1968 World Series

            Baseball evolves at such a languid pace that a retrospective look at the sport 50 years later reveals a strikingly different game.  In 1968, major league baseball consisted of only ten teams in both the American and National League vying for the pennant, with the team with the best record over 162 games earning a trip to the World Series.

            In those bygone days, there was no ‘interleague play’, which gave the Series a more pronounced pitch in terms of rival league mystique and competitiveness.  The “post season” lasted only ten days, played in two and half hour games on sunny afternoons in early October to determine the world championship.    The ‘68 Series would be the last of its kind, a singular event, without an elongated championship tournament prelude involving divisional playoff games, wild card teams and fluke winners in short series upsets. 

            1968 was known as the Year of the Pitcher, underscored by a major league overall ERA of 2.98, the lowest in decades.   The next season would see not only expansion and league divisions, but also the pitching mound lowered from a height of 15 to 10 inches, and ultimately the designated hitter batting for the pitcher in the American League.

            So perhaps fittingly, this World Series pitted two excellent teams—the Detroit Tigers and the St. Louis Cardinals, both of which had dominated their respective leagues—against each other, headlined by their leagues’ best pitchers in Denny McLain and Bob Gibson, both of whom had spectacular seasons.  The Series that began as a ballyhooed mano-mano showdown, ended—as so often happens in baseball—with an unanticipated denouement. 

The St. Louis Cardinals.

            Winners of their second straight National League pennant, the Cardinals stood poised to win their win its second successive world championship, and third in five years. This Cardinal excellence—sustained by team speed, deep pitching, defense and sound fundamentals—was girded by an esprit de corps uncommon in a game oft focused on individual achievement.  The club was led by holdovers from its 1964 Championship team:  The lion hearted Bob Gibson, catcher and field leader Tim McCarver, consummate team player Curt Flood, and the dynamic Lou Brock

            After winning it all in 1964, the Cardinals retooled major components in 1966, dispatching their aging heart of the order, MVP Ken Boyer, and all-stars Dick Groat and Bill White, and replacing them via astute but unrelated trades for Orlando Cepeda and Roger Maris.  Local boy Mike Shannon (who moved from right field to third base to make room for Maris), and slick fielding middle infielders, Julian Javier and Dal Maxvill, supported Baseball’s deepest pitching staff that allowed only 472 runs that season, the lowest ever recorded in a 162 game schedule. 

The Detroit Tigers.

            Perennial contenders for the American League pennant—the club finished second in 1967 losing out on the last day of the season to the Boston Red Sox—the Detroit Tigers won 103 games in 1968, securing their first pennant in 23 years.  The Tigers contrasted with the Cardinals.  Detroit, was a slower team, but one with power befitting its’ cozier ballpark. 

            The veteran Tiger lineup included leadoff man second baseman Dick McAuliffe, hall of famer Al Kaline plus four hitters with over 20 home runs—the AL’s best catcher in Bill Freehan, long-time all-star first basemen Norm Cash, league strong man, the hulking Willie Horton who hit 36 long balls, and Jim Northrup.  Detroit led the American League with 185 home runs, hitting over 50 more than its’ nearest league competitor. The Tigers scored nearly 100 more runs than the Red Birds, and would prove to be their toughest Series’ competitor.

Game 1 Marquee Showdown: Gibson vs. McLain.

            Denny McLain was only 24 years old in that bygone era when starting pitchers plowed through innings like workhorses.    McLain proved his mettle, starting 41 games that season, hurling a league-leading 336 innings.  Fueled by his high heat, blessed by fortune, and supported by a power-hitting team, the Tiger right-hander won 16 games before the All-Star break.  His victory count captivated the nation as it watched his run to become the first pitcher to win 30 games since Dizzy Dean in 1934. No one has come close since.

            The colorful McLain even garnered headlines on his off days from pitching when he piloted his private plane between starts to distant cities so he could entertain audiences with the play of his Hammond organ, or to appear as a glib guest on television talk shows.  He drank Pepsi-Cola by the case as if it were a liquid amphetamine, and became its paid promoter.  McLain finished the regular season with a record of 31 wins and only 6 losses. Despite pitching in a hitter’s park, he finished with sterling 1.96 ERA and 280 strikeouts.

