1951 National League: The Shot

Pregame
What if Hank Thompson hadn't struggled in 1951? That was one of the biggest disappointments for the New York Giants in the early part of that season. After watching their third baseman Thompson struggle offensive early in the year, the Giants moved outfielder Bobby Thomson in to the hot corner for the first time since his rookie year, opening the door for the Giants to field youngsters Don Mueller and Willie Mays in the outfield along with veteran Monte Irvin. Things would have been so different if Thompson had just hit.

What if the Giants didn't have so many home games in a row in August and September? Really, it shouldn't have mattered. Entering play on August 12 with a 13-game lead over the second place Giants, the Dodgers should have been able to cruise to the National League pennant that year. And they did cruise down the stretch, ending the year with a 27-24 record that should have been good enough. But then there was the matter of the Giants stretch of home games. Starting with a double header on the 12th, the Giants ripped off a 16-game winning streak, with all but three of the wins coming at the Polo Grounds. Still, though, they had some work to do, entering play on September 22 down by 3 games. Unfazed, they won 7 games in a row to close out the season to put the pressure on the Dodgers.

What if the Giants hadn't put that pressure on the Dodgers? Then maybe Dodgers ace Don Newcombe wouldn't have had to throw a complete-game in his September 29 shutout of the Phillies that kept the Dodgers in a tie. Then maybe they wouldn't have needed to go to Newcombe again the next day, summoning him from the bullpen in the 8th inning in a tie game, a one-inning stint that turned into four as the Phillies and Dodgers played deep into the fading light.

What if Jackie Robinson hadn't been, well Jackie Robinson? After all, it was his overall brilliance that won that deciding game for the Dodgers. His triple in the fifth helped jump-start a rally from 6-1 down; his brilliant catch of a bases-loaded line drive saved Newcombe and the Dodgers in the bottom of the 12th; and his home run leading off the 14th won the game and set up the most famous three games in National League history.

Well, check that. The most famous single game. See, for all the excitement and fame of the pennant race and the ultimate final game, the first two games of the Giants-Dodgers playoff have become largely forgotten. In Game 1, New York's Jim Hearn outdueled Brooklyn's Ralph Branca and the Giants won 3-1 behind a home run by Thomson. The Dodger bats responded in Game 2, with Clem Labine throwing a shutout and the Dodgers winning 10-0.

Game 3 was back in the Polo Grounds because the Dodgers, despite winning the coin toss, chose to play two games on the road. Why? Who knows. But the Dodgers had Newcombe on the mound, and regardless of the stadium and his fatigue down the stretch, they felt like they could win with him. The Giants responded with 23-game winner Sal "The Barber" Maglie.

The Game
With their aces on the mound, both teams must have felt like one run would win the pennant. For the Dodgers, that one run came early, thanks to a first-inning single from Jackie Robinson - who else? - but Brooklyn also left two runners on base that inning. For all Newcombe's brilliance, they knew he was running on fumes after his late-season heroics, so they had to be wondering how safe that lead really was.

But for six innings, it was perfectly safe. Maglie was pitching brilliantly, but Newcombe was even better, and the Dodgers still had their 1-0 lead entering the bottom of the seventh. Finally, then, the Dodgers broke through, as Thomson hit a sacrifice fly to tie game. With the Giants still threatening, Newcombe got the rookie Mays to ground into a double play to end the threat.

Having been sitting on a 1-0 lead for so long, the Dodgers responded immediately to the newly tied game, backing up their ace with a three-run 8th inning. So it was 4-1 entering the bottom of the ninth, and then the questions came up again.

What if Newcombe hadn't been over used down the stretch? Then he wouldn't have told Robinson entering the ninth that he was dog tired. Of course, manager Chuck Dressen left in him anyway. Then Dark led off the ninth with a single. Mueller - who wouldn't have had an open spot in the lineup if Thomson hadn't been able to move so seamlessly into third base - followed with another single. After a pop out, Whitey Lockman singled home Dark, with Mueller going to third and spraining his ankle.

