The Fall of the Phillies

Here’s my theory: Most sports fans are formed by the most cataclysmic or euphoric sporting event of their childhood. I am the sports fan that I am today because four days before my 14th birthday, with the Cleveland Browns in field goal range, Sam Rutigliano called a play called Red Right 88, and Brian Sipe threw an interception against the Oakland Raiders. Then Brian put his hand in his face, and he stumbled off the field, and Rutigliano said, “I love you Brian,” and I was wrecked forever.

I bring this up because today’s topic is possibly the most famous collapse in baseball history, the fall of 1964 Phillies, and also my good friend Bob Dutton. Bob is now the excellent Royals beat writer for the Kansas City Star and the president of the Baseball Writers Association of America … more to today’s point, though, he was a 9-year-old Philadelphia Phillies fan in 1964. He lived that collapse. It shaped him. As I watch the Mets try to fall apart in the final weeks for the second straight year (and also the Brewers) I think of those 9-year-old Mets fans (and also Brewers fans), who will take this with them forever.

We can start our sad tale on Sept. 20, 1964, when the Phillies beat the Dodgers 3-2. JIm Bunning threw a five-hitter that day — both the runs he gave up were unearned and due to a Vic Power error — and the victory gave the Phillies a 6 1/2 game lead with 12 games to play. Bob remembers that the Wilmington Morning News ran a magic number on the front page — not the front of sports but the front page of the entire paper, which impressed him — and he remembers so clearly seeing that the Magic Number was 7. He remembers seeing that, of course, because it would stay at 7 for a very, very long time.

Funny thing is, even at age 9 Bob knew what most clear-thinking Philadelphia fans knew — the Phillies were winning with smoke, mirrors, trap doors, wires, sleight of hand, David Copperfield arrogance, planted audience members and all sorts of other magician tricks.

Bob says: “Yes, Richie Allen was a wonderful rookie talent. Johnny Callison was having a deal-with-the-devil year. Jim Bunning and Chris Short, especially Bunning, were terrific and capable of beating anyone. Gene Mauch was then, as he always would be, at his best in milking the maximum from an underdog club. … Even so, as the summer unfolded, the Phillies hung in there. You kept waiting for the collapse. We all did, really. I mean, we knew the Phillies weren’t as good as the Dodgers or the Giants or the Reds or the Cardinals. But they kept defying the odds.”

I remember this feeling in Kansas City in 2003. You KNEW the Royals weren’t good enough, and yet the summer went along and they stayed in first place, and after a while you just shrugged and decided that maybe they had the blessings of the gods. They didn’t, of course. But the Royals had the good sense to fall out of things early enough to make the year still seem cheerful. By September 20th, even the most cynical of Phillies fans had to move all his chips in with this team. Nobody blows a 6 1/2 game lead with 12 games to go.

I asked Bob for his cold memories — I didn’t want him to go back and look up the details — and the way he remembers it, the first couple of losses didn’t bother anyone too much. He does remember vague details of that first loss, he was sitting in his father’s car while his parents shopped at the farmer’s market. Tthe Phillies lost 1-0 to Cincinnati. “That was the night that Chico Ruiz or somebody on the Reds scored the only run on a wild pitch or passed ball or something,” he says. In fact, Ruiz stole home with Frank Robinson at the plate. That’s a bad sign, losing 1-0 when someone steals home. The Phillies’ Wes Covington did double to lead off the ninth, but he died at second as John Herrnstein, Clay Dalrymple, Tony Taylor and Ruben Amaro could not drive him home. Cincinnati’s John Tsitouris threw the shutout, his only one of 1964.

The next night, the Phillies lost more directly, 9-2, starter Chris Short pitching on short rest* got rocked pretty good. Frank Robinson homered for the Reds. The lead was 4 1/2 games. Bob doesn’t remember panic creeping in just yet.

*The short rest thing will come up again.

The next night, the Phillies lost to the Reds again, 6-4, this time blowing the lead when Cincinnati’s Vada Pinson crushed a three-run homer off of veteran Ed Roebuck. The Phillies had purchased Roebuck from the Senators back in April and he had pitched brilliantly. That’s one of those glorious things about fluke seasons — Ed Roebucks pitch better than they have their whole lives. Until they don’t.

They lost to Milwaukee 5-3 to make it four losses in a row. Milwaukee’s Joe Torre smacked two doubles, and Jim Bunning took the loss. The next night Philadelphia went 12 hard innings with the Braves. The Phillies were actually down 5-3 in the 10th, but Richie Allen hit a two-run inside-the-park homer off Bob Sadowski to tie the game again, giving everyone in Philadelphia hope. An inside-the-park homer by Dick Allen. If anything should stop the pain, that should do it. “All they needed was one victory,” Bob says. “That would stop it. We all felt that.” Bob was listening to the transistor radio under his pillow, just like the Norman Rockwell cliche, when Milwaukee’s Eddie Mathews single scored Gary Kolb in the 12th. The Braves won 7-5. That made five in a row. The lead was 1 1/2 games.

The next day, the Phillies led the Braves 4-2 going into the eighth inning. The Braves made it 4-3 when Rico Carty scored on a passed ball. Funny thing, the Rico Carty I grew up with in Cleveland would not have scored on a passed ball if that ball passed through customs on its way to Istanbul. My Rico Carty kept his wallet in his back pocket because he didn’t trust his teammates enough to keep it in the dugout. But Rico, like everyone, was a lot younger in 1964.

Anyway, 4-3 going into the ninth, Bobby Shantz on the mound, he had been awfully good since he had been purchased from the Cubs about a month earlier. He gave up a single to Hank Aaron, a single to Eddie Mathews and, after an out, a game-losing triple to Rico Carty. Yeah. A triple to Rico Carty. When the fates turn, they turn hard. That made six losses in a row. The Phillies lead was a half game.

Now it was pure hysteria, nothing else. A panicked Gene Mauch decided to send Jim Bunning out there on two days rest. Could you imagine a manager doing that now? Two days rest? Bunning got absolutely destroyed — seven runs in three innings. Joe Torre homered, Lee Maye had five hits, Hank Aaron drove in two, the Braves drilled the Phillies 14-8. And the unthinkable was real: The Phillies were in second place behind Cincinnati, a team that had won nine games in a row. Bob and those Phillies fans were staring hard at the abyss.

The next night, Mauch sent Chris Short out there on two days rest. Why not? He pitched admirably under the circumstances, I guess, but Ken Boyer hit two doubles off Short, Mike Shannon had three RBIs, and the Phillies lost their eighth in a row, this time to the Cardinals 5-1. There was no escaping justice now. The Phillies dropped to third place.

And the story was really over. Of course, even after Greg Norman blew the lead at the 1996 Masters, he still had to finish off the round. The Phillies lost their ninth in a row, this time to St. Louis 4-2 — the Cardinals’ Ray Sadecki and Barney Schultz combined on the seven-hitter. The Phillies lost their 10th in a row the night after that, 8-5, it was poor Jim Bunning getting ripped again as his freaked out manager sent him out there one more time on two-days rest. Pitching on normal rest, Bunning was 14-4 with a 2.17 ERA on Sept. 1. The last month, he went 4-4 with a 4.68 ERA as Mauch lost his mind.*

*Now, to be fair to Mauch — he did not have anything but Bunning and Short in ‘64. Rookie Dennis Bennett was his next best starter, and in the 10 games leading up to September he had gone 0-5 with a 5.22 ERA. Art Mahaffey, meanwhile, had been getting ripped all year.

That was that. Here’s what Bob says: “It was beyond depressing. I became a cynic at that moment. I already knew there was no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. But facing this reality was so much worse. I knew in my heart the Phillies had overachieved and yet, here they were, now replacing the 1951 Dodgers as baseball’s ultimate chokers in historical context. I never looked at sports the same way again. I still loved sports. Still do, in fact. But for me, my perspective changed forever after 1964.“

For posterity’s sake it’s worth noting that the Phillies did beat the Reds in their final two games of 1964, which did not do them much good but did take the pennant away from Cincinnati and give it to the St. Louis Cardinals. Bunning threw the shutout on the final day as the Phillies unloaded 10-0 with Richie Allen capping off his marvelous rookie season with two home runs.

And it’s funny: Bob is enough of a baseball historian and lover of the game to know that, as you look back at the ‘64 Phils, it’s probably almost as amazing that the Phillies were in first place by 6 1/2 games to BEGIN WITH as it was that they ended up blowing the lead. The next year, Bob played a whole season of APBA baseball, and he undoubtedly gave his Phillies every break imaginable. They finished 82-80, 12-games behind the Reds.

