The First Fall Classic by Mike Vaccaro

Author:Mike Vaccaro [Vaccaro, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780385532181
Publisher: Anchor
Published: 2009-10-06T07:00:00+00:00

Heinie Wagner wanted so badly to make amends for what he’d done, or what he hadn’t done, and figured the best way to do that was to have a big day against the kid pitcher, Tesreau, collect two or three hits, knock in a bunch of runs, and that would be that. But that hadn’t happened. He’d flied to center in the second, grounded out to first in the fourth, and while his team had a 2–0 lead with their ace on the mound as they took the field in the bottom of the fifth, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being carried to glory on the shoulders of his teammates, along only for the ride.

All these thoughts crowded his brain as Fred Merkle stepped to the plate to a spattering of boos, Giants fans growing impatient with Merkle’s growing résumé of ill-timed missteps. By now, Wood had struck out five Giants but he’d all but abandoned his fastball, which was anything but smoky this time around. Feeding Merkle a big, sweeping curve, Merkle tapped out a slow roller to the left of the mound, where the still-soaked grass ate it up and killed its momentum. Merkle, running hard out of the box, figured he had a sure infield hit, and so did the rest of the Polo Grounds, but suddenly in swooped Heinie Wagner, his spikes sloshing in the turf, his bare hand reaching down for the soaked ball, firing it as he launched his body parallel to the ground before falling with a dramatic splash. Somehow, there was plenty of mustard on the throw. Somehow, the ball popped Stahl’s mitt at first an eyeblink before Merkle’s foot slammed into the base. O’Loughlin bellowed “Out!” and Merkle, in disbelief, slammed his cap to the ground.

“Watch yourself, Merkle!” O’Loughlin warned.

“I’m not mad at you, Silk,” he said. “How the hell did he make that play?”

Everyone wondered the same thing. Wood helped his shortstop to his feet and sent him back to his post with a simple “Thanks.” He then allowed a sharp single to Herzog (already Buck’s seventh hit of the Series), which would have been far more problematic if not for Wagner’s acrobatics. Wood settled down, struck out Chief Meyers, then figured to have little trouble with Art Fletcher, who may have cured his defensive hiccups but was still the lightest hitter in the New York lineup. Some in the stands murmured for a pinch hitter, but it was far too early for that and, besides, when Wood offered up a not-so-fast fastball, Fletcher clobbered it, and the ball appeared destined for left center field and the Giants appeared set up for first and third, two out, with Moose McCormick taking a walk toward the bat rack.

Only, the ball never reached its destination, because Wagner had quickly broken toward second, he’d dived headlong into the muddy basepath, speared the ball, spit dirt out of his mouth, and slingshot a perfect strike to Stahl that beat Fletcher by half a step.

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