I stepped into the circle with my bat across my right shoulder and dropped to one knee. I snatched up the rosin bag and gave my hands and wrists a liberal dusting of the course, powdery substance. Lots of rosin was a requirement on a day like this if I hoped to keep my grip on the slippery handle of that bat. This was the All-Star Game, so I wanted to have every advantage I could get.
Pierce continued to work from a set position, so with the crafty left-hander facing directly towards him, Musial took a cautious lead away from the bag. I glanced back over toward Mays just in time to see him take an inside-out swing at Pierce’s next offering and drive it down the right field line and into the corner. There, the baseball ricocheted like a pinball off the outfield wall and into the area of the A.L. bullpen. Willie finally came to a stop at third base with a stand-up triple, driving in Musial all the way from first! Willie’s RBI hit closed the gap to 6-3 and left us in a good position to mount a comeback. We now had a runner on third and still there were no outs.
I rose to my feet and began to take a step or two in the direction of the batter’s box. As an afterthought, I turned back and tossed the rosin bag back into the circle. I advanced toward the plate with the voice of confidence telling me I could handle this job as well as anyone.
And why shouldn’t I? I reassured myself. There were others as well, who were showing confidence in me at this very moment. In particular, there was my manager, Walter Alston, who had other pinch-hitting options. He still had some big guns remaining in his arsenal, yet he called on me to come through with a clutch hit and to keep the rally going. And sure, this was a very critical point in one of the biggest baseball games of the year, but I thrived on pressure. I loved it! In past seasons, I had been put in tough situations like this many times and often I managed to deliver a key hit. I was always mindful of the pressure, yet I was aware that it was being felt on both sides, by the pitcher as well as the batter. In just a brief flashing moment I recalled a bit of advice that was given to me by the great Joe DiMaggio. I was attending my first professional spring training camp as a young Yankee farmