The Greatest Game Never Seen
How is this for a change of pace?
One of the greatest games ever played and very few people claim they were there. As a matter of fact, few people even knew it took place.
To hear them tell it, at least two or three million people must have been in the stands at the Polo Grounds that day in 1954 when Willie Mays robbed Vic Wertz. Hundreds of thousands of fans at the very least were present in 1988 when Kirk Gibson limped around the bases at Chavez Ravine.
But no more than seven or eight thousand people, if that many, would have been at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore on a muggy night in late August, 1983, when the Orioles took on the Toronto Blue Jays in a crucial game, and few if any of those could later be identified.
This particular game has never been accorded its proper place in baseball lore. By any standards, it was a genuine classic possessing all the necessary ingredients to qualify for such stature; a dramatic, bizarre and ultimately crucial regular-season game in the midst of a tight pennant race.
I wasn’t there that night either, having moved from Baltimore years earlier, but I listened to the Orioles on the radio, as was my habit, and talked baseball with my Dad often. I hadn’t listened to my normal quota of broadcasts that year owing to other commitments, but returning home in Philadelphia late one evening I tuned in the finale of this key three-game set.
The pennant race was heating up and I felt certain that my listening to this game would help the Orioles chances. Radio, with its reliance on mental images, inspires a unique set of superstitions.
At the time the Orioles were in first place but only three and a half games separated the top five teams in the division. I was worried about the Orioles fortunes. The night before they had been shellacked at home, 9-3, losing for the second times in as many games. Worse, they lost in the same sloppy fashion that characterized much of their play that summer. By late August the Orioles had already swooned through two seven-game losing streaks. Now matters threatened to deteriorate further. Injuries to several pitchers, a season-long lack of clutch hitting, and persistent problems at third base were conspiring to undo the O’s.
With the exception of their powerful teams of late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s, the Orioles always struggled for their base hits, but pitching and third base were the hallmarks of the franchise. The ’83 edition of the club was loaded with veteran players who had been through numerous pennant races, but I had begun to doubt whether this team could hold onto its lead or put together one of those patented September finishes of the great Orioles teams of the past.
As I tuned in the game the Blue Jays had just made their last out in the top of the ninth. The Orioles Scott MacGregor had gone the distance allowing three runs on eight hits, but his Toronto counterpart, Jim Clancy, had been better, limiting the Birds to just one run on two hits. I had no other information on what had transpired up to that point, but I am unlikely to forget what happened next.
John Lowenstein led off the bottom of the ninth for the Orioles and flied out. Rookie John Shelby followed. Shelby had been struggling through a terrible “two for August” slump according to Oriole announcers Jon Miller and Tom Mawr. Miller went on to say that in desperation Shelby had taken extra bunting practice before the game. Apparently, Shelby was going to get on base by any means. And he did, beating out a bunt single without drawing a throw. Nice bit of commentary, Jon, I said to myself.
Next up, Gary Roenicke, who had good power, pinch-hit for light-hitting Rich Dauer. Roenicke struck out. Len Sakata, another pinch hitter, drew a walk. Catcher Joe Nolan, a left-handed batter, was due up next. Earlier, Nolan had replaced starting catcher Rick Dempsey. Now the managerial wheels began turning furiously in both dugouts. Left hander Jay Geisel was summoned to relieve Clancy.
Down to his last out, Oriole manager Joe Altobelli countered Toronto’s pitching change with right-handed batter Benny Ayala. With both Dempsey and Nolan now gone, Jon Miller began speculating who would catch for the Orioles if the game were to go into extra innings. Good announcers, like good managers, should always be thinking an inning or two ahead.
Ayala singled up the middle scoring Shelby and cutting Toronto’s lead to one run. Al Bumbry, a left-handed batter, was due up next, and because no other right-handed batters were available (Tod Cruz and Ken Singleton had already been spent apparently), Bumbry batted, as they say, “for himself.”
Bumbry singled off the third baseman’s glove scoring Sakata and tying the game. Benny Ayala took third base on the play. His lead gone, Toronto manager Bobby Cox brought in Joey McLaughlin to replace Geisel. Bumbry promptly stole second base to stay out of an inning-end force. The Blue Jays, for their part, ignored Bumbry, only being concerned with Ayala, the potential winning run. Dan Ford resolved all this strategy by meekly striking out to end the inning. A reprieve granted, I got something to drink between innings and rushed back to the radio.
Now things got really interesting. The Orioles had used so many players prior to and during the previous inning, they opened the tenth with an unusual defensive lineup, to say the least. As Miller dutifully informed the listeners of the changes, I moaned audibly.
