Rookies & Lightweights

Act 3, Scene 3, two out, last of the ninth. Score: Yankees 1, Giants 0. As 43,948 spectators and 20 million TV fans hold their breaths, the Giants' Matty Alou dances boldly down the third-base line. Willie Mays grabs a handful of dirt and edges away from second. Yankee Pitcher Ralph Terry peers nervously at Batter Willie McCovey. A single means the ball game. Terry throws, McCovey swings. Crack! Second Baseman Bobby Richardson flings out his glove. Plunk. Joy, sorrow, delirium, despair--and cut to razor-blade commercial. For the 20th time in 27 tries, the New York Yankees are the world champions of baseball, richer by something like $12,000 per man.

Off to the Doctor. Last week's rainwashed World Series ended with a genuine bang, but as series go, it had more than its share of fizzles. "I don't have a damn thing to say about anything," snarled Yankee Mickey Mantle, who tried so hard to blast the ball into the bleachers that he rarely got it out of the infield, wound up pounding the ground in frustration over his .120 batting average. "I'm gonna go see a doctor," confided San Francisco's weary Willie Mays, who drove in 121 runs during the regular season, only one during the World Series. Yankee Slugger Roger Maris managed just five hits in 23 trips to the plate; the Giants' Baby Bull Orlando Cepeda was 0 for 12 at one point, wound up with a minuscule .158 average. The whole Yankee team batted .199, the Giants hit .226, and both clubs together collected only 95 base hits--a record low for a seven-game series. Strikeouts: 72, a record high.

What heroics the two teams generated came from the lightweights and rookies, who suddenly discovered muscles they hardly knew existed. "That wasn't my best shot--I still have a little in reserve," insisted the Giants' 175-lb. Second Baseman Chuck Hiller, after he sent Rightfielder Maris back to the wall for a 296-ft. drive in the third game. Sportswriters snickered; Hiller shrugged. Next day, with the bases loaded in the seventh inning, Hiller clouted a hanging curve deep into Yankee Stadium's rightfield stands for the first series grand slam ever hit by a National Leaguer. The homer tied the series at two games each--only to be untied next time around by New York's Tom Tresh, 24, everyone's choice for Rookie-of-the-Year and the only Yankee who batted over .300. Son of a onetime Chicago White Sox catcher, Leftfielder Tresh came to bat in the eighth inning with the score tied 2-2, and smashed a three-run homer. Said Mickey Mantle with a wry smile: "Gee, it must be nice to hit a homer in the series.'' Added the man who has hit more (14 ) over the years than anybody except Babe Ruth, "I wish some day I could.''

Champagne Shampoos. But Mickey could not, and neither could most of his companions in the upper-income brackets. As the pitchers continued to fog them past the floundering stars, the Giants stretched it out to seven games on a baffling three-hitter by balding Billy Pierce. Then, in the finale, the Giants themselves were handcuffed by the Yankees' Terry, who retired the first 17 Giants that faced him. When he needed help, who did he get it from? Tom Tresh, naturally, with a running, lunging backhand catch in the left field corner (where the TV cameras could not catch it) to rob Willie Mays of an extra base hit. All that Yankee batters could scratch out was one run on two singles (one of them by Tresh), a walk and a double play. But that was enough. After the final hair-raising out, the victorious Yankees scooted into the dressing room for their yearly champagne shampoos--all except Rookie Tresh. Fleeing the party, he zoomed out to the airport and hopped a plane back to his senior-year classes at Central Michigan University.

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