While the trainers were tending to Mueller, Dressen was calling down to the bullpen. Branka and Carl Erskine were both warmed up, but Erskine's final warm-up pitch, a curveball, bounced, so Dressen went with Branca. What if that ball hadn't bounced? What would Erskine have done in this clutch situation? As it was, it was a matchup between Branca and Thomson. And remember, Thomson had homered off Branca in Game 1 of the playoff.

Another question to be asked is what if Dressen had ordered Thomson walked to face the rookie Mays? In retrospect, it seems crazy that it was even a possibility that you would intentionally walk somebody ahead of Willie Mays, but it wasn't then. Thomson was the Giants' best hitter, and Mays was a rookie who had at times struggled with the transition to Major League play. But the old adage went that you don't put the winning run on base, and Thomson represented the winning run, so it was him that was facing Branca. But if it had been Mays? Hoo boy. He is already considered one of the top three players in baseball history. If it had been Mays getting the pennant-clinching hit in this game, maybe that would have been the clinching argument that pushed Mays ahead of Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb atop baseball's list of immortals.

But it was Thomson. And as the 1-0 pitch sunk into the left-field bleachers, he started leaping as he ran around the bases. The Dodgers slunk off the field - all of them except Robinson, that is, as he stayed to make sure Thomson touched every base.

Postgame
Thomson leaped onto home plate and got engulfed by his teammates, eventually being carried off the field. It was his moment, and his alone. All the things that had happened that summer, all the little plays or decisions that could have turned out differently had led to this. If anything had happened differently between August 12 and October 3, maybe we wouldn't remember Bobby Thomson at all. Maybe he'd just be a footnote in baseball history. As it is, he'll always be remembered as the author of the Shot Heard 'Round the World, the most famous home run in the greatest game in baseball history.

It's surprising how rarely it's mentioned that the Giants lost the subsequent World Series to the Yankees. It's like it doesn't matter, that the ultimate goal was simply the National League pennant. Maybe in this instance it was.

Mays, who missed his chance at immortality by one spot in the batting order, spent the next two seasons in the military, returning for the 1954 season. That year, he led the Giants to another World Series appearance, and he took advantage of his second chance at immortality that year, making The Catch to help jump-start a four-game sweep.

Thomson was with the Braves by 1954, a season in which instead of making history, he became a footnote to history. When Thomson broke his leg in spring training of 1954, it forced the Braves to call up a young outfield prospect by the name of Henry Aaron.

As for the Dodgers, the 1951 season became simply the most painful of their failures to win the World Series. They were even better in 1952 and 1953, but they couldn't get past the Yankees in the World Series. It took until 1955 for them to finally erase the demons of 1951 and win the World Series

The Rundown
What am I doing? Go here to find out. The list:

1. N.Y. Giants 5, Brooklyn 4 (1951 National League playoff)
2. Minnesota 6, Detroit 5 (2009 AL Central tiebreaker)
3. Seattle 6, N.Y. Yankees 5 (1995 ALDS)
4. Colorado 9, San Diego 8 (2007 NL Wild Card tiebreaker)
5. N.Y. Yankees 5, Boston 4 (1978 AL East tiebreaker)
6. San Francisco 6, Los Angeles 4 (1962 National League playoff)
7. Chicago 1, Minnesota 0 (2008 AL Central tiebreaker)
8. N.Y. Yankees 5, Boston 3 (1949 American League)
9. Arizona 2, St. Louis 1 (2001 NLDS)
10. Chicago 4, New York 2 (1908 National League makeup game)
11. Boston 12, Cleveland 8 (1999 ALDS)
12. Boston 5, Minnesota 3 (1967 American League)
13. Minnesota 5, Oakland 4 (2002 ALDS)
14. Boston 4, Oakland 3 (2003 ALDS)
15. Cleveland 4, N.Y. Yankees 3 (1997 ALDS)
16. L.A. Angels 5, N.Y. Yankees 3 (2005 ALDS)
17. Texas 5, Tampa Bay 1 (2010 ALDS)
18. San Francisco 3, Atlanta 1 (2002 NLDS)
19. N.Y. Yankees 5, Oakland 3 (2001 ALDS)
20. Seattle 3, Cleveland 1 (2001 ALDS)
21. Chicago 5, San Francisco 3 (1998 NL Wild Card tiebreaker)
22. N.Y. Yankees 7, Oakland 5 (2000 ALDS)
23. Los Angeles 4, Houston 0 (1981 NL West Division Series)
24. Montreal 3, Philadelphia 0 (1981 NL East Division Series)
25. N.Y. Yankees 7, Milwaukee 3 (1981 AL East Division Series)
26. Seattle 9, California 1 (1995 AL West tiebreaker)
27. Chicago 5, Atlanta 1 (2003 NLDS)
28. Houston 12, Atlanta 3 (2004 NLDS)
29. N.Y. Mets 5, Cincinnati 0 (1999 NL Wild Card tiebreaker)
30. Cleveland 8, Boston 3 (1948 American League tiebreaker)
31. Houston 7, Los Angeles 1 (1980 NL West tiebreaker)