Outfielder John Lowenstein was at second base. Jeez, I thought, they’d better let him take the entire infield’s allotment of warm-up throws to first base; but I discarded that notion as soon as Miller announced the new third baseman, outfielder Gary Roenicke. At least Lowenstein, a veteran of more than ten seasons, had played a little infield in the big leagues, starting seventy games at shortstop, Miller pointed out, not second. Roenicke, another veteran, had never played third base in the majors. As I listened in dismay one more surprise awaited me: utility infielder Len Sakata was making his major league debut…behind the plate! Boy, I thought, Altobelli sure managed himself into a corner. (He did that a lot and was gone the next season.)
This makeshift lineup brought to mind another late-season game a few years earlier. Again, the opponent was Toronto, but on that occasion the manager was the brilliant Earl Weaver. Getting clobbered on a cold, rainy day in Canada, and with several key games including a makeup doubleheader looming, Weaver decided to save his pitchers and outrage baseball purists in the process by bringing in reserve e catcher Elrod Hendricks for a relief stint on the mound.
Hendricks, a veteran near the end of his career who spent most of his time warming up pitchers in the bullpen and, presumably, working on his slider, did a reasonable job of halting the carnage. But in the next inning outfielder Larry Harlow took the mound for the Orioles. Harlow, a complete novice hurler as far as I could determine, possessed a rifle arm. The Blue Jays didn’t seem too impressed. They roughed him up pretty well, prompting genuine full-time pitcher Mike Flanagan to remark after the game, “This just goes to show you can’t pitch with seven years between starts.”
As I sat there now trying to visualize this current makeshift lineup I imagined some fan my age listening to the radio in Toronto and smacking his lips. I leaned forward and adjusted the dial slightly. Then I raised the volume.
The new Oriole pitcher in the top of the tenth was hard-throwing Tim Stoddard. Stoddard, a huge specimen nicknamed “Big Foot,” had played on one of North Carolina’s NCAA championship basketball teams, a fact announcers were fond of pointing out. (That they were still pointing this out years after he’d been in baseball was not an altogether encouraging commentary on his success on the diamond.) This night neither Miller nor Mawr said anything about Carolina, however.
Stoddard had been unreliable all season. Worse, he had this nasty habit of walking the first man he faced. Not this time, however. Toronto’s Cliff Johnson hit Stoddard’s first pitch over the Orioles bullpen behind the left-center field fence.
“Nice pitch, Timmy boy,” I said out loud. I reached for the dial on my radio in disgust. I cannot explain why I hesitated. I could hear the crowd booing Stoddard and, no doubt, I wanted to linger and soak in that sound. I stayed tuned in.
The next batter, Barry Bonnell, lined a single to center. “Atta boy, Timmy,” I said out loud. Two pitches, two hits, and suddenly it occurred to me that Len Sakata’s debut as a “receiver” was still on hold. I’d heard enough and, mercifully, Altobelli had seen enough. He summoned left-hander Tippy Martinez, his bullpen ace.
The Blue Jays weren’t finished yet. As soon as Martinez was announced they sent up pinch hitter Dave Collins, a speedster and switch hitter. Collins immediately shocked everyone by batting left-handed against the southpaw Martinez. Jon Miller, who called his usual brilliant game, was apparently alone among the unshocked. Collins was batting left-handed, Miller observed, to block Sakata’s view of Bonnell’s lead off first base. Miller concluded that the Blue Jays couldn’t wait to run on Sakata and were already mentally totaling up their stolen bases. Collins was defying all batting orthodoxy in order to further stack the deck against the out-manned Orioles.
Martinez, however, was not one to ruffle easily. A fascinating specimen, he was short, stocky, and very bowlegged, hardly the menacing figure of, say, Goose Gossage. But in his prime Martinez had a wicked curve and was, for a few seasons, a great reliever. Now Tippy came to the set position, glanced at Bonnell, and picked him off first base! I leaped up and pumped a clenched first in the air. Collins, meanwhile, turned around to bat right-handed, thereby confirming both Miller’s analysis and baseball tradition.
I sat down again. Collins worked Martinez for a walk. “C’mon, Tippy,” I pleaded to the radio. I imagined Martinez toeing the rubber, his bowed legs forming a wide opening. Martinez lobbed a few throws over to Eddy Murray to hold the runner. Then, he picked off Collins! Jon Miller was beside himself. “Unbelievable,” I muttered. “Unbelieeeeeeable!”
The next batter, Willie Upshaw, hit a bouncer over the mound. Lowenstein (Lowenstein!! The script could not be this good.) ranged to his right and made the pickup but had no chance to catch the fleet Upshaw. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to run to the refrigerator for another soda but thought better of it. Not enough time. Can’t miss anything.
Again Martinez threw over to first to hold the runner. Next, he came to the set position, wheeled towards first, and picked off Upshaw! Miller was going nuts on the radio. I was going nuts in Philadelphia,. The fans were going nuts in Memorial Stadium. Martinez picked off the side.
