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October 9th 1966
Washington DC

Kendall and I watched from the on deck circle as Mercer took his warm up tosses for the bottom of the 17th inning. He gave me his prediction of the very near future, "Okay, I'm sitting on a fastball, I'm taking him out of here, I'm gonna be the hero, you can have the rest of the day off."

I snortled (chuckled and snorted) and said, "Okay." I then jokingly turned and headed back to the dugout. After a few steps I turned and went back as he laughed a little.

He took the weight off the barrel of his bat and tilted his head to the side, "Ya gotta wanna!"

I smiled and nodded. He really got the crowd to start saying that, cheering that and screaming that. His catch phrase turned into the Senators fans' rally cry.

I said, "Just get on and I'll drive you in."

He went up to the plate and gave me one last look and then faced the pitcher Ricky Mercer.

I couldn't hear the words but I could hear the catcher Marty Spagnola say something to him and Kendall said to him, "Shhh, quiet. I'm trying to think."

He worked the count then belted the 2 – 1 pitch to Left-Center, where the Center fielder Bennie Mendoza made a nice leaping catch on the warning track against the wall. Just short of going out.

Kendall stumbled coming out of the box and went down to his knees. He got up and started for first base and only got three of four steps up the line when the out was recorded. He jogged in and comes up to me. He said, "Ahhh, man. I just got under it."

I shook my head and said, "I thought you had it. I thought it was over." I knock the weights off my bat and was about to head for the plate.

Kendall puts his hand on my chest and said, "He's out of gas, wait for the weak fastball and put it in the seats." I nodded, "Win this thing Flash."

Smiling, I continued to nod and said, "No problem man. I got this."

I walk to the plate and adjust my helmet. I look behind our first base dugout to see you and Mom with Pete and Cindy. Behind them sat Rosie and her parents. You pumped your fist and Mom has her hands together in prayer. Pete points to me as if to say, 'You're the man cuz.' Cindy is clapping and yells something, maybe a joke, she always kids with me.

You yell something, some form of encouragement and I nod but honestly I have no idea what you are yelling.

I get a toe hold and hold up a hand asking for time, as I do so.

The Giants catcher Marty Spagnola lifts his mask and says from his squat, "Win or lose kid. It's been a h**luva Series ain't it? Hope it's over soon."

I said, "Man I do too."

Home Plate Ump Clint Yale says, "You hope so? I've been back here for 17 f**king innings. No breaks. You sit down every half inning, get cold drinks and I have to stand here for five f**king hours. I gotta p**s so bad I think I need a rubber band." Spags and I both chuckled while Clint ranted. He pulled his mask on and yelled, "Play ball!"

I stood waiting for the first pitch.

Since Mercer entered the game in the 12th, I have faced him twice already. He threw at me twice in the first at bat, in which he hit me on the foot. Then twice in the next at bat in which I walked. Four times he has thrown at me. So that prompted me to turn and I said to the umpire, "Clint I'm sick of picking myself up off the ground. If he throws at any one of us again there is gonna be problems."

He said, "Take it easy Flash."

Mercer heard me as I wasn't trying to be too quiet as I talked to Clint and he yells, "Shut up punk! It's part of the game, you p**sy!"

I inwardly smiled knowing I was getting under his skin. Every little thing to take some sort of advantage. Not exactly the team motto but we make it work.

Clint said, "Shut up Mercer." Then yelled again, "Play Ball!"

I want Mercer angry. Get him out of his game plan. I set waiting for his first pitch.

Kendall was right, the Giant's pitcher started me off with a fastball and indeed it was pretty weak. I need to wait for him to put it over so I can crush it.

Mercer missed with a curve and the count went to 2 – 0 and I knew what was coming. The stadium full of fans knew what was coming; even the grandma watching at home in her rocking chair knew what was coming. Fastball.

So I waited for it and it comes, middle in and I put a good swing on it, I barreled it up and popped my hips.

I got all of it but hit it on a line. Not quite what Kendall did, he got under too much and I didn't get under enough.

The line drive finds grass in the alley and skips to the wall. Corny King runs it down and gets a perfect bounce off the wall and turns and fires to second.

After I rounded first base and head to second, first base coach LeeRoy Spicer screams, "Get on it! Get on it!" Meaning to get on my horse this was not going to be a 'stand-up double'.

With the play right in front of me I see King get the ball and throw it in, the throw is just offline and I slide to the opposite side of the bag and beat the tag. I put my hand up and to ask for time and the umpire yells, "Time out." That was way closer than I thought it would be when I left the batter's box.

I stand and hear the crowd screaming. It is deafening. I look for you, Mom and my cousins and see you four and pump my fist in the air at you all. You and 47,246 others do likewise.

I dust myself off and stand on second base as I watch the Giant's Manager Hank Graves come out to pull Mercer. But to my surprise they keep him in to pitch to American League home run champ Dutch van der Boom.

I yell to him, "If you ain't Dutch, you ain't much!" One of his favorite sayings, the other being "Kiss my Dutch a**." He pumps his fist in the air at me. The crowd goes wild once again as they see Booms give me the fist.

He steps in and I take my lead. I look in and see Spags put down one finger and Mercer nods.

