One October day in 1962, Ralph Terry stood tall

     Ralph Terry died this week, another of our 1960s baseball heroes gone. Their days, and their ranks, are dwindling.

     There was a special personal affinity for Ralph Terry, for several reasons. Primarily because he was the hero of the 1962 New York Yankees' season and World Series championship team.       

     If you've watched the '62 World Series film -- and it's played on this computer about, oh, 62 times -- you know that Ralph threw the last pitch of Game 7, and that the San Francisco Giants' big man, Willie McCovey, knocked the heck out of that pitch ... a screaming line drive right to -- thank goodness -- Yankees second baseman Bobby Richardson.

     Sweet redemption for Ralph (and the Yankees).

     Because two years earlier, he also threw the last pitch of the World Series. That ball ended up sailing off the bat of the Pittsburgh Pirates' Bill Mazeroski and over the wall in left field at Forbes Field. So ... 10-9, Pirates, and an immortal baseball moment.

     Another reason Ralph Terry was one of our guys: (roll your eyes) He once pitched, at age 17, for the Minden Redbirds in the summer semipro Big Eight League, based in North Louisiana. (Yes, we are partial to that area.)

     He was an Oklahoma kid, tall and rangy, a pro prospect looking for good competition. A year later he had signed with the Yankees and was pitching for their Class A farm team. Two years later, he made his major-league debut.

     But he never had a winning season in "the bigs" until 1960, and -- see above -- that season didn't end well (no thanks to Mr. Mazeroski).

 However, when my top  personal memory of
Ralph Terry goes to 1962, specifically Tuesday, October 16, Game 7, and the victory ride his teammates gave No. 23 off the field at Candlestick Park.

      That was, as happens so often, a tense, dramatic, memorable Game 7.

      And my memory takes me to the football practice field at Woodlawn High School, a few minutes -- if I recall -- past 2:30 p.m.

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     Sophomore year, football manager (equipment dispenser, tower picker-upper, etc.). Innocent (naive) 15-year-old, a sports maniac. Really, the only interest in life, and baseball (Yankees) was the No. 1 concern (Woodlawn was 1-A).  

     But on that Tuesday afternoon, at  practice, my mind wasn't on football. It was on the baseball game on my transitor radio -- brown case -- that I had to my ear.

     Practice? Who cares? There were other managers around.

     We had a helluva good team, a carryover from the "Cinderella" district champions the year before. We were 5-1, 4-0 in district, and that week was a tense one at Woodlawn because our opponent on that Thursday was Byrd High School, the arch-rival.

     Uh, we didn't like Byrd. 

     We had routed a good West Monroe team 26-0 the previous Thursday. Byrd was 2-0 (and had a big, bad team that -- spoiler alert -- would go on to play in the state-championship game). 

     We knew we'd have to play without our promising sophomore quarterback, our friend Trey Prather. He had been the backup QB the first six games, and against West Monroe had emerged as a star, 3-for-3 for passing with two touchdown connections to Edwards Walker (12 and 23 yards). Trey also ran four times for 28 yards. But on his last run, Trey was knocked out of bounds across the field at the West Monroe bench. He didn't get up. Result: broken left wrist.

     Trey easily was our best passer. But the starter, Joe Geter, came back in and found Walker for his third TD catch. (Our friend, Ed Walker, who passed away in Houston just a month ago.) 

     We digress. Sorry. Byrd High was on everyone's mind. Mine was on the Yankees-Giants Game 7.

     Great game, great Series. Rain-delayed for three days before Game 6 in San Francisco. Giants won that one to force Game 7.

     Ralph Terry had been the Game 2 loser at Candlestick and he'd never won a World Series game (his Series record was 0-4)... until a complete-game victory in Game 5 at Yankee Stadium, helped by rookie Tom Tresh's three-run home run to break a 2-2 tie in the bottom of the eighth.

     In Game 7, Ralph was the right guy on the mound in the right place. He had won 23 games in the regular season (23-12 record), pitched almost 300 innings, by far his greatest season. Also gave up 40 home runs, but so what?

     On this day, he stopped an outstanding Giants team -- the first San Francisco National League champion -- on four hits. Some defensive gems helped him.

     Tresh saved him in the seventh inning
with a running backhanded catch in left field on a drive hit by ... Willie Mays. McCovey followed with a long triple, but he was stranded at third. Thus, the Yankees' 1-0 lead was preserved.

      Classic ninth inning. Yankees failed to score after loading the bases with no outs -- forceout at home, double-play grounder (5-U, 5-3 if you're scoring, baseball fans). Bottom nine: Matty Alou pinch-hit, perfect drag bunt single. Terry struck out the next two batters. 

     Up comes the mighty Mays (oh, Lord, I'm shaking listening to this). Lines a hit to right field. Roger Maris, a terrific outfielder, rushes over to the corner, cuts the ball off before it can get to the fence and hurries his throw to the cutoff man -- Richardson, in short right, relays it home and Alou has to stop at third. Phew!

     Mays is at second, the potential winning run on a single. 

     McCovey, an awesome man, is up. First base is open; Orlando Cepeda is on deck. Yankees manager Ralph Houk goes to talk to Terry, and they decide to forgo the "percentage" move (walk McCovey, get a righty-on-righty matchup with Cepeda). Huge gamble.

     First pitch McCovey hits a long, long drive ... foul. I'm listening, and really shaking now. Second pitch: the line drive to Richardson.

     Game over, Series over ... the Yankees win! (World Series title No. 20, the 10th of my lifetime. Would have to wait 15 years for  another one. Damn.) 

     Radio goes flying in the air as high as I could throw it, but I didn't yell. Didn't want to disrupt football practice. Probably the coaches and the guys didn't notice. I didn't care. I loved Ralph Terry then, and I loved him forever.

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     Another scene, two years earlier: Junior high eighth-grade math class, Maurice K. Nickels the excellent teacher, sometime before 2 p.m. We're taking a test, Game 7 of the '60 World Series is going on. I know the Yankees were ahead 7-4 in the eighth inning. Mr. Nickels leaves the room, comes back in after a while and announces to the class that the Pirates have won the Series on a home run by Bill Mazeroski.

     One kid, age 13, in Mr. Nickels' class sinks in his seat, feeling ill. Doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't know that Ralph Terry gave up that home run.

     Two years later, we forgive Ralph.

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     Met him in the early 1990s when he was playing the Seniors PGA Tour and was in an event at the Valley Course at TPC Sawgrass in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. He was that good a golfer, maybe the best-ever baseball player-turned-golfer. It was the day I followed Arnold Palmer's round, but sought out Terry afterward.

     Thanked him for 1962, mentioned Minden, which brought a laugh. He said it was a good memory.

     He was 86 when he left us this week. The only other Yankees who played in that Game 7 in 1962 still living also are 86 -- Bobby Richardson and Tony Kubek. Giants players from that game still with us are the greatest player I've seen: Mr. Mays, and Felipe Alou and "The Baby Bull," Cepeda. 

     Heck, they're all legends. But on October 16, 1962, Ralph Terry was The Man.

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      One postscript: Talk about tense, what we didn't know that day, but would learn by the following Monday ... This item taken from history.com, a "This Day in History" listing:

      "In a televised speech of extraordinary gravity, President John F. Kennedy announced on October 22, 1962, that U.S. spy planes have discovered Soviet  missile bases in Cuba."

       (The Soviets. The Russians. Troublemakers. Some things don't change.)

       Yikes. And we thought the World Series and Byrd-Woodlawn football were tense. Right.