Excerpt from "An Unusual Memoir"

World Series Stories

by Ken Roy

    This chapter of my memoir contains two short tales that run tangential to baseball’s World Series. I make no claim they rank in the pantheon of baseball lore but they were odd experiences for me so I included them in this memoir. 

     The World Series of 1975 was between the Boston Red Sox and the Cincinnati Reds. I was living in Peabody, Massachusetts and had never gotten closer to a World Series game than my TV. As luck would have it, my neighbor gave me a call saying he had an extra ticket and asked if I was interested. This was a no brainer. It was game 6 and a must win for the Sox or the Series was over. It promised to be an epic battle and it didn’t disappoint. 

    

     It was an absolutely gorgeous October evening and perfect for night baseball. I always loved these games at Fenway, as it always seemed to have this marvelous glow when you were inside the park. Sort of magical when you consider the buzz of the crowd and the general excitement that accompanies a World Series game 6.

     We grabbed a hot dog and beer and settled into our seats along the first base line, just beyond the “Pesky Pole”. As the game proceeded the crowd was getting quiet and it began to look like “lights out” for the Sox as they trailed 6-to-3 in the bottom of the eighth inning. I guess fate stepped in, in the person of Bernie Carbo, as he hit a three run dinger and the game was tied. The crowd woke up and went nuts. It was a brand new game and it went back and forth until the bottom of the twelfth inning. Up came Carlton Fisk who responded with the game-ending walk-off homer and the crowd went nuts again. 

    Here’s the punch line for me in this saga. I diligently watched the entire game and then decided to go for beer in the twelfth inning (they still sold beer the entire game back in 1975). While waiting in line, I heard this incredible roar, the result of Fisk’s homer. I missed what turned into an iconic moment in baseball, as Fisk famously willed the ball fair over the Green Monster in left field to win game 6. TV replays of this moment tirelessly remind me where I was, even to this day. To top it off, with all the crazy excitement, returning to my seat, I managed to spill the beers on myself. My one and only World Series game had a fantastic finish but not for me. 

     My second World Series tale involves the 1991 Series between the Minnesota Twins and the Atlanta Braves. It so happened that my son Andrew was a buddy with a kid named Paul Sorrento and they graduated high school together. Paul was a terrific athlete and went on to play baseball with Cleveland, Minnesota and Tampa Bay in his career. At the time, he was playing for the Twins. A few days before the Series started he called Andrew about arranging game tickets in Minnesota. Instead of Andrew, I happened to pick up the phone. We chatted for a moment and Paul mentioned he probably would only be used as a pinch hitter since he was the backup first baseman. I wished him the best and went on in jest to make an outrageous prediction. I posed that he’d be pinch hit with two out, bottom of the ninth, in the seventh game and hit a dinger to win it all. We had a laugh at this and hung up. 

    Well, the Series goes to the seventh game in Minnesota and I was at home alone watching when in the bottom of the ninth inning, with two outs; you guessed it. Up came Paul as a pinch hitter. I almost wet myself thinking of my prediction. If he hit a homer, the Twins win, he would be a legend in Minnesota, and I would be a “legend in my own mind”. I would have a baseball tale to bore people with forever. His at bat was pretty intense for me as he took some mighty swings and fouled off several pitches before striking out. It’s an understatement to say I was bummed out when this happened. It was not the finish I had predicted or even prayed for. The next inning the Twins went on to win the game and the Series. Paul got his World Series ring and I still had a tale to bore my friends with-even with the wrong ending