As I take my lead I tell Dutch a fastball is coming by putting both hands on my helmet as if to adjust it, once I saw the catcher's sign.

The crowd starts a chant of, "Boom-Boom, Boom-Boom." One of Dutch's many sobriquets.

As advertised the fastball comes and Dutch rips it at the shortstop.

I start for third at the crack of the bat. I then see the shortstop Freddy Groves going up the ladder to haul it in.

I slam on the brakes and start back to 2nd to avoid getting doubled off. I look back and the ball tips off Grove's glove and into Left field. I slam on the brakes again and reverse directions again. I get to 3rd and make a wide turn but Tommy has one hand up and the other pointing to the bag, signaling me to stop there.

Corny King came in hard, fields and fires home. If I had tried I would be dead. If I had just kept running from Jump Street I would have made it home and the Series would be over.

The roar of the crowd went from cheers to boos in a heartbeat. They know I made a rookie move heading back to second. I just shook my head and closed my eyes. The Washington crowd has never booed me before but then again; I have never cost the city their first World Series championship in 42 years before so I had it coming.

Tommy puts a hand on my back and chides, "Vinnie-Vin. Looks at me not de ball. Dat's a rookie mistake." He pats my back and steps back over the foul line into the coach's box. "One out naw, go hard on a ground ball, taggin' on a fly."

I nod and take a small lead into foul ground.

Hurricane Hayes steps in.

They leave Mercer to face the left handed hitting Hayes and maintain a slight advantage. Their bullpen has been used every game and with all the extra innings are worn out. Mercer is the best they have left and they are going to ride this pony as long as possible.

Mercer throws a curve in the dirt and Dutch pulls off a delayed steal and swipes second base without a throw. Now the double play is off. A ground ball or deep fly could drive in the winning run without the benefit of a hit.

Tommy says, "Dat was a good move but dey just gon' walk 'Cane naw, sets up a douba play."

I nod in agreement.

But I guess Mercer didn't want to waste three pitches when he can put Hayes on with just one and drilled him in the ribs.

Hurricane throws down his bat and runs on a dead sprint to the mound.

The catcher Spags right behind "Cane, Clint Yale right behind Spags.

Mercer takes off his glove and then fires it at Hayes and hits him in the face and 'Cane gets to Mercer and punches him twice.

Spags gets there and starts punching Hayes in the back.

I know you've seen plenty of guys charging the mound after a hit batsman but it is usually the batter who charges the mound, not the runner from 3rd base.

Mercer had thrown at me four times in this game and twice in each of the other two games, hitting me a total of three times. I agree with Hayes but this is not a fair fight. Spags and Mercer together are going to mess Hurricane up. Someone has to stop this.

My helmet comes off as I sprint to the mound and Tommy yells after me, "Don't git hit by nobody Vinnie-Vin."

My football skills kicked in and I tackled Spags knocking him to the turf and myself in the process. We grappled a second and I ended up kneeling on his upper arms sitting on his chest, holding him down.

I didn't hit him, I wasn't going to.

I was keeping him from hitting Hurricane, trying to stop the fight which was clearly a bad idea. Spags grunted, "Get off me so I can kick you're a**."

I looked down at him and said, "Spags take it easy. This doesn't make any sense. I'm staying here until you calm down." He kicked and tried to remove me but I stayed put. "Come on Spags, we just want to play baseball, not this." He stopped struggling and looked as though he was coming to his senses.

Without any warning I'm hurled off Spags and I'm lying on my back looking up at the October night sky. It is cold and I start to get chills, it feels much colder in an instant and I began to shake.

I lay there a long time it seems. Then standing over me I see Kendall's unshaved face as he looks down and asks, "You alright?" as he extended his hand and arm to help me up.

I reach up and his strong grasp locks around wrist as I grab around his and he lifts me off the turf with little effort. He is surprisingly powerful.

Dusty and Skinny start to lead me off the field to the dugout with Kendall in tow and I stopped and say, "Hey where are we going?"

Dusty says, "Flash, you gotta get that noggin checked out."

I said, "Right after I score the winning run Dusty. I've gone all the way on this crazy ride. I've given all I have, my blood and sweat. I owe it to my teammates. If I can still walk I should be in this game. I haven't missed a game this season. I never come out. Don't you think I deserve this?" I said all that like I'm negotiating, not begging. (Almost and I would resort to begging if he takes me out. I'm not gonna lie.)

He relents and I gently pull out of their grasps and jog back across the diamond and take my place at 3rd base. Tommy hands me my run-away helmet and asks me how I feel.

I put my helmet on and feel a sharp pain on the back of my head. "Tommy," I said, "I have a whale of a headache."

Tommy replies, "Well afa Milt Fontaine cracked y'all in the haid with a bat y'all bound to have a haidache. Boy I tot Kendall was gon kill hi a**, chased his a** all ove' da field."

I hear those words but it doesn't make sense.

My head?

A bat?

I rub the back of my head and it hurts. I look at my hand and it is covered in blood.

I hear Tommy say, "Vinnie-Vin ... take a lead."