October 3, 1951: The Miracle of Coogan's Bluff

NEW YORK - I had the chance to meet Bobby Thomson and Ralph Branca several years ago. They were on an autograph tour, capitalizing on the fame that came with being the main protagonists in the most famous play in baseball history. They were nice, engaging, and funny, and I got the sense that they always had trouble figuring out what the big deal was. Why were people waiting in line to get their autograph? It was just fate that called their names and put them in the spotlight for that moment.

Fate has always been a funny thing in baseball. While the pitching team has a reasonable opportunity to choose who they want trying to get those crucial last outs, the hitting team's fate is left up to chance. There's a 1 in 9 shot that their best player will be the one batting with the game on the line. On October 3, 1951, Bobby Thomson's number was called.

Not that the Giants were worried about Thomson. 1951 was his best season in the majors, and he had established himself as a good and trustworthy hitter for them. He probably would have been their second choice to bat in that situation. But Thomson is not a Hall-of-Famer. Aside from his home run, his second most famous baseball moment came when he broke his ankle in spring training in 1954, allowing the Milwaukee Braves to call up a rookie outfielder named Hank Aaron.

But there were five Hall of Famers playing in that game who had little to do with the final outcome. Monte Irvin was on base when Thomson hit the home run, so he was involved somewhat prominiently, and of course Willie Mays was famously on deck when the ball was hit. Brooklyn had Pee Wee Reese, Duke Snider, and Jackie Robinson batting consecutively in their batting order, but in the end, they could only watch helplessly as someone else decided the game for them.

That's another thing about the picture Thomson and Branca signed for me. It shows Thomson just as he's stepping on home plate as a dejected Branca walks away. But in the picture you can also see Mays, waiting for Thomson at home plate, and you can see Robinson, standing near second base, having waited to make sure Thomson touched all the bases. Two of the most famous players in baseball history, and they were mere spectators for the most famous home run ever hit.

So maybe Thomson and Branca had trouble figuring out why people still wanted their autographs 40 years later. But maybe they were a bit sheepish, a bit embarrassed that of all the great players on that field, the fates picked them for baseball's greatest moment.

................

I wrote that anecdote because there's no way I could have written the story any better than Red Smith did for the next day's edition of The New York Times. It is undoubtedly the best baseball story ever written, composed by the best sportswriter who ever lived:

---

Now it is done. Now the story ends. And there is no way to tell it. The art of fiction is dead. Reality has strangled invention. Only the utterly impossible, the inexpressibly fantastic, can ever be plausible again.

Down on the green and white and earth-brown geometry of the playing field, a drunk tries to break through the ranks of ushers marshalled along the foul lines to keep profane feet off the diamond. The ushers thrust him back and he lunges at them, struggling in the clutch of two or three men. He breaks free and four or five tackle him. He shakes them off, bursts through the line, runs head on into a special park cop who brings him down with a flying tackle.