Still, it doesn’t matter, the pain lingers on, and always will. You know, when you are a Cleveland fan, you have a wide choice of worst moments. You can choose the Drive or the Fumble, Michael Jordan’s jumper over Craig Ehlo or Tony Fernandez’s error, Joel Skinner holding up Kenny Lofton at third or Art Modell yanking the heart out of the city and showing it to us like he was the evil Bruce Lee. For me, though, the worst will always be Red Right 88, because it was the moment made me. My brain knows better, but I will never quite believe that any of that other bad Cleveland stuff even would have happened if Brian Sipe had just thrown the damn ball into Lake Erie, like he was supposed to, and the injured Don Cockroft had kicked the game-winning field goal (he had missed two that cold day and had an extra point blocked), and the Browns had gone on to win the Super Bowl.

Of course it’s illogical, but being a sports fan is illogical, right? Why do we stick with our teams through pain? Why do we endure the agony of Cleveland sports — or Philadelphia sports, or Chicago, Milwaukee. Seattle, Atlanta, Baltimore, wherever? Is it simply because of an accident of geography? I don’t think so. I think we do it because of something deep in our souls, something to do with loyalty or pride and the hope we all have as children. I feel certain I’d be a different man if Red Right 88 had never happened. I’m not sure if I’d be better or worse. But I’d be different.

I also would be a different man if Rutigliano had started choking Sipe as he came off the field.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 24th, 2008 at 8:58 am.
Categories: Baseball, Cleveland.

98 Comments, Comment or Ping

Oddibe Kerfeld

Is the comments section broken? I can’t believe there aren’t any comments on here yet. Did everyone take their political fighting over to DailyKos or something?

Sep 24th, 2008
JO'C

As a Met fan I used to think that the Phillie collapse of ‘64 was a lot ‘funnier’ before last year.

I also remember the ‘64 Mets beating the Cards 2 straight before losing the season finale resulting in the Cards winning the NL pennant.

Sep 24th, 2008
Linus

I am not sure i can relate. My first real sports moment as a kid came when Magic beat the celtics in the garden with his mini-sky hook. And yes, i was a lakers fan, cause the Celtics were dirty, ugly, and had no joy.

Of course, i am now a cubs fan, and my first defining baseball moment came when Keven Tapani pitched a one-hitter against the Giants for the sudden death game to get into the playoffs in 1998. I can still remember Barry Bonds with bat in hand, and pandemonium in the bleachers.

I have blocked out 2003 from memory.

Sep 24th, 2008
Josh in DC

I was 11 when the ball went through Buckner’s legs, so I believe this theory entirely.

Sep 24th, 2008
McKingford

Why do we stick with our teams through pain?

Because of days like today - Lions Fire Millen!! - that give us hope.

Oh happy day. Now our 5 year rebuilding plan can begin in earnest!

Sep 24th, 2008
Mike

I was 10 when Joe Montana hit John Taylor in the end zone with 34 seconds left.

I hate Joe Montana.

Sep 24th, 2008
SoCalTwinsfan

The 1987 Twins made me a baseball fan for life (although I was in high school then).

The biggest loss that scarred me as a child was probably when the Raiders lost to the Jets in the 1982-83 playoffs. I remember crying after that one, although I really don’t remember much of the game other than that.

The worst moment I’ve ever experienced as a sports fan came when my alma mater (Northwest Nazarene) was playing host to the NAIA Division II men’s basketball championship game. They had a four-point lead with about 10 seconds left when the ref made a horrible call on a foul on a jump shot. The opponent made the shot and the foul to make it a one-point game, then fouled on the ensuing inbounds. After the foul shots were made with about four seconds left, the other team took the ball down the court and made a 3 at the buzzer and then went on to win in OT. I remember I was supposed to go to work after that game and I called in sick I was so distraught.

As for Twins bad memories, most are playoffs in recent years:
1) In 2004, Joe Nathan, pitching in his third inning in extras, walking Miguel Cairo to set up A-Rod’s game-tying double.
2) Same series, Juan Rincon blowing a four-run, eighth-inning lead, capped off by a three-run HR by Ruben Sierra on a hanging slider when the whole world could see he couldn’t catch up to Rincon’s fastball.
3) In the 2002 ALCS, Adam bleepin’ Kennedy’s three-HR game in the clinching game, including a three-run HR off some reliever named Johan after Kennedy had failed to get a bunt down.

Sep 24th, 2008
Daniel

I remember the Angels collapse of 1995. They, like the Phillies, were pretty much doing it with smoke and mirrors. Gary DiSarcina was having a career year. Somehow Rex Hudler was our best second baseman (and having a good year in a platoon role). Jim Edmonds and Tim Salmon were awesome all year long.

I remember three moments distinctly from that season. I was at the game in late July or August when Gary DiSarcina broke his finger sliding into second base. I remember him not coming out for defense in the next inning and thinking, “Uh oh.”

We didn’t have cable, so we could only watch the one or two games during the week on regular TV. But I remember watching Chuck Finley fall backwards while backing up home plate and having to come out of the game with a sprained wrist. Uh oh.

And lastly, I remember we got to watch the one game playoff for the division title that afternoon in school. I vividly recall Luis Sojo hitting a bases loaded triple off of Mark Langston and scoring on an error. I knew without a doubt that our season was over at that point.

Other than 2002 when the Angels won the World Series, no other season (even the last couple of good ones) has been as meaningful in terms of sports memories.

Sep 24th, 2008
pokerpeaker

I love KU basketball more than anything, so of course I keep reliving the Arizona game, the UTEP game (I was there, in the band), the Syracuse game (really? 734 missed free throws?), the Duke game, blah blah blah.
Well, actually, I should say I did until this April. I think that’s the key, is we keep hoping our team will finally win and banish all those other memories into the “does not matter” box. We realize those other years were actually pretty good years. And when you do finally win it all, the pain you felt before just makes the title SO much sweeter.

Sep 24th, 2008
Curtis

(*&(^*^%**& Chris Chambliss.

Sep 24th, 2008
TB

Magnificent article. I might show this to my diehard Phillies fan mother, but then again, I still want to have her around for the holidays. If it had been the Reds to win eventually, I doubt she would have ended up with my Reds fan father, so I suppose I should be thankful.

On another note, how in the hell did Ken Boyer win the MVP that year? Is this one of the ultimate RBI leader + pennant = MVP years? I suppose that’s forgivable back in ‘64, but still–Willie Mays puts up a 172 OPS+ at age 33, wins a gold glove, and finishes SIXTH in the MVP voting.

Oy vey.

Sep 24th, 2008
Noel

I was 11 when the Cubs blew the 2-0 game lead in the NLCS to the Padres. It still hurts more than 2003 (NLCS which mysteriously ended with 5 outs left in game 6) because I was too young to know any better. I didn’t have that latent fear that something would probably go wrong. The shock of losing and disappointment abolutely came out of nowhere and that definitely defined me as a fan.

Sep 24th, 2008
Matt

+10 bazillion to Curtis

Sep 24th, 2008
Adam

I absolutely believe this theory. The defining sports moment of my childhood was when Iowa State beat Iowa for the first time in 15 years in 1998. I was there in person, it was my first game ever at Kinnick and I was so excited. I figured it was guaranteed win. You have to understand, for the first 11 years of my life, Iowa had NEVER lost to Iowa State. I just didn’t think it was even possible. That game was like an annual celebration for us. Then all of sudden Darren Davis starting destroying my childhood one long run at a time.

Anyway, that pretty much ended my innocence as a sports fan. From then on, I’ve never been comfortable with my teams chances going into ANY game and I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because, hey, if Iowa State can beat Iowa, anything can happen.

Sep 24th, 2008
Brent

As a Chiefs fan, probably the defining moment for me was a truly horrible one, the death of Joe Delaney. It brought home to me that even the best laid rebuilding plans can go awry, through no fault of any persons. Just a plain old act of God. In my mind, whether this is true or not, the rebuilding of the Chiefs essentially ended with his death and didn’t begin again until Marty Ball came to town. Several lost years in between.

