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The Name Is Yogi
Robert Creamer
October 22, 1956
Not even the unparalleled brilliance of Don Larson's perfect game could dim the World Series luster of the squat, unbeautiful Berra—ballplayer extraordinary
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October 22, 1956

The Name Is Yogi

Not even the unparalleled brilliance of Don Larson's perfect game could dim the World Series luster of the squat, unbeautiful Berra—ballplayer extraordinary

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But in the fifth game, that memorable day when millions of onlookers watched with Don Larsen as the clock of outs ticked toward his perfect game, that day Mantle's riposte defeated Maglie. Sal pitched rather well, too, you will remember, retiring the first 11 batters. But with two out in the last of the fourth, the score 0-0, it was Maglie vs. Mantle, and "Maglie lost. His strategy now called for outside pitches (in Ebbets Field a left-handed hitter like Mantle can hit an outside pitch into the left-center-field seats—in Yankee Stadium it's much less likely; in Ebbets Field an inside pitch can be lined hard to right and still end up as nothing more than a single because it can be stopped by the high wall—in Yankee Stadium a line drive to right has only a three-foot fence to clear to become a home run).

Maglie's first pitch was a called strike on the outside corner. The second pitch—delivered to the same outside edge of the plate—was a ball. The third—again in the same place—was a second called strike. The fourth—same place—was fouled off. The fifth—same place—missed for ball two. The sixth—same place—was fouled off again, as Mantle skillfully protected the strike zone.

For the seventh pitch, Maglie decided to cross Mantle up. He shifted inside, hoping to catch Mickey leaning in on the plate, looking for the outside pitch and unable to cope with anything in close. He was wrong. Mantle was waiting, apparently had been waiting right along. Mickey swung and hit the line drive to right, low and just fair, but high enough and fair enough to be a home run (his third of the Series and his second off Maglie). He had won this time, and it cost Maglie the ball game. In all probability, it also cost the Dodgers the Series.

THAT YANKEE PITCHING

The sixth game, obscured by Larsen's Fifth and Newcombe's Seventh (the one heroic, the other tragic), was actually one of the finest World Series games ever played. Clem Labine and Bob Turley pitched through nine scoreless innings before the Dodgers won 1-0 in the 10th, on Jackie Robinson's line-drive single over the uncertain head of Enos Slaughter, thus enabling Brooklyn to stay precariously alive for one more day. But in retrospect, that game has become no more than a particularly striking part of the dominant movement of the Series: the five consecutive complete games hurled at Brooklyn by the supposedly inept Yankee pitching staff. Whitey Ford gave up 8 hits and 3 runs; Tom Sturdivant, 6 hits and 2 runs; Don Larsen, 0 hits and 0 runs; Bob Turley, 4 hits and 1 run; and Johnny Kucks, 3 hits and 0 runs.

It is impossible to know whether this overpowering display of pitching depth is a sign to the future that the Yankees, despite seven pennants in the last eight years, are just beginning to show how good they really are; or the futile hitting an omen that the Dodger dynasty, built on the great skills of a small band of extraordinary players (Robinson, now 37, Reese 37, Furillo 34, Campanella 34, Hodges 32, Snider 30), is finally about to crumble; or the whole thing simply a dramatic coincidence (it is an extraordinary fact that Larsen, Turley and Kucks pitched the single best games of their careers on successive days). But certainly the mere fact of its happening has characterized the 1956 Series: this may have been the Series of Berra, of Larsen, of Maglie and of Newcombe; but mostly it was the Series when the Dodgers stopped hitting and the Yankees learned to pitch.

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