Here comes a whole platoon of ushers. They lift the man and haul him, twisting and kicking, back across the first-base line. Again he shakes loose and crashes the line. He is away, weaving out toward center field where cheering thousands are jammed beneath the windows of the Giants' clubhouse.

At heart, our man is a Giant, too. He never gave up.

From center field comes burst upon burst of cheering. Pennants are waving, uplifted fists are brandished, hats are flying. Again and again, the dark clubhouse windows blaze with the light of photographers' flash bulbs. Here comes that same drunk out of the mob, back across the green turf to the infield. Coat tails flying, he runs the bases, slides into third. Nobody bothers him now.

And the story remains to be told, the story of how the Giants won the 1951 pennant in the National League....The tale of their barreling run through August and September and into October....On the final day of the season when they won the championship and started home with it from Boston, to hear on the train how the dead, defeated Dodgers had risen from the ashes in the Philadelphia twilight....Of the three-game playoff in which they won, and lost and were losing again with one out in the ninth inning yesterday when — Oh, why bother?

Maybe this is the way to tell it: Bobby Thomson, a young Scot from Staten Island, delivered a timely hit yesterday in the ninth inning of an enjoyable game of baseball before 34,320 witnesses in the Polo Grounds....Or perhaps this is better:

"Well," said Whitey Lockman, standing on second base in the second inning of yesterday's playoff game between the Giants and Dodgers.

"Ah, there," said Bobby Thomson, pulling into the same station after hitting a ball to left field. "How've you been?"

"Fancy," Lockman said, "meeting you here!"

"Ooops!" Thomson said. "Sorry."

And the Giants' first chance for a big inning against Don Newcombe disappeared as they tagged him out. Up in the press section, the voices of Willie Goodrich came over the amplifiers announcing a macabre statistic: "Thomson has now hit safely in fifteen consecutive games." Just then the floodlights were turned on, enabling the Giants to see and count their runners on each base.

It wasn't funny, though, because it seemed for so long that the Giants weren't going to get another chance like the one Thomson squandered by trying to take second base with a playmate already there. They couldn't hit Newcombe and the Dodgers couldn't do anything wrong. Sal Maglie's most splendorous pitching would avail nothing unless New York could match the run Brooklyn had scored in the first inning.

The story was winding up, and it wasn't the happy ending which such a tale demands. Poetic justice was a phrase without meaning.

Now it was the seventh inning and Thomson was up with runners on first and third, none out. Pitching a shutout in Philadelphia last Saturday night, pitching again in Philadelphia on Sunday, holding the Giants scoreless this far, Newcombe had now gone twenty-one innings without allowing a run.

He threw four strikes to Thomson. Two were fouled off out of play. Then he threw a fifth. Thomson's fly scored Monte Irvin. The score was tied. It was a new ball game.

Wait a moment, though. Here's Pee Wee Reese hitting safely in the eighth. Here's Duke Snider singling Reese to third. Here's Maglie, wild — pitching a run home. Here's Andy Pafko slashing a hit through Thomson for another score. Here's Billy Cox batting still another home. Where does his hit go? Where else? Through Thomson at third.

So it was the Dodgers ball game, 4 to 1, and the Dodgers' pennant. So all right. Better get started and beat the crowd home. That stuff in the ninth inning? That didn't mean anything.

A single by Al Dark. A single by Don Mueller. Irvin's pop-up. Lockerman's one-run double. Now the corniest possible sort of Hollywood schmaltz — stretcher bearers plodding away with an injured Mueller between them, symbolic of the Giants themselves.

There went Newcombe and here came Ralph Branca. Who's at bat? Thomson again? He beat Branca with a home run the other day. would Charlie Dressen order him walked, putting the winning run on base, to pitch to the dead-end kids at the bottom of the batting order? No, Branca's first pitch was called a strike.

The second pitch — well, when Thomson reached first base he turned and looked toward the left-field stands. Then he started jumping straight up in the air, again and again. Then he trotted around the bases, taking his time.

Ralph Branca turned and started for the clubhouse. The number on his uniform looked huge. Thirteen.

The famous home run call can be found here.