Okay, I’ll admit it: To every baseball fan, the “golden decade” was the decade when he or she paid maximum attention to Major League Baseball, when being a fan was a significant part of our life. For most of us fans, that translates to the decade before we became adults. So, when I write that the 1960s was baseball’s golden decade, yes, I am biased, but there are some historical facts that undergird my assertion. (READ: Paul Kengor on Dave Parker and 1970s baseball.)
The 1960s were bookended by two of the most memorable World Series of all time.
The 1960s was the first decade when baseball was truly a national sport. I mean this not only in a geographical sense, as MLB had expanded to the West Coast and air travel enabled both the American and National Leagues to span the four times zones of the “lower 48” states, but also in the sense of inclusiveness. The Boston Red Sox had been the last MLB team to erase the color barrier when it added Pumpsie Green to the roster in 1959; thus, it was in the ‘60s that baseball finally was fully integrated and fans could watch the best players in the country (and an increasing number from outside the country) compete for league and World Series championships.
The ‘60s were also a golden era for fans. It wasn’t until the ‘70s that free agency overturned the traditional system whereby a team owned a player’s contract and essentially owned the player. That semi-feudalistic system suppressed players’ salaries, but for fans who cherished continuity and the near-certainty that their teams star players would stay with the home team, it was a treat.
The 1960s were bookended by two of the most memorable World Series of all time. The 1960 contest between the Pittsburgh Pirates and the mighty New York Yankees featured one of the most stunning upsets ever. The heavily favored Yankees, featuring Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford et al., thrashed the Pirates in three games by scores of 16-3, 10-0, and 12-0. But somehow the Pirates managed to take the series to a game seven. In that game on Thursday, October 13, Pirates’ second baseman Bill Mazeroski led off the bottom of the ninth with the first walk-off homerun in World Series history — a dramatic finish that brought euphoria to millions of Pirate fans and Yankee haters (like me!).
The last series of the ‘60s was equally surprising and in some ways even more memorable than the first. The 1969 matchup was between the star-laden lineup of the Baltimore Orioles, featuring baseball’s deepest starting pitching rotation, and the New York Mets, the perennial National League doormats, who came out of nowhere to win the pennant that year. After dropping the first game of the series, the “Amazin’ Mets” reeled off four straight victories, a fitting climax to a Cinderella season. Watching the Mets win the ‘69 Series was as ecstatic an experience as the ‘60 Series had been — another triumph for the underdog. (Incidentally, the 1969 World Series was written into the script of the excellent 2000 Dennis Quaid movie Frequency.)
Dialing in to a more parochial view of 1960s baseball, let me tell you about my team. A lifelong Detroit Tigers fan, I had the pleasure throughout the ‘60s of watching the American League’s best all-around player, Al Kaline, shine brightly in the field (what a cannon for an arm!), at the plate, and even on the basepaths. But alas, the team always fell short — until 1968.
It was in 1968 that the Tigers finally went to the World Series. The Tigers’ star for the regular season was right-hander Denny McLain, who won 31 games that season. He was the only major league pitcher to accomplish that feat from 1934 up to the present day.
Here it must be acknowledged that pro baseball was played a bit differently in 1968 compared to today. In this present day of pitch counts, starting pitchers are expected to work only five, six, or seven innings. In 1968, it was hoped that starters would pitch complete games. The Tigers had a streak in September 1968 of 12 straight complete games by the starting pitchers. It is quite possible that you will never again see a major league team’s entire pitching staff accumulate 12 complete games in a season. Last year, there were only 28 complete games in all of MLB, an average of less than one per team.
Back to the 1968 World Series: The Tigers overcame a three-games-to-one deficit to the great Bob Gibson-led St. Louis Cardinals to win the series four games to three. The series MVP for the Tigers was lefthander Mickey Lolich, who chalked up three complete-game victories and hit the only homerun of his long major league career in game two. I skipped soccer practice at college to watch game seven — the only time I ever skipped a practice. Coach was not amused, and I paid a price, but it was totally worth it to me. There was no way, after 18 years of waiting, that I was going to miss game seven. Remember, VCRs hadn’t been invented yet, so I didn’t have the option of taping the game.
As golden as the 1960s were overall, it was not a comfortable decade for us American League fans when it came to the All-Star Game. The National League dominated that decade. They simply had too many superstars: Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Stan Musial (early in the decade), Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Pete Rose, Orlando Cepeda, Lou Brock, Sandy Koufax, Bob Gibson. It was just too much talent for the AL to overcome.
Other miscellaneous ‘60s highlights for this young Tigers fan: I saw Ted Williams play in Detroit in his last season, 1960. I also saw two games at Shea Stadium during the World’s Fair in 1965. The Dodgers’ two aces, Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax, pitched those games. Drysdale won easily, but the Mets, behind a rookie pitcher named Tug McGraw (who became a World Series hero for the Phillies 15 years later), managed to outpitch Koufax, reducing Sandy’s lifetime record against the Mets to a still-dazzling 17-1. Another memory: I saw the Tigers’ Norm Cash hit the ball over the right field roof of Tiger Stadium three of the four times he accomplished that feat.
May every baseball fan enjoy fond memories of whatever their “golden decade” as a baseball fan may be. Those magical memories are lifelong, and they are as good as gold.
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