It’s World Series time, an excellent excuse for reminiscing
about the national pastime. As a baseball fan it is possible, but
difficult, to change allegiances from one Major League team to
another
– and then only within the same league. Being a devoted follower
of an American League team seems to preclude ever becoming a
National League fan, and vice-versa. It is easier to change
religion.
It’s World Series time, an excellent excuse for reminiscing about the national pastime. As a baseball fan it is possible, but difficult, to change allegiances from one Major League team to another – and then only within the same league. Being a devoted follower of an American League team seems to preclude ever becoming a National League fan, and vice-versa. It is easier to change religion.
I was born into the American League, so to speak, as a Detroit Tigers fan. An earlier column reminisced about the Tigers and my father. So when our family – the next generation of fans – arrived in California, we immediately became Oakland A’s fans. This is a very special year for a fan whose two major league teams are the Detroit Tigers and the Oakland A’s. The Tigers were the team of my childhood; the A’s have become the team of my maturity. Unfortunately, only one could proceed on to the World Series. But I wish to relay a baseball story that I have never seen in print.
The last two weeks of the 1967 Baseball season saw four American League teams locked up in a death struggle to see who would win the pennant. This was before the playoff structure was instituted in 1969; so if you missed first place, you had no recognition. There was the pennant winner, and chopped liver. The Boston Red Sox, the Detroit Tigers, the Minnesota Twins, and the Chicago White Sox were battling it out that year. The Tigers were in a position to control their destiny going into the final weekend. Rain-outs had dictated that the Tigers were scheduled for back-to-back double headers on the final two days of the season – a Saturday and a Sunday. If they win all four, the Tigers are in. Two losses eliminates them, three wins was iffy and depended on the other outcomes.
The Tigers were playing the California Angels. The Angels were a consistent thorn in the Tigers’ side in those days. Detroit had many of the same players that they had the following year when they would win the World Series, such as Mickey Lolich, Denny McClain, and Norm Cash. I was seated behind third base in Tiger Stadium with Mom and Dad, my brother Greg, and my uncle Joe. The Tigers handily won the first game. So far so good.
In the second game the contest remained close until the eighth inning. Detroit was leading by a score of 5-3. The Angels were batting. The starting pitcher, Earl Wilson (he hit seven home runs in two different years as a pitcher) had departed and the game was in the hands of one Hank Aguirre. This story is about Hank Aguirre. Hank Aguirre was a somewhat colorful, journeyman, left-handed pitcher that was known mostly for his pathetic hitting. Hank Aguirre struck out 236 times in 388 lifetime at-bats and compiled a .085 lifetime average. The only pitcher worse was Bob Buhl of the Cubs, but that is another story.
The Angels had men at first and third with one out in the eighth. Manager Mayo Smith – an unloved baseball man who had never won as a manager – went to the mound and along with catcher Bill Freehan, instructed Aguirre to walk the next batter. This loaded the bases and set up the force at every base.
Your could hear the chatter about the double play even up in the stands behind third base. The batter was Don Mincher, a very good hitter that always seemed to savage Tiger pitching.
On the third or fourth pitch, Don Mincher hits a hard one-hopper to Hank Aguirre on the pitcher’s mound. The hopes and the hearts of the assembled Tiger fans rose as one great swell under the prospect of a made-to-order double-play ball. And Mincher is a slow runner. Home-to-first, second-to-first, either of these plays ends the inning and preserves the lead. Hank Aguirre cleanly fields the ball, and without looking anywhere else, and in a most calm an unhurried fashion, turns and throws the ball to Norm Cash on first! Batter out, no double play, two outs, run scores, runners move up.
A collective groan settles on the aging green ballpark at Michigan and Trumbull, followed by a funereal silence. Next batter up singles, and the rally continues. Angels win 8-6. Tigers split the double-header on Sunday. Boston wins the pennant, setting up the Carl Yastrzemski’s heroics in a World Series won by the Bob Gibson-led St. Louis Cardinals.
Hank Aguirre was not on the Tigers World Series team of 1968. Now the story has been recorded. It’s fall, the World Series is on; life is good.
Al Kelsch is a Hollister resident who writes a weekly column for the Free Lance. Contact him at
oi**@ya***.com
