by Bruce Nash
TOMMY JOHN
Pitcher · New York, AL · July 27, 1988
New York Yankees hurler Tommy John committed not one, not two, but three errors on one play!
“I’ve made errors before,” said the veteran lefty, “but these seemed like a lifetime’s worth with one ball.”
In a game against the Milwaukee Brewers, John’s control on the mound was masterful. But in the field he fell apart at the seams like a dime-store baseball, and tied a dubious record that hadn’t been equaled in 90 years.
With one out in the top of the fourth inning and the Yankees ahead 4–0, John walked Jim Gantner. The next batter, Jeffrey Leonard, tapped a little dribbler to the mound that John should have easily fielded for a routine out. But John bobbled the ball for his first error.
Gantner had already reached second and Leonard was almost at first when John—a pitcher who built his career on pinpoint control—reared back and heaved the ball past first baseman Don Mattingly and into right field for another error.
Gantner rounded third and headed for home on the overthrow while Leonard galloped to second. Right fielder Dave Winfield scooped up the errant throw and was on line to gun down Gantner at the plate. But John unthinkingly cut off the relay. He then guaranteed himself a place in history when he whirled and threw a perfect strike into the Brewers dugout for his third error of the play. Gantner scored, and Leonard, who now had reached third, was waved home by the umpire for the second run.
The embarrassed pitcher, who had rushed to cover home after his third miscue, muttered to plate umpire Rick Reed, “I think I just lost a Gold Glove on that play.”
It was the most deplorable fielding disaster by a pitcher since the three errors made by Cy Seymour of the New York Giants way back in 1898. But John’s bungles were more shameful because his triple misplay came on one batted ball. Seymour needed a whole inning to rack up his trio of errors.
When the 45-year-old John—the oldest player in the Majors in 1988—learned he had tied Seymour’s record, he cracked, “I think I pitched against him in the Eastern League.”
Reliving the historic moment years later, John said, “I should have eaten the ball, but I thought I could get him [Leonard] with a good throw to first. That was a mistake. Instead, I threw it into right field. That was a mistake. Then I cut the ball off. That was a mistake. Then I threw the ball to their trainer in the dugout. That was another mistake. I did things like that every once in a while to keep the team loose.”
John, who won the game 16–3, had an explanation for his multi-blunder play: “There was a thunderstorm coming and there were a lot of negative ions in the air, and since I was wearing a metal cup, it just glitched my mind.”
RICHIE ASHBURN
Center Fielder
ELIO CHACON
Shortstop
FRANK THOMAS
Left Fielder
New York, NL · April 25, 1962
Closing out a great career with the worst team in modern history, New York Mets outfielder Richie Ashburn desperately tried to save his hide from collisions with his teammates.
He wasn’t always successful.
The veteran center fielder often dodged disaster in the form of energetic shortstop Elio Chacon. While chasing short fly balls, the two often came perilously close to crashing into each other.
“Elio was always running into people,” Ashburn recalled. “He never actually hit me, but he came so close often enough that I knew it would just be a matter of time before he nailed me. Every time I went after a short fly, I had to keep one eye on the ball and one on Elio.”
The problem was that they weren’t communicating. In fact, they weren’t even speaking the same language. Chacon, a native of Caracas, Venezuela, spoke no English. And Ashburn, a native of Tilden, Nebraska, spoke no Spanish. Whenever Ashburn ran in on a short fly, he yelled, “I got it! I got it!” Meanwhile, Chacon was dashing out, shouting the same thing in Spanish, so the Mets sounded like they were baseball’s version of the Tower of Babel.
Ashburn feared he’d never make it through that dismal season and ease gracefully into retirement without being maimed for life. So he took his worries to Joe Christopher, his fellow outfielder, who spoke both English and Spanish.
“Instead of calling ‘I got it’ in English, say it in Spanish,” suggested Christopher. “Just shout, ‘Yo lo tengo.’ Elio will understand you. I’ll explain it to Elio so he knows what’s going on.”
Before the next game, Ashburn approached Chacon and said, “Yo lo tengo.”