He picked off the side, I said to myself over and over. He picked off the side. I slumped back into the chair. I wondered whether anyone else was listening to this game. I looked at my watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock. I thought maybe I should call someone to let them in on this game, but I didn’t dare tear myself away from the radio.
Martinez had picked off the side, I said again. Had anyone ever done that before? I would have given anything for a peek inside the Blue Jays dugout. Miller was thinking the same thing, but regrettably the angle between the radio booth and visiting dugout at Memorial Stadium was too severe to give him a good look. But that didn’t stop him form speculating for his listening audience I, on the other hand, had no problem imagining the scene in the Orioles dugout. In this wild half inning Martinez never retired a batter (no Oriole pitcher did), got credit for an inning pitched, and, as I listened in further disbelief a few minutes later, got the win. Whatever injustices the Orioles had suffered in the past – the 1969 World Series always leaped to mind – were momentarily righted this evening.
The Orioles still trailed by a run in the bottom of the tenth, but Cal Ripken led off the inning with a home run, tying the game again. Eddie Murray was walked, not intentionally but with utmost discretion. Lowenstein followed and ground out to first, Murray taking second on the play. Shelby was walked very intentionally to set up the force.
Randy Moffit came on in relief of McLaughlin. The first batter he faced, Gary Roenicke, stuck out. Gary always struck out. Next up was “catcher” Len Sakata. Sakata, a journeyman infielder with limited range at his natural position, not much power, but apparently a lot of guts, strode to the plate and calmly hit a three-run homer to left. The game was over. Miller kept shouting, “The Orioles win! The Orioles win!” in the background. I sat motionless for a few moments, completely drained. I could not have imagined a more unlikely ending to a ballgame.
Then I felt I had to speak with someone, to share this moment with another Orioles fan. I picked up the phone and called my father in Baltimore.
One of the greatest games ever played and very few people claim they were there. As a matter of fact, few people even knew it took place.
To hear them tell it, at least two or three million people must have been in the stands at the Polo Grounds that day in 1954 when Willie Mays robbed Vic Wertz. Hundreds of thousands of fans at the very least were present in 1988 when Kirk Gibson limped around the bases at Chavez Ravine.
But no more than seven or eight thousand people, if that many, would have been at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore on a muggy night in late August, 1983, when the Orioles took on the Toronto Blue Jays in a crucial game, and few if any of those could later be identified.
This particular game has never been accorded its proper place in baseball lore. By any standards, it was a genuine classic possessing all the necessary ingredients to qualify for such stature; a dramatic, bizarre and ultimately crucial regular-season game in the midst of a tight pennant race.
I wasn’t there that night either, having moved from Baltimore years earlier, but I listened to the Orioles on the radio, as was my habit, and talked baseball with my Dad often. I hadn’t listened to my normal quota of broadcasts that year owing to other commitments, but returning home in Philadelphia late one evening I tuned in the finale of this key three-game set.
The pennant race was heating up and I felt certain that my listening to this game would help the Orioles chances. Radio, with its reliance on mental images, inspires a unique set of superstitions.
At the time the Orioles were in first place but only three and a half games separated the top five teams in the division. I was worried about the Orioles fortunes. The night before they had been shellacked at home, 9-3, losing for the second times in as many games. Worse, they lost in the same sloppy fashion that characterized much of their play that summer. By late August the Orioles had already swooned through two seven-game losing streaks. Now matters threatened to deteriorate further. Injuries to several pitchers, a season-long lack of clutch hitting, and persistent problems at third base were conspiring to undo the O’s.
With the exception of their powerful teams of late ‘60’s and early ‘70’s, the Orioles always struggled for their base hits, but pitching and third base were the hallmarks of the franchise. The ’83 edition of the club was loaded with veteran players who had been through numerous pennant races, but I had begun to doubt whether this team could hold onto its lead or put together one of those patented September finishes of the great Orioles teams of the past.
As I tuned in the game the Blue Jays had just made their last out in the top of the ninth. The Orioles Scott MacGregor had gone the distance allowing three runs on eight hits, but his Toronto counterpart, Jim Clancy, had been better, limiting the Birds to just one run on two hits. I had no other information on what had transpired up to that point, but I am unlikely to forget what happened next.
John Lowenstein led off the bottom of the ninth for the Orioles and flied out. Rookie John Shelby followed. Shelby had been struggling through a terrible “two for August” slump according to Oriole announcers Jon Miller and Tom Mawr. Miller went on to say that in desperation Shelby had taken extra bunting practice before the game. Apparently, Shelby was going to get on base by any means. And he did, beating out a bunt single without drawing a throw. Nice bit of commentary, Jon, I said to myself.
