Scorers Were Right Not to Give Bumgarner the Win

10/30/2014

Bob Gibson

Randy Johnson

What a treat to watch Madison Bumgarner.

He did not need the third victory in the Series; saving the championship was quite spectacular enough. Whatever convoluted process the official scorers went through, they got it right by eventually giving the victory to Jeremy Affeldt, who pitched well and was the reliever of record when the Giants went ahead. No sentimental decisions necessary.

I covered Bob Gibson and Randy Johnson when they pitched in October, on little rest. I could see up close how exhausted they were. Bumgarner seemed to have more left. It's nice being 25.

Gibson extended himself at the end of the 1964 season -- no playoff rounds then -- but look what he did: eight straight complete games, then an eight-inning victory, an eight-inning loss and a four-inning relief victory over the terrorizing little Mets on the final day, to win the pennant.

I can still see him on the stairs in the old Busch Stadium clubhouse. When somebody asked how his arm felt, he shouted: "Horseshit!"

Somebody asked Johnny Keane, the manager, why he had stuck with Gibson from the day he became manager through the turgid final week of the season.

Keane replied: "I had a commitment to his heart."

It remains one of the most beautiful things I ever heard a manager say about a player.

Then Gibson beat the Yankees in the Series. These days, baseball burns its best pitchers with all these post-season series. Bumgarner just kept going. There is a moral in there somewhere, about allowing great pitchers to pitch. For now, what a privilege to watch him pitch.

15 Comments

Ed Martin

10/30/2014 04:38:02 am

In 1946 the Cards little left hander, Harry "The Cat" Brecheen. Won 3 games in The Cards' victory over the Red Sox
He won two complete game starts and pitched two more innings in game 7
ERA - 0, 45, one run in 20 innings

Did not hear him mentioned on air.
GREAT JOB BY BUMGARTEN.

Ed Martin

10/30/2014 06:29:22 am

Bumgarner, E-1.

Big Al

10/30/2014 11:27:30 am

In game 7 of the 64 Series, Mantle hit a ball that is still traveling. That was a mere fifty years ago and I remember .the game vividly. Gibson was tired and fading. Bumgarner was more impressive. He had another three innings in him if needed. His performance evoked Koufax, the gold .standard. While we're at it, let's not forget that Whitey didn't give up a run for three years in the Series. He didn't need the baleful stare and didn't need to hit people like Gibson. I loved Bumgarner's attitude and cool. It was like. he was pitching against the Mets at Citifield in August with nothing at stake and nobody in the stands.

George Vecsey

10/30/2014 12:30:03 pm

Al, great to hear from a former pitcher, all right, maybe not in the bigs.
You're right...When Ken Rosenthal asked Bumgarner if he was tired, Bumgarner very politely and calmly said, and I paraphrase, "Not right now. We just won the World Series. Maybe tomorrow." Very cool dude.

Were you that calm when you beat Jamaica at Alley Pond Park?

GV

Big Al

10/30/2014 12:56:57 pm

I pitched so long ago that I'm not sure it was really me. Some skinny guy who looked.like me once pitched 12 innings and threw perhaps 200 pitches. I wasn't. scared, just tired. My coach's idea of a pitch count was the number of pitches an arm could throw.

I checked Gibson's line in game 7 in 1964: 5 runs, 9 hits including yielding 3 homers. It's one thing to give up the Mick's 18th Series homer, still and likely always a record, but Clete Boyer and Phil Linz?

George Vecsey

10/30/2014 02:16:02 pm

The alternative was Barney Schultz....can you imagine Gibson leaving for that?

GV

Big Al

10/30/2014 02:25:43 pm

Good point; Barney wasn't exactly Wilhelm.

Brian Savin

10/31/2014 02:26:55 pm

George,
I agree it was a terrific game, with players who match up to historic standards, as you well point out. Too bad these games go late night. It's a mistake. I'm told this series was out-polled in some markets by sit-com reruns. I'd love to see a courage of conviction to play these games in daylight so kids could catch the last few innings when they rush home from school and can talk about them after a good night's sleep. Let our world stop for our historic sport, and let our citizens talk about it with one anther in real time on our streets, checking smart phone scores and stats. God bless baseball! Congratulations to two wonderful teams. (Wait 'till next year!)