Now as a Royals fan, I don’t know if this cataclysmic event can count because I was unaware of it until doing some research on baseballreference.com. (so no it probably doesn’t). But anyway, I have always thought of the cataclysmic event to be the Chambliss HR in Game 5 of the ALCS, but what I have later learned is that the Royals best all around player in 1976, one Amos Otis, got hurt trying to beat out a bunt for a hit leading off the bottom of the first in Game 1 of the ALCS. He didn’t play the rest of the series. So what happens if he doesn’t get hurt? Do the Royals win that series then? That’s pretty conceivable given it was decided in the bottom of the 9th of the penultimate game. And if they win in 1976, does that mean that the result of the 1977 ALCS changes too? (also went down to the last inning of the 5th game). And so on.

Sep 24th, 2008
Micah

Interestingly, I don’t have a really traumatic *childhood* moment. Maybe it’s the way things got redeemed. The closest I came was probably the ‘96 Superbowl, when the overachieving Patriots got brutally slaughtered by the mighty Packers (and the one time it looked like we might be back in the game, Desmond Howard broke my heart with a 99 yard kickoff return for a TD). But all that was forgotten in 2001 when the Pats provided me with my first sports championship, setting the stage for a decade of truly ridiculous fortune.

Likewise, as a Red Sox fan, 2003 was immediately erased by 2004 - no pain, really, could have lingered past 2004. 1986, I’m sure, would have been my defining moment, but I was a year old at the time and I will leave that pain with my father.

No, my real defining moment of trauma is still raw and will be for a long time. It’s the Patriots’ Superbowl loss back in February. I am sure that non-Patriots fans are rolling their eyes and laughing gleefully in memory, but there were two things about that game that defined it for me forever.

One is the fandom element. There is a lot of hatred in sports fandom, countless bloody rivalries all across the country. My personal rivalry of choice is, of course, Yankees/Red Sox; my girlfriend, a college football fanatic who went to Cal, refuses to wear red out of hatred for Stanford. So I’ve been involved with and seen quite a lot of hatred over the years. But nothing comes close to last season in professional football.

Spygate - and Belichick’s utter lack of repentance over it, followed by the Patriots’ sheer early-season dominance and Running-Up-The-Score-Gate - turned ALL non-Patriots fans against New England as if they’d been blood rivals from the day the NFL was born. It was vicious, and while many Pats fans reveled in it and acted like assholes from the start, some of us actually tried to remain civil football fans. But it was impossible. I basically couldn’t have a conversation with a non-Patriots fan without hearing “Cheatriots” and being derided for having an evil team, a scumbag coach, told that all their previous accomplishments were tainted and worthless, and accused of being a morally bankrupt, horrible human being for continuing to root for the team I’d grown up with. Being unable to have an actual non-hostile conversation about football was a pretty astonishing thing to deal with, and it wore me down. By the end of the season, I’d stopped trying. I hated everyone back with a vengeance, and the only thing that would make it okay was if the Pats finished things 19-0 and shoved the title Greatest Team Ever in everyone else’s face.

And that’s the other part of it. I am, and have always been, fascinated by transcendent greatness. It’s why I love Tiger, and MJ, and Federer - they truly take (or took) their sports to places we’d never seen before. And to have a team I rooted for with a shot at historical perfection, well, it was an all-or-nothing proposition for me - because you don’t get two shots at that. You’ll always have another group of plucky overachievers someday - that dream is eternal and can always be redeemed - but perfection, you don’t get to see twice.

So when they lost, when immortality slipped from their grasp, when I watched the gleeful mass of non-Patriots fans dancing in the streets and all I was left with was a tainted legacy and the ashes of a once-in-a-lifetime dream, it hit me harder than any other loss I’ve ever experienced. And it has damaged my ability to enjoy professional football, I don’t know for how long. I no longer have a real list of neutral teams that I’m okay seeing do well. I no longer have another football fanbase that doesn’t bring up ill feelings. The Brady injury felt like a confirmation of what I already knew - this was a lost season for me.

I’m sure I’ll find my way back to the sport eventually. But it will never be the same.

(the really sad thing is that I wrote something like 5000 words on this topic elsewhere just to get it out of my system and now I’m doing it again - thanks, Joe :P)

Sep 24th, 2008
Corey

I was 6 when the Twins won in ‘87. I will forever love the Twins. The Vikings in ‘99 was the worst moment. I am now always optimistic about the Twins and pessimistic about the Vikes. Twins will make playoffs this year, it is going to be an exciting week.

Sep 24th, 2008
Bill C.

Josh in DC’s comment reminds me of something I have long maintained. The ball going through Buckner’s legs was NOT the horrific moment in Game 6. The horrific moment, the Red Right 88 moment, to use Joe’s example, was the “wild pitch” that scored the tying run. The Sox were done when the Mets tied it up.

I put wild pitch in quotes because the ball never touched the ground and wasn’t really all that far inside. It just went all the way by Gedman in the air. I suppose he got crossed up but it really should have been a passed ball. Speaking as a Mets fan, I’ve always thought Rich Gedman got off the historical hook. Nobody puts the blame on him because it was scored as a wild pitch. But look at the tape. That’s a passed ball all the way, man. Gedman should have been goat, not Buckner.

Sep 24th, 2008
Don-O

One vote for cataclysm. Or, more accurately, cataclysms. Four Super Bowl losses for the Vikings (and a fifth cataclysmic loss to the Cowboys when Drew Pearson pushed off - HE DID TOO!). Now I stand no chance of having a relaxing Sunday if the Vikings are playing. I suspect many of us in the upper midwest are similarly cursed.

Sep 24th, 2008
Andy

‘98 Vikings losing the NFC Championship at home to the Falcons after a 15-1 season.

Yeah.

Sep 24th, 2008
Brent

AO’s injury, btw, is the reason why (when you are forced to rewatch the replays like we were this week with the closing of Yankee stadum) the really short player who can’t jump very high trying to catch Chambliss’s HR wasn’t Al Cowens, who was the Royals regular RF but shifted to CF after AO’s injury for the remainder of the series, but none other than one Hal McRae, DH extraordinaire.

Sep 24th, 2008
paul

I was a Braves fan and my formative years were 76-80 or so. Sure 1982 was cool and all, but really, even after the 90s, I just never expect the Braves to win. I remember spending the rest of October and November 1995 looking over my shoulder for an official MLB “re-do”.

Sep 24th, 2008
BigFlax

2003 was the year that really shaped me as a Cubs fan. I was too young to remember ‘84 and ‘89 was over too fast, and ‘98 - though it was at the peak of my high school years, the time when a lot of my most indelible general sports memories come from - we were just happy to be there. 2003 was the first time where it was “Hey, they might actually do this thing.”

It’s ironic, but losing increases avidity. I was much more invested in the ‘96-’98 Bulls than the ‘91-’93 Bulls, in part because I was older, but in part because by then I had more experience with a team breaking down on me when I thought it couldn’t. I’ve always been a Cubs fan first and foremost, but 2003 really flipped a switch. I think that going through the lowest of the low with a team just makes you that much more ready to stick with them, because someday you’ll get the reverse and it’s going to be that much better. Just think how much more the next Yankees World Series is going to mean to some kid who’s just finishing up high school now, who’s never known them not to make the playoffs. It’s going to mean a lot more to him than to the kid who was born ten years earlier and was in high school right as the run started.

Sep 24th, 2008
Michelle

When I was 10, the 1975 Red Sox broke my heart. The great thing about the 2004 team’s win was not that I could celebrate or that I could become a less neurotic baseball fan, but that suddenly, I didn’t have to care about the Red Sox anymore.

It felt like a final chapter to my personal baseball fandom storybook, and while I was well aware of the ‘07 team (if largely by osmosis), I think I still need a few more years off before I can return to the quotidian charms and failings of a 162-game season.

Sep 24th, 2008
Doug

The Big Red Machine and its two World Series championships cemented my love affair with the hometown nine (say, someone should write a book about them!).
The anguish– the test of character that defines whether one becomes a fan, or just a casual observer– came at age 11 with the 1981 players’ strike. The Reds have the best record in the NL, but don’t make the playoffs because they finish 2nd in each “half” of the season. This was when the Royals still had some good karma, as they made the playoffs despite being sub-.500 for the season. Strangely, my Little League championship game that summer was cancelled because of a fistfight between parents in the parking lot during the 4th inning. Then, in January Pete Johnson is stopped on three plunges from inside the 3-yard line in the 1982 Super Bowl. In my mind, if not for the strike, the Reds would now be approaching the Yankees as the winningest baseball franchise and the Bengals would at least have that one Super Bowl ring (they ARE the Bengals, so the success couldn’t possibly have lasted.)
Great post– and great contributions from the dozen or so above this comment.