Next up, Gary Roenicke, who had good power, pinch-hit for light-hitting Rich Dauer. Roenicke struck out. Len Sakata, another pinch hitter, drew a walk. Catcher Joe Nolan, a left-handed batter, was due up next. Earlier, Nolan had replaced starting catcher Rick Dempsey. Now the managerial wheels began turning furiously in both dugouts. Left hander Jay Geisel was summoned to relieve Clancy.
Down to his last out, Oriole manager Joe Altobelli countered Toronto’s pitching change with right-handed batter Benny Ayala. With both Dempsey and Nolan now gone, Jon Miller began speculating who would catch for the Orioles if the game were to go into extra innings. Good announcers, like good managers, should always be thinking an inning or two ahead.
Ayala singled up the middle scoring Shelby and cutting Toronto’s lead to one run. Al Bumbry, a left-handed batter, was due up next, and because no other right-handed batters were available (Tod Cruz and Ken Singleton had already been spent apparently), Bumbry batted, as they say, “for himself.”
Bumbry singled off the third baseman’s glove scoring Sakata and tying the game. Benny Ayala took third base on the play. His lead gone, Toronto manager Bobby Cox brought in Joey McLaughlin to replace Geisel. Bumbry promptly stole second base to stay out of an inning-end force. The Blue Jays, for their part, ignored Bumbry, only being concerned with Ayala, the potential winning run. Dan Ford resolved all this strategy by meekly striking out to end the inning. A reprieve granted, I got something to drink between innings and rushed back to the radio.
Now things got really interesting. The Orioles had used so many players prior to and during the previous inning, they opened the tenth with an unusual defensive lineup, to say the least. As Miller dutifully informed the listeners of the changes, I moaned audibly.
Outfielder John Lowenstein was at second base. Jeez, I thought, they’d better let him take the entire infield’s allotment of warm-up throws to first base; but I discarded that notion as soon as Miller announced the new third baseman, outfielder Gary Roenicke. At least Lowenstein, a veteran of more than ten seasons, had played a little infield in the big leagues, starting seventy games at shortstop, Miller pointed out, not second. Roenicke, another veteran, had never played third base in the majors. As I listened in dismay one more surprise awaited me: utility infielder Len Sakata was making his major league debut…behind the plate! Boy, I thought, Altobelli sure managed himself into a corner. (He did that a lot and was gone the next season.)
This makeshift lineup brought to mind another late-season game a few years earlier. Again, the opponent was Toronto, but on that occasion the manager was the brilliant Earl Weaver. Getting clobbered on a cold, rainy day in Canada, and with several key games including a makeup doubleheader looming, Weaver decided to save his pitchers and outrage baseball purists in the process by bringing in reserve e catcher Elrod Hendricks for a relief stint on the mound.
Hendricks, a veteran near the end of his career who spent most of his time warming up pitchers in the bullpen and, presumably, working on his slider, did a reasonable job of halting the carnage. But in the next inning outfielder Larry Harlow took the mound for the Orioles. Harlow, a complete novice hurler as far as I could determine, possessed a rifle arm. The Blue Jays didn’t seem too impressed. They roughed him up pretty well, prompting genuine full-time pitcher Mike Flanagan to remark after the game, “This just goes to show you can’t pitch with seven years between starts.”
As I sat there now trying to visualize this current makeshift lineup I imagined some fan my age listening to the radio in Toronto and smacking his lips. I leaned forward and adjusted the dial slightly. Then I raised the volume.
The new Oriole pitcher in the top of the tenth was hard-throwing Tim Stoddard. Stoddard, a huge specimen nicknamed “Big Foot,” had played on one of North Carolina’s NCAA championship basketball teams, a fact announcers were fond of pointing out. (That they were still pointing this out years after he’d been in baseball was not an altogether encouraging commentary on his success on the diamond.) This night neither Miller nor Mawr said anything about Carolina, however.
Stoddard had been unreliable all season. Worse, he had this nasty habit of walking the first man he faced. Not this time, however. Toronto’s Cliff Johnson hit Stoddard’s first pitch over the Orioles bullpen behind the left-center field fence.
“Nice pitch, Timmy boy,” I said out loud. I reached for the dial on my radio in disgust. I cannot explain why I hesitated. I could hear the crowd booing Stoddard and, no doubt, I wanted to linger and soak in that sound. I stayed tuned in.
The next batter, Barry Bonnell, lined a single to center. “Atta boy, Timmy,” I said out loud. Two pitches, two hits, and suddenly it occurred to me that Len Sakata’s debut as a “receiver” was still on hold. I’d heard enough and, mercifully, Altobelli had seen enough. He summoned left-hander Tippy Martinez, his bullpen ace.