            McLain’s opponent was the incomparable Bob Gibson, who performed his own feat of spectacular, though with less notoriety. Suffering from a dearth of run support, his season started with a 3 and 5 record.   From there, Gibson went through a stretch to being close to perfection, with 12 consecutive complete game victories in which he allowed only six earned runs in 108 innings pitched, a stretch that included 47 consecutive scoreless innings.

            The Red Bird right-hander mastered control over both corners of the plate, where he pounded his fastball and devastating slider.  His imposing demeanor made him the pitcher hitters least like to face.  He finished the season a microscopic 1.12 ERA, with 268 Ks in 305 innings of work, completing 28 of his 34 starts.   His stellar season came on the heels of his three complete game victories in the 1967 World Series where he surrendered just 14 hits and 3 runs in 27 innings of work.  Yet, the 32 year-old Gibson remained page two behind McLain in national recognition.

            Beyond statistics, the story line involving the two hurlers on a collision course—the unstoppable force meeting the unmovable object—revealed a color contrast between the two, both in terms of skin and persona.

            McLain—white, gregarious and braggadocios—craved headlines.  Success had come quickly for the 24 year-old, a super nova who would have one more great season winning 24 games and another Cy Young award in 1969.  The following year, the league suspended him for associating with gamblers.  In 1971, he was traded to the anemic Washington Senators where he would lose 22 games.  He was out of baseball at age 28.  McLain was later convicted and incarcerated for racketeering and extortion.

            Gibson—black, terse and intimidating to outsiders—stood aloof to all but his teammates.  Yet, Cardinal players reveled in his sharp wit and revered his competitive fire.    The man they called Hoot was born in poverty in segregated Omaha, which fueled his inner drive to secure respect. When Gibson was McLain’s age, his first manager belittled him and bounced him in and out of the pitching rotation. 

            But with a new manager on his side, Gibson became the staff leader by 1964, capping the season with 4 innings in relief with one day’s rest to help clinch the pennant on the last day of the season. Going the distance in the pivotal 10-inning thriller in New York in Game Five, he toed the rubber on two days rest for Game Seven.  By the ninth inning, he was pitching on fumes at the end run of 47 pressure-packed innings in just over two weeks that also included two separate starts in the last week of the pennant run, plus three more starts in the Fall Classic.  Gibson gave up two ninth-inning home runs but remained on the hill to secure the Series’ final out.  When asked why he left him in the game, Mgr. Johnny Keane simply stated:  “I had a commitment to his heart.”

            A celebrated event in baseball lore underscored the difference between the two men. With a game in tow, Mickey Mantle came to bat for the last time in Detroit.   McLain announced that he would groove a fastball. He did, and Mantle homered.  It made for a great story.

            Gibson could not comprehend such theatrics.  As he stated in his autobiography:  “I would have dropped my pants on the mound before I would have deferred to an opposing player that way.  My method of showing respect for a player like Mantle would have been to reach back for something extra to blow…[him] away if I could.”

            During the hoopla after Detroit clinched the pennant, showman McLain boasted that he not only wanted to beat the Cardinals, he wanted to humiliate them.  As was his wont, Gibson remained quiet, but after two World Series MVPs, a four-time 20 winner, and now a season of near perfection, he responded internally: “Fine.  Now watch this.”

            In Game One of the World Series, Robert Gibson walked out to the mound’s center stage, and with an amalgam of pride, rancor and adrenalin raised the bar higher.  Detroit never had a chance.  Eight Tigers went down on strikes through four innings.  In the Cardinal fourth, McLain walked two, and surrendered hits to Shannon and Javier as three Red Birds crossed the plate.  McLain was pulled for a pinch-hitter in the sixth, and Brock greeted the Tiger’s reliever with a long home run.

            By the 9^th inning, the only question that remained was whether Gibson would break the all-time Series record of 15 strikeouts.  Gibson answered that question with glowering intensity as he struck out the side, kayoing the heart of the Tiger order—Kaline, Cash and Horton—to finish the game in a flourish for a 4 to 0 victory, striking out 17 in broad daylight.  His pitching that day ranks as the most overpowering performance in World Series history.  

