If Lee was discomfited, consider the redoubtable Hunter the next day as the Red Sox recaptured first place. In the series' only pitching duel Roger Moret beat the Catfish 3-2, Burleson doubling Carbo home with the winning run in the eighth.
The crowd at Fenway was not entirely delighted, for, as in the old days, there was a sprinkling of Yankee fans in the brickwork—presumably migrants from Connecticut and college students. "We had a lot of friends out there," commented Munson.
The significance of the series, attended by 136,187, a record for a four-game set at Fenway, remained hazy after the dust of battle had cleared. The Yankees' laconic manager, Bill Virdon, pooh-poohed its import with the colloquial observation that "it doesn't make a sweat one way or the other who wins it." Boston Manager Darrell Johnson, for all of his team's gallantry in action, did not see it as Armageddon, either, although he conceded that since his team began in second place, "There is always more involved when you're playing the team nearest you. We didn't want the Yankees to run off and hide."
The Yankees assuredly did not. And that is important. But what seemed more significant to Bostonians was that a rivalry that had grown a trifle tepid in recent years was revived in full flower during an exciting week.
"It's good to see the Yankees in the thick of things again," said Pesky, now a Red Sox coach. "It reminded me of the times when DiMaggio, Keller and Henrich, all those people, would come into town. The crowds this week have been reacting to every pitch. The blood is flowing again. It's starting to get like the old days."
And in a town like Boston, it cannot get much better than that.