History has no shortage of players who flopped
On the one hand, the Arizona Diamondbacks pseudocloser wasn't exposed to the vitriol in print and over the airwaves aimed at him after he pulled a couple of gophers out of his hat and made victory disappear in the ninth inning of World Series Games 4 and 5 against the New York Yankees Wednesday and Thursday.
Still, he might have taken consolation - and perhaps preserved sanity - if he could have availed himself of even cursory Series research. It reveals that Kim has plenty of company in the pantheon of pariahs.
Here is a smattering of those who preceded Kim into World Series infamy. Keep in mind it's just the tip of the iceberg - which these culprits would have preferred to be under after they committed their faux pas on baseball's grandest, and most unforgiving, stage.
Fred Snodgrass, New York Giants, 1912: Some good news for Red Sox fans, and it's only 89 seasons old - something went their way in a World Series. It was courtesy of Snodgrass, the Giants' normally trusty center fielder, who dropped a lazy fly by pinch hitter Clyde Engle leading off the bottom of the 10th inning of the eighth and deciding game (there had been a tie). Engle took second, and while Snodgrass proceeded to rob Harry Hooper of a hit with a spectacular catch, Boston pushed across the winning run on a Tris Speaker single - which came after Fred Merkle and Chief Meyers let his pop foul fall, giving the Hall of Famer a repechage. Still, the onus for the 3-2 loss belonged to Snodgrass, and his gaffe was immortalized as ''Snodgrass' $30,000 Muff,'' representing the Series share it cost the Giants as a team. Today that would be about half the take for one of the clubhouse boys of the runners-up.
Mickey Owen, Brooklyn Dodgers, 1941: In Game 4, the Dodgers wrapped up a 4-3 victory - and pulled even in the Series with their accursed New York neighbors, the Yankees - when Hugh Casey struck out Tommy Henrich. Wait a minute. They didn't? No, because strike three eluded Brooklyn catcher Owen, Henrich exploited the goof by racing to first, and two-run doubles by Charlie Keller and Joe Gordon later in the elongated ninth lifted the Yankees, 7-4. A game after that, they clinched the Series. Which was just as well. If Owen had been handed a bottle of champagne, he probably would have dropped it.
Johnny Pesky, Boston Red Sox, 1946: He held the ball, and the Sox lost their grasp on the Series. In the bottom of the eighth inning of Game 7, with the score 3-3 against the Cardinals and Enos Slaughter on first, Harry Walker ripped a liner into left-center. Center fielder Leon Culberson retrieved the ball and fired it to shortstop Pesky, who was stunned to see Slaughter keep right on running around third base. Pesky hesitated before his throw to the plate, which was up the third base line. Slaughter scored the run that won the game and the Series, 4-3. The gracious Pesky, who never shunned his scapegoat status, is still a Red Sox fixture 55 years later.
Ralph Terry, Yankees, 1960: Nobody's perfect - not even the Bronx Bombers, who were in a Game 7 slugfest against the Pittsburgh Pirates. It was tied, 9-9, when Terry, who had lost Game 4 as a starter, demonstrated his versatility after coming on to register the final out in the eighth. His 1-0 pitch to Bill Mazeroski leading off the ninth landed beyond the left-field wall at Forbes Field for a 10-9 Pittsburgh victory. Terry's failure at least improved baseball's syntax, however unjustly: Casey Stengel was dumped as Yankees manager after winning only 10 pennants in 12 years. But the absence of the illogical genius was temporary; Stengel resurfaced as the comic relief of the expansion New York Mets two years later.
Jim Burton, Red Sox, 1975: So where was Willoughby? That question, or indictment, still haunts manager Darrell Johnson after his strategy in Game 7 against the Cincinnati Reds - lifting Jim Willoughby after 1 1/3 no-hit relief innings and bringing in 28-year-old rookie lefthander Burton for the ninth in a 3-3 affair. It paid off. For the Reds. Ken Griffey, who didn't need the ''Sr.'' at the time, walked and advanced to third on a sacrifice fly and a ground out. Pete Rose walked and Joe Morgan blooped a single into center for a 4-3 win and the world championship. Game 6 - the Sox' 7-6 victory achieved on Bernie Carbo's tying three-run homer in the eighth and Carlton Fisk's solo shot in the 12th - was still uplifting New Englanders when Burton provided the letdown they'd come to regard as inevitable in October.
Bill Buckner, Red Sox, 1986: Only a sadist would dwell on the details of the bottom of the 10th inning in Game 6. So why don't we just mention for the 136,578th time that first baseman Buckner allowed Mookie Wilson's grounder to dribble through his legs for a 6-5 Mets reprieve and let it go, just like Billy Buck did? Sorry, but we can't. Buckner was merely the last goat, not the only one, in the Inning of the Damned. And he shouldn't even have been on the field. But manager John McNamara favored his veterans unless they calcified before his eyes, so he didn't bother to insert the defensively superior Dave Stapleton at first as the Sox prepared to preserve a 5-3 lead and their first world championship since 1918. They were one out from catharsis and no Met was on base when reliever Calvin ''Clutch'' Schiraldi surrendered singles to Gary Carter and doughboy pinch hitter Kevin Mitchell. Still, no damage had been done, and Schiraldi had Ray Knight down in the count, 0-2, when the New York third baseman blooped a single to center, making it 5-4. Bob Stanley replaced Schiraldi and, with Wilson at the plate, uncorked a wild pitch that tied it. Then Wilson's hopper put Boston's title hopes in one as the Mets capitalized on the escape and prevailed in Game 7. Years later, ever forgiving Sox fans hounded the retired Buckner out of town as he took refuge with his family in Idaho, a continent from the jackals. But even humiliation has its rewards, apparently, and Buckner now is hawking autographed photos of his blunder. It's probably not a big seller in Boston.
Lonnie Smith, Atlanta Braves, 1991: Lonnie come lately. And there goes the Series. In a scoreless Game 7 vs. the Minnesota Twins, Smith led off the seventh with a single, and Terry Pendleton followed with a double to the wall in left-center that brought Smith around ... only to third. The Braves designated hitter had been fooled by a decoy perpetrated by the Twins' middle infield. And Atlanta eventually fell victim to the 1-0 shutout perpetrated by Jack Morris and abetted by Dan Gladden's 10th-inning double and Gene Larkin's game- and Series-winning single.
Mitch Williams, Philadelphia Phillies, 1993: They called him ''Wild Thing.'' But they weren't calling him mild things after the eccentric and erratic closer, brought in to protect a 6-5 lead over the Toronto Blue Jays in the ninth inning of Game 6 - and extend the Series - instead performed his specialty. He walked leadoff batter Rickey Henderson, allowed a one-out single to Paul Molitor, and took up residence in the village of villains when he served up a three-run homer to Joe Carter. The smash, which yielded an 8-6 Toronto victory, was the first Series-ending homer since Mazeroski's 33 years earlier. After that, Williams was never the same. But who would want to be? At least Williams was philosophical about his futility. ''I treated every game like it was Game 6 of the World Series,'' he told the Fort Worth Star-Telegram this year. ''That game didn't mean any more than a regular-season game. Nobody was going to be more disappointed in me than I was. I hated losing, period. But you deal with it.''
There's no choice. That maxim needs no translation for Kim, the latest addition to the rogues' gallery.
By Bob Duffy, Globe Staff, 11/03/2001 This story ran on page
G1 of the Boston Globe
on 11/03/2001
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