I hear him but I can't move my legs. I just stand there. Nausea floods my insides and I bend over at the waist. I think I'm gonna puke, right here in the World Series. I say, "Look out Tommy."

I don't want to be put out and I can't step off the bag to puke so still on the bag I lean over and barf into foul territory.

Everyone was back to their positions.

I face home plate again. Everyone is looking at me. Everyone in the Park saw me toss my cookies.

Things are bad. I get the spins. Still bent over I look sideways at Tommy and ask, "What's happening, Tommy?"

Looking pretty concerned Tommy said, "Vinnie? FLASH?" Then his look of concern turns to panic, he looks to home and yells, "Time! Time!"

Everything begins to spin and I feel the ground come up and slam the side of my head. I had fallen over onto my right side. I don't know for sure but I hope not in the puke.

"Kendall? Kendall?" I called for my best friend, the only one I trust as much as family.

In a moment he is there and kneels down beside me and says, "I'm here Flash."

"I'm hurt man." I say, "What's happening?"

"Just stay still and let the doc check you out." Kendall said, as Dusty and Skinny and Dr. Roughensore came on the run, Kendall had beaten them to me by 15 seconds or more, he said he didn't touch the ground he flew over to me. I believe him.

"I'm dying Kendall." I said and looked into his eyes to see his honest reaction.

He looked shocked but assures me, "No, you're not."

"I see clouds, I'm going to heaven Kendall it's over, I see clouds."

I really do, as far as I can see. I feel like I am sliding down a chute into the unknown. "Bye Kendall, here I go." I hear my voice trail off as I slip away. The last thing I heard is Kendall, "I'm right here, I won't leave you man. I'll never leave you."

I can't feel anything, I can't move. I'm floating, swirling.

I still feel the field against my face.

Smooth.

Cold.

Slick.

May 3rd 1966
Washington DC

I hear a voice waking me up say, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to make our final approach into Washington D C. Please return to your seats, extinguish any smoking material and fasten your seatbelts. We will be landing in ten minutes; local time is 1:24 PM."

I open my eyes and feel the plane window in seat 24 F pressed against my face. Clouds as far as you can see then as we descend you can see the landscape of the flight path below.

Next thing you know the plane shutters and the engines wind down and you feel the ground come up to meet the landing gear, brakes applied and we are getting off the plane.

I get my bag and wait at the cab stand.

I waited five minutes or so and then I was next in line and the cabbie pulls up in cab #24 and jumped out, grabbed my bag and stowed it in the trunk.

I got in and he did as well. He asked, "Where to Bud?"

I said, "Walter Johnson."

"Ya sure ya don't mean Howard Johnson's?" He asked with a laugh.

I fell for it and said, "No Walter Johnson Park. Where the Senators play."

"Play? You mean lose. Dey da worst team in both leagues." He added, "Yessir, Washington DC. Fust in war, fust in peace but last in de American League."

I just sat there thinking that this was the club I was going to be playing for hopefully for the rest of my career and they are not liked even in their own city. This could be rough.

We rode in silence for a few and then he said, "So wat. You a big Nat fan?"

I heard that and didn't know what he said meant, "A what?"

"Nat fan."

"What's a Nat?"

"Dere's two reasons I hear. Dey used to be da 'Nationals' and Nat is short for National. Or the middle three letters of Senator is 'Nat'. Either way dey is de Nats." He then went on and asked again, "So are you a big Nat fan?"

"Not yet but I am sure I will be soon?"

"Yeah. I tink I know who you is?"

I was honestly intrigued. "Really? Who am I?"

He holds up the newspaper, "Says here on page three of the Washington Star we got you in a trade." I see my picture is on the page he holds up. Looks like the publicity picture for the scorecard of the 1961 Rose Bowl. I hated that picture. The Washington Huskies are always photographed in a suit and tie, so at least I was dressed nicely in that picture.

He says, "Yep, says here you de next Babe Ruth."

I asked, "Seriously? It says that?"

"Yeah it says you hit .524 in AAA."

For a month I did. I seemed to be in a slot, everything is making sense and I'm seeing the ball really well.

I said sarcastically, "Yeah, I'm Babe Ruth."

We pulled into the parking lot, thankfully and I got out. I paid him and he got my bag for me. As he started to drive away he called out, "Hit a homer for me Babe." He drove off laughing.

I felt like the butt of his joke which made feel like an idiot.

I took my bag to the guard's gate.

The old, old guard sat up when I approached. He said as I got to his desk, "How can I help you Kid?"

I told him I needed to get to the player's entrance to the home clubhouse.

He said, "Oh I need to see your American League ID card."

I replied, "I'm new to the Senators and the American League. I was traded here from the Denver Bears of the Pacific Coast League."

He looks at his clipboard and says, "I don't see any new players but Dutch van der Boom and he already came through. Gimme your name, Kid."

"Vinnie Quinelli."

He looks at all the names and finally says, "Sorry Kid, you ain't on the list anywhere."

I stood dumbfounded for a sec then said, "Have you got today's paper? The Washington Star."

"Yeah, somewhere." He roots around on his desk and pulls up the Washington Star. "Yeah here it is."

I said, "Turn to page three of the sports section."