Sep 24th, 2008
Linus

I am sure others have made this point, over and over. BUT, the 2003 NLCS was not lost because of a fan who tried to catch a ball, but it was because A.Gonzales (who i liked as a player for some unknown reason) screwed up a sure-fire double play ball.

The pain of the 2003 season didn’t really set in until 2004 when it became clear that playoff appearances were not going to grow on trees.

Sep 24th, 2008
Jon Morse

I’m not the first person to mention Game 5, 1976, and that was important for my 10-year-old self. I’d already long since fallen in love with the Royals, but it was a more innocent, wide-eyed love.

But that was still too “innocent.” It was the first time. It hurt, but it wasn’t devastating, because I knew in my 10-year-old heart of hearts that the Royals were a very good team, and we’d have other chances.

No… it was the next year that brought the moment that made my bond with the team into something that would last forever.

Game 5, 1978. The Royals had two chances to win the series, and they’d lost the first one. The game basically started with the brawl between Brett and Nettles. And then, up 3-2 going into the ninth… the Royals let themselves get beaten by the weakest part of the Yankee order. After the Royals lost, Freddie Patek just sat in the dugout forever… crying from the frustration of having lost to those Damn Yankees again after being three outs away.

I could never possibly have felt the joy I felt in 1980 or 1985 if not for 1977. I am convinced of this. Freddie Patek’s broken heart was my gateway drug.

Sep 24th, 2008
Gregory

I’m with you, Joe. My first experience at an NFL game was as a 10-year-old, and involved a field goal in overtime to win a division, and fans rushing the field to tear down the goalposts. But the thorn that sticks in my paw (and the paws of every other fan in my hometown) to this day is a 47-yard attempt gone wide right with 8 seconds to go in SBXXV. I was in middle school, but I still judge every single game by with those eyes: This week I was more than a little mortified to find tears in my eyes as I watched my team’s first-ever last-play game-winning field goal, being in a sports bar and all…

Sep 24th, 2008
Mac

You realize that not only does “Red Right 88″ have its own Wikipedia page, but that Google has over 6 million hits?

Sep 24th, 2008
Fran

Oct 12, 1968 (I looked up the date) — The #1 ranked Boilers went to Columbus & lost to Ohio State. I think that’s my touchstone moment. I believed the newspapers & I thought Purdue would be national champions. The loss to UCLA (Mar 22, 1969) hurt but at least it was pretty much expected, especially with Bavis out. Why does this all seem like it happened last week?

Sep 24th, 2008
twayn

Red Right 88 was a soul crusher. So was The Drive. And The Fumble. And all of 1975. Todd Philcox. Black Monday, 1995. It ain’t easy being a Browns fan. And Derek Anderson’s not making it any easier.

Sep 24th, 2008
Padre

8 years old when the Dazzle Man Dan Gladden and Kent Hrbek hit grand slams, Frank “Sweet Viola Music” won games 1 and 7, and Kirby went .357/.419/.464 in the series. I don’t care how many times we lose, we’re always going to win until we don’t.

Sep 24th, 2008
Marco

Regarding the Browns “greatest” moments:
The fumble outshines all of them for me, mostly because that game was [supposed to be] all about redemption. The drive was the year before, and the team was going to set things right. But then, it was over before it started - the Browns fell behind 21 to 3.
Amazingly, Bernie led them back, and I was sure, SURE that we were going to get payback for the long offseason, and the crushing defeat the year before, all of it.
We all know how things turned out, and it really crystalized for me that life doesn’t follow a script.

Sep 24th, 2008
Andy

In a reverse fashion, I was 12 when the Phillies won the WS in 1980. Tug McGraw’s antics are the most memorable, exciting game situations I can remember. Every year since though has been terrible except for a few hearbreakers, but not matter what I’m stuck wearing the red hat with the white P for the rest of my life.

Sep 24th, 2008
Hambone

I grew up a Vikings Fan, loving the Purple People Eaters, Joe Kapp, Gary Cuozo, and the super-scrambler Fran Tarekenton. But…

0-4 in the Super Bowl, and knocked out by Dallas and Staubach seemingly every other year. And yeah, it changes how one views sports.

And I agree with Pokerpeaker that should that uncanny day arrive that the Vikings win it all, it will be madly truly deeply sweet.

Sep 24th, 2008
Linus

I claim i was a Browns fan, but for whatever reason, Bernie Kosar was my favorite QB until Jim Kelly, and then it was Donovan McNabb…. hmmmm…

Sep 24th, 2008
Trieu

The ‘64 Phillies rank 10th in Nate Silver’s BP article of all-time worst collapses.

http://www.baseballprospectus.com/article.php?articleid=6764

It’s a great article. Here’s the snippet relevant to that Phillies team:

“This collapse is particularly famous because of just how badly the Phillies played down the stretch, and just how poorly Gene Mauch managed his pitching staff. However, it was not quite as bad as it might seem at first glance because of the disparity in the schedules. From September 18th onward, the Phillies played teams with an average winning percentage of .548, as opposed to .470 for the Cardinals, which was enough to wipe the equivalent of a game or two off of their lead.”

Sep 24th, 2008
Fezzik

There were two instance for me. When I was 10, we moved to Houston, TX. It was the summer of 1969. The Astros had always been my team, but they really sucked until that year. They started to put it all together that year with Morgan, Wynn, Dierker, Wilson, and the immortal Fred Gladding. IIRC, they were only a couple of games out on Labor Day. 5 of the 6 teams in the NL West were still in it. They proceeded to fade out and finish at .500. The other was more of a heartbreak every year with the Dallas Cowboys. The Ice Bowl was the start (I was 8). But the real clincher was Jim Effing O’Brien kicking the winning FG as time expired to lead a clearly inferior Colts team over my Boys in SB 5. I will always remember Chuck Howley and the helmet heave.

Sep 24th, 2008
Bellweather Johnson

My mother grew up in Buffalo, NY and went to college at Kentucky.

Two words forever banished from my childhood:

-Norwood
-Laetner

Sep 24th, 2008
Paul White

Oct 21, 1975. I’m seven-years old and my parents let me stay up late to watch Game 6 of the World Series. Lynn slams into the center field wall, Tiant whirled and twirled, Carbo hit that spectacular homer, Evans made the great catch in right and then doubled Griffey off first base, and Fisk sealed the deal in the 12th by waiving it fair. At that moment, I was a Red Sox fan for life.

One night later, I learned why my father would swear at the television set.

Sep 24th, 2008
Joe

The 77 World Series. I was 9 years old. Reggie Jackson on first base for the Yankees. Pinella at the plate. Yankees rallying, Dodgers in desperate need to stop the rally. Double play ball hit, Bill Russell (or maybe Davey Lopes, it doesn’t matter) steps on second base, throws to first, and Jackson sticks his hip out. The ball hits Jackson and richochets away while Garvey points at Jackson and yells. Umpires rule that the play stands. The rally continues, the Yankees win.

My best friend is a Yankee fan, and I still bring that play up in conversation with him 3-4 times a year. That was what made me.

Sep 24th, 2008
patrick

As a Buffalo sports fan, you grow up with a bunch of adults who spend their whole lives telling you its hopeless. So I don’t know if you have one moment. Still, I think my 12 year old self watching Ronnie Harmon drop a wide open pass in the end zone was that moment, because I distinctly recall not being able to watch Wide Right the following year, I retreated to my basement because I knew what was going to happen. Ever since, every bad moment in Buffalo sports never hurt quite as much, because you expect it. No Goal, expected. LeClair & No Goal II, expected. Homerun Throwback, ok, that one was a bit of a surprise. It hurts a little extra too, though maybe because we haven’t won at all since, or maybe because I firmly believe we would have had a shot against the Rams in the Super Bowl.

As always Joe, brilliant stuff.

Sep 24th, 2008
Hugh

I was 11 for the Phils World Series in 1993. I was physically present at the 15-14 game when Mitch and co. blew a 5 run lead going into the 8th, and then there was Joe Carter’s homerun. That was when I became a cynic.

Sep 24th, 2008
Mark

Can one have a series of moments? Arizona State didn’t beat arizona in football for 9 straight years, from when I was 6 (and too young to remember) until I was 15. We lost as favorites, we lost as underdogs, we tied when all we had to do was get a punt off to run the clock out, we lost the year we went to the FREAKING ROSE BOWL — at one point, I used to be proud of everyone in my state. By the time we finally beat the bastards, I would have happily sold everything south of Eloy back to Mexico.

Sep 24th, 2008
Nick N.