The Blue Jays weren’t finished yet. As soon as Martinez was announced they sent up pinch hitter Dave Collins, a speedster and switch hitter. Collins immediately shocked everyone by batting left-handed against the southpaw Martinez. Jon Miller, who called his usual brilliant game, was apparently alone among the unshocked. Collins was batting left-handed, Miller observed, to block Sakata’s view of Bonnell’s lead off first base. Miller concluded that the Blue Jays couldn’t wait to run on Sakata and were already mentally totaling up their stolen bases. Collins was defying all batting orthodoxy in order to further stack the deck against the out-manned Orioles.
Martinez, however, was not one to ruffle easily. A fascinating specimen, he was short, stocky, and very bowlegged, hardly the menacing figure of, say, Goose Gossage. But in his prime Martinez had a wicked curve and was, for a few seasons, a great reliever. Now Tippy came to the set position, glanced at Bonnell, and picked him off first base! I leaped up and pumped a clenched first in the air. Collins, meanwhile, turned around to bat right-handed, thereby confirming both Miller’s analysis and baseball tradition.
I sat down again. Collins worked Martinez for a walk. “C’mon, Tippy,” I pleaded to the radio. I imagined Martinez toeing the rubber, his bowed legs forming a wide opening. Martinez lobbed a few throws over to Eddy Murray to hold the runner. Then, he picked off Collins! Jon Miller was beside himself. “Unbelievable,” I muttered. “Unbelieeeeeeable!”
The next batter, Willie Upshaw, hit a bouncer over the mound. Lowenstein (Lowenstein!! The script could not be this good.) ranged to his right and made the pickup but had no chance to catch the fleet Upshaw. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to run to the refrigerator for another soda but thought better of it. Not enough time. Can’t miss anything.
Again Martinez threw over to first to hold the runner. Next, he came to the set position, wheeled towards first, and picked off Upshaw! Miller was going nuts on the radio. I was going nuts in Philadelphia,. The fans were going nuts in Memorial Stadium. Martinez picked off the side.
He picked off the side, I said to myself over and over. He picked off the side. I slumped back into the chair. I wondered whether anyone else was listening to this game. I looked at my watch. It was nearly eleven o’clock. I thought maybe I should call someone to let them in on this game, but I didn’t dare tear myself away from the radio.
Martinez had picked off the side, I said again. Had anyone ever done that before? I would have given anything for a peek inside the Blue Jays dugout. Miller was thinking the same thing, but regrettably the angle between the radio booth and visiting dugout at Memorial Stadium was too severe to give him a good look. But that didn’t stop him form speculating for his listening audience I, on the other hand, had no problem imagining the scene in the Orioles dugout. In this wild half inning Martinez never retired a batter (no Oriole pitcher did), got credit for an inning pitched, and, as I listened in further disbelief a few minutes later, got the win. Whatever injustices the Orioles had suffered in the past – the 1969 World Series always leaped to mind – were momentarily righted this evening.
The Orioles still trailed by a run in the bottom of the tenth, but Cal Ripken led off the inning with a home run, tying the game again. Eddie Murray was walked, not intentionally but with utmost discretion. Lowenstein followed and ground out to first, Murray taking second on the play. Shelby was walked very intentionally to set up the force.
Randy Moffit came on in relief of McLaughlin. The first batter he faced, Gary Roenicke, stuck out. Gary always struck out. Next up was “catcher” Len Sakata. Sakata, a journeyman infielder with limited range at his natural position, not much power, but apparently a lot of guts, strode to the plate and calmly hit a three-run homer to left. The game was over. Miller kept shouting, “The Orioles win! The Orioles win!” in the background. I sat motionless for a few moments, completely drained. I could not have imagined a more unlikely ending to a ballgame.
Then I felt I had to speak with someone, to share this moment with another Orioles fan. I picked up the phone and called my father in Baltimore.
posted by Tom Goodman at 1:55 PM
45 Comments:
Just found your article after googling "Len Sakata". As a 4th Generation Japanese American and a die hard O's fan - I've always had a sort of weird fascination with Sakata. Your story just reinforced for me what the Orioles are all about. Never say die. Here's hoping for this season. BYF Baltimore, MD.
As a Japanese American and life long Orioles fan, I wondered if anyone else remembered ole' Len. I wonder if he was the first player of Japanese ancestry to play in the Majors? I am also a native of Hawaii where Len is also from. It's weird being originally from Hawaii and an Orioles fan. However, I now live in Maryland and can go to the games. Hurray!!!!
Just finished watching an old O's video, " Miracle on 33rd Street". Thanks for the great details of this story. I was 19 at the time and a life-long Os fan (still am). That night, I was playing ping pong in my best friend's basement. We were so excited about tying the game, that we didn't think about the ramifications until Miller started rattling off the changes. After the second pick off, we stopped playing to listen. When the third Bluejay reached, we looked at each other, not daring to say, "Think he can do it again?", out loud. We went crazy when Tippy did it. I honestly don't remember the Ripken HR to tie the game, but when Sakata hit his HR, I remember that my friend & I woke up the house! I can't believe this game isn't on every "greatest game" list --This is the ONE & ONLY time picking off the side has happened in the ENTIRE HISTORY of the game for Pete's sake!! Add in Sakata's HR --what more could you ask for?!
