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| How we'll always see it: the foggy, almost ghosted image of Bobby Murcer from 1979 |
"Farewell to the Captain" is what the YES Network calls it.
Everyone else seems to call it "The Bobby Murcer Game."
I remember a hot day, and maybe even a little bit of rain at one point. If my memory serves me, I was at a birthday party for Joe Dagnone at his house on Hitchcock Hill. They had a pool. His parents also told me that, on the right day, you could see New York City from there, which I thought would be really cool.
The game didn't start well in New York. Ron Guidry was OK, but not great. Then again, would you be? You've dragged yourself through three forgettable games against the Orioles, winning somehow on Sunday.
You've flown with the team to Canton, OH that day for Thurman Munson's funeral. You captain and teammate died Thursday in a plane crash.
Now you're watching grown men sob.
You're listening to Lou Piniella speak one of the eulogies.
"Thurman was the best of competitors...unselfish...a winner...rough and tough but fair," Piniella said.
And you listen to Bobby Murcer, Thurman's closest friend, just back from Chicago in a trade in June.
"Thurman Munson wore the pinstripes as number 15, but in living, loving, and legend, history will forever remember my friend as number one," Murcer said.
Perhaps ironically, Murcer was the man whose uniform had number one on it during their best years together in the early '70s.
So you can understand Guidry being exhausted as he pitched that night. But proving baseball is a different game now, Gator allowed four earned runs and struck out nine in a complete-game effort. Lee May and Ken Singleton -- yes, that Ken Singleton -- homered off of Guidry. A Rich Dauer sacrifice fly was also part of the Baltimore offense as they built a 4-0 lead after six.
At home, I was disgusted, to say the least. While not the priority of the night, the dream of a three-peat was quickly dying. The Orioles were running away with the American League East, so losing to them on this night -- of all nights -- was too much to watch.
Again, if my memory is serving me at all, I recall the game being broadcast on WPIX, in addition to Monday Night Baseball on ABC. That also means that there would also be radio calls from both the Yankees and Orioles. I don't have them all.
The ABC broadcast exists in perpetuity, as I try to sound like Howard Cosell, who stepped all over Keith Jackson's call (and anyone else who got in his way).
The Orioles of Singleton, Eddie Murray, Jim Palmer, Earl Weaver, and so on were cruising in back of Dennis Martinez.
In the bottom of the seventh, Bobby Brown lined out. Brad Gulden, who had the unenviable duty of catching on Aug 6, 1979, flied out. But Bucky Dent worked out a walk and Willie Randolph doubled.
Up stepped Bobby Murcer.
Fate has a funny way with things. Billy Martin -- the much-maligned and, occasionally, brilliant manager -- told the gentleman from Oklahoma that he would not be playing that night.
Billy Martin, who had reclaimed uniform number one upon becoming manager in 1975. Billy Martin, who was number one in his playing years for the Yankees.
Now Billy the manager, who would be fired again following 1979, was telling Murcer, wearing number two, that he would not be playing. Murcer felt differently.
Martin relented and placed Bobby second in the lineup, playing right field.
But on this night, he had looked pedestrian at best. He struck out, flied to right, and lined to short.
Yet here he was, down 4-0 and looking Dennis Martinez in the eye.
ABC flashed a graphic on the screen in that classic yellow with the rounded, italicized letters in all caps.
"Well that says a lot, doesn't it?" Cosell asked. Oh-for-fifteen with two outs and runners on base."
The comment oozed with Cosellian arrogance. Even pity.
Murcer was a perfect fit for Yankee Stadium. He always was. He knew how to hit line drives over the porch in right.
Don Drysdale knew Murcer wanted a pitch middle-in to "jerk out of here."
He got a high fastball.
Bang.
"He did drive it down the line. If it's fair...it's gone," said Drysdale, a dear friend of Vin Scully's who died at the much-too-early age of 56 in a Montreal hotel room. Drysdale had been a Dodgers announcer besides his network gigs.
"I told you he was due to break out of it," said Cosell. "And so, we have a ballgame."
It was 4-3 Baltimore. Martinez allowed a single to Chris Chambliss before being replaced by the dominant Tippy Martinez.
Reggie Jackson reached on an error but Tippy wiggled out of it. He retired the Yankees in order in the eighth.
Guidry worked his way through the Baltimore ninth before Tippy came out to finish it up.
Again, fate stepped in.
Tippy Martinez is a lefthanded pitcher. In virtually any other spot, baseball dictates that certain lefthanded hitters are best to not face lefthanded pitcher.
This was no ordinary night.
Martinez walked the righthanded hitting Bucky Dent. He allowed Randolph to reach on an error.
But fate intervened again. Earl Weaver left Tippy Martinez in to face Bobby Murcer. Lefty versus lefty.
Former Yankee (Tippy) who was a teammate with Munson against Munson's best friend.
You know what happened, of course.
Line drive past third. Dent and Randolph scored. Game over.
Yankees 5, Orioles 4.
It's all still very fresh.
We also have the YES Network to keep showing it.
"And what a finish," Cosell said, "to a ballgame that became more than an ordinary ballgame, Keith, and you know it.
Cosell, pontificating away at Keith Jackson, had the denouement.
"Emotion won this game."
That it did.
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