by Bruce Nash
CHUCK DRESSEN
Manager · Brooklyn, NL · October 3, 1951
Brooklyn Dodgers hurler Ralph Branca took the fall for “The Shot Heard ’Round the World.” But it was his manager, Chuck Dressen, who was just as responsible for the most famous home run in all of baseball.
Dressen made at least five critical decisions, which all proved to be dead wrong, that ripped the 1951 National League pennant right out of the Dodgers’ fingers . . . and saddled Branca with the blame.
Brooklyn held a seemingly insurmountable 13½-game lead over the New York Giants on August 11. But the Giants went on a historic streak, winning 37 of their last 44 games to force a best-of-three playoff to determine who would challenge the New York Yankees for the world championship.
Even before the first pitch of the playoff, Dressen blundered. Because Brooklyn won the coin toss to decide home-field advantage, he was given the choice to play the first game at home and the next two on the road or play the first game on the road and the next two at home. Against conventional wisdom, he chose the former, reasoning that if the Dodgers won their only home game, they would have two chances to win one on the road. Apparently, he hadn’t thought of the consequences if his team lost the opener and would be forced to win the next two on the road.
Brooklyn did lose their only home game, 3–1. But the team roared back to take the second contest at the Polo Grounds, 10–0. It seemed Dressen’s decision wasn’t going to matter because in the finale, the Dodgers carried a 4–1 lead into the bottom of the ninth inning and looked like they would be the National League champs.
Unfortunately for Brooklyn and its fans, Dressen still had to make several more decisions—ones that all backfired.
Starter Don Newcombe, pitching with only two days’ rest, threw brilliantly throughout the game, but by the ninth he had run out of gas. Although Newcombe wanted to take himself out, Dressen left him in—a decision he would regret.
Alvin Dark led off the bottom of the frame with a single. With a three-run lead in the last inning, the manager could have positioned his infielders for a possible double play. That meant moving first baseman Gil Hodges a few steps toward second base. But Dressen had Hodges guarding the line, opening up a huge gap between first and second, which is exactly where the next batter, Don Mueller, placed a single.
The tying run was now at the plate, causing Dodgers fans to squirm. But Monte Irvin hit a pop foul to Hodges for the first out. However, Whitey Lockman followed with a double down the left field line, scoring Dark and moving Mueller to third. Mueller injured his ankle sliding into the bag and was replaced by Clint Hartung.
Finally realizing that Newcombe was spent, Dressen decided he needed a new pitcher to face slugger Bobby Thomson. The manager checked with bullpen coach Clyde Sukeforth on which reliever to bring in—Carl Erskine or Ralph Branca, who were both warming up. Erskine was a rested 16-game winner. Branca had pitched eight innings two days earlier in the opener and was the losing pitcher, having served up a two-run homer to Thomson that proved to be the winning margin. So what did Dressen do? He brought in Branca.
Dressen and Branca discussed whether or not to intentionally walk Thomson, who had 31 homers—including two earlier in the season off Branca—and 98 RBIs while batting .292. With first base open and a young, unproven rookie outfielder named Willie Mays on deck, an intentional walk made sense, but Dressen decided to pitch to Thomson. Of all the wrong decisions the manager made, this one proved the most disastrous.
On Branca’s second pitch, Thomson blasted a line drive into the left field stands. As Giants broadcaster Russ Hodges put it, “The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant! The Giants win the pennant!”
That probably wouldn’t have happened had Chuck Dressen made just one right decision in the last inning.
GENE MAUCH
Manager · Philadelphia, NL · August 16, 1961
The 1961 Philadelphia Phillies were so inept that they lost everything but their way to the ballpark. By late summer, baseball’s biggest bumblers had piled up 19 losses in a row—and manager Gene Mauch was going crazy.
After trying everything to no avail, Mauch resorted to one of the zaniest managerial decisions ever. He imposed a reverse curfew during a stay in Milwaukee.
