LET’S do launch.
The MLB Network debuts New Year’s Day with brilliance: NBC’s telecast of Don Larsen’s 1956 World Series perfect game (hope I didn’t ruin the ending for ya!), starting with the top of the second, through the last out, all that’s known to exist.
The network’s first pitch is at 6 p.m., followed, at seven, by Larsen’s immaculate day in the “Cathedral of Baseball,” now awaiting destruction.
MLBN provided us the game-only DVD before it weaved in the observations and recollections of the Yanks’ battery on Oct. 8, 1956, Larsen and Yogi Berra. Larsen, until last week, had never seen much more than what most of us have – a clip of Brooklyn’s 27th out.
And, seeing how MLBN is cleared on most systems – memo to NFL Network: if you give cable a conflict-of-interest piece of the action you can clear the Foot Fungus Channel – I think you’ll be fascinated.
For starters, although it stands to reason that a 7 1/2-inning telecast of 2-0 perfect game would zip by, the game is played at such a quick, steady pace, it’s as if two other teams were waiting to use the field.
Larsen and Sal Maglie throw, Berra and Roy Campanella throw it back. Repeat. There are no out-of- the-batter’s-box/step-off-the-rubber routines to suffer. (The entire game ran 2:06).
In fact, only when Jackie Robinson, leading off the eighth, needs assistance to remove a spec – perhaps – that flew – perhaps – into his eye, is there reason to suspect a stall to break Larsen’s pace. That suspicion inspired the only boos heard from any of the 65,000 in the house that Monday afternoon.
Of some note is that a Maglie pitch thrown high and tight produced no response from the home crowd. Perhaps it was recognized as no big deal, especially as thrown by “Sal the Barber,” so named for inside trading.
Today? Such a pitch in such a game would ignite instant group outrage, perhaps followed by a vulgar chant.
Crowd shots – those shown other than when the cameras chased the ball – are so infrequent that one is led to believe that spectators back then were meant to be heard and not seen. Then again, there was little time to kill between pitches.
And when the crowd is shown, men are mostly dressed in, ahem, business attire, lots of sports coats and ties. But it’s an early afternoon in early October; its not Oct. 30, 11 p.m. And if anyone chose to display his bare chest or wear a starved-for-attention costume, it’s unlikely he would have been noticed by an NBC cameraman, let alone rewarded by one.
Gratefully, MLBN left the commercials as they appeared 52 years ago. And they appeared incredibly geeky – and fabulous for just that. Most were for Gillette and nearly all featured players and/or managers Birdie Tebbetts, Johnny Logan, Casey Stengel, Jerry Coleman – getting that close, close, really close shave.
I had been under the impression that Elston Howard (and family), appearing in a Gulden’s mustard commercial on WPIX’s Yankee telecasts in the early 1960s, was the first black athlete to appear here in TV ads. But Campanella and Don Newcombe are in those Gillette ads. (Howard is seen taking warm-up pitches from Larsen, then handing Berra the mitt.)
Throughout the telecast, Gillette pitches a deal: A razor, blades and a mini Baseball Encyclopedia – for $1. Not bad.
The telecast has so few graphics that the primal ones that do appear – “Duke Snider” and cut-out head-shot photos remind us that weeds grow easier than grass.
Mickey Mantle’s long fourth-inning homer – no posing, no curtain call – did not trigger a database loaded with graphics as to where he stood on the “All-Time Postseason” list for homers, extra-base hits, slugging percentage, base hits, total bases, RBIs, runs scored and left-handed batting average with a 2-2 count in day games.
The announcers? Mel Allen, the Yanks’ guy, started. Vin Scully, the Dodgers’ guy who would soon turn 29 – postgame, Allen twice called him “Vinnie” – finished. No one else. Both kept it pleasant and short, limiting analysis to things such as noting Hank Bauer’s speed should there be a bunt.
The only “intrusion” was Allen’s brief interview with Carl Hubbell, and that began before the fourth inning started. There wasn’t even a network promo. Neither Allen nor Scully had to divide focus to dish with a “Dancing With The Stars” contestant, or dance with “Desperate Housewives” dish.
And yet, the telecast often seemed neo-illogical, frustrating. No shot of Larsen in the dugout. Having provided few crowd shots, NBC cut to one as Larsen left the field at game’s end. Noooo!
In 1956, there were no replays. The Dodgers hit several shots – Mantle robbed Gil Hodges, Snider and Sandy Amoros hit near-homers – that begged for another look.
Yep, by modern standards the ’56 telecast was much better, far worse, and thoroughly fascinating.
In the brief postgame, Allen and Scully were applying historical significance when Allen interrupted himself: “We just heard an announcement over the p.a. system – Vin and I don’t bother about keeping total pitches – but he only threw 97 pitches.” Hmmm.
That was it from Yankee Stadium that day, when Don Larsen looked as if he could go another two or three, and when Yankee Stadium, as always, looked as if would outlast the Acropolis. Don’t miss this.