Brian Miksa
I remember as a kid watching the highlights from this game on "This Week in Baseball." For some reason tonight, while watching the playoffs, the image of Len Sakata catching to my head. I also remember the pickoffs, but didn't remember there were 3 of them. Thanks for all the great details. It brought back many good memories from yesteryear.
By dumb luck I came across this article when I googled "MacGregor" the other day. You did a great job of documenting this game! Or, should I say this "event" because in my memory it transcended any definition of "game." I can't tell you how many times since I've caused my family and friends to suffer thru lost causes, because on that one night, Tippy & Co. proved to me that a fan should ALWAYS stick it out because you may be treated to just about anything for your loyalty. The only thing I have to call you on, was your statement that "no more than seven or eight thousand people" were witnesses. Let me tell you, there were about a hundred of us left when Lenny curved that fly just inside the left field pole. At any rate, you made my day with your recount. I think I'll frame a copy...Glenn Roche', Baltimore
I was an 11 year old at that game with my dad and a friend we were 3 of the very few who stayed till the end. It was a great time to be an O's fan. The image burned in my mind from that game is that of the Jay left fielder beginning his degected walk to his dugout the instant the ball left Sakata's bat. There was never
any doubt. Tippy's post game interview on the radio was pretty funny too.
A friend has just directed me to this story because he knew I was in Municipal Stadium that night. When I recently told him my tale of witnessing Tippy's triple pickoff, I couldn't provide many details (being a Baltimore-visiting young hooligan from New Jersey perched far up in the upper deck behind 3rd base, I was more intently focused on the beer and the comraderie of the evening...your mention of Lowenstein at 2nd base definitely jogged a long-lost thought). One of his questions concerned who was catching because he lived in the DC-Baltimore area at that time, recalled hearing of the game and knew some great details were being let out. My inability to answer prompted his web search, the results of which he shared with me. Thanks for a great write up and now my "I was there" moment can be better shared in future tellings. Sorry to say, I can't remember if I stayed to the game's end, but at least now I can fake it.
Fantastic! I too was listening to the radio that evening.
Martinez picks off the side! Martinez picks off the side!
p.s. Stoddard won his NCAA Basketball Championship with N.C. State. He played with David Thompson, Tom Burleson and Monte Towe.
We were teenagers hanging out at Longmeadow Bowl in Hagerstown and one of my friends always brought along his transistor radio to listen to the Birds. I remember this game like it was yesterday and would like to thank-you for filling in all the forgotten details like my main man Rhino (Gary Roenicke) striking out twice in the last two innings. I remember the Orioles tying the game in the 9th, all the crazy defensive changes in the 10th and winning it on Sakata's HR. After all these years, I had forgotten that Stoddard had given up the lead in the top of the 10th. Thanks again
Kenny Cross
Hagerstown, MD
Doubt you still check the comments on a 2004 post, but in case you do, I just wanted to say thanks. I really was at that game--age 16, sitting in the mezzanine, and after all those pinch hits my friend and I were giddy about who would be playing what position. I always tell this story as the greatest game I ever saw, but I didn't remember (or didn't even notice) that great detail about Dave Collins hitting lefty. Thanks! Tom
The comments are automatically forwarded to me no matter how old the post so I am of course delighted to know people who were at this game still remember it and can relive the incredible excitement here. Thanks to you all, too.
I was there to the end, age 12, although I wouldn't have had any idea how out-of-the-norm the game was, if weren't for my 16 year old older brother's giddiness. He, it seems, has beaten me to the commenting punch. Thanks for making me feel lucky to have been there! --Elinor
Twelve years of age was certainly old enough to know something unusual was happening! It gives me great pleasure to hear from those of you who were there and recall the game. Of course, for me rooting for the Orioles was also a matter of personal history between my father and me. I was six years old when the Orioles arrived in town and during my early years my father regaled me with tales of the minor league Oriole teams of his youth.
Thanks for the detailed account of this amazing game. Back in 1983, (17 at the time) my dad and his best friend took their sons to this Oriole game as we were vacationing in Maryland with family. We're Yankee fans and my dad's friend is an Oriole fan, but we went as baseball fans that night. People still don't believe me when I tell them about this game.
This past weekend my dad again went to an Orioles game (his first Oriole game since this one in 1983) with his best friend and one of his sons, and they were reminiscing about this game. He called me the other day to ask if I remembered who they played (they thought it was the Yankees). Since I still have the program and ticket stub from that game, I was able to tell him it was the Blue Jays. I had forgotten some of those details so I appreciate the account of the last two innings. Strangely enough, when I met my brother-in-law for the 1st time several years ago, we talked a bit of baseball and about games we been to, and I found out he was huge Oriole fan and was at that game with his father too!