“Gene told us, ‘It’s a $100 fine if I catch any of you in your room before 4:30 in the morning,’” recalled pitcher Jack Baldschun. “So we all went out for nice long dinners or to the movies, and then to some bar. Only, the taverns closed around two. When I got back to the hotel, there was half the team in the lobby, trying to sleep.”
Incredibly, Mauch’s wacky plan almost worked. Later that day his team was leading the Braves in the eighth inning. But Milwaukee tied the game, forcing it into extra innings, and the pooped Phils ran out of steam, losing 7–6.
The Phillies didn’t break their skein until they had dropped three more games for a total of 23 straight—the longest losing streak in modern baseball history.
JOHN MCNAMARA
Manager · Boston, AL · October 25, 1986
Boston Red Sox manager John McNamara let his heart rule his mind in a decision that left fans second-guessing, turned an All-Star into an undeserved scapegoat, and let the team’s first World Series title in 68 years slip away.
The Red Sox had taken a 3-games-to-2 lead in the 1986 World Series entering Game 6 against the New York Mets at Shea Stadium. In a pitching duel between Boston’s Roger Clemens and New York’s Bob Ojeda, the contest went into extra innings. The Red Sox then scored two runs in the top of the 10th to go up 5–3.
Normally in the late innings, for defensive purposes, McNamara would use Dave Stapleton to replace 36-year-old first baseman Bill Buckner, who was hampered by sore and injured legs. But the skipper wanted Buckner to experience the joy of winning a championship while playing his regular position at first. As well-meaning as it was, McNamara’s good intention turned into a very bad decision.
Reliever Calvin Schiraldi retired the first two batters in the bottom of the 10th. The Red Sox needed just one more out to claim their first World Series title since 1918. Just one more. But then Gary Carter and Kevin Mitchell hit singles. Schiraldi got two quick strikes on the next batter, Ray Knight. Boston was now one little strike away from that long-sought championship. Just one little strike. Alas, Knight singled to center field to score Carter and send Mitchell to third. It was now 5–4.
McNamara then brought in reliever Bob Stanley to face Mookie Wilson. However, Stanley uncorked a wild pitch, allowing Mitchell to score the tying run and moving Knight to second. Stanley settled down and coaxed Wilson to hit a slow roller down the first base line right to Buckner. But as the Red Sox Nation gasped in horror, the ball trickled through Buckner’s battered legs. Knight raced around third and scored the winning run, forcing a Game 7, which the Mets won 8–5 to claim the World Series title.
Although there was plenty of blame to go around—McNamara pulled Clemens in the seventh even though the hurler was still throwing heat; Schiraldi couldn’t get the last out; Stanley flung a disastrous wild pitch—Buckner was held responsible for the most crushing loss in the anguished history of the Red Sox. He was the recipient of hate mail, obscene calls, and sports show tirades. He was the brunt of cruel jokes like “Did you hear Bill Buckner tried to commit suicide after the World Series? He stepped in front of a bus, but it went between his legs.”
Eventually the Red Sox Nation forgave Buckner and, four years later, gave him a resounding minute-long standing ovation on Opening Day in 1990. Yes, he had committed a crucial error. But it never would have happened had McNamara just stuck to his winning policy of replacing the aging first baseman in the late innings.
ROUND TRIP-UPS
For the Most Ridiculous Home Runs of All Time,
The Baseball Hall of Shame�
�� Inducts:
ED DELAHANTY
Center Fielder · Philadelphia, NL · June 1, 1891
If ever there was a four-bag travesty, this was it.
Ed Delahanty unwittingly took part in a round-tripper that was so outrageous even the fans who witnessed it didn’t believe what they saw.
It happened at the Philadelphia Baseball Park (also known as the Huntingdon Street Grounds) where the Philadelphia Phillies were playing host to the Chicago Cubs (then known as the Colts). The stadium had one unique characteristic—a “doghouse.” It was a tiny structure with an arched doorway that looked like it had been built for man’s best friend. The doghouse, as it was called, rested at the base of the flagpole in left-center field and was used to store numbers for the scoreboard.