            The Tigers’ 16-year veteran Al Kaline said after the game: “I’ve never seen anyone pitch like that before. Today, he was the best I’ve ever seen.  If he continues to pitch like that, we can’t beat him.” When asked afterwards if he was surprised by his performance, Gibson answered in his matter-of-fact fashion: “Nothing I do surprises me.

Games Two, Three and Four.

            With the marquee game behind them, the Tigers rebounded in Game Two, as they mauled Red Bird hurlers Nelson Briles and Steve Carlton, banging out 13 hits, winning 8 to 1 behind their left-hander, Mickey Lolich.  Serving as a portent for things to come, Lolich connected for the only home run in his 14-year big league career.

            Game Three in Detroit included exchanges of two-run homers by Kaline and McCarver.  Orlando Cepeda—1967 MVP who slumped badly in 1968—hit a three-run homer in the seventh to put a tight game out of reach as the Cardinals won it, 7 to 4.

            The rematch between Gibson and McLain in Game 4 proved more of the same.  Brock led off the game with a towering home run off McLain who failed to last through the third inning.   Rapid Robert as he was known for the way he worked quickly on the mound as much as his fastball, sped through a soggy afternoon that featured two separate rain delays.  Despite big leads, Cardinal Manager Red Schoendeinst sent Gibson back out to pitch after both delays, the mantra of the day being a starter finished the game he started unless his performance proved otherwise.  It made for a long day for the Red Bird right-hander, but a longer one for Detroit.  Gibby fanned ten, and homered himself as the Cardinals coasted to a 10 to 1 victory. 

            Though the Series was not yet over, Gibson had become a living legend, a truly great pitcher who elevated his game still higher in the national spotlight against the American League’s best.  His performance followed on the heels of his three complete game victories against the Boston Red Sox in the 1967 World Series.  In his past five Series complete game victories, Gibson had given up only four runs, winning in overpowering fashion   He would finish his Series career with 92 strikeouts in 81 innings.  His resume included seven straight World Series’ complete games victories, including the decisive Game Sevens against the Red Sox, and the New York Yankees in 1964.

The Series Pivots: Games Five and Six.

            The sun returned for Game Five in Detroit, and it seemed to shine for a Cardinal coronation.  Once again, Lou Brock jump-started the attack with a double, and scored on a single by Flood.  Cepeda homered, and St. Louis led 3 to 0.  Lolich looked shaky.

            As he had in 1967, Gibson overshadowed Brock, yet the latter’s performance was equally impressive.   Lou hit .414 in the 1967 World Series, and was even better in ’68.   He clubbed two homers off Tiger pitching, and ran the bases like a holy terror.  The preceding year, he set a Series record with seven stolen bases against the Red Sox, and he would swipe seven more against Detroit.   He would finish this Series with a .464 average.  In 21 World Series games, Brock’s career World Series statistics match any of the greats, with a .391 batting average (second all-time); a slugging percentage of .655 (sixth); and 14 stolen bases (first).  

            Brock possessed what Stan Musial called inner conceit.  Lou ran the bases with a swagger that said you cannot throw me out.  It was a part of his psyche that made for clutch hitting and compelling devil dare on the base paths.  But like a tragic Greek figure, Brock was destined for a reversal of fortune.   

            In the fifth, with the Cardinal lead trimmed to 3 to 2, the Tigers’ nemesis cracked another double, his third straight hit off Detroit’s lefthander.  Javier followed with a line-drive single hit directly towards leftfielder Willie Horton.  Nonetheless, Brock had grown to believe that he could not be thrown out by anyone, especially by Horton, a defensive liability oft relieved for late innings defensive purposes.   But on this fateful play, Horton made the Series changing play.   Charging the sinking liner, he fielded it on a big hop, which allowed him to continue his forward momentum as he fired a heat-seeking missile on a line to home plate.

