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for solonor: october 2, 1978

torrez.jpeSolonor thinks I was off getting stoned behind the school the day Bucky Dent hit his famous home run. Not so. And just for his snarky comment, Iím going to be really ungracious and mean and tell that story.

October, 1978. Junior year at my Catholic high school. Because the kids in my school came from all over Long Island, we would often stay after school, hanging out in the front lobby or the grass by the side of the parking lot instead of asking our parents to drive us all over creation.

The previous August I had a sweet sixteen party, one of those dress-up, dancing affairs where we played nothing but Who records and my friends got in trouble for sneaking Vodka into the pitchers of soda.

Those drunken friends, Kevin, Tim and Chris, had chipped in to buy me a wonderful birthday present: a portable radio. Keep in mind this was in the days before boom boxes. This radio was small, had no cassette player or 8-track player, just an AM/FM radio, which was all I wanted. Their intention in getting me this particular present was so I wouldnít rush home after school during the baseball playoffs - I could stay after and hang out with them and listen to the games (which used to be played in the afternoon) on my portable radio.

On October 8th of that year, there was a one-playoff game for the AL East title. Yankees. Red Sox. Fenway. This is what baseball was all about. This is the stuff that rivalries are made of.

I listened to most of the game in front of the school while everyone else was smoking or starting fights or whatever it was we did in those days. I held the radio up to my ear and did a play-by-play for everyone who was interested. As the game wore on the tension grew, everyone gathered around me on the lawn and I turned the volume up. And then the late bus came. I had to leave them all there, not knowing what was happening.

My school district didnít give us private school kids our own yellow buses. We had passes that allowed us to take the public buses for free. So for the four miles home, I had a bus full of commuters gathered around my seat, crossing their fingers, praying, waving lucky rabbits feet in the air.

The moment happened when I got off at my stop. It was a 1/4 mile walk to my house, down one straight road. I had the radio up to my ear again as Dent came up to bat. My heart was beating fast, my nerves were tingling. I went into a half-run, hoping that I could make it to my house - which I could see all the way at the end of the block - before anything great happened. And there was no doubt in my mind, I felt it in every nerve in my body, that something grand was about to happen.

The only reason the Yanks left Dent in to hit in the seventh inning of a game they were losing 2-0 was because they were out of spare infielders.

Before his home run, Dent fouled a ball off his foot, hopping around in pain and asking the trainer to come out and take a look. After walking around a bit, Dent decided he was OK and went back into the box.

Mickey Rivers was on deck, and the Yanks leadoff hitter had been closely observing Dent the entire time. While most everyone in Fenway Park was watching Dent grimace in pain, Rivers noticed that the bat Dent was using was the same one that Rivers had used earlier in the game ó and Rivers knew the bat was cracked. He grabbed a bat-boy and sent him to the plate with the bat he was holding, and Dent took the new lumber despite being in the middle of an at-bat.

And then it happened. Dent swung at a Torrez fastball. It was going, going, gone. A three run homer. I donít even remember the call of the play on the radio because I was whooping it up, all by myself on the sidewalk. I heard the happy roar of a man coming from inside the house I was in front of. I was literally jumping in the air. I broke into a sprint and ran the rest of the way home, where my mother, who was the source of all things Yankees for me, was standing in the kitchen, waiting for me. High fives all around. The Yankees went on to win, 5-4.

Bucky Dent sails one over the Green Monster. My number two moment on my list of Greatest Sports Moments Ever.


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Reading Michele's lamentations concerning the loss of her bet, I got to wondering about whether Cub fans or Red Sox fans have it worse. I mean, is it better to have played a World Series and lost than never to... [Read More]


Believe it or not, even though that was right up there on the suck parade with Buckner's boot, that game is one of my favorite sports memories.

I was the dweeb who had to stay after school for some nerdy reason (debate or newspaper or some crap). So, I dug up a TV at school and intentionally skipped going home on the late bus that day, so I wouldn't miss an inning. I saw Lucky Dent's homer in a math teacher's room.

Though an Oakland A's fan for life, and someone with whom the Yankees hold a spot roughly equivocal to pond scum or garden slugs, thank you for the story. Actually, that game took place on the day I was born. Since my birth, I've enjoyed a few baseball games on my birthday, including an A's romp over the Red Sox on October 8th, 1988 when Mark McGwire, Ron Hassey, Rickey Henderson and Carnie Lansford all homered. Talk about birthday presents.

I'll tell the truth... I was too young to remember it. I've read about it, I've seen the game but I wasn't old enough to remember where I was. 1986 is a different story....

This was a great story, truly. However, it's not in the spirit of the bet. The bet was that you had to say NICE things about the Red Sox, NOT bring up every painful RS vs. Yankees moment.

NOW: start saying nice things, Please. (My mamma raised me to be polite!)

oh, and by the way... wouldn't the story that you heard the homer on the radio negate the statement that you "had a nice view of it on tv when Bucky Dent's home run went sailing over it.."??

"The nicest thing I can say about the Yankees?

They're not the Patriots."

That was YOUR idea of a compliment in last week's best, Jim.

Turnaround is fair play.

My top two moments of Greatest Sports Memories are:

1. 1975 World Series - Reds beat the Red Sox in 7 games
2. 1976 World Series - Reds sweep the Yankees.

That was a very nice story, Michele.

If only the Yankees weren't owned by a guy whose mug you see when looking up "boor" in the dictionary...