The 98 Vikings dropping that NFC Champ game to the Falcons was brutal. But, as U of M alum, I think my most painful collapse memory was when the Gophers fell to the Badgers in 2005.

Here’s how it went down, as I remember it (I might be off on a few details)…

I was at that game, along with a ton of other Gopher fans and a TON of Badger fans. It was a really amazing, intense atmosphere. There teams had both gotten their seasons off to great starts and were playing neck-and-neck all day. The teams traded big plays. Laurence Maroney had a huge game, including something like a 90-yard touchdown run. The Gophers led late and had the ball. They just needed to kill the clock. Deep in their own territory with like 30 seconds left and leading by a field goal, they came upon fourth-and-short. They decided to punt, forcing a quick, late drive by the Badgers. The ball is snapped to the punter, but he drops it. He picks it up. And rather than taking the sack, rather than running into the end zone for a safety, rather than heaving an incomplete pass… he tries to punt with five guys right in his face. Naturally, it’s blocked, bounces in the end zone, and the Badgers pounce on it for a game-winning touchdown.

Certainly, there have been more immense breakdowns in sports history. But none have ever hit me quite so hard.

Sep 24th, 2008
Dan

Growing up in Nebraska in the 1970s, meant “Sooner Magic” every November. And even when we won in 1978, we got a rematch in the Orange Bowl–talk about an all-time kick in the nether regions.

It didn’t just shape me as a sports fan, as you indicate Joe, it shaped me as a person. To this day, my memory of any day in November is the same–grey and cloudy and without a soul.

I may be the only man in America who remembers the day of son’s birth as a bitter, windy, cloudy, soul-less day.

Sep 24th, 2008
stepbaker

I had just turned eight years old before the autumn of 1983. The Orioles won the World Series, and I firmly believed Rick Dempsey was the greatest catcher in baseball history (ok, other than Johnny Bench, even at 8, I knew Bench was better). It was the greatest sporting event ever, and I thought Baltimore was going to keep winning titles.

A few months later, the Colts moved to Indianapolis in the middle of the night. I hate Mayflower. I hate Irsay. And I hate the NFL. I learned that even in your best of times, crappy things happen. I also learned that college teams can’t move, so now I root for LSU, my (and my parents’) alma mater.

But I still hate the Colts. Irsay ruined my childhood. At least y’all had teams to break your hearts. I know this will fall on deaf ears to a Cleveland guy, but you really don’t understand. You still have the Browns. You just lost them for a few years. We lost the Colts forever. Where was the outcry for us to get our team back? I can’t bring myself to care about the Ravens. Two wrongs don’t make a right.

Sep 24th, 2008
Rod

Check out this book if you want to read about the Phillies and the city of Philadelphia and why everybody there is so bitter.

http://www.amazon.com/Fall-1977-Phillies-Baseball-Collapse/dp/0786432179

Sep 24th, 2008
nightfly

Interestingly, I remember last year’s teeth-kicker for the Mets in roughly the same way as others remember the ‘64 Phillies - as in, they’d been trying to give the season away since June 1. I’d written it up on my own blog somewhere… After June 1, the Mets had to win only 7 of every 13 games the rest of the way to have finished at 91 wins and the division title. That’s .538 ball… not too much to ask, right? They were like Wile E Coyote two steps after the cliff - all summer we were just waiting for the puff of smoke at the bottom of the canyon to make it official. So, no, I didn’t consider it the most catastrophic collapse in the history of ever. The Yanks blowing the 3-0 lead was worse - heck, the Mets losing to the Cards in ‘06 was worse.

Sep 24th, 2008
Jeff Chamberlain

Children, children….

I was 11 when the Dodgers moved away from Brooklyn.

Sep 24th, 2008
Spergler

I know this is not the same, but I’d be a different man if the Democrats hadn’t had their worst election ever in Texas in 2002. If it had been 2000 or 2004, I’d be a very different person.

Sep 24th, 2008
Perry

I feel a little sheepish posting in this thread, because my very first sports memory is actually a happy one — I was 9 years old and watched with my dad as the Browns beat the Colts 27-0 to win the 1964 NFL championship. Then in 1968, when I was 13, Ohio State went undefeated, beat Michigan 50-14, then beat O. J. Simpson’s USC team in the Rose Bowl to win the national title. And with a guy from my hometown at QB. So I feel like I had two good early experiences to inoculate me against some of the bad stuff to follow.

My two most gut-wrenching moments as a sports fan:

(1) In 1969, OSU stormed through their schedule, destroying everyone in their path until the Michigan game. On the heels of the ‘68 title, they were being called one of the greatest teams of all time. At the time, Big 10 teams only played in the Rose Bowl, and they had a rule that you couldn’t go two years in a row. So OSU wasn’t going to play a bowl game — all they had to do was beat Michigan and they were undefeated national champs for the second year in a row. Michigan 24, OSU 12.

(2) The Denkinger game. I was 30, no longer a child, but it didn’t hurt any less. I hit the whiskey immediately, but surprisingly, it didn’t help. The loss to the Twins in 7 two years later hurt almost as bad, as did the sweep at the hands of the &$%(%$ Red Sox after a 104-win season. But ‘06 helped (looking up at the SI cover of Eckstein celebrating as I type).

Sep 24th, 2008
Mikey

The ratio of heartbreak stories to triumph stories in these comments is interesting.

I was 7 when the We Are Family Pirates came back from down 3-1 to win the Series.

I’m 36 now and that’s still probably one of the 10 most fondly recalled experiences of my life. That was an incredibly charismatic team and a perfect team for a kid to root for with their goofy uniforms and fun theme song.

I wish every kid in America could see their favorite team win it all at age seven.

Sep 24th, 2008
Ben

Formative experiences for me:

In the years 1990 to 1997 (ages 13 to 20): Fifth Down Game, Tyus Edney Game, Flea Kicker Game.

I mean seriously, look at that list. Arguably the biggest officiating error in sports history; a sold entry in the Hall of Unlikely Buzzer Beaters; and a football play so bizarre I’ve never seen it happen at any other time. Basically precise equivalents to the 1972 Olympics, the Jordan vs the Cavs game, and the Immaculate Reception all happened to Mizzou in an eight-year span. If Missouri were closer to a huge media market, Tiger fans would get as much credit as anyone for sports-suffering.

I mean, Jesus, I haven’t even gotten into all the horrid first-round tourney exits (Northern Iowa, Rhode Island, etc.); the 0-3 Elite Eight record; the 0-2 record with the #1 football ranking (including a loss in 1960 to a KU team whose best player was ineligible); the Quin Snyder debacle; the Paige Laurie debacle; Steve Stipanovich shooting himself; and on and on and on. And pile onto this having to listen to the Star and the rest of the KC media slobber all over the Jayhawks (sorry Poz–I love you, but I’m on a roll here).

I dunno–I’m teaching Moby Dick right now in one of my classes, and growing up a Mizzou fan in the 90’s has allowed me to understand and appreciate Ahab. A lot. The earth is a cold sphere where pain exceeds beauty by a factor of ten; God is out to get you; all you can do is seek vengeance while laughing hysterically in the face of disaster.

Fortunately, Chase Daniel doesn’t seem to have the insanity of Tiger fans. Of course, since he’s from Texas, he probably didn’t grow up rooting for Mizzou.

Sep 24th, 2008
Mikey

“I’d be a different man if the Democrats hadn’t had their worst election ever in Texas in 2002″

The 2004 Bush-Kerry election was the worst stomach-punch loss of all-time for me. No sporting event ever hit me so hard that I didn’t want to get out of bed the next day.

Sep 24th, 2008
Jim

Game 5 of the 1977 ALCS was also my personal gut-wrenching moment . I was 14, the Royals had the best record in baseball, they had lost a heartbreaker the year before, it was their “turn” . . . then Paul Blair gets a bloop hit and everything unravels.

There’s a pretty funny book called True Believers (2003) by Joe Queenan about being a sports fan and why we put up with it . He was 13 when the Phillies had their 1964 collapse. At the time, he was a student at a seminary in rural Pennsylvania and all the other students mocked and teased him while the Phillies blew it because they knew he was a big fan. He became so embittered that he decided that he didn’t want to have a career serving a God that would allow that to happen.

Sep 24th, 2008
Charlie Scrabbles

‘07 BCS title game, when Teddy Ginn ran back the opening kickoff for a touchdown. i got so hyped up i blacked out. i woke up 6 hours later and ive still never heard how that game ended.