Even though it was in fair territory, no one had ever paid any attention to the doghouse until the top of the eighth inning in this particular game. Chicago first baseman Cap Anson stepped to the plate with two runners on base and the score deadlocked 3–3. On the first pitch, Anson drilled a high drive that hit the flagpole and dropped straight down into the narrow space between the doghouse and the outfield fence.
Delahanty, who was playing center field, quickly draped himself over the roof of the little house and tried to recover the ball but failed. In desperation, he dropped to his knees and crawled partway through the narrow door of the doghouse, hoping to get to the ball. But then he remembered why he was nicknamed “Big Ed.” At 6-foot-1, he was the most muscular player on the team. He couldn’t squeeze any more of his body through the opening and he couldn’t back out. Big Ed was stuck in the doghouse.
“From the grandstand, all that was visible was the rear elevation of his county seat,” wrote Dr. W. N. Pringle, a spectator whose account of the bizarre incident was published 16 years later. “His heels [were] kicking in the air in a lively manner in his frantic effort to extricate himself.
“In the meantime, Mr. Anson was clearing the bases at a lively clip amid the greatest excitement I ever saw on a ball field. I do not think there were a dozen people in that immense crowd who were not on their feet, laughing, cheering and yelling themselves hoarse, and throwing hats, canes and umbrellas in the air.”
By the time left fielder Billy Hamilton rushed over and yanked Delahanty free, Anson had crossed home plate with a three-run, inside-the-doghouse home run—the decisive blow in Chicago’s 6–3 victory.
JIMMY MCALEER
Center Fielder · Cleveland, NL · 1892
In one of the most bizarre plays in baseball history, Jimmy McAleer was credited with a home run even though he was tagged out at the plate with the ball stuck in a tomato can.
It reportedly happened in a National League game between the Boston Braves (then known as the Beaneaters) and the Cleveland Spiders at the Congress Street Park in Boston. The ballpark was unusual because it had no outfield fence. Instead, the outfield was bordered by a garbage dump filled with trash and old tin cans.
The score was tied late in the game when McAleer belted a line drive past Boston’s center fielder Hugh Duffy and into a pile of cans in the dump. Duffy raced over to the spot where the ball had landed and, to his dismay, discovered it had wound up smack inside a rusty tomato can. Try as he might, he couldn’t yank that ball out. It was stuck tight.
By now, McAleer was rounding second base. Duffy had to do something fast. In desperation, he picked up the can—with the ball still inside—and heaved it to teammate Billy Nash at third base. But it was too late. McAleer had already sped past third and was steaming for home with the lead run.
When Nash caught the tomato can, he looked at it in amazement for a split second, then relayed it with rifle-like velocity to catcher Charlie Bennett at the plate. Bennett snared the can and put the tag on McAleer as the Cleveland runner slid across the plate. Boston fans whooped because Bennett had clearly tagged McAleer before the runner had reached home. But even though the umpire saw the ball in the tomato can, he insisted that McAleer was safe.
When the Boston players began to argue, the ump lifted his hand to silence them and said, “Gentlemen, since when is a runner out just because he’s been tagged with a rusty tomato can?”
LU CLINTON
Right Fielder · Boston, AL · August 9, 1960
Lu Clinton made a football and baseball play at the same time . . . in the same game. He drop-kicked a winner for the other team.
During his rookie year with the Boston Red Sox, Clinton was playing right field in a 1960 game against the home Cleveland Indians. In the bottom of the fifth inning, Cleveland’s Vic Power stepped to the plate with the score knotted at 3–3 and a runner on first and two out. He slammed a high drive over Clinton’s head. The ball hit the top of the wire fence and bounced back toward Clinton, who was running with his back to the infield.
Before the right fielder could react to the carom, the ball fell in front of him. But it never touched the ground. Instead, the ball hit the foot of the still-running Clinton—who then accidentally kicked it right over the fence. Because the ball never touched the ground, the hit was ruled a home run—one that proved to be the game-winner.
“Our pitcher that day was Bill Monbouquette,” recalled Clinton. “He didn’t say a whole lot after the game. He didn’t have to. I knew he was really hacked off at me.”