“Si, si!” replied a beaming Chacon. “Yo lo tengo.”
In the third inning, the Cincinnati Reds put runners on first and third with two outs. Batter Leo Cardenas then lofted a short fly ball to shallow left-center field.
Ashburn sprinted in for the catch, yelling at the top of his voice, “Yo lo tengo! Yo lo tengo!” Chacon, who had scampered after the ball, pulled up and motioned for Ashburn to take it.
No longer fearing a collision, Ashburn reached out to make the easy catch—and was flattened by 6-foot, 3-inch, 200-pound Frank Thomas, the Mets’ hard-charging left fielder. Thomas was never told the meaning of “Yo lo tengo.”
EDDIE JOOST
Shortstop · Philadelphia, AL · September 11, 1948
SHEA HILLENBRAND
Third Baseman · Boston, AL · March 15, 2003
JEFF FULCHINO
Pitcher · Houston, NL · July 28, 2009
It’s one thing to lose the ball in the sun. It’s quite another to lose the ball in your shirt.
Philadelphia Athletics shortstop Eddie Joost suffered that fate in a 1948 game against the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park. In the bottom of the fourth inning, Boston’s Ted Williams was on second base with Billy Goodman at the plate.
Goodman rapped a sharp hopper past A’s pitcher Bill McCahan. Joost raced over to make the play and as he bent down for the ball, he came up empty-handed. The ball had disappeared. “Nobody could figure out what had happened,” Joost recalled. “McCahan was waiting for me to make the throw to first. When he didn’t see anything happening, he ran over to me, waving his arms and yelling, ‘Where the hell did it go?’”
It took a few seconds for Joost to find the answer. Incredibly, the ball had bounced off the heel of his glove, rolled up his sleeve, and ended up in the back of his shirt.
Meanwhile, Goodman had made it safely to first and was credited with a hit, while Williams reached third. The two runners, along with everyone else in Fenway, then watched Joost dance up and down like a man with an army of ants in his shirt. He scratched and clawed at his back, but the ball was still just a fingernail out of reach. In desperation, he started unbuttoning his jersey, but that was too slow. So he ripped the shirttail out of his pants. Finally, the ball fell to the ground.
The entire park erupted in laughter. Williams, who could have easily scored from third during Joost’s wild search for the ball, had doubled over in hysterics and was too weak to run.
“I picked up the ball and ran over to third base,” Joost recalled. “I shook the ball in Ted’s face and yelled at him, ‘Okay, damn you. You can run now.’ But he was laughing so hard he couldn’t have run if he wanted to. Everybody was laughing. Even me.
“You know, that never would have happened if we had worn those nice-fitting double-knits that they wear today.”
Oh yeah? Tell that to Boston Red Sox third baseman Shea Hillenbrand or Houston Astros reliever Jeff Fulchino.
In a 2003 spring training game, it looked like Hillenbrand had a trick up his sleeve after Tampa Bay Devil Rays catcher Toby Hall chopped a grounder to him. The ball glanced off the heel of Hillenbrand’s glove, knocked one of the buttons off his shirt, and disappeared inside the opening. He found it lodged underneath his jersey resting by his stomach.
In a questionable call
, the umpires ruled the play dead and awarded Hall second base. The official scorer gave Hillenbrand an error. The play led to three unearned runs off Pedro Martinez—the only runs the Devil Rays scored in a 3–2 victory.
Later in the clubhouse, Hillenbrand told reporters, “It was kind of funny. I was listening to the [radio] commentary in here and they were saying I was penalized for sloppy dressing and not wearing my uniform right.”
Afterward, the Boston Globe reported that Martinez accused Hillenbrand of “cuddling the ball.” Hillenbrand vehemently denied the charge claiming, “Hey, I’m a happily married man.”
Six years later, Houston’s Jeff Fulchino found himself up shirt creek. In the bottom of the fifth inning of a 2009 game at Wrigley Field, Chicago Cubs leadoff hitter Kosuke Fukudome bounced a ball up the middle to Fulchino. The ball ricocheted off the pitcher’s glove—and right into his jersey. As Fukudome raced toward first base, Fulchino dug his hand into his shirt, but couldn’t fish out the ball because it had wound its way around to his side. Not quite sure what to do, he threw his hands in the air, giving the same signal that outfielders make at Wrigley when a ball is lost in the ivy-covered walls. Fukudome was credited with a base hit and later scored in the inning.
