5 Baseball Cards to Light Up Your October Skies
Today is their day - even if it should be Friday
To state the obvious, today is October 13. Sort of a bummer we wasted it on a Sunday this year — I’m still lobbying my local congressman to write a bill requiring the 13th to fall on Friday every October.
Until that passes, though, we can at least celebrate the fact that this date is steeped in baseball history, most of it with some postseason seasoning.
Here are five baseball cards to help us with the party.
1961 Topps Bill Mazeroski (#312)
It’s Game 7 of the World Series, and my Reds are batting in the bottom of the ninth inning trailing, say, the Baltimore Orioles, 4-1.
Pete Rose slaps a single to lead off the frame, then dismembers Bobby Grich’s legs below the knees on a slide to break up a double play on a ground ball Joe Morgan hits to Mark Belanger.
Morgan is safe at first.
Jim Palmer walks Johnny Bench to get to Tony Perez, who hits a screamer down the third base line that Brooks Robinson snares in the air with a dive outside the baseline. Rose barrels back to the bag and levels his shoulder into Mr. Impossible’s chest. The impact is hard enough to knock 12 carats out of Robinson’s Gold Gloves, and Rose is safe.
George Foster strikes out.
Sparky takes one look at Davey Concepcion, due up next, and another at his bench. It’s an easy call because Captain Hook knows I’ve been hitting the snot out of the masking-tape ball in my bedroom all October long.
Sparky and I will worry about fielding the hole in the tenth if it comes to that.
For now, I dig in against Palmer, and his first pitch is a 70-mile-an-hour curve that looks like a Mack truck careening out of control on the Autobahn to me. I crumple to the dirt, but the umpire calls strike one.
The second pitch is a slider that I wave at like it’s a hero riding off into the sunset. Shane! Shane! Come back!
I’m getting used to the rhythm and speed now, though, and I take Palmer’s third pitch for a ball. The fourth is another curve, and I hit the deck again. This one misses — ball two.
Palmer is laughing at me now, but he manages to compose himself long enough to set up for the fifth pitch. The giggles get the better of him again smack dab in the middle of his delivery, and his fifth pitch sails behind my head.
Dave Duncan pounces like a panther from behind the plate and snags the wild throw, even though Rose has taken an intimidating 60-foot lead off third. Duncan starts to run after him, wants to throw to third, but Robinson waves him off. His teeth are still loose from the last hit.
So it all comes down to this — Game 7, bottom of the ninth, down 4-1, three on, two out, full count.
Sparky is yelling at me from the dugout. Rose is flashing hand signals at me. Morgan is screaming to pay attention. Bench is just shaking his head.
But I’m in the zone now. I don’t need their signs. Heck, I don’t even know what the signs mean. Except maybe that one that Rose is giving me now. Sorta universal.
I dig in against Palmer again. He looks nervous.
He shakes off Duncan. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, Palmer nods.
I get a sudden craving for White Castle. That’s a sign I can understand.
Palmer delivers. I know from the moment it leaves his manicured fingers it’s another slider. I’m ready.
I meet the ball over the center of the plate and pull like I’m Jack Lalanne in Palm Beach Harbor. The Riverfront Stadium crowd stands as the ball arcs high across the chilly autumn sky and erupts like a belly full of Cincy chili when the ball smashes into a red seat in left field. Someone messed up by leaving early.
As I round the bases (hop-skipping to avoid Grich’s misfortune), I think about my baseball cards, and especially that 1961 Topps number that celebrated Bill Mazeroski’s famous, World Series-ending home run in 1960.
Solo home run to lead off the bottom of the ninth in a tied Game 7?
It was almost the perfect ending to a Fall Classic. But like the bowler who misses a pin on his final roll, Maz left the door open just a crack for someone to top him.
So I did.
