similarly distracting effect on hitters. He also possessed extraordinary control and the ability to adapt his pitching style to whatever the circumstances of a game required, all qualities he shared with Tiant. Only a few years apart in age, Marichal and Tiant had briefly crossed paths as teammates in Boston the previous season; after one last stint with the Dodgers, Marichal had recently announced his retirement, and eight years later he would become the first Latin-born pitcher to enter the Hall of Fame.
Tiant’s next pitch, another screwball that Griffey resisted, just missed the outside corner to run the count to full. Griffey’s patiencepaid off when the payoff pitch missed inside, the first time Tiant had come inside to him during the entire at bat. Griffey trotted to first with a walk.
Second baseman Joe Morgan came to the plate. Standing a trim, compact five foot seven, he looked like a school kid beside the imposing, battle-geared Carlton Fisk, but Morgan was only weeks away from being named the National League’s Most Valuable Player for the 1975 season. Born in Bonham, Texas, Morgan had come of age in Oakland, California, where despite his small stature he’d made himself into one of the toughest players to ever come out of an extremely tough neighborhood. Signing after high school as a low-level prospect with the National League’s new Houston Colt .45s franchise, Morgan shocked everyone in that organization by making it all the way to the big-league club by the end of his first full season in professional ball. Within two years, at the age of twenty-one, he had established himself as the team’s everyday second baseman, the same year they changed their name to the Houston Astros. A pattern had been established that would persist for much of his career, and indeed his life: Joe Morgan striving to overcome the limits imposed on him by other people’s inaccurate perceptions. Morgan’s size played a considerable part in those prejudicial opinions and in those days, in baseball and the South, so did his race. His confidence in himself then had a lot to make up for—and in the opinion of many often turned to arrogance—but it never wavered. And this season, in 1975, as he played for Sparky and the Reds, that great talent had come to full fruition.
Morgan dug in, took his stance, oversized bat held high, and snapped his left elbow up and down like an airplane flap, one of the most imitated batter’s box tics in baseball. Tiant made a couple of tosses over to first base, trying to keep Griffey close to the bag. Tiant’s stretch windup was every bit as eccentric as his full one; bringing his hand and glove together at chest level as he straddled the rubber, he brought them down to his waist in a series of small bounces, as if they were being lowered by a ratchet. The routine never looked the same way twice, and at any point in the process hemight whirl and fire to first; the Old Man had indeed helped teach him a superb pickoff move, one of the best for a right hander in either league.
----
THE “BALK”
Before the Series, Sparky Anderson, who’d never managed against Luis Tiant—and only seen him throw in a game once in person, briefly, during the 1974 All-Star Game—had watched film on Boston’s ace and thought he’d spotted something he could exploit. To Sparky’s eye, it appeared that Tiant never brought the ball to a complete stop during that stretch windup and often released his pickoff throws to first base before planting his left foot; the baseball rule book states the pitcher must land that step before throwing or it should be considered an attempt to “deceive the runner” and be ruled a balk, awarding the runner free passage to the next base. Sparky brought these points up to the umpiring crew ahead of Game One—there were later rumors that he’d sent videotape of Tiant to their office ahead of time, which he denied—and he talked it up extensively to the press, a form of
Tiant’s next pitch, another screwball that Griffey resisted, just missed the outside corner to run the count to full. Griffey’s patiencepaid off when the payoff pitch missed inside, the first time Tiant had come inside to him during the entire at bat. Griffey trotted to first with a walk.
Second baseman Joe Morgan came to the plate. Standing a trim, compact five foot seven, he looked like a school kid beside the imposing, battle-geared Carlton Fisk, but Morgan was only weeks away from being named the National League’s Most Valuable Player for the 1975 season. Born in Bonham, Texas, Morgan had come of age in Oakland, California, where despite his small stature he’d made himself into one of the toughest players to ever come out of an extremely tough neighborhood. Signing after high school as a low-level prospect with the National League’s new Houston Colt .45s franchise, Morgan shocked everyone in that organization by making it all the way to the big-league club by the end of his first full season in professional ball. Within two years, at the age of twenty-one, he had established himself as the team’s everyday second baseman, the same year they changed their name to the Houston Astros. A pattern had been established that would persist for much of his career, and indeed his life: Joe Morgan striving to overcome the limits imposed on him by other people’s inaccurate perceptions. Morgan’s size played a considerable part in those prejudicial opinions and in those days, in baseball and the South, so did his race. His confidence in himself then had a lot to make up for—and in the opinion of many often turned to arrogance—but it never wavered. And this season, in 1975, as he played for Sparky and the Reds, that great talent had come to full fruition.
Morgan dug in, took his stance, oversized bat held high, and snapped his left elbow up and down like an airplane flap, one of the most imitated batter’s box tics in baseball. Tiant made a couple of tosses over to first base, trying to keep Griffey close to the bag. Tiant’s stretch windup was every bit as eccentric as his full one; bringing his hand and glove together at chest level as he straddled the rubber, he brought them down to his waist in a series of small bounces, as if they were being lowered by a ratchet. The routine never looked the same way twice, and at any point in the process hemight whirl and fire to first; the Old Man had indeed helped teach him a superb pickoff move, one of the best for a right hander in either league.
----
THE “BALK”
Before the Series, Sparky Anderson, who’d never managed against Luis Tiant—and only seen him throw in a game once in person, briefly, during the 1974 All-Star Game—had watched film on Boston’s ace and thought he’d spotted something he could exploit. To Sparky’s eye, it appeared that Tiant never brought the ball to a complete stop during that stretch windup and often released his pickoff throws to first base before planting his left foot; the baseball rule book states the pitcher must land that step before throwing or it should be considered an attempt to “deceive the runner” and be ruled a balk, awarding the runner free passage to the next base. Sparky brought these points up to the umpiring crew ahead of Game One—there were later rumors that he’d sent videotape of Tiant to their office ahead of time, which he denied—and he talked it up extensively to the press, a form of
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