October 25, 2018--Say-Hey Kid: The Catch
Uncle Jack had tickets for two box seats for the first game of the 1954 World Series. It was a day game and the New York Giants were hosting the Cleveland Indians at their home field, the vast Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan. The tickets were for himself and his son Lewis.
Jack owned and ran a thriving international business and so it was not unusual that he had something urgent to deal with just at the time the game was scheduled to begin. So he asked me, I was16 at the time, if I could fill in for him and take cousin Lewis to the game. He was just ten and so I felt flattered to be trusted with so much responsibility and excited to be going to my first World Series game.
And so packed in with other fans we took the rickety elevated train line all the way up to 157th Street and Eighth Avenue, to the former meadow, Coogans Bluff in the center of Harlem, where the Polo Grounds was located.
It was a huge stadium, perhaps the largest of any Major League stadium then or now. Deepest center field, for example, was 455 feet from home plate. Typically a center field wall was and is no more than 420 feet from home plate. As at the Yankee Stadium at the time. And so the Polo Grounds could accommodate 55,000 fans.
I had been to Yankee Stadium once but as a Brooklyn boy, Ebetts Field, which had 32,000 seats, a cosy place by comparison, was my frame of reference.
But we had box seats--also something I had never experienced--and so I anticipated being close enough to the playing field to see the spin on curve balls. Or the spit on spit balls!
An usher peered at our ticket stubs and said, "Good for you boys. I see you have box seats with yours being in the first row of the lower deck. Just head that way," he said pointing,"And enjoy the game."
We raced in the direction of the Giants' dugout and when we got there realized our seats were still further, out toward right field. But when we got there, out of breath, we saw we had to keep going, all the way to center field. From this I knew we would be too far from the diamond that I could forgot any thoughts about seeing the spin on pitches.
In fact, the Polo Grounds was so vast that we might have to strain even to see the pitchers and batters. But we would have a closeup view of the Giants' centerfielder, the incredible Willie Mays. The Say-Hey Kid.
"We'll at least be able to see him chewing tobacco," I said to Lewis. In truth feeling a bit deflated. Though Mays played so shallow that even that might not be possible.
It was a pitchers' duel with the score tied 2-2 at the top of the 8th inning.
Cleveland immediately threatened. The Giant's pitcher, Sal (the barber) Maglie, gave up a walk and a single and so there were two men on and nobody out.
Vic Wertz stepped to the plate. He was one of the League's most fearsome sluggers. He had hit 29 during the season. Giant fans suddenly grew quiet.
Wertz got ahold of a fast ball and hit a monster drive to deepest center field.
At the crack of the bat Willie Mays turned his back to the plate and, running full speed, raced right by where Lewis and I were seated--actually, along with everyone else, where we were by then standing--and right in front of us, close enough that we could almost reach out and touch him, over his shoulder, with his back still to home plate, he caught the ball, cradling it basket style, his signature move, and then wheeling about, threw the ball toward the infield, tumbling to the ground from the effort.
The ball flew directly to the second baseman, a perfect strike, who in turn did not allow the runners to advance.
Some said the catch was the best of all time, others that Mays's throw was what was remarkable.
Probably both were right.
The Indian's spirit was shattered and after the third out in the 8th in effect they collapsed and the Giants won, 5-2.
And they continued to win, sweeping Cleveland in four-straight games.
Another cousin somehow found this picture and enhanced it so you can see me in my striped shirt and my mouth open in wonderment.
We can't as yet locate Lewis.
Jack owned and ran a thriving international business and so it was not unusual that he had something urgent to deal with just at the time the game was scheduled to begin. So he asked me, I was16 at the time, if I could fill in for him and take cousin Lewis to the game. He was just ten and so I felt flattered to be trusted with so much responsibility and excited to be going to my first World Series game.
And so packed in with other fans we took the rickety elevated train line all the way up to 157th Street and Eighth Avenue, to the former meadow, Coogans Bluff in the center of Harlem, where the Polo Grounds was located.
It was a huge stadium, perhaps the largest of any Major League stadium then or now. Deepest center field, for example, was 455 feet from home plate. Typically a center field wall was and is no more than 420 feet from home plate. As at the Yankee Stadium at the time. And so the Polo Grounds could accommodate 55,000 fans.
I had been to Yankee Stadium once but as a Brooklyn boy, Ebetts Field, which had 32,000 seats, a cosy place by comparison, was my frame of reference.
But we had box seats--also something I had never experienced--and so I anticipated being close enough to the playing field to see the spin on curve balls. Or the spit on spit balls!
An usher peered at our ticket stubs and said, "Good for you boys. I see you have box seats with yours being in the first row of the lower deck. Just head that way," he said pointing,"And enjoy the game."
We raced in the direction of the Giants' dugout and when we got there realized our seats were still further, out toward right field. But when we got there, out of breath, we saw we had to keep going, all the way to center field. From this I knew we would be too far from the diamond that I could forgot any thoughts about seeing the spin on pitches.
In fact, the Polo Grounds was so vast that we might have to strain even to see the pitchers and batters. But we would have a closeup view of the Giants' centerfielder, the incredible Willie Mays. The Say-Hey Kid.
"We'll at least be able to see him chewing tobacco," I said to Lewis. In truth feeling a bit deflated. Though Mays played so shallow that even that might not be possible.
It was a pitchers' duel with the score tied 2-2 at the top of the 8th inning.
Cleveland immediately threatened. The Giant's pitcher, Sal (the barber) Maglie, gave up a walk and a single and so there were two men on and nobody out.
Vic Wertz stepped to the plate. He was one of the League's most fearsome sluggers. He had hit 29 during the season. Giant fans suddenly grew quiet.
Wertz got ahold of a fast ball and hit a monster drive to deepest center field.
At the crack of the bat Willie Mays turned his back to the plate and, running full speed, raced right by where Lewis and I were seated--actually, along with everyone else, where we were by then standing--and right in front of us, close enough that we could almost reach out and touch him, over his shoulder, with his back still to home plate, he caught the ball, cradling it basket style, his signature move, and then wheeling about, threw the ball toward the infield, tumbling to the ground from the effort.
The ball flew directly to the second baseman, a perfect strike, who in turn did not allow the runners to advance.
Some said the catch was the best of all time, others that Mays's throw was what was remarkable.
Probably both were right.
The Indian's spirit was shattered and after the third out in the 8th in effect they collapsed and the Giants won, 5-2.
And they continued to win, sweeping Cleveland in four-straight games.
Another cousin somehow found this picture and enhanced it so you can see me in my striped shirt and my mouth open in wonderment.
We can't as yet locate Lewis.
Labels: "The Catch", 1954 World Series, Baseball, Cleveland Indians, New York Giants, Polo Grounds, Vic Wertz, Willie Mays, World Series
posted by Steven Zwerling at
4:08 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home