Baseball in the Fifties

Baseball is not an improvisational game. The players' actions are guided along well-defined boundaries. You cannot hit the ball until the pitcher delivers it you. You have to run within the baselines and you go from first base to second base to third and home plate. No other options exist. Basketball and football are different. Basketball involves improvisation every time down the court. Football games, dense with planned and scripted plays, have constant adjustments as the offensive plan encounters an unpredictable defense. Think Johnny Manziel being chased out of the pocket and looking downfield for new opportunities or deciding to run if that's the best choice. Baseball gives you no similar freedom.

Ted Williams, considered by many to be the best hitter of all-time, fit well into the careful science of the game of baseball. He studied hitting in all of its intricacy and programmed his body to function as a refined baseball hitting machine. Watching Ken Burns' extensive study of baseball last night, I got a kick out of Mickey Mantle's comment on his conversation with Ted Williams in an All-Star game clubhouse and the results of Ted explaining all the things Mantle could do to improve his swing. Mantle said "I went 0 for 30 after the All-Star game." Apparently, Mantle approached hitting in a more instinctive way, less formulaic way. Mantle's swing was compact, a killing machine of twitch muscle and violent beauty. Williams's swing had more poetry maybe, a loose-gaited stroke, with great extension and rhythm. Williams discussed his last bat in the Ken Burns video, a home run at the end of the 1960 season, and revealed his ability to create in the moment. Jack Fisher, the Baltimore Orioles pitcher had put a fastball past him. Williams surmised Fisher  figured he could put another fastball past the 42 year old batter. Williams waited on the fastball and blasted it into the Red Sox bullpen. The other stories related to Wiliams' last at bat, 1) the small crowd of 10,000 fans on hand that day or 2) the slugger's stubborn refusal to tip his hat for the standing ovation, pale in comparison to William's ability to stay focused and relaxed enough to engineer a great at-bat on his very last chance at the plate. Even the scientific hitter has to respond to the reality of the moment.

Two other episodes portrayed in the Fifties chapter of Burns' baseball masterpiece had much to offer about individual performance and the ability of a single play and a single player to determine the fate of an entire franchise. Willie Mays playing for the then New York Giants made the great over-the-shoulder catch against Vic Wertz, Cleveland Indians, in Game Two of the 1954 World Series and the Giants swept the series. Maybe the catch convinced Cleveland the series was over. Apparently Willie had the habit, probably unconscious, of thumping his glove as he pursued a fly ball whenever he anticipated making the catch.The Burns' video shows Willie thumping his glove on the way to making possibly the greatest catch in history. Catching an outfield fly ball while running full speed may be the closest thing baseball gets to an improvisational moment. The outfielder must move his body with balletic skill to get his body moving with sufficient speed and grace to make the play-- much like a basketball player driving to the basket around, over and through the opposing players.

The other most impressive play from the Fifties though had to be the Sandy Amoros catch, the gem that propelled the 1955 Brooklyn Dodgers to a World Series victory and a world championship over the New York Yankees, their nemesis. Amoros raced towards the left field foul line to chase down a line shot hit by Yoga Berra, a sure double that would have spoiled Johnny Podres' shutout and probably turned the tide against the Dodgers. Sandy's long, brilliant run to make the catch elevated the Brooklyn team into believers and got the Yankee curse off their backs. Sandy moved with an improvisational beauty on the play, creating an opportunity where none seemed to exist. He helped the franchise with that catch as much as the other more famous Dodgers-- Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Roy Campanella, Don Newcombe, Gil Hodges and others. Maybe without that catch you don't get the championships claimed by Los Angeles in the decades to follow. I believe a single play can alter the entire trajectory of an organization-- and the lack of a defining play can hinder the less fortunate franchise.

There was significantly more footage of Willie Mays than a player like Sandy Amoros. Mays' movements down the base paths had the quality of young colt, a freedom of movement even within the great restrictions of the prescribed boundaries. Much has been said about Mays' joy for the game and Burns' video emphasizes Willie Mays' preternatural understanding of the entire field of play. Maybe this awareness freed him to move with greater confidence, comfort and relaxation.