a decade away from respectability? Time will tell the answers. But at least we can take some solace in knowing its' been done here before.
1960 and that magic moment
Forbes Field from Ballparks
The weather outside is most assuredly January-ish. It's brrrrrrr with some snow rolling in late tonight, which I'm sure our splendid City road crews will salt and plow as soon as the first flake flutters *hysterical laughter*. But thanks to my sports nut son, I'm thinking warm thoughts. He asked me about the 1960 Bucs, the most unlikely collection of World Series champeens ever collected.
Just thinking of the player's names - Roberto (Arriba, The Great One) Clemente, Bob (The Dog) Skinner, (Shake Rattle and Roll) Smoky Burgess, Dick (Don't Boo Stu, He'll Come Thru) Stuart, Dick (Ducky) Schofield, Don (The Tiger) Hoak, Bill (Billy Maz) Mazeroski, Bill (The Quail) Virdon, Rocky (Don't Knock The Rock) Nelson and Dick Groat, who oddly enough was just known as Dick Groat, pitchers Wilmer (Vinegar Bend) Mizell, Harvey (The Kitten) Haddix, Vernon (The Deacon) Law, ElRoy (The Baron of the Bullpen) Face, a menagerie choreographed into a title team by manager Danny (The Smiling Irishman) Murtaugh, is enough to make me grin. All the nicknames, of course, came compliments of Bob (The Gunner) Prince, homer announcer extraordinaire and his partner Jim (The Possum) Woods. What moniker can you stick on one of today's ballplayers except for the Million Dollar Man - and they all answer to that.
The 1960 World Series was the strangest ever contested - the stumblebum Pirates win by a run and then lose by a dozen the next time around to the great Yankee team of Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and company, back and forth through six games. But somehow the Bucs manage to stagger to a game seven at Forbes Field where a ground ball off the throat of Tony Kubek, a three run shot by Hal Smith, and Billy Maz lifting the ball over the scoreboard and Yogi Berra in the ninth inning leads to the most dramatic finish ever staged in a game seven. That's what baseball is about.
I listened to the game on my transistor radio on the way home from St. Wendelin's school, and floated on air to the crib just in time to see the live, black and white mob scene after the game on TV. My dad was on, helping hold the crowd back from the announcer, who was busily occupied interviewing ecstatic if somewhat incoherent Pirate fans. And no, he didn't have a ticket. If you gave a ticket to an Oakland guy, he'd scalp it and sneak in anyway. It was a matter of pride - and 1960 economics.
He gets home, the clan jumps in the old clunker, and we ride into Oakland. Paper is flying around like a ticker tape parade in Times Square. Everyone's happy - no gunshots, no couches on fire, no road rage in traffic that's gridlocked worse than the Parkway and Route 51 combined at rush hour. Just partying Buc fans in love with the world.
And Forbes Field, whatta ballyard. It wasn't heaven, as many old timers like to reminisce. There were steel beams everywhere that you couldn't see around. If you were stuck in the left field corner, the third base grandstand blotted out your view of the game. But it was a real baseball park, quirks, blemishes and all. Center field was so far away from home plate - 456', as I recall - that they parked the practice batting cage against it during the games. Some guys would sit in the plaza behind the ivy covered brick walls with their radios, waiting for a home run ball to fly over the wall. Yet right field was a mere 300'. Go figure. Pops woulda threatened Ruth's record if he played his entire career there.
Other fans would perch in the nearby tree limbs and catch the game. Or you could wait until the seventh inning, when the ushers left the bleacher gates open for all comers. They had a lady and her kids that sold hot dogs in left field, sizzling on a charcoal grill, before the FDA and Aramark ruled the ballpark junk food world. Heck, I remember after a game when a flock of us rugrats surrounded Clemente as he left the park. The Great One asked how we were doing in school and scolded us for not looking when we went across the street. Nothing fake about that guy. And if you walked through Oakland on a hot summer night when the Pirates played, everyone would be sitting on their stoops, listening to the Gunner on the radio, sipping an Iron City beer and talking to their neighbors. I guess more than baseball has changed over the years.
And people came to Forbes Field to watch the game - no racing pierogies, no blaring theme songs, no Bucco babes shooting tee shirts and hot dogs into the stands, no post game concerts, fireworks or bobbleheads. Sunday doubleheaders were the norm, and you got to see two games while shelling out for one ticket. Everything was just baseball. What a concept. (Well, except for Benny Benack and his jazz band..."The Bucs Are Going All the Way, All the Way, All the Way, the Bucs Are Going All the Way, All the Way this Year...")
My kids (one is two years out of college and the other a senior) most vivid Pirate playoff memory is Sid Bream trudging down the line like a beer league softball player and beating Barry Bond's soft, errant toss home, hook sliding past a diving Spanky LaValierre. But the dismal play of the past 15 years can't take the sheen off those 1960 guys. I've seen what baseball can do to a town. I hope my boys get to live long enough to experience it, too.
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