1972 Topps World Series Game 4 (#226)
Wow, that was long-winded and silly even by my standards. I’ll try to keep myself in check for the rest of these, starting with…
The first night game in World Series history was played on October 13, 1971, at Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh. The Pirates beat the Orioles 4-3 in that Game 4 to tie the series at two games apiece after dropping the first two in Baltimore.
Roberto Clemente struck out in his first at-bat that night but then reached base four straight times (three hits and a walk). Meanwhile, Al Oliver had two runs batted in and Milt May drove in the go-ahead run.
When it came time to commemorate the game in their 1972 set, though, Topps went with Clemente. Good choice in retrospect, as it gave collectors a bonus card of the Bucs great less than a year before his untimely death that New Year’s Eve.
1975 Topps Herb Washington (#407)
The Oakland A’s won their third straight World Series in 1974, dispatching the Dodgers in five games. Except for Oakland’s 5-2 victory in Game 4, every contest was decided by a single run.
And the A’s just might have swept the whole, tight ball of wax if it weren’t for a running miscue in Game 2.
With the Dodgers leading 3-0 at home on October 13, Don Sutton hit Sal Bando to lead off the top of the ninth inning. Reggie Jackson doubled to move Bando to third, and Joe Rudi singled off L.A. reliever Mike Marshall to drive in both the men in front of him.
The score was 3-2 when Gene Tenace went down swinging for the first out.
At that point, manager Al Dark sent in designated runner Herb Washington to, (yes) pinch run for Rudi. At the same time, he sent Angel Mangual to the plate to hit for pitcher Blue Moon Odom.
Marshall picked off Washington, then struck out Mangual. Game over. Would Rudi have gotten picked off? Seems a lot less likely.
In the end, it didn’t really matter for Oakland, and the next year, Topps graced the world with one of the greatest Chiclet-inspired cards of all time: the Herb Washington rookie card (read all about that RC right here).
1985 Topps Traded Vince Coleman (#24T)
Sandwiched between heart-thumping debut years by Darryl Strawberry, Dwight Gooden, Ron Kittle, Jose Canseco, Mark McGwire, and other 1980s standouts, the 1985 rookie class just wasn’t all that thrilling.
We applauded politely as Ozzie Guillen put together a so-so first season to take American League Rookie of the Year honors and pinned our hopes on Vince Coleman’s legs. Could he really be the next Rickey Henderson?
Before Coleman and his 110 stolen bases (a rookie record) could take aim at Rickey, or even Tim Raines, he had the chance to help the Cardinals win a World Series. Alas, he wouldn’t make it to the World Series, or even out of the National League Championship Series.
On October 13, the tarp at Busch Stadium devoured Coleman as rain set in before Game 4 of the NLCS, ending his season and threatening his career.
A month or so later, collectors still headed straight for his 1985 Topps Traded card when we cracked the seal on our favorite year-end set. He was really our only hope.
1984 Topps Traded Davey Johnson (#57T)
Two years before Coleman played Monster Mash with the playoff tarp, the New York Mets were just starting to dream about what their future might hold.
They had the sure-to-be National League Rookie of the Year Darryl Strawberry, a still-prime Keith Hernandez, lots of promising youngsters and budding stars, and some kid named Dwight Gooden blazing through the minors.
And then, on October 13, they hired Davey Johnson as their next manager. Nobody really knew it at the time, but that move would help ensure the pieces all came together for the team in the middle of the decade.
They competed for a division title right away, losing to the Cubs in 1984 and the Cardinals in 1985 (but winning 98 games that latter summer). They won it all in 1986, of course.
After showcasing giant-among-men Frank Howard as the Mets manager in their 1984 base set, Topps gave us a Johnson “manager rookie card” in their Traded set that fall.
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There have no doubt been other great baseball moments that unfolded on October 13. If you know any of them, I’d love to hear about them.
If not, just bask in these. Feel free to make up your own “You as World Series Hero” as you see fit and substitute it for my own Orioles-smashing conquest.
Thanks for reading.
—Adam
Wonderful stories, as always.