HANK AARON
Right Fielder · Milwaukee, NL · August 18, 1965
Milwaukee Braves slugger Hank Aaron blasted a monster homer onto the roof of the old Busch Stadium in St. Louis, only to be called out because he had stepped out of the batter’s box.
The homer that wasn’t occurred in the top of the eighth inning of a 3–3 tie on a pitch from Cardinals hurler Curt Simmons. “Simmons used to drive me crazy with his herky-jerky delivery and his floating change of pace,” Aaron wrote in his biography, I Had a Hammer.
Aaron decided to wait for the change-up, and when it floated toward the plate, Hammerin’ Hank just couldn’t help himself. He walked up on the pitch and clubbed it about 450 feet onto the pavilion roof in right field for an apparent tie-breaking home run.
Aaron was halfway to first base when Cardinals catcher Bob Uecker began jumping up and down and shouting at plate umpire Chris Pelekoudas that Aaron had hit the pitch when his left foot was completely out of the batter’s box. The umpire agreed and called the hitter out.
“Aaron was running up on the change-up,” the umpire explained later. “His foot was at least 3 feet out when he hit the home run.”
Fiery Milwaukee manager Bobby Bragan charged out of the dugout to protest the ruling and got a quick thumb. “I told Pelekoudas it was either a grudge call or he just wanted to get his name in the papers,” said Bragan after the game, which the Braves won 5–3. “That’s when he threw me out.”
In his biography, Aaron wrote, “I’m sure Pelekoudas never doubted that he was right, and I won’t swear to you that I didn’t step over the line of the batter’s box, but it was nothing that I or other hitters hadn’t done before. Really, I blame the whole thing on that damn Uecker.”
Without that infraction, Aaron would have finished his career with 756 home runs rather than 755—a record that stood for 33 years.
JOSE CANSECO
Right Fielder · Texas, AL · May 26, 1993
Jose Canseco became the first player to hit 40 homers and steal 40 bases in a season. But the on-the-field moment for which he will be remembered most is misplaying a fly ball off his head for a home run—a blunder that will live in infamy on every classic blooper reel on TV, DVD, and the Internet.
In a game against the Cleveland Indians, Canseco was playing right field for the visiting Texas Rangers, who were leading 3–1 in the bottom of the fourth inning, when Carlos Martinez came to the plate. Martinez was not considered much of a power hitter and Canseco was not considered much of a fielder, but together they combined fo
r one of the most hilarious home runs ever hit in Major League history.
Martinez lofted a deep fly to right-center field. Canseco raced to the warning track, reached up with his glove, and then . . . boink! . . . the ball landed on top of his noggin and bounced over the fence for a home run.
As a befuddled Canseco looked around for the ball and adjusted his cap, center fielder David Hulse burst out laughing and then told him the bad news—his header went for a homer.
“I really didn’t feel it,” said Canseco after the game, which Texas lost 7–6. “I really don’t know what happened other than I was looking for the wall, and the ball nicked off my glove and hit my head. I’ll be on ESPN for a month. I guess I’m just an entertainer.”
Canseco’s header for a homerRon Kuntz
When reporters asked teammate Julio Franco if he had ever seen such a play, the Texas infielder replied, “Yeah, in a cartoon.”
Playing along to hide his embarrassment, Canseco rubbed his head and asked, “Anybody got a bandage?”
The chagrined outfielder autographed his cap and wrote the date and city in which the mortifying event took place. Then he gave away the hat, which ended up in collector Seth Swirsky’s baseball memorabilia collection alongside the ball that Bill Buckner booted in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
The day after the heady homer, the Harrisburg Heat of the National Professional Soccer League offered Canseco a contract. “I haven’t had the opportunity to fully evaluate his foot skills,” Heat coach Jim Pollihan told reporters at the time, “but he certainly possesses great potential for the head ball. In these days of the two-sport star, we think Jose could help us tremendously.”
In 1998, This Week in Baseball ranked Canseco’s misplay as the greatest blooper in the show’s history.
ABNER POWELL
Right Fielder · Cincinnati, NL · August 22, 1886
