Word: platee
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Despite his miseries at the plate. Yaz played superhuman ball in the outfield, robbing the hard-hitting Cardinals of at least two more runs. After Brock, Curt Flood and Roger Maris had parlayed a single, a double and an infield out into a 1-0 advantage in the third, Yazthrzemski went to work in the next inning...
Then, a rally. Boston cut the Angels' lead to 5-4, had men on first and third with two out, and up stepped young Mike Andrews to the plate. On his previous at-bat, Andrews had missed a home run by a matter of feet when he belted one out of the park, barely foul. So here was the kid's chance to try to put one into Kenmore Square, be a super-hero, and get half a dozen stories in the next morning's Boston Globe about his wife, his children, his dog, his first grade teacher, his parents...
...this reasoning Yastrzemski's first appearance at the plate following his error would be critical. His error had slowed the psychic momentum of Saturday's charge. One felt anything less than a hit would reverse the dizzying hope he had aroused in team and crowd, reverse the superhuman confidence he had in himself. Lonborg could not defeat the Twins without his help. There is no point in needless suspense. In the fourth inning Yasthrzemski sliced a line drive off the left field wall and slid into second, into the very heart of the diamond. The Red Sox were still moving...
...could have confidence in old Jerry Adair, journeyman third base-man, who chewed tobacco and hunched over the plate in arthritic concentration. One hesitates to say it, but the team was Andrews and Adair. In the mixture of their youth and age, the identity of their concentration, lay the secret of Red Sox success...
First the left foot, scraping the dirt near the back of the box, establishing this dominion. Then, settling the helmet with the right hand. Finally the foot, closer to the plate, more mobile than the anchoring left foot. One easy practice swing--just one and then the body tightened. Bat drawn up and back with terrifying geometrical precision, lines and angles of force created by arms, elbows and wood. No nervous practice swings, just a slow waving of the bat. The pitch--and the explosion of energy, cracking the ball down the right field line...