I Think I Owe Mom an Apology

In looking through some "This Date in Baseball History" tweets, I was reminded of a doubleheader that I went to on July 7th, 1987. It was a reminder of what a great mom I have, and of how much she contributed to my baseball fandom as a kid.

I was 15 at the time, and my friend, Craig, and I attended a bunch of games (~20) together that summer. Our ordinary practice was to have one of our parents drop us off at the stadium, and then a different parent would pick us up afterward. Often we would try to get autographs from players after the games, so we would call on a pay phone (in those pre-cell phone days) when we were ready to get picked up.

The Cardinals and Dodgers were scheduled to play four games in three days July 6th-8th, but they were rained out on Monday the 6th. Because it was the last time the Dodgers were scheduled to come to St. Louis, it was imperative that they get the four games in on the 7th & 8th, so they had to play back-to-back doubleheaders. Making matters even worse was the fact that it continued to rain on the 7th. Game one was scheduled to start at 5:35pm, but it was delayed until nearly 8:00, and even then began with the rain still falling!  

The Cardinals won the first game 5-4 as southpaw reliever Rick Horton (making his first of six starts that season) kept the Cards in the game with his mound work, and also contributed the first extra-base hit of his career. After 5.1 innings pitched, he turned things over to fellow lefty Ken Dayley, and ultimately Todd Worrell, who was the pitcher of record when the Redbirds scored an unearned run to take the lead in the 7th that they would never relinquish.

This is where the story gets interesting. By the time the second game started, it was already after 11pm. Since we didn't have cell phones back then, my mom (who was going to pick us up) had no way to reach us. And since I was a 15-year old boy who was intent on watching another baseball game, I didn't take the initiative to call her.

The game ended up being a thriller, featuring a 9th inning game-tying two-run homer from Cardinals catcher Steve Lake followed by a 10th inning game-winning single from Jack Clark at 3am sharp. I don't remember exactly what my mom said when I called home, but I do remember that she was (quite understandably) not at all happy. Regardless, she did come and get us, which was probably more than we deserved.

The Cardinals and Dodgers played two more the next night (or later THAT night, to be more precise), with the Redbirds again taking both games, including taking the nightcap again in walkoff fashion. That gave the Cardinals four wins in 28 hours, and ran their winning streak to seven games. It would also be the first of three straight walkoff wins.

While the Cardinals were flying high, the Dodgers had to wearily fly to Chicago, where they had a Thursday AFTERNOON game They would fall behind early 6-0, on their way to a 12-5 loss. So all told, LA played (and lost) five full games in two different cities over a 48 hour span! As tough as that was for the Dodgers, at least they were getting paid for their efforts. Moms getting called at 3am to come pick up their sons are not so well remunerated. Even though they should be.

Sorry, mom.

Go Crazy, Folks! Go Crazy!

My ticket stub from 10/14/85

Today is the 30th anniversary of one of my most cherished adolescent memories, and yet it is a day of somewhat mixed emotions. Mixed emotions on the one hand because the Cardinals were eliminated from the MLB postseason yesterday, and (to make matters worse) they were eliminated by the Cubs. It's about the worst way possible for a Cardinals season to end.

Apart from that though, and more pointedly, there is a tinge of melancholy attached to this beloved memory because it's the memory of an event shared with my late father. Dad didn't get too worked up about much; he was a pretty stoic guy. But on this day three decades ago, he definitely got excited. You could even say that he went crazy.

It was far more common for me in those days to go to games with my mom. Among my earliest childhood memories is going with her to Sunday afternoon games with promotional giveaways (bat day, pennant day, hat day, etc.). We would head down to the stadium after church, brown-bag lunch in hand, and wait in line for seats in the left field bleachers to be as close as possible to her favorite player (and subsequently mine), Lou Brock.

On this overcast Monday though, it was my dad who pulled me out of middle school and took me to the fifth game of the 1985 National League Championship Series against the Los Angeles Dodgers. The series stood tied at two games apiece and whoever won the day's contest would achieve the enviable position of being just one win shy of reaching the World Series.

The Cardinals scored two runs in the first off perennial all-star, Fernando Valenzuela, only to squander a number of other opportunities throughout the next seven innings. The Dodgers broke through in the fourth against one of my childhood favorites, Bob Forsch, when four-time batting champ Bill Madlock hit a two-run homer to tie the game.

The score remained 2-2 into the ninth inning. After Jeff Lahti retired the Dodgers in order, Willie McGee led off the bottom half of the inning with a pop out to 3rd. Then Ozzie Smith, all 150 pounds of him, stepped to the plate. NBC's television broadcast flashed a graphic stating that in 3,009 left-handed at bats over the course of his career, the switch-hitting Wizard of Oz had NEVER hit a home run. Then, with a 1-2 count and Dodgers closer Tom Niedenfuer on the mound, the rest, as they say, is history:

From our upper deck perspective high above the right field wall, we couldn't tell at first if the ball had cleared the fence. Our initial clue was the joyful reaction of the relievers in the Cardinals' bullpen, which was located in the right field corner. For an instant, I feared their exuberance (as well as that of 53,000 others) was misplaced when Dodgers right fielder Mike Marshall threw the ball in to shortstop Mariano Duncan, who looked as if he was going to tag Ozzie out. We quickly realized though that Ozzie's shot had caromed off of one of the concrete pillars above the wall and was indeed a game-winning homer.

As we stood there, clapping, yelling, cheering, chanting Ozzie's name, it occurred to me that in my 14 years of life, I had never seen my father so excited. I had truly experienced something special, something I would never forget.

It would not be until later that evening that we would hear Jack Buck's soon-to-be-famous call of the home run. Even so, three decades later, the text tone on my phone is Mr. Buck's voice beckoning, "Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"