It never ceases to amaze me how many people recall this game. I'd love to know what key words in a search bring up this link. I'm sure Len Sakata always yields a link here. Thanks for your comment.
A few years late, but I was there. Upper deck, first base side. I though the third pickoff was a balk, but I wasn't complaining! It was Rip's birthday, which made his homer in the 10 even better. I figured Sakata had no desire to catch any more, so he hit it out. It was right down the left field line, just barely over that short, but high wall. I kept score, I hope that I come across those papers someday! After that game, I knew the Jays were cooked, and the O's were on their way.
Tippy's move could be suspect on occasion but with the zeitgeist in the ballpark that night no ump was going to call a balk at that juncture of the game.
as a thirteen-year-old Toronto kid listening to this game in my bedroom that night, i can provide the other side of emotions for this tale. i sat there, practically crying, as this was the summer when the Jays seemed to cough up 50% of the games they were leading going into the 8th and 9th innings... mclaughlin, moffit, roy lee jackson, geisel... ach it's painful just to think about it. anyway, yes i sat there drooling when i heard on the radio who was going to be at second and who was catching (the sakata link got me to this story, btw) and i had tears in my eyes by the time sakata hit his home run, which, if my family's feelings were a barometer, was fully expected by most jays fans by that point, given the weirdness of the whole game. i think we probably laughed (through my tears, natch) and went to bed... btw, after i read your article, i phoned my brother and he pretty much laid it out player-for-player as you did. it seems these kinds of things aren't erased from the blue jays' fans' minds...
Jamie: How terrific to hear from "the other side". If it is any consolation, I have lived in Philadelphia for many years now and can assure you fans there haven't forgotten Joe Carter.
From the "better late than never" department...
I remember listening to that game on the radio. I remember my sheer sense of amazement when Altobelli sent his makeshift infield out onto the field. And I remember savoring the pickoffs and Sakata's home run to cap it all off.
A few friends of mine and I went to Ocean City, MD the weekend after the game. Despite fine weather the call of the beach, we all chose to stay in our hotel room on Saturday long enough to catch This Week in Baseball. We *knew* that those pickoffs had to be in the week's highlights, we wanted to see them, and we weren't disappointed.
Truly a game where an entire inning deserves to go on a highlight reel!
I also loved Tippy's post-game comments, particularly the one that went something like, "I kept throwing over to Eddie [Murray] 'cause he was the only person in the infield I recognized." Hope someone who has the exact quote will post it.
I love the Tippy quote! Never heard it before. It is hilarious and true. Thanks.
I remember listening to this on the radio in Toronto and being completely stunned at the result. Then I broke into uncontrollable laughter for about 15 minutes because it seemed like such a fitting ending to the game.
Toronto's CFL football team spent 30 years finding ways to lose that made this seem normal. I knew then the city was cursed.
How nice to hear from someone in Toronto lo these many years.
I was 9. I heard the game at my Uncle's house. We were listening to it outside when he was fixing his VW bug. I will never forget it. Honestly, during one of the World Series games the other night, I was telling my wife about it.
Another radio listener here- WTOP-1500 in Washington. All the games were not televised like today I guess. Something made me think of this game, so I Googled "Tippy Martinez picks off the side".
Right after the third pickoff, the phone rang and a friend and fellow O's fan was on the other end saying, "Are you listening to this?! Do you believe it?!". We had a great time marveling at what had just happened, before getting back to the rest of the game.
This is one game that I did not see that will always stand out in my memory. Great to find your article to fill in the details.
It pleases me no end there are so many fans out there who recall this game. Twenty-five years later (yikes! can it be that long??!!) it remains vivid. Thanks for your comments.
Sorry, but it wqas not Miller going nuts on the radio. I have heard that game over and over (I have a tape of it), and I can assure you that the annoucner calling the action was Tom Marr. it was not Jon Miller. Marr was often criticized early in his baseball broadcasting career, but on that night--just like the O's--he was as good as they come. To this day, it's still one of my favorite highlights in all of O's history.
I'd love to hear the tape if you'd be willing to make a copy, not because I don't believe you but because I'd just love to hear it. I know Miller called some of the game because, of course, no announcers did the entire game and Miller's comments about Shelby's having taken "bunting" practice, etc.. were pure Miller.
Thanks Tom for that wonderful description of the greatest game I have ever heard. I listened to the game at home on the radio with a friend. I had the same reaction you did, it was THE most exciting game in Orioles history and perhaps any team's. Not a world series or playoff game, just a regular game in August on a team destined for a world championship. Thanks again for putting this on the internet.
Mark
Mark: You are welcome. I love hearing from people who heard this game.