George Vecsey

11/1/2014 02:11:28 am

Brian, thanks. I am already in withdrawal -- am going to miss the All-Blacks vs American Eagles rugby from Chicago today (Saturday) because of a social run in Manhattan. Then there is soccer...

The commercials were so long in the late-late show that I got to see parts of The Music Man and The Unforgiven, two favorite movies, two different nights.

MLB has systematically tuned out the younger generation for decades. It comes around....

best
GV

Brian Savin

11/2/2014 02:13:50 am

I loved every moment of the All Blacks' shellacking 73-6 of our brave Eagles, every one of whom I suspect loved their chosen sport even more after being on the field, and respected, by the greatest sports team in the world. What a sport! What gentlemen!

Our football is a crass devolution from rugby. To see unarmed human bodies tackle unarmed human bodies, one would think, would give our football governors the epiphany that clubs cobbled into forms called "helmets" and hard "shoulder pads" cause and promote concussions and serious injuries and calling them "protective gear" is downright criminal.

George Vecsey

11/2/2014 04:25:44 am

Brian, we had a friend in Wales who introduced us to the life of the fan...the great clubs from this valley or that valley.
I also love the Haka...and how NZ has incorporated the culture of the Maori into the contemporary country.
I'll never have time to really understand or follow rugby, but I prefer the sight of it -- lugs of different body types -- to the bloated spectacle of American football.
GV

Big Al

11/2/2014 04:38:18 am

George, your comment makes me think of two things: the marvelous movie "Invictus" and the beautiful national anthem of New Zealand, sung in Maori and English.

George Vecsey

11/2/2014 08:33:29 am

Al, nothing like walking through Wellington and being greeted with "Kia ora...." which is the same salutation I have come to use in our home town -- "Be well." Or, "Be Vell."
Invictus is a really nice movie. Another of Clint's really good movies in his old age. Best scene - the two security squads, b/w, testing each other out in sport. gv

Brian Savin

11/2/2014 11:10:34 am

You bring back fond memories for me, George. Wellington is indeed a great town. I loved to walk along the bay from the government district to my favorite restaurant, the White House, located in an old home along Oriental Parade. About a half mile inland form there is Basin Reserve which hosts international test matches in another underestimated sport, cricket. There is no stadium or parking lots. Just an open, beautifully green public park for your lounging and viewing pleasure. I always supposed our mid-Nineteenth baseball games were very similar for spectators.

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NASHVILLE — After my mother died so suddenly — laughing at a rerun of “JAG” at 10 p.m., dying of a hemorrhagic stroke by dawn — I dreamed about her night after night. In every dream she was willfully, outrageously alive, unaware of the grief her death had caused. In every dream relief poured through me like a flash flood. Oh, thank God!
Then I would wake into keening grief all over again.
Years earlier, when my father learned he had advanced esophageal cancer, his doctor told him he had perhaps six months to live. He lived far longer than that, though I never thought of it as “living” once I learned how little time he really had. For six months my father was dying, and then he kept dying for two years more. I was still working and raising a family, but running beneath the thin soil of my own life was a river of death. My father’s dying governed my days.
After he died, I wept and kept weeping, but I rarely dreamed about my father the way I would dream about my mother nearly a decade later. Even in the midst of calamitous grief, I understood the difference: My father’s long illness had given me time to work death into the daily patterns of my life. My mother’s sudden death had obliterated any illusion that daily patterns are trustworthy.
Years have passed now, and it’s the ordinariness of grief itself that governs my days. The very air around me thrums with absence. I grieve the beloved high-school teacher I lost the summer after graduation and the beloved college professor who was my friend for more than two decades. I grieve the father I lost nearly 20 years ago and the father-in-law I lost during the pandemic. I grieve the great-grandmother who died my junior year of college and the grandmother who lived until I was deep into my 40s.
Some of those I grieve are people I didn’t even know. How can John Prine be gone? I hear his haunting last song, “I Remember Everything,” and I still can’t quite believe that John Prine is gone.
-----
https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/30/opinion/death-grief-memory.html
Jan. 30, 2023

Scorers Were Right Not to Give Bumgarner the Win

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