Grand Slam

Didi watches his grand slam (Andy Marlin-USA TODAY Sports)

In baseball, a grand slam is probably the most beautiful of offensive terms that one can use.

Think about it: when something is a good idea, it's a "home run." But using the term "grand slam" takes it to another level.

For the uninitiated, a grand slam is a home run with the bases loaded, scoring four runs. Yes, there are people who don't know sports who read this. Even some who listen to me. Then I try to educate!

Didi Gregorius hit a grand slam at Yankee Stadium yesterday, opening the floodgates as the Bombers ran past the Twins 8-2. The Yankees have a two games to none lead in the best of five American League Division Series.

I was listening to John Sterling and his Yankees companera, Suzyn Waldman, call the game on radio when Didi took the grand tour and it took me back.

You see, a grand slam isn't ultra-rare, but it's still special. It's obviously rarer in the postseason, and even more so in the World Series.

It's happened only 18 times.

I had never been to a World Series game. I didn't even know how to get tickets. I started doing a small season-ticket plan in 1998, in part, to put me inline for Series tickets if the opportunity presented itself.

You might know that the 1998 Yankees were really good. They rolled through the Rangers in the division series and scuffled with the Indians in the league championship.

I had been to playoff games in 1995 and 1996, and now one in each of the first two rounds of 1998.

I watched the Yankees polish off Chief Wahoo and the Tribe, and my first World Series was now a reality.

It just felt different. No, I wouldn't be sitting in my normal seats in Section 5, and the price was quite inflated. But I was in the building, sitting near the very top of the upper deck off the third base line.

I loved all of it. The pageantry of the introduction of the starting lineups. Tony Bennett singing the National Anthem. Sammy Sosa throwing out the first pitch.

I was there with 56, 712 of my closest friends that night. Two years removed from the nirvana of 1996, we were ready for a coronation of 1998's epic team that won 114 games in the regular season.

Only the San Diego Padres stood in our way.

Kevin Brown was the starter that night for San Diego. The ornery but great pitcher would be a formidable foe.

We all felt rowdy when Ricky Ledee, starting in the World Series on the gut call of Joe Torre, whacked a double down the left field line to give New York a 2-0 lead in the second inning. The Padres answered as David Wells allowed a two-run homer to Greg Vaughn.

The great Tony Gwynn added a two-run shot in the fifth, followed by a second home run from Vaughn. It was 5-2 San Diego and the mood was dark.

I sat nervously in my seat. My first World Series game couldn't be like this, could it?

Guys sitting near me enjoyed some herbal refreshments. I was offered and politely declined. That probably comes as no shock.

Wells left the game after pitching seven (is that allowed now?).

The game went to the bottom of the seventh. We stretched and hoped for runs.

Scott Brosius grounded out. Jorge Posada singled. Ledee walked. That called for the end of the night for Brown.

Righthander Donnie Wall was next. He'd face Chuck Knoblauch. You need to know that Knoblauch had what can most politely be described as a "brain cloud" during the American League Championship Series that almost damned the whole season. I can still hear the radio call as I was sitting at work. "Knobby" wasn't the most popular guy in New York at that point.

All was quickly forgiven.


It was cathartic. It was as if the weight had been lifted, but there was still work to do.

Derek Sanderson Jeter (that name is probably familiar) singled. Wall was replaced by Mark Langston, a lefty who had once been a starter, and a very good one at that. Langston was also part of a deal in 1989 for Randy Johnson, who obviously did quite well for himself.

Paul O'Neill flied to right. A wild pitch moved Jeter to second (YEAH JEETS). The Padres then intentionally walked Bernie Williams. Chili Davis also worked out a walk.

Up stepped Constantino Martinez.

Tino, much-beloved, was also The Guy Who Replaced Don Mattingly. So, when Tino struggled early in his Yankees career, fans let him hear it. Tino had also not had especially great postseason moments.

But here he was, facing Langston in a tie World Series Game 1.

Tino had hit six career grand slams and was very good with the bases loaded.

But Langston had him at two balls and two strikes. Then he threw. Martinez took it. From upstairs, my knees buckled. Strike three. Inning over. Still tied.

Wrong. Ball three. Home plate umpire Richie Garcia swears, to this day, that it was inside.

"Ooooohhhhhh," I said out loud, knowing full well Tino probably got away with one.

Bad calls, as we know, are a part of life. For Langston, he couldn't let this ruin his concentration. Make a good pitch and the inning would be over.

Then Langston pitched. It looked like a hanging slider and Tino cranked.

Time, as it often does, stood still.

In a moment like that, everything goes quiet for the briefest of moments, just as with Knoblauch earlier in the inning. You can just about hear it on the TV broadcast.



Images of Elmer Smith, who hit the first World Series grand slam, in 1920, flickered in my brain. Yankees' slammers Tony Lazzeri, Gil McDougald, Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Bill "Moose" Skowron, Bobby Richardson, and Joe Pepitone were still relevant in the moment. Chuck Hiller, Ken Boyer, Jim Northrup, Dave McNally, Dan Gladden, Kent Hrbek, Jose Canseco, and Lonnie Smith all awaited the next member of the World Series Grand Slam Club. Paul Konerko would join them in 2005.

And Tino Martinez, Yankees' first baseman.

Holy (bleep).

Spontaneously, strangers were hugging. This game -- and, maybe, this Series -- was over.

The Yankees put seven on the board in the seventh. The Padres got one in the eighth, but Mariano Rivera wrapped it up in the ninth for a 9-6 win.

I drove home glowing. Traffic didn't bug me (winning normally did that).

I had been to my first World Series game (I've been to four and the Yankees are 4-0 in them). I saw history. I felt the building -- the Stadium -- shake for the first time.

I thought we were going to tumble down.

The Yankees won the World Series in four games, finishing it up in San Diego.

If it's not my favorite sports memory in person, it's top three.

*****
Susantober© has returned! Follow along through the tales of haunted houses! And, for the record, I really didn't know Shirley Jackson until I met Susan. I accept whatever punishment awaits.

*****
I can't possibly let today end without noting the passing of the wonderfully psychotic Ginger Baker. The founding member of Cream was among the most extraordinary drummers even in one of the most extraordinary bands ever. A band like that couldn't last forever simply due to the type of egos that were in the band.

Not to mention the amount of substances that hung around.

Ginger was bombastic in person and on the drums. He felt he -- and Cream -- were more jazz than rock. He felt they were free-form. Whatever the case, he was brilliant.

Just listen to him explode on "Sunshine of Your Love." Listen to the cymbals crash.

Ginger Baker was 80.