I Hope I Can Be as Good a Winner as I Am a Good Loser

As we breeze into October, I am of the opinion that this is the best time of the year. There are a lot of good reasons to feel this way, and I’m sure I am not alone. Many are happy because a feeling of fall is in the air and we begin to think about all the marvelous colors of leaves. Others are charged up (I’m not one of them) because this is the beginning of football season. School has started, the State Fair is underway in Dallas where you can get anything you want deep-fried, and folks are fired up about the upcoming elections.

However, the reason I like this time of year is because of baseball. Unlike any other sport, baseball is a very long season, 162 games, and everything, from the first day of spring training, points toward the playoffs and ultimately the World Series. This year is especially great because the Texas Rangers are actually taking part.

One of the most memorable days of my childhood took place during this time of year. It was actually in October, Thursday the thirteenth to be exact, in 1960. It was just a week before my tenth birthday but I remember it well. Although I take pause to admit it today, my favorite team during childhood was the New York Yankees.

Being a baseball fan in the 1950’s and 60’s was more difficult than it is today. The only time we got to watch a game on television was Saturday afternoon. We had to follow the sport through the newspaper and I became very proficient at reading a box score. One of the primary reasons I was a Yankee fan was because of Mickey Mantle. It was the year before Roger Maris broke Babe Ruth’s homerun record.

The Yankees played the Pittsburg Pirates in the 1960 World Series and except for the fact they had each won three games, it was a very lopsided series. They Yankees had scored twice as many runs as the Pirates. They won their three games by scores of 16-3, 10-0, and 12-0. On the other hand, the Pirates had won with scores of 6-4, 3-2, and 5-2. Everything indicated the Yankees would win Game 7 and be the World Champions once again.

Since the game was played on a weekday in October, I had to go to school – Ben Franklin Elementary School in Colorado Springs, Colorado. For Christmas in 1959, Santa (aka my parents) gave me an RCA transistor radio. It was not the small postage stamp size audio players that folks have today. It was about the size of a DVD case only about three times wider. It had a leather cover for protection and a small case on the handle to hold the ear phone which only fit in one ear.

I was very excited to get the radio for Christmas, already anticipating the World Series in ten months. There was not a local team in Colorado, but I would use the radio at night to pick up KMOX from St. Louis and they broadcast Cardinal games. It was a hit and miss proposition and not very clear, so I did not become a fan of the team. Mickey Mantle and the Yankees were the favorites of most ten-year-olds at the time.

For some reason, my teacher allowed us to listen to portions of World Series games during the school day. That is what allowed me to be listening to the Game Seven that I will never forget. Actually, the school day ended before the baseball game and there was enough time to get home to see the final few innings on NBC television. Fortunately, we only lived a block from the school.

As I cheered for my favorite team, the game situation was as exciting as a baseball game can be. Bottom of the ninth inning, home team at bat, score tied at nine to nine, and one out. A weak hitting second baseman came to the plate, just hoping to get on base. Instead, he hit a long drive over the leftfield fence and the game was over. My team lost and I became a baseball fan for life.

It was the only time in the long, well-documented history of baseball that the seventh game of a World Series has ended with a home run. I watched it on television. I remember it as clearly as I remember watching Neal Armstrong walk on the moon.

As you probably know, my favorite team now is the Texas Rangers. Although they are currently doing well in the playoffs, I worry that they will lose at some point (otherwise it would be too good to be true), and that is ok. I learned fifty years ago that losing is not something to be feared. It may not be as enjoyable as winning, but it can certainly be as memorable. I hope I do not become obnoxious like many fans of winning teams.