            The Cardinal speedster went in standing up and collided with the Tiger catcher just as the rock sturdy, plate-blocking Freehan caught the ball. In a hotly disputed call, the Cardinals contended that Brock’s foot touched the edge of plate at the point of impact with Freehan just before the tag was applied, but the umpire called him out.  To this day, Brock contends that he was correct in trying to score on the dead run rather than sliding, and after having turned in such a superman performance that he was unfairly scapegoated for his role in the Series’ pivotal play.  Lou was surely correct on the latter point.  That lost run proved critical, and shifted momentum the Tigers’ way.

            The score remained 3 to 2 until the bottom of the seventh.  With the Cardinals only eight outs from a World Championship, Tiger manager Mayo Smith allowed Lolich to bat for himself.  Smith had lost faith in his battered bullpen, and the Tigers were down by only one run instead of two.  So up came Mickey, who hit only .114 that season.  Against all odds, he flared a dying quail single to shallow right that ignited a rally.  McAuliffe singled and Mickey Stanley walked to load the bases.

            That bought Kaline to the plate.  This was the consistent all-star’s first and only shot in the World Series.  After missing nearly two months due to an injury, Kaline found himself the odd man out of in Detroit’s hot hitting lineup.  But the Tiger manager found room for Kaline, and simultaneously solved an offensive weakness in the infield by moving his gold glove centerfielder—to of all places—shortstop. Stanley held his end of the bargain making only two errors, none resulting in Cardinal scores.

            Now with the Series on the line, Kaline—who hit .379 in the Series with eight RBIs—delivered a decisive two run single.  Cash followed with another hit, and the Tigers went on to win 5 to 3.   The Series would return to St. Louis.

            Mayo Smith decided to move up McLain’s start—he had only lasted a total of 7.2 innings in his two defeats—to pitch Game Six.  McLain had intimated that he might be through for the Series due to a sore shoulder, but he felt rejuvenated by a cortisone shot and the prospect of pitching against someone other than Gibson.  The Tigers, paced by Jim Northrup’s grand slam, scored ten runs in the third inning, and breezed to a 13 to 1 victory.

Mickey Lolich and Game Seven Heartache.

            Game Seven came down to Lolich who would oppose Gibson with only two days rest.  Like his adversary, he too could draw motivation from McLain.  The two Tigers resented each other with unspoken hostility.

            Four years McLain’s senior, Lolich broke in with Detroit in 1963, with McLain joining the team later that same year.  Their respective careers basically paralleled until 1968 when McLain found favor with fate and control of his fastball to have a mythical season.  On a personal level, they were Tigers of different stripes.  Lolich was stout, stoic and self-reliant. He liked to ride motorcycles, rather than fly airplanes.  After he retired from baseball, he owned and personally operated a local donut shop. 

            While McLain exhilarated in a career year, Lolich found himself temporarily banished to bullpen.  In eight days in August, Detroit’s southpaw won four games in relief to re-gain his spot in the rotation.  He finished the season with a fine record of 17 and 9, but he remained page two news in Tigertown.  Roger Maris, who had played in the American League before being traded to the Cardinals, knew both pitchers, and presciently told his teammates to be more worried about Lolich than McLain. 

            Thanks to his stint in the bullpen, the Tiger lefthander was not overtaxed. He logged 220 innings that season, nearly 100 less than Gibson who would pitch with three days rest. But he had a resilient arm evinced by 376 innings hardball pitched when he won 25 games in 1971.  The blatant overload hoisted by his egocentric manager, Billy Martin, probably cost Lolich—who won 217 career games—a spot in the Hall of Fame, his weary arm having lost its snap by age 33.    

            So after all the McLain hoopla, Detroit’s fate instead came down to Mickey Lolich, and figuring out a way to beat Gibson.  Befitting the Year of the Pitcher, the two hurlers matched the other midway through a tense, scoreless game. True to form, Gibson limited the Tigers to one hit through six innings.

            Lou Brock led off the bottom of that frame with a hit, a record tying 13^th of the Series.  The crowd was ecstatic as Lou took a huge lead off first.  Cash yelled to his pitcher to step off the rubber.  Instead, Lolich threw to first as Brock took off just as he did in Game Two when he beat a wide throw to second.  This time, Cash’s throw was right on, and Brock was out on a bang-bang play.  Flood followed with a single, but he too was picked off by the Tiger lefthander.  Busch Memorial Stadium suddenly became a quiet place.

