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1 1 Like Family The Cardinal players were uncommonly proud to be part of those [1960s] teams. . . . [T]hey won through intelligence, playing hard and aggressively, and because they had a sense of purpose that cut across racial lines in a way that was still extremely unusual in the world of sports. —David Halberstam, October 1964 “Northrup hit a fastball away, and that’s where we try to pitch him—to make him hit the ball to center field,” Bob Gibson said of the sudden blow that struck downtown St. Louis, Missouri, like a lightning bolt, late into the afternoon sky of October 10, 1968. “Things were never the same again.” In the latter part of his comment, Gibson was referring not only to the outcome of baseball’s world championship that year, but also to what he felt was a larger and undesirable tilt of the sport into an era of selfishness and unnecessary meddling by outside forces. The final minutes of the baseball era Gibson cherished were contained in the 1968 World Series, which had been an even draw up until the point he was describing. His St. Louis Cardinals, rulers of the National League for the past two seasons, were tied with the American League titleholder Detroit Tigers at three games apiece to require a decisive seventh contest, which was scoreless when Jim Northrup strutted to the plate with one out in the seventh inning. At that very moment, the final curtain was coming down on one of the greatest individual pitching performances in any baseball season. Personally posting 13 of the record 339 shutouts issued in the Major Leagues that year, Gibson had dismantled opposing bats during the summer with a 1.12 earned run 2 Gibson’s Last Stand average—the lowest in more than fifty years by a starting pitcher and the third lowest in the twentieth century. And for an encore, Gibson had already struck out a World Series–record seventeen batters in Game 1 of the fall classic. As the sun was setting in St. Louis over one of the final afternoon games in World Series history, Gibson had used 91 fastballs among his 144 pitches as the St. Louis schoolkids were rushing home to catch hometown broadcaster Harry Caray describe the remaining action. Being the workhorse of the Cardinals’ pitching staff, Gibson understandably had admitted to being tired in the final few weeks of the season, but surged onward as his team sought to become the first National League club since 1922 to repeat as World Series champions. In a short time, an announcement would come that Gibson outdistanced batting champion Pete Rose of the Cincinnati Reds for the Most Valuable Player award in the National League by a 242–205 vote. A few days after his Game 1 masterpiece, Gibson had easily beaten the Tigers and their own ace pitcher, Denny McLain, once again in Game 4 in Detroit by a 10–1 margin. A final knockout punch by the big right-hander now appeared inevitable. But here in the seventh of the final battle, the Redbird hurler found himself in trouble for the first time in the series. He was fighting to keep the Tigers at bay to give the Cardinals a chance, hoping to keep it a scoreless tie as baseball’s world championship had turned into a three-inning duel as Gibson went to work on Northrup. He had been able to retire Mickey Stanley and Al Kaline, the first two Detroit batters of the inning, but afterward had permitted Norm Cash and Willie Horton to occupy first and second bases on singles. Standing at attention far behind Gibson in center field was Curt Flood, the Cardinals’ Gold Glove–winning outfielder and his most trusted defender. When the voting was finally revealed, Flood would finish fourth in the MVP tally himself, trailing only Gibson, Rose, and San Francisco’s slugging first baseman , Willie McCovey. Gibson’s ironclad defensive platoon—including Flood, sure-handed shortstop Dal Maxvill, and others—had, for years, permitted him to challenge hitters whimsically, and almost recklessly. Gibson, in fact, once suggested to a reporter that he thought he would never throw a no-hit game, as over the course of a typical contest he made far too many mistakes. His first offering to Northrup caught a good deal of the plate, and the hitter let loose on a long drive that caused the surprised Gibson to snap his head suddenly to...

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