That Night in '75

Memories of my first World Series

By Andrew Tarica

There’s no denying it: I’m a baseball addict.

I attend Spring Training in Florida each March, and I plan my life around the 162-game regular season. In the past I’ve even worked for Major League Baseball, spending 16 hours each day, writing, editing and talking about baseball.

I’ll drop pretty much everything at any time to watch any team. Like last August when I was in San Francisco, you might’ve seen me sitting in the right-field bleachers, watching the Giants play the Washington Nationals and drinking a cold Lagunitas, the smell of peanuts and garlic fries wafting through the salty air.

Hey, what can I say? The Giants aren’t my team but their ballpark by the Bay is one of baseball’s true gems and, after all, they are the defending World Series champs. There’s something special and enduring about the Fall Classic, plus it takes me back to my very first time …

It was October 1975. I was in third grade, a veteran of one season of Little League, and the Red Sox of Boston were playing the Reds of Cincinnati, the famed Big Red Machine. The Reds stood one game from their first championship in decades as the teams prepared to play Game 6 on a chilly night in New England.

My Dad and I were watching that game together in our home on Long Island. Back then I was small enough that I could sit with him in his big chair, snuggling up between his ribs and the arm rest, father and son sharing their first World Series together.

The action started early:  On the mound for Boston was a pitcher from Cuba -- Where’s that? I wondered -- with a bushy mustache and a kamikaze motion, in which he wheeled his portly body around so that his back was completely turned to the batter before he fired a fastball.

With Luis Tiant pitching, the Red Sox took a 3-0 lead in the first inning on a home run by star rookie Fred Lynn. Four innings later, Cincinnati’s Ken Griffey belted a shot to deep center field that sent Lynn crashing into the wall. The ball skirted free and the Reds tied the score.

It was getting late, though, way past my bedtime and my Mom ran a tight ship. We heard her footsteps at the back of the house, which led to my bedroom, where she realized I was not.  The footsteps got louder and faster as she stormed toward the den, the sense of doom was palpable.

“Uh-oh,” I said to my Dad.

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I think I can handle this.”

My Mom blew into the small den, guns blazing.  “Why isn’t Andy in bed?!!” she screamed. “It’s a school night!!!”  But my Dad was ready with an answer, one that would change my life.

“Carol,” he said, clutching me tighter and holding his hand out to her in a manner that said back it up. “This is an incredible game. I think it’s OK if he stays up this one time. He’s going to remember what happens tonight more than school tomorrow.”

There was a brief exchange, a little back and forth between my 30-something parents, but in the end my Mom miraculously let me stay up. I settled back into my spot in the chair. The game continued on and went into extra innings, inching toward midnight on the East Coast.

There was high drama with clutch hits and game-saving plays in the field. Finally, in the bottom of the 12th inning, Boston catcher Carlton Fisk hit a home run that struck the foul pole alongside Fenway Park’s Green Monster to win it for the Red Sox and force a decisive Game 7. Television cameras famously caught Fisk running up the first-base line and waving the ball into fair territory, an iconic image that’s been replayed thousands of times as one of baseball’s greatest moments.  
The next morning, energized by what I had just seen, I ran to school and was happy to learn that I was the only one among my friends who had seen Fisk’s home run. Suckers, I thought. Sorry about that 8pm bedtime, guys, better luck next year!

What did I learn that day in class? What did I learn that year in class? I think I wrote a report on frogs, but who really knows? I do know that on that October night in 1975, while I might not have understood my parents’ dynamic, I learned about being devoted to something, and I found my true love, baseball.