Fulchino, shirt out of luckAssociated Press
After the game, which the Astros won 11–6, Fulchino said, “I thought I had knocked it down. I looked down and I was like, ‘Where is it?’ Then I felt it right over here to my side and I was like, ‘You gotta be kidding me.’
“It [the ball] cracked the button on my shirt and when it ricocheted off . . .” He stopped in mid-sentence and shook his head before adding, “I don’t know how it got in there.”
Teammate Geoff Blum told ESPN.com, “I thought he just absorbed it, maybe swallowed it or something.” Asked if Fulchino should have just fired the shirt to first base, Blum replied, “Hell, no. That’s the last thing we wanted to do. The wind was blowing out. It could have been ugly.”
HANK GOWDY
Catcher · New York, NL · October 10, 1924
With the gracefulness Hank Gowdy showed in the seventh and final game of the 1924 World Series, the New York Giants catcher would probably have tripped over his own shadow. His clumsiness opened the door for the Washington Senators to win the world championship.
Gowdy was behind the plate in the bottom of the 12th inning of a 3–3 tie. With no one on base and one out, up to bat for the Senators stepped weak-hitting catcher Muddy Ruel, who had managed to get only two hits in 21 trips to the plate during the Series.
Ruel lifted a high lazy foul behind the dish for what appeared to be an easy out. Like a good catcher, Gowdy threw his mask off and went after the pop-up. But unlike a good catcher, he threw his mask right in his path.
As he circled under the foul, Gowdy stepped on his mask—and got his foot stuck in it. Keeping his eye on the ball, he desperately tried to shake off the discarded hardware. By now, the ball was descending and Gowdy was panicking. As if he was doing a poor imitation of Long John Silver, Gowdy hobbled on his mask and stumbled. The ball nicked his glove and dropped beside him for an error.
Given a new lease on life, Ruel rapped a double down the left field line. He stayed at second on an error by shortstop Travis Jackson, who bobbled pitcher Walter Johnson’s grounder. Earl McNeely then swatted a double, and Ruel raced home with the winning (and unearned) run for Washington—and the championship.
BOB TILLMAN
Catcher · Boston, AL · May 12, 1967
Boston Red Sox catcher Bob Tillman spent hours practicing throws to second base so he could shoot down thieving runners. He didn’t mow down that many base stealers, but he did manage once to bean his own pitcher.
In a tight game at Fenway Park, Boston reliever John Wyatt came in to pitch in the eighth inning against the visiting Detroit Tigers. Boston fans gave him an ovation because he had yet to be scored on in eight appearances that year.
With one out, he walked Al Kaline, who then broke for second base two pitches later. Tillman cut loose with a strong throw as Wyatt ducked and turned toward second to see how good his catcher’s marksmanship was. The hurler painfully learned his batterymate was no sharpshooter.
The throw struck Wyatt smack in the back of his head with such force that the ball bounced all the way to the on-deck circle on the first base side of the field. As wide-eyed fans watched in fascinated horror, Wyatt staggered around on the mound. By the time Tillman retrieved the ball, Kaline had reached third base.
Tillman got an error and Wyatt got a headache. But after being examined by the trainer, the plucky pitcher stayed in the game. The next batter, Willie Horton, hit a sacrifice fly to right field, which allowed Kaline to tag up and score the first run of the year off Wyatt. The run was not only unearned but also crucial, because the Red Sox lost 5–4.
DAVE ENGLE
Catcher · Minnesota, AL · May 15, 1984
Minnesota Twins catcher Dave Engle caught what he thought was a nifty shutout. But he left his position a wee bit too soon—and caught hell.
