SI Vault
Roy Terrell
October 19, 1959
The World Series produced plenty of excitement in a fresh setting. The Dodgers won because they refused to crack
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October 19, 1959

New Sights And Sounds

The World Series produced plenty of excitement in a fresh setting. The Dodgers won because they refused to crack

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Drysdale, Craig and Podres were not as impressive as the White Sox pitchers, but Wynn and Shaw and Donovan didn't have Sherry to bail them out. The role of the relief pitcher in baseball becomes more important every year; with a good one you can win a pennant; with a great one, as Sherry seems destined to be, you can go even further than that.

It was a Series that left some indelible impressions. The magnificent catch by Landis on Gilliam's line drive into right center in the third game. The perfect play by the Dodgers in the eighth inning of the second game, a play which went with the quickness of sound from Al Smith's bat to Comiskey Park's left-field wall to Wally Moon's glove to Maury Wills to John Roseboro, who waited patiently at home plate for Sherm Lollar to arrive so that he might be tagged out.

There was Aparicio, thrown out stealing, and Aparicio, thrown out trying to stretch his single into two bases. And, of course, there was Aparicio reaching frantically for the ball hit by Furillo which hopped over his glove.

There was Ted Kluszewski, standing motionless at home plate in the first game, watching his high fly ball drift toward the right-field stands, waiting until it dropped in for a home run before he even bothered to run. Klu making a diving, backhand stab of a line drive just outside first base, falling and rolling and coming up with the ball. Klu and the great depression he left in the earth when he had to slide into second base.

There was the uncanny way in which Norm Larker handled balls off the Coliseum screen. There was Chuck Essegian with his two pinch home runs, and the time, in the seventh inning of the last game, when Lollar finally threw a Dodger base runner out.

There was the brilliant color and almost unbelievable noise from the vast crowds which packed the Coliseum three straight days; there was the incongruous yet wonderful sound of the old University of Southern California football yell, a trumpet peal punctuated by a small city of people roaring "Charge!" There was the dark, gloomy look to Comiskey Park when the rain clouds gathered, and the discordant overlapping of a handful of bands which prowled the stands playing into the customers' ears and the time that one of them stopped to serenade Casey Stengel with The Sidewalks of New York.

But most of all, there was Larry Sherry, a minor leaguer at the start of this year, a hero at its end. There was Sherry, bouncing happily from the bullpen into the toughest of situations; Sherry, grabbing the ball from Alston as if it belonged to him; Sherry, throwing his slider and fast ball and curve with remarkable precision past the White Sox hitters time and time again.

It was a good World Series. But the World Series always is.

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