Sep 24th, 2008
Gate

Holy Cross losing successive heartbreakers to Kentucky, Kansas, and Marquette my Soph-Senior years of college sucked. The first year, it was kind of cool in a, “Hey, we’re on Sportscenter - we hung in there with Kentucky!” kind of way. The second year there was still a little novelty, but more of a stomach punch. By the game against Marquette it was just excruciating.

I was too old for these to be formative sports moments, but being a Red Sox fan, they just underlined the profound unhappiness I associated with sports fandom up until that point.

Sep 24th, 2008
Phred Pheldman

I’m going to report you to the sportswriters union for not calling this post “The Phall of the Phillies.”

Sep 24th, 2008
dan

I was eleven years old when Mariano Rivera gave up the bloop single to Luis Gonzalez. I remember sitting on the couch in stunned silence until they announced the co-MVPs of the series.

It changed me.

Sep 24th, 2008
Kevin S.

Ahh, the bitter memories of the Vikings’ 4 lost Super Bowls of my childhood. To be fair, the regular seasons were pretty rock solid for about a dozen or more years there, but somehow that doesn’t make up for the pain, does it? It may be worse, as the consistent regular season success pulls you deep into fandom, where the annual post-season disappointments really stung.

Sep 24th, 2008
Mike E

I was 10 when Jose Mesa blew the save against the Marlins. Before that point, I had assumed the Indians were going to go to the World Series every odd year for the rest of my life. Mesa and Fernandez made me believe the Indians were not going to win or even make the World Series for a great deal of time. I was right.

Everytime I try to explain to my philosophy teacher why I continue to follow Cleveland sports he shrugs and laughs at me. I think one of the world’s greatest philosophical questions is how can people who are so intelligent continue to place such importance on something basically meaningless to our well being?

Great post Joe.

Sep 24th, 2008
BobDD

I was a 15 yr old lifetime Cardinal fan then and was tempted to believe in Santa Claus after that season, which included Gibson winning WS game 7 on two days rest.

But then years later along came a man called Denkinger . . .

Sep 24th, 2008
briandouglas

1988 World Series game 1. My Oakland A’s can’t lose not with Eck on the mound. Up steps Kirk Gibson and then Jack Buck couldn’t believe what he just saw.

Sep 24th, 2008
Quinn

This is bad juju. I’ll read the rest of this when the season’s over. That’s the evil eye you’re getting Posnanski

Sep 24th, 2008
Richard Aronson

Joe, it was Bill Russell. And Vin Scully felt Russell might have intentionally dropped the low line drive to create a double play possibility since Jackson was close enough to get back to first.

My formative sports moments were all good ones. I remember going to the Coliseum to see the Rams about 1964 with my father and younger brother (both dead) and seeing Roger Owens toss us the bag of peanuts from his little pedestal before he became better known as a peanut tosser at Dodger Stadium. I don’t remember the game at all, just being with my dad and kid brother.

I remember the 1965 World Series. Our parents were in New York for a wedding, so my brother and I (10 and 7) got to use our season seats to game three as my birthday present (October baby). The Dodgers were down 2-0 in games, and of course I brought my trumpet. Our seats at the time were Row 2, Aisle A, about six feet above Vin Scully right behind home plate. I played the charge several times during a five run inning, Osteen and the Dodgers won, my parents heard me in New York, and eventually the Dodgers stopped letting fans bring in instruments

My parents were there for Koufax’s perfect game. It was a school night, so I wasn’t, but I listened to it all, a return to normality amidst the fears that Los Angeles was going to burn down from the rioters over the hill from the San Fernando Valley. I learned that great stuff will happen whether or not I’m there.

We were there at an old timers game, and my dad saw a player in Brooklyn uniform number 33 on the elevator and said, suspiciously, “Who’s that old guy wearing Ralph Branca’s uniform?” Of course, it was Branca, on his way down to the field level after interviews with Scully and Doggett. And I learned that everybody gets old, no matter how young they live in our memories. My wife never learned that. When she can’t remember something for a while, she screams in frustration. I wait until I do remember, accepting the inevitable loss of quickness; if it’s important enough I can always look it up on the internet.

I was in our season seats when Kirk Gibson hit his home run in the 1988 World Series. And I was saddened, because I realized that I’ll never again experience as good a baseball game. It just can’t happen. I still go once in a while, but I stopped attending regularly.

I think sports has molded me into an optimist, an observer, an analyst, somebody who realizes that the world can be an ugly place, but in sports there is always a winner even though there is always a loser. And sports, and especially Vin Scully, has taught me the power of the story teller as well as any author, even Shakespeare and Tolkien. Which is why I listen to the first three innings of every game on a staticy radio picking up a signal from 150 miles away, and tonight heard the Dodgers clinch at least game 163 this year. One more win or D’backs loss, and they’ve clinched 164 and 165. And I know the Dodgers don’t compare to the Cubs or any of the AL teams, and I know that I’ve already seen the best game ever, but I’ll still listen to every game. Because with Scully on the radio and the Dodgers winning with suicide squeezes like they did with Alston way back when (one squeeze last night, another tonight) my dad’s still alive, and my kid brother will be making silly jokes or piano wizardry, and my whole life is still in front of me.

Sep 25th, 2008
John G

I was 3 when Chambliss hit that disgusting homer so I don’t remember it much. I still don’t like the Phillies for 1980. 85′ will be the best sports memory I have until we win one again. My first real heartbreaker was the KU-Duke game in the 86′ Final Four. I cried for days after that game. Got some payback in 1988 and celebrated late into the night with this year’s title.

Sep 25th, 2008
Ryan

I was eight when the Royals won the World Series. I remember my favorite color changing from red to blue. My defining moment in sports came not in tragedy but in triumph. And ends in tragedy with being deeply emotionally involved with the Royals for the rest of my life. The hopes and dreams of an eight-year-old kid will rest forever in the hands of the always hapless Royals. It’s even more sad that way, really.

Sep 25th, 2008
Don

Joe really knows how to write.

I remember my first game at Royals Stadium. John M. and AO both hit two run homers. The Royals won 7-0. I thought that winning baseball games was so easy. I remember playing kickball everyday at school.

I must admit; I cried when the Royals lost to the Yankees again and again. Finally, we won in 1980 beating the Goose. I thought the World Series would be a piece of cake. Of course, if George was healthy things might have gone differently.

Finally, the Royals won in 1985. I thought the Royals would always be close to the top and would once in a while win it all. Over 20 years later, I realize that the best thing that will happen for the Royals is that we will root for the Tony Pena Juniors one year, the Aviles the next, and we will see these players fall on their faces.

I have lived in Cleveland in the 90’s and in Arizona in 2001. Yes, I rooted for these teams, but it is not the same as the team you loved as a kid. Unfortunately, the Royals will NEVER compete again! All we can do is root for 75 wins. That is an accomplishment for us.

Sep 25th, 2008
JKB

As a die hard Knicks fan during the Ewing/Starks years no name or face brings more anger to me than that of Reggie Miller. It kills me to this day that when his playoff heroics are mentioned that he so obviously committed a foul by shoving Greg Anthony to the floor before hitting his second three pointer in a matter of seconds. I definitely became more of a cynic after that game. Its funny… I was ok with Starks going 2-18 against the Rockets in the finals the year prior, it hurt, but I was ok with it. Reggie Miller is another story entirely.

Sep 25th, 2008
Andy

I was 14 when the Browns were ripped out of town. I still hate the nfl.

Sep 25th, 2008
Matt in Toledo

I love Joe’s writing, but it stems from these ideas and concepts that I think are his true genius. First, pixiefood and now this idea that we are forged as fans by some seminal event, good or bad. I love it.

Anyway, as a Detroit fan I tried to think of the moment my teeth were cut on. I’m a Tiger fan first, born in the mid 70s, so my natural inclination was to look to ‘84. But I was only 8 and I’m not sure my fandom was really born from a team I expected to win all season long.

My next thought was the Pistons teams of the late 80s. I don’t like basketball nearly as much as baseball, but those Celtics and Lakers teams tore my heart out. Bird stealing the inbound pass and Isaiah hurting his ankle against the Lakers feels a little closer to where I stand as a fan.

So maybe my fandom is a result of teams that cruise to the title when they win but never seem to come out on top when they have to grind it out.

Sep 25th, 2008
Todd Henre

Chris Chambliss off “the country boy” Mark Littell…how fortunate that the Royals got their revenge only a short while later or I might be a serial killer like the chick from the Natural…

Sep 25th, 2008
Mike

For all of you who’s seminal moments are good(looking at you Northeast part of the country) you realize the rest of us pretty much hate you right?
And we’re right to hate you.