            The Series’ denouement came the following inning when the Tigers mounted a two out rally.  Cash singled to right.  Horton followed with a ground single through the hole between short and third that Shannon would have gloved had he not been guarding the line in a misguided ‘no doubles’ defense since no right-handed hitter was sharply pulling the ball on this day.   Nonetheless, Gibson appeared tiring, perhaps from a long regular season, his epic peak performance in Game 1, or his elongated efforts in the twice rain-delayed Game Four. Though the last two batters had not hit the ball especially hard, the Tigers were now making solid contact.

            As fate would have it, the left-hand hitting Northrup who was swinging a hot bat was up next.  He connected on the first pitch, a 390-foot drive to dead center, a tough play but catchable for Flood, the game’s premier defensive outfielder.   It was a play that Gibson needed. 

            But he did not get it.  Flood first broke in on the ball that was hit directly at him as he peered in for the ball that was tough to pick up on a sunny day in a background of the then more formally attired white-shirted crowd.  Pivoting sharply to reverse himself, he momentarily lost his footing on the loose turf that had been churned by a football game played on a rainy day a few days earlier.  By then it was too late.  The ball flew over his head, and landed just short of the warning track for a two run triple instead of long out to end the inning.   Freehan’s liner to left skipped by Brock for a double to make it 3 to 0.  The Series was all but over.  

            In the end analysis, the Series turned on two key plays: defensive liability Willie Horton threw Lou Brock out at the plate in Game Five, and the peerless Curt Flood, a seven-time gold glove centerfielder, misplayed the decisive hit in Game Seven.  

            It was surely a bitter pill for Gibson after a magnificent run of pitching.  Always matter of fact in victory, Gibson proved magnanimous in defeat.  He conceded that he thought Flood was going to catch Northrup’s drive because “he was Curt Flood”, and he reminded the writers that Flood had bailed him out of many a game with his glove play in centerfield.     

            The Cardinals had relied on Gibson and fate one time too many. The team had lost Game Six, in 1964, Games Five and Six in both 1967 and 1968, but always had their ace for the decisive Game Seven. But Gibson could not win every Series game, though it seemed to St. Louis that he could will himself to do just that.  On this day, his indomitable will lost out to fate, and Mickey Lolich. 

            Lolich performed in amazing fashion.  A notoriously bad hitter, he homered in Game Two; had a key hit to spark the late rally that won Game Five; and picked off two St. Louis speedsters to quell a Cardinal rally in the sixth inning of the decisive game.   The gritty yet calm Lolich threw a sinking fastball and darting slider that stymied the Cardinals as he surrendered just five runs in 27 innings of work.   Dating back to the second inning of the Game Five, he blanked the Red Birds for 17 consecutive innings until Mike Shannon homered with two out in the ninth. 

            By then, it was academic as the Detroit lefthander finished with a five hitter to outlast a World Series legend, winning 4 to 1.  He was on the hill for the final out to become the last man to earn three complete games victories in a World Series. 

The End of Eras.

            Such epic pitching performances will probably never happen again in modern major league baseball, which has morphed into a manager’s game with an assembly line of pitchers employed in an increasingly elongated game that now spans upwards to an hour longer to resolve. In this ‘evolutionary’ process, Baseball lost the individual heroism from the likes of Lolich and Gibson, the solitary man in the middle of the diamond, who alone takes on the champions from the other league and conquers all in a nine-inning haul. 

            For old-time Cardinal fans, the 1968 World Series defeat remains the most heartbreaking, decided on the imperceptible line between Brock’s left foot and home plate, and a play not made by their peerless centerfielder.  The loss deprived this proud Red Bird club of its rightful place as one of the best teams in the history of the National League.  The team that won 3 pennants in 5 years would not return to the World Series for 14 long seasons.

            The following year, major league baseball introduced league playoffs that often eliminate the teams with the best records from appearing in the World Series. Another added layer of playoffs now extends the Fall Classic into November.

            The year 1968 seems so long ago.  And like yesterday