With one out in the top of the ninth inning and the Twins ahead 1–0, the Toronto Blue Jays had runners on first and second. Pinch hitter Rick Leach then hit what appeared to be a game-ending double-play grounder to shortstop Houston Jimenez, who flipped to second baseman Tim Teufel for the second out. But first baseman Kent Hrbek dropped Teufel’s relay throw that would have ended the game.
Blue Jays runner Mitch Webster steamed from second base around third and headed for home. Hrbek recovered in time and fired the ball to the plate. But no one was there to catch it.
Where was Engle? Thinking the game was over, he was on his way to the mound to congratulate relief pitcher Ron Davis. Prematurely.
Because the catcher had deserted his post, Hrbek’s throw sailed to the backstop, allowing the tying run to score. The official scorer charged Hrbek with his second error of the play, although Engle admitted that, as the catcher who left home early, he shared some of the blame. Instead of getting shut out, Toronto used its second chance to put the game away in the 10th inning and win 5–2.
“I went out to congratulate Ron and took my eye off the umpire,” Engle said after the game. “Then I heard everybody screaming and I couldn’t figure out what it was all about. I turned around and saw the ball was going back toward home plate.”
Engle was in no mood to hear Blue Jays catcher Buck Martinez’s assessment of the botched play: “You just can’t take anything for granted in this game. Sooner or later it will catch up with you, and you’ll get embarrassed.”
KIP SELBACH
Left Fielder · Baltimore, AL · August 19, 1902
Left Fielder · Washington, AL · June 23, 1904
As an outfielder, there was no one quite like Kip Selbach. The record book attests to that.
Selbach is the only player in Major League history to have two shameful records for outfielders—the most errors in an inning and in a game.
He was an excellent hitter, batting .293 in 13 seasons. But at 5 feet 7 inches and 190 pounds, the short, squat player didn’t look like an outfielder. And sometimes he didn’t play like one either. He first bumbled his way into the annals of baseball as a Baltimore Oriole when he committed five errors in one game while impersonating a left fielder against the visiting St. Louis Browns in 1902. Three times an easy fly ball fell into his glove and three times he dropped it. Two times a routine single bounded straight toward him and two times it rolled right between his legs.
Selbach’s fielding in the game became such a travesty that the Baltimore fans cheered derisively and shouted bawdy advice whenever a ball was hit to left field. There wasn’t much else they could do while they watched his botchery hand the Browns an 11–4 victory.
Having established his ignominious fielding record in Baltimore, Selbach secured a new mark as a Washington
Senator in 1904.
In the top of the eighth inning of a 2–2 game, the New York Yankees had a runner on first when a single was hit to left field. Selbach scooped up the ball, but heaved it so wildly over the third baseman’s head that both the batter and the runner scored. Later in the same inning, Selbach misplayed another single, allowing the batter to reach second and a third Yankee to score from first.
Perhaps sensing immortality, Selbach seized the moment in the same inning by dropping a routine fly for two more unearned runs. All told, Selbach’s record-tying three outfield errors in one inning gave the Yankees five unearned runs in the frame, enough for a 7–4 New York win.
Just days after Selbach’s fielding debacle, the Senators dumped him.
PRANKS A LOT!
For the Wildest Practical Jokes of All Time,
The Baseball Hall of Shame™ Inducts:
BRETT MYERS
Pitcher · Philadelphia, NL · February 16, 2008
One of the most elaborate pranks in baseball history had young Philadelphia Phillies hurler Kyle Kendrick convinced that he had been traded to a Japanese team and would have to catch an early-morning flight to his new country.
The devious practical joke was masterminded by veteran pitcher Brett Myers, who pulled it off with the help of several accomplices, including manager Charlie Manuel, assistant general manager Ruben Amaro Jr., traveling secretary Mike Copenbarger, and even the TV crew from Comcast Sportsnet.
Under the ruse of a TV show featuring a day in the life of a Major League manager, the spring training prank was filmed over the span of several hours in the Phillies clubhouse. Wearing a microphone, Manuel called Kendrick into his office before morning workouts. With Amaro by his side, Manuel dropped the bombshell announcement that the 23-year-old hurler, who was beginning his second year in the bigs, had been traded to the Yomiuri Giants of Japan’s Central League.