Sep 25th, 2008
Tony

Fans my age had some extraordinary good luck early on. Nine years old when the Royals defeated the Cardinals in ‘85, followed by one of the all-time great Jayhawk teams in 1986. In between, I got to see a quarterback from my hometown play in the Super Bowl. The ‘86 NCAA Final Four loss was brutal–the #2 team in the country all year had to run into #1 even before the national title–but it was wiped out two years later by Danny Manning’s MVP title run. With a very solid Royals team and, a few years later, a resurgent Chiefs team under Marty, anyone here could have been forgiven for assuming we could call ourselves a city of champions for years in the future.

When Roy Williams arrived and brought two trips to the Final Four within five years, Jayhawk fans were *supremely* confident that the Hawks would pile up long NCAA runs and titles with ease. Enter clangworthy performances against Virginia and Syracuse…the Bobby Thomson-like Mike Bibby…the perfect-storm Rhode Island Rams…the last two Roy losses against Maryland and Syracuse, like a mean kid taunting an animal by keeping food just out of reach.

Roy’s departure smacked of Walter O’Malley in Lawrence, and the events of 2005–Kansas’ old coach facing Bill Self’s old team for the title, with Self and the Hawks bounced in the first round by a 14 seed–left plenty of Hawk fans wondering if it was even possible anymore to win a national championship at this institution.

The joy of the national title in 2008 is in the fact that after three rounds, it was never a sure thing, even for a split second. The other shoe never dropped–not the low-seeded team that previiously gave Self fits, not the #1 team and player of the year making a massive comeback, not the slow frustration of falling insurmountably behind a team with better athletes. It is now possible to look back dispassionately back at all the losses and know that it was not the work of vengeful forces beyond human control but the strategy and execution of mortals, using their G-d-given gifts for victory or defeat. This is what fans of this area need to keep in mind–we still, after all, have the Royals and Chiefs to deal with.

Sep 25th, 2008
Steve from Cleve

Like Mike E, I was 10 when Tony Fernandez couldn’t get to an easy out, Renteria and Counsell won the WS for the Fish, and “Jose Mesa” forever became the vilest curse word in my personal lexicon.

Then in 2003 the Buckeyes had their miracle season, and I knew too many things had gone right for them, the two 4th quarter picks against Cincy in a game we had no right to win, the ridiculous hail mary to win against Purdue, Gamble with another huge endzone pick against Wisconsin, and even when Clarett was limited because of a shoulder injury we still felt charmed and invincible, but then Krenzel’s pass to Gamble was incomplete, and the Canes were already celibrating, and once again my heart was crushed….but then there was unease among the crowd, a flag called, another chance, and finally a team I pulled for caught a break, and we didn’t waste it.

For a few minutes after we won I wasn’t really sure it was real, but once I composed myself I don’t think I ever celibrated harder or louder.

Sep 25th, 2008
Tim Curry

I am a Chicago sports fan, so most of my childhood memories are filled with Jordan’s Bulls never losing and Sosa’s Cubs never winning.

The one play I will always remember was in the 1994 NBA playoffs (the year Jordan played baseball). Pippen was the best player in the NBA that season and was leading the Bulls to the title without Jordan when Hugh Hollins wrecked it all. It was Bulls vs. Knicks and as time was expiring Pippen ran out to contest a Hubert Davis 3 pointer. I believe the Bulls were up 2, Davis missed the jumper with Pippens outstretched hand barely missing a blocked shot. As I start to celebrate, I realized that Hollins had blown his whistle and called one of the most inexcusably terrible foul calls in sports history. I hate Hugh Hollins and Hubert Davis for that.

Also in the 1998 1 game playoff, Steve Trachsel started for the Cubs. I don’t recall him pitching a 1 hitter against the Giants that day but he did pitch well. I was at that game but all I remember was Trachsel pitching well, Gary Giaetti getting a big hit and Shooter closing it out.

Sep 25th, 2008
Jeff Wright

Too true, Joe. I was riveted in 1956, at the age of seven, when Larsen threw the perfect game in the World Series. I’ve been a fan ever since.

Sep 25th, 2008
Creston

This is probably true. The only reason I’m a Cardinals fan, really, is because the 1982 World Series were the first MLB games I ever saw in Holland. And I liked the Cardinals’ uniforms better than the Brewers. Also, I thought Brewers was a stupid name.

I’m still a Cardinals fan to this day, though Billy DeWallet and Tony la Russa are making it very hard…
(Pujols soothes many feelings though )

Sep 25th, 2008
Dave from Buffalo

Wide right.

Sep 25th, 2008
Joe Lee

Great entry, read it over on SI.com, as a lifelong Philadelphia sports fan I’m glad I wasn’t alive to experience the “Phold”. Great writing, for sports fans the moments we witness become part of us, the victories (and in my cases the defeats), shape the kind of people we are forever.

Sep 25th, 2008
Mark H

I was 11 and living in central PA (Phillie country) in ‘80. Finally beat those Darn Yankees, only to lose to the Phillies??!! I’m better about it now, but only because of the final redemption in ‘85. Finnaly getting the ring healed a lot of those scars.

Same with PSU football… 4th and goal against “Bama in the ‘79 sugar bowl after 2 undefeated and uncrowned teams just 10 years prior. Again, the ‘82 nat’l champs helped heal those wounds as well. One of the more touching stories I’ve read is how that 82 team flew back from the game into the Harrisburg Airport late that night. The entire length of the 2 hour bus ride from Hbg back to State College was lined with fans, cheering from the highway the team that finally got the nat’l championship. Players on that bus still talk about the emotions the players felt that early morning after seeing how their win touched so many people, and so deeply…

Sep 25th, 2008
Linkmeister

1962, Dodgers-Giants, Game Three of the playoff to determine who’d play the Yankees in the World Series. The above-mentioned Roebuck and Stan Williams were unable to get outs in the ninth inning, including a walk by Williams with the bases loaded.

I was eleven, on the sidelines of a peewee football field. I can’t remember why, as I never played organized football that I recall. I was in shock after that game. Heroes could fail.

Sep 25th, 2008
Dru

Super Bowl XX and then the ‘86 World Series. I was seven for the one and eight for the other and I still remember being completely confused by what I was watching in both cases. I was so naive.

Sep 25th, 2008
Curt

I was 16 when Chris Chambliss went yard 1976. It broke my heart but that summer got me hooked for life on baseball. When I was 9 I remember the interviews for the losers locker rooms after championship games, Dallas, losing to the Packers in the ice bowl, Tony Kubiak interviewing the losers in the locker room after a world series…..Kids growing up in New England today sure are missing out on character building experiences…..

Sep 25th, 2008
denopac

Speaking of interviewing the losers… I remember the locker room interview of George Brett after the Chambliss homer. He was in tears. He was asked whether he was trying for a home run on his 3-run homer in the 8th inning (along with Bernie Carbo’s one of the great overshadowed postseason home runs). His reply was something like “it’s only 305 feet. I think I can hit a ball that far.” That’s what I remember anyway, and it’s always stuck with me.

Sep 26th, 2008
Mark

For me it was the ‘78 one game playoff. I was 12, and a Sox fan living in NY. For those too young to remember, it was a context that cannot be duplicated. A great team (99 wins). An epic collapse, punctuated by a four game obliteration in your own stadium by your hated rival. A miraculous turn around to force a playoff. (On the last day of the regular season, I furiously flipped back and forth between the Sox-Jays game and the Yanks-Tribe game. Joe, I recall an Andre Thorton homer helping chase Catfish from the game early).

Then the game itself. An early lead on a 25-3 Guidry who had looked unbeatable all season. My brother’s car accident during the second inning, forcing my Dad to miss all of the middle innings. My Dad’s return, minutes before the incomprehensible homerun by Dent. And the last chance in the 9th, with Rice and Yaz up. But the Goose was too much.

After the game, all of the neighborhood Yankee fans congregated on my front porch, and my mother explained to them that I wouldn’t be coming out to play today.

1978 made me a fan for life.

Thanks for your thoughful columns, Joe.