Good recap of that night, but one slight error on your part. Jon Miller wasn't the announcer calling that magical 10th inning, it was his broadcast partner Tom Marr who did the play-by-play that inning, the 3 pickoffs and the Sakata HR("Martinez to Murray ONCE"...that was Marr). Would love to get those highlights YouTubed...
At least two commentors have now pointed out it was Tom Marr not Jon Miller who called the tenth, but I distinctly remember at least some of the commentary, e.g. Shelby and bunting practice, being made my Miller. I am ready to stand corrected but wonder if audio of that game exits. I assume Youtube does not but will look. Thanks to all who comment.
Miller might have offerred some anecdotal info in between plays that inning (kind of like how a color commentator does), but the one going nuts doing the play-by-play that inning was Marr, no doubt about it. The O's flagship routinely plays the highlights and it's also played at the new Sports Legends Museum in Bmore near OPACY, so it's definitly somewhere.
Fantastic. Thanks. I've got to go hear that.
Here's part of the highlight reel (link below--takes a minute or so). Although Chuck Thompson is the one "narrating", it's Marr's voice you hear doing the play-by-play saying: "Another throw to first and they GOT HIM..!!! http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x57kwq_82483oriolesbluejaystippy_sport
http://www.dailymotion.com/gatecitycanes/video/x57kwq_82483oriolesbluejaystippy_sport
Thanks so much. I never saw anything of the game...it was always a radio broadcast for me until today.
I have most of the 10th inning it on audio tape. If I can ever figure a way out to convert it to mp3, I'll e-mail it to you.
I was in Toronto visiting family and watched this game on Canadian television. Sakata looked like a little leaguer in the catching gear.
I was there: 17 years of age and sitting in lower reserved on the first base side, keeping score on a sheet of graph paper - for a while! I'd gone with a few friends; we caught a bus from Columbia and of course, stayed for the whole thing.
A few details you may not know:
Bobby Cox did come out to argue after Upshaw's pickoff. I had no idea what his basis was; he kept pointing at the bag, and I think he was trying to say that Murray didn't have his foot on it. The entire section was screaming, "Get back in the dugout!", so it was hard to figure...
Lowenstein actually made a great play on the ball up the middle, ranging far into the hole behind the mound. He was still heading away from first when he wheeled to make the throw - to my eye, he had a chance to nail Upshaw, but Eddie Murray immediately leaped off the bag into the infield, waving his hands in the air and shouting, "NO!! NO THROW!!"
Sakata's HR, as best I could tell, hit a seat in the first row of the left field bleachers and bounced back into play. I was still screaming at Lenny to get it in gear when I realized that the Jays' left fielder - I think it may have been Bonnell - wasn't playing the ball. I think it may have been at that point I lost my voice completely... :-)
Finally, we had this blond-haried kid a row or two in front of us...he had on a Blue Jays cap, jacket, jersey (I think; we only saw him from behind), and two blue and white pom-poms on sticks. Must've been, oh, eleven or so years old. It was unusual, because the Jays were still a new franchise then. He cheered like crazy for the Jays all through the game, and he and the whole Jays dugout erupted when Johnson homered in the tenth, and Johnson himself showboated around the bases - far too much, I thought.
As we were leaving, I looked back at the section, which was littered with thrown beer cups and such...and the only one left was that kid, pom-poms limply at his sides, staring out at the field, absolutely unable to believe what he'd just seen...
But hey, that's Orioles Magic!
Thanks for all of those details, none of which I knew.
Don't know if anybody's still reading this post or any of these comments, but if you are...
Another great quote from the postgame came from John Lowenstein, who I guess was asked if he could have been behind the plate and, in typical Lowenstein fashion, said something along the lines of, "I have caught enough to know that, in an emergency, I cannot catch."
And thanks for the great article. Listening to that game with my brother when we were 8 and 10 years old and it was way past our bedtime remains a defining moment of my childhood. And it certain made an impression on Jon Miller--he brought it up a couple weeks ago on the Sunday-night game, on the 25th anniversary of the game.
More than four years after I originally posted this commenters such as yourselves continue to find it. The number of people who recall the game in one fashion or another and have added their insights, comments and anecdotes remains very gratifying.
I remember that game just as you posted it. I remember the details so clearly. It was Cal Ripken's birthday. I was talking about it the other day. My son thought that I was making up some of it so he checked it out. He sent me this post. I was on vacation in Kitty Hawk, NC and was listening to the game on WTOP. Your last sentence rang so true. The game was over and I picked up the phone and called my mother in Baltimore. It was quite late but she was up just as breathless as I was. That game still makes me happy. I have an old audio recording of it. This post spurred me to try to digitize it.
drlhertz: thanks for your comments. The call to my father was so much a part of my experience of the game and memory of it.
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