One of the memorable baseball photographs of all time — perhaps the most memorable — is of Boston Red Sox catcher Carlton Fisk waving his arms, willing a fly ball fair during the sixth game of the Red Sox-Reds 1975 World Series. The date was October 21, 1975 and the Big Red Machine was leading the Bosox three games to two. With the Reds leading 6-3 in the eighth inning of the sixth game, Red Sox pinch hitter Bernie Carbo launched a fastball into the left field seats, tying the game at six apiece. And that’s the way it stayed until the 11th inning, when Joe Morgan nearly put the Reds on top with a long fly to right. But Morgan’s sure home run ended up in the glove of Dwight Evans, who made a spectacular catch to save the game — and the series. The Reds failed to score that inning and the next and on they went, into the bottom of the 12th.

Red Sox Diehard tells the rest of the story: “In the home half of the twelfth, Carlton Fisk led off. He stepped to the plate at 12:33 am, and hit the second pitch of the inning hight and deep to left field, but right down the line. If it stayed fair it was a sure home run, but would it stay fair? Fisk jumped up and down in front of home plate, wildly gesturing toward the ball, waving it fair. The ball smacked the foul pole. Home run. The Red Sox had won.” The Big Red Machine went on to take the series the next night, winning the series in seven nail biting games, but as “Diehard” reminds us, Fisk’s quip says it all: “the Red Sox won the series, three games to four.”

 

Fisk’s quip gets it right. Any diehard Red Sox fan (or any diehard baseball fan) will tell you that the 1975 World Series may well be the greatest ever played. And that’s true not because the Big Red Machine won, but because the Red Sox, in defeat, provided some of the most unforgettable post-season memories in major league history. There’s the aging but noble Luis Tiant, pitching his heart out, and Yaz battling for his ring — with an underrated outfield that ranks among baseball’s most surprising. Rose and Griffey and Morgan and Bench versus Yaz and Lynn and Evans and Petrocelli. But it is Fisk’s sixth game home run that remains the symbol of the series, as great a moment as Ruth’s “called shot,” Thomson’s “shot heard round the world” or Mazeroski’s 9th inning game-set-match home run of 1960.  

So when I was given the opportunity to meet Fisk — at a (get this) baseball card show in Pennsylvania — I took it. It’s not that I am a huge fan of the retired catcher: I remember him mostly as a backstop for the Comiskeys, to whom he was traded after a particularly ugly parting with the Red Sox (standard for them). But it was an opportunity, you see, and my wife (here she is, in case you’ve forgotten) is a Red Sox and Carlton Fisk fan. I fantasized my return home (triumphant!) with a bagful for me, but with “a little something” for her. So after me and “me droog” Dan (a lifelong Naps fan) navigated the D.C. to Philly highway puzzle — and after having strolled through dozens of baseball card exhibits — I bought a Carlton Fisk baseball card and handed it to him. “If my wife hadn’t married me,” I said, “I am sure she would have married you.” He laughed. “She must be a Red Sox fan,” he said.

It isn’t every day that you get to meet a hall of fame catcher — and baseball icon — so I took the opportunity to pose some questions, including the one I’m certain Fisk has been asked countless times. Do you consider yourself a Red Sox player or a White Sox player? He smiled and gave the recitation — and for all I know he’d said this so many times there was a string coming out of his back that anyone could pull to hear the same thing. But he was polite: “Oh, I consider myself a Red Sox,” he said. “Sure, I had some problems with the Red Sox in my career and that’s the reason I went to Chicago, but I think I played my best years in Boston. We weren’t any good in Chicago, but we won in Boston.”

He scribbled his name on the baseball card and looked up and stuck out his hand for me to shake and continued: “And I grew up in New Hampshire and the Red Sox were always my favorite team, and kind of my home town team.” I said that I’d seen him play in Chicago, a long time ago. “You remember,” I said. “One year they wore shorts.” He waved: “Oh God, not me. That was the year after I left.” I thanked him for the autograph and walked away, past the next table — where Johnny Bench, his 1975 nemesis was seated, chatting with a fan. I didn’t pay much attention.

The New Rule: Taking advantage of a new Major League rule, the Washington Nationals are considering trading 1st Baseman Nick Johnson for “a player to be named much, much later.” While the Nats front office would not name the player, it is thought to be young Bobby Bailey, a T-baller with the Overland Park, Kansas T-ball league. Bailey is believed to be a prized prospect in the Kansas City Royals scouting system.”He’s an integral part of our decades-long effort to rebuild our team,” a Royals’ scout noted proudly. While only six years old, Bailey is viewed by the Nats as a potential future player whose upside is that “while we don’t know whether he can run, hit or catch, he never gets injured.” As one Nats insider told River-Dogz: “This kid is just a stud, he just rolls with the punches.”

Okay … well, heartless as this may seem, the truth of the situation is even more heartless. In many ways, Johnson was more valuable to the Nats than Ryan Zimmerman; he was a silent clubhouse presence who led by example. His second deck home run earlier this year was a sign of things to come — a prodigious shot. He’s gone for the remainder, after a wrist failed to heal. While “Meat Tray“ is a very fine . . .  yes, indeed a very fine hitter (and leader too), you can see why other teams pursue Johnson, while passing on his replacement. The front office quietly has it that Nick is snakebit. Maybe. But for pursuing scouts, anxious to land a leader and trade some prospects, Johnson appears fragile. There’s a world of difference.

This is a disaster. 

On another note: We mourn the passing of Ryan Langerhans to Triple A Columbus, where he will attempt to break out of his career-long slump. We have heard from sportswriters of the BBWA that the motion to change the phrase “Mendoza Line” to Langerhans Line has been tabled, pending the outcome of Pete Orr’s tenure as Langerhans’ replacement in the Nats’ lineup. We wish Ryan well. Everyone struggles in baseball, but he has struggled more than most.

The Grey Eagle: You can make the argument (you can make it, but you would lose) that Tris Speaker was the greatest center fielder of all time. That would place him ahead of Babe Ruth and Willie Mays, of course, and that’s not possible. But he’s certainly in the top five and perhaps in the top three. There’s a reason for that — and it had nothing to do with his deep friendship with that world-class chump, Ty Cobb. Speaker was the first in a long-line of unappreciated Red Sox: brilliant players who were eventually cast away for money or bums because the owner thought they were too expensive, washed up …  or just because.

The list includes Ruth, Fisk and Clemens. But Speaker was the first to go — and the worst decision in Red Sox history (yes, worse than Ruth because in Speaker at least they knew, yes the keepers of the asylum just knew), and Boston fans talked about it for years afterwards. Speaker went to Cleveland, of all places (in 1916), and for a few bucks and some prospects. That’ll show him!

So if Cincinnati is a place where pitchers go to die, then Boston is a place where great players go to get traded. Still.

Anyway. I was reading about Speaker the other day (there’s this) and I was just stunned by his statistics. Two in particular. The retro-sheets show that Speaker played so shallow in center field that he sometimes covered second during double plays: 6-8-3! He holds the record for double plays by an outfielder (139). Of course this was the dead ball era, but still. Then there’s this: in over 10,000 at bats he struck out 220 times.