The World Series
'11 Never Forget
7( "'.'f
The Los Angeles Dodgers slugger was a goat
in his first fall classic; then came the '52
games and a dramatic chance for revenge
Duke Snider was an idol in
his Brooklyn days especially when
his bat rocked the Yankees.
Sometime before the first pitch of the 1961 World
Series, practically every contestant in the clas
sic will engage in the traditional whistling-past-the-graveyard
routine.
"It's just another ball game," they'll say, and
they'll even try to convince themselves that they
believe it.
I doubt if any player really becomes calloused
to the excitement and tension of the Series. I've
been in six big ones, and each time I stood out .
there and waited for the band to finish playing the
National Anthem I had to fight the "butterflies"
in my stomach. I'm not ashamed of that. Why, even
'the bat boy, the trainer, and the umpires get caught
in this strange grip. And as for rookies well, they
really have troubles. . . '
In my first Series in 1949, for example, the thing
that gave me nightmares was the pitching of the
New York Yankees. It had been my first full sea
son with the Dodgers, and I hadn't done too badly
for a young fellow. My batting average was .292,
and I had beefed up this figure with 23 home runs
and 92 runs batted in. Needless to say, I was hop
ing to put a little frosting on the cake with a few
hits in the Series. But then I met up with Allie
Reynolds, Vic Raschi, Joe Page, and Eddie Lopat,
the Yankee pitchers.
To say that this meeting was disastrous would
be an understatement. By the time the Yankees
had finished us off in five games, these fellows had
me eating out of their hands. Reynolds, in the very
opening game, struck me out three times In suc
cession. The ball he threw resembled a little pea
by the time it got up to the plate. And when his
partners were throwing, it wasn't any easier to
hit I came up with three hits for a .143 average,
and my eight strike -outs tied an all-time Series
record for futility. The only consolation here was
that I joined a pretty good hitter in the record
book Rogers Hornsby.
By DUKE SNIDER
as told to John M. Ross
It was three years before I met up with Reynolds
and his partners again, and I wasn't too sure that
I would enjoy it I had had a pretty fair season in
1952, hitting for a .303 average, but season aver
ages don't always hold up in a Series. The record
book is full of such examples: Ted Williams' Series
average was only .200. Stan Musial's is .269; Willie
Mays, .222; Ty Cobb, .262; Hornsby, .245.
As we came up to the '52 Series, I was lucky
I was on a good hitting spree. But when I
dug in against Reynolds in the opening, game, I
didn't exactly feel I had the upper hand. In the
fourth inning, however, I clipped him for a double,
and I felt a little better. Well, at least I got one hit
off him, I told myself. Maybe things won't be as
bad as '49.
In the sixth inning, with the score tied at 1-1 and
Pee Wee Reese on first, Reynolds fed me a high
' curve, and I hit it over the Ebbets Field right-field
screen. I was so tickled I felt like jumping up and
down as I made the tour of the bases. In the dug
out, the players climbed all over me as if I had
discovered a new world. At least I had discovered
how to hit the great Reynolds and it helped us
win the opener, 4-2.
The second came was 1949 all over again only
this time it was Raschi who fanned me three
times as we lost, 7-1. 1 contributed little more than
a single as we won the third game, but a deter-t-
mined Reynolds came back and blanked us in the
next game, 2-0, to even up the Series.
In the fifth game, Carl Erskine, my roommate '
and bridge partner, was matched against Ewell
Blackwell, and I helped my buddy to a 4-0 lead
by hitting a three-run homer in-the fifth. Then the
roof caved in.
In the bottom of the fifth, the Yankees rallied
for five runs, sparked by a three-run blast by
Johnny Mize his third homer in three days. Most
pitchers, jolted in this manner, ' generally get the
hook at this point Manager Charley Dressen, how
ever, had a hunch, and he permitted Erskine to
remain in the game. It was a perfect move. Erskine
settled down again to pitch hitless ball for the next
six innings. We tied the score in the seventh, and
in the 11th I managed to knock across the winning
run with a double.
This undoubtedly was the most exciting game in
which I have ever played.
WE had our big chance to finish off the Yankees
in the sixth game, and I got another crack
at solving Raschi's baffling stuff. By the third time
around, I found the answer and tagged his fast
ball for a home run to give us a 1-0 lead. The next
time, I clipped him for another homer my fourth
in the Series but by now the Yankees had pushed
ahead. We lost, 3-2.
We saw all the Yankee pitching stars Lopat,
Reynolds, and Raschi, plus a terrific relief stint by
Bob Kuzava in the final game, but it took a mi
raculous shoestring catch by Billy Martin to save
the game for New York in the last inning. The
Yankees were winners and still champions.
A ballplayer lives for his hits, and I was pretty
pleased with my four big ones against the Yankees.
But, honestly, I would have traded them gladly
for a Series victory for our club. Baseball is as
simple as that nothing else seems important when
you lose.
But, of course, it was some, strong consolation
that I'd been able to answer the challenge those
strong-armed Yankee pitchers had thrown in my
face. I've had some good days since then I hit
another four home runs in the '55 Series (Editor's
note: This is an all-time Series record) and I've
seen our Dodgers win the Series twice. But getting
back at Reynolds & Co. made the 1952 World Se
ries the one I'll never forget
COVER:
Lawrence Schiller lew to the French Ri
viera to photograph lovely Deborah Kerr
for today' $ cover. The smiling gentleman
in the background is husband Peter Viertet.
Read about Deborah's two lives on page 4.
October l.mi
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