Sep 26th, 2008
Matt

I’m a lifelong Philly fan and two moments stand out to me (tempered very much by my relative youth)
The first was of course Mitch Williams pitch to Joe Carter. Oddly enough i cannot remember the pitch itself i can only remember how long it took to react to it (btw i was at the 15-14 loss in the world series that year and i was at the 13-12 win in the nlcs against the Braves that year. apparently i brought the offense)
The second i can remember the image insanely clearly. It was in Game 7 of the 1999-2000 Eastern Conference Championships between the Devils and the Flyers and Eric Lindros attempting to return from injury got knocked out within two minutes and the tv replayed the image 9 billion times and in every one it was evident how cheap that hit was (people’s elbows don’t naturally gravitate towards chins!) The most annoying thing about this memory was that i’m not even a big hockey fan! but this moment stuck with me much more than any moment from sports i love a whole lot more.

Sep 26th, 2008
Brian

Are Yankee fans allowed to have scarring experiences? I was born 2 months after the Yanks lost the ‘76 series to the Reds, and have no memory of the ‘77, ‘78, & ‘81 series. I didn’t have one particularly painful moment as a child, just the overall disappointment that was the late ’80s and early ’90s. All I had to root for was Mattingly. I faithfully watched almost every game, every year, even thru the dark years of ‘88-’92. Finally, it all came together in ‘94. I was sure they were going to win it all . . . until the strike wiped out the post season. They started out poorly in ‘95, but put it together in August . . . after I had left for West Point, where there was no tv, no radio, no internet. I had to wait for the newspaper the next morning to find out if they’d won. I found out they won their first 2 playoff games against the Mariners from the New York Times. Games 3-5 were Columbus Day weekend, when I would be home on pass. I came home and watched them lose 3 straight. I don’t ever remember being that depressed. And I will always hate Edgar Martinez, Ken Griffey, and Randy Johnson.

Sep 27th, 2008
Alex

I became a baseball fan - more specifically, a St. Louis Cardinals fan - on July 20th, 2004. I had just moved from St. Louis to Olathe Kansas and had nothing better to do, so I watched the Cardinals, my hometown team, play the Chicago Cubs in the last game between the two teams of the season on WGN that afternoon. I had actually watched the game the previous night, which was what spurred me to watch the game the next day - I had to find something to do.

The Cardinals went up 1-0 in the first. Albert Pujols had a double. I had heard of him before. He’s pretty good from what I remember. The Cardinals go down 7-1. Pujols hits a solo home run - 7-2. Then it’s 8-2 Cubs. Albert Pujols leads off the sixth with a single. Several more hits follow. 8-6 Cubs. Hey, this is getting interesting. Pujols leads off the seventh with a solo shot - a one run game, and Albert Pujols is 4-4. Damn, he’s good. So Taguchi ties the game in the 8th with a solo homer. Whoa! Pujols hits in the top of the ninth. Two run shot. Sanders adds a solo shot to put the game at its final score, 11-8.

5-for-5, a double, three homers. The first, and greatest, single-game hitting performance I’ve yet witnessed in my brief career as a baseball fan. Thank you, Mr. Pujols.

Sep 28th, 2008
Cliff

I was 9 in 1995 when the Seattle Mariners came from 13 games back to win the AL West in a one game playoff. I still remember watching Luis Sojo’s “Grand Slam” double and Mark Langston sprawl out at home plate in defeat. Randy Johnson ended the game by striking out Tim Salmon looking and Dan Wilson went sprinting into his arms.
They fell behind 2-0 against the Yankees in the division series. In game 4 they came back from a 5-0 deficit and Edgar Martinez hit a go-ahead grand slam. In game 5 Edgar had that game winning double that scored Ken Griffey Jr.
But when the team was finally eliminated in game 6 of the ALCS against the Indians the fans all stayed and kept cheering. The players stayed long after the game thanking the fans. The team’s run had electrified the city, seemingly every other car had a “Refuse to Lose” placard in it, and the team was finally able to get fans to come to the monstrosity known as the Kingdome. From then on I was hooked, no matter how hard it is to cheer for the Mariners.

Sep 28th, 2008
The Norm Cash Singers

I never realized until reading this article how fortunate I was growing up as a fan of the Detroit teams. We had no accute pain - just a dull, chronic ache that came from rooting for the Tigers, Lions “Dead Wings” and Pistons. I went back and looked up their records from 1973 to 1982 (when I was between 8 and 17) and I’d bet a considerable sum that no city with franchises in all four major professional sports could “beat” the futility of Detroit:

Tigers: one 3rd place finish, the rest 4ths, 5ths and 6ths. 42 games under .500.

Lions: one winning season (9-7). One playoff appearance (in the strike-shortened 1982 when they went 4-5.

Pistons: two second place finishes, no playoff appearances. 114 games under .500

Red Wings: No winning seasons. 199 games under .500 (doubly impressive when you throw out the 10 to 15 ties each season). One second place finish - the remainder 4th or worse. One playoff appearance.

40 seasons. No first place finishes. Two playoff appearances with no victories. 373 games below .500.

I would have traded a leg to suffer a traumatic world series or super bowl defeat rather than to be looking “forward” to next season at the all-star break!

Sep 29th, 2008
BlackFrancis

Die hard New Orleans Saints fan here…I think that explains all there is to know about me and sports.

(BTW: everyone else who lived to experience a title…hell, even a title run…please hush)

Sep 29th, 2008
Nate P.

Lots of Minnesota comments, but how about this:

I was a Twins fan at age ten, thanks to the World Series, and after ‘91 I got the strange idea in my (revved-up) teenage head that this was a future dynasty: Puckett would still be playing in the year 2000, Hrbek would finish his career with 400+ homers and a solid Hall of Fame case, Scott Erickson would be a perennial 20-game winner, Knoblauch would be my generation’s Carew, we’d have another World Championship or two tucked under our belts — there would be no stopping us.

If 1991 was the upswing, the big year that permanently etched baseball into my heart, 1992 was the kick in the stomach that I’d never really experienced as a Twins fan. Eric Fox isn’t as notorious as Chambliss or Dent or Boone or any of your more well-known late-season/postseason dream crushers, but when he hit that grand slam on July 29th to put the A’s above the Twins in first place, that murdered the Twinkies for the rest of the decade. The ‘93 team lost 91 games, and the Twins finished no better than fourth until 2001. Puckett woke up one morning with glaucoma, Hrbek retired after ‘94, Knoblauch got whiny and eventually wound up getting the trade he demanded, Erickson slipped into mediocrity, the team nearly got contracted, Ortiz got dumped, promising stars had flashes of brilliance before the inevitable trade (Matt Lawton, Todd Walker) or decline (Marty Cordova) — and then, year after year, the great playoff-caliber teams that get knocked out before they get a chance to grab a pennant, capped off by that amazing ‘06 season that those damnable A’s put an unceremonious end to. Even now, when they’re fielding a team of inexplicably-great youngsters that have a real shot at being the best team in the AL Central for the next five years, everything that’s happened from ‘92 on floods my forebrain with this fatalist pessimism, as though the team I’ve grown up to root for is never going to get its due, doomed forever to toil far away from the coastal spotlights that, when they even bother to aim themselves towards the Midwest, keep all their focus on Chicago. Tonight’s one-game pennant playoff against the White Sox is, I fear, only going to make this worse.

Well, at least we only have one more year of playing in the second-worst baseball stadium in the world.

Sep 30th, 2008
Nate P.

(Clarification: I was ten during the ‘87 series; 14 in ‘91.)

Sep 30th, 2008
Brian

I vaguely remembered The Drive and The Fumble, but they were mainly the burden of my father. I just remember screaming and cursing of John Elway.

1997 was my defining moment as a fan. It’s the moment I no longer was positive about my favorite teams. I lived in constant fear during the entire Game 7, but strangely I became calm when Joe Table strode to the mound in Miami.

Bob Costas soothed my insecurities as a Cleveland fan by breathlessly telling us how this would break the Curse of Colavito, how there were people waiting their whole lives for this moment as the camera panned on a terrified looking Mike Hargrove.

For some reason, it just felt right. Even after Moises Alou’s hit, I believed. After Charles Johnson’s single, I believed. It was that sac fly where you can pinpoint the moment I no longer truly believed in the Indians…ever again.

The Indians won more division titles, they had great players, but I knew there would be no storybook ending.

There was no shock to blowing a 3-1 lead in the ALCS. It was just a fitting coda to that ninth inning in ‘97.

Oct 4th, 2008
Lee

I was at The Fumble and what a surreal game and moment that was. But I have to agree that Red Right 88 was the most traumatic for me. I wasn’t there but the Kardiac Kids were supposed to win it at the end and Mike Davis seemingly comes out of nowhere to catch the ball and end the season then and there. Tough, tough, tough.

Nov 14th, 2008