Relief Pitcher

The tension was clearly too much for the home team. Starting Pitcher Sandy Koufax walked four men in one inning and was sent to the showers. Reliever Don Bessent let a man steal home. The Dodgers were losing to Cincinnati 6-0 when the public address system sputtered: "Attention, ladies and gentlemen. The vote on Proposition B, returns from the first 58 precincts, shows: yes, 3,844 votes; no, 3,557 votes." The crowd hooted. "Can I change my vote to no?" roared a first-base fan. "I wanna send these bums back to Brooklyn."

Final Innings. All evening the returns came in as the count progressed on whether the people of Los Angeles wanted a goat pasture called Chavez Ravine changed into a site for a big-league stadium (TIME, April 28)--and consequently, whether the legend L.A. on the Dodgers' caps was to become a permanent symbol or a passing memory. All evening the count was closer than the game (final score: Cincinnati 8, L.A. 3). Not until late the next afternoon was Dodger President Walter O'Malley satisfied that his team had won the referendum. The Dodgers themselves reacted by winning four of their next five games, including three straight from the Braves.

But O'Malley's opponents still figure that they have a few more turns at bat. Week's end saw the start of hearings on a series of taxpayers' suits to stop the Dodgers from building their new ballpark. But if the results of the referendum stand up in court, unofficial scorers will surely write into the record book that it was a portly old relief pitcher named Walter O'Malley who came on in the final innings to win the game.

For a while, it seemed as if Walter had waited too long before he came out of the bullpen. From the moment the Dodgers got to town, their front office antagonized the powerful suburban press. National League President Warren Giles riled all L.A. by threatening to take the

Dodgers out of town if they lost the referendum. O'Malley's enemies shouted from every street corner and TV set that he was a vicious land pirate bent on picking up real estate, not on bringing baseball to the West.

Third Strike. Then Walter waddled to the mound. He went into his pitch on more TV programs than Betty Furness. He was no fireballer; he did not try to blow down the opposition. Instead, he tantalized the opposition with soft change-ups and calm, canny rationalizations. But mostly, he showed the voters that he was not a monster. Always he spoke softly and sounded reasonable. Two nights before the election. O'Malley's well-heeled backers organized a telethon in which Hollywood's most articulate stars turned out as cheerleaders.

In a TV debate on election eve, O'Malley went on as the final speaker after two hours of shrill argument and ill-tempered accusations, and once again he threw his change-up. He was glad, he said, to be part of such a democratic process. He was sure the people were sick and tired of hearing about Chavez Ravine, and, as a matter of fact, so was he. "I'm not going to be angry with anyone," he said, "no matter which side loses." He looked and acted like a dumpy, fatherly man who could forgive his children their mistakes.

Though the opposition did not recognize it, they had just watched the third strike go by. It did not matter that the margin of victory was narrow--345,435 to 321,142. "In baseball" said Walter, "a win by 1-0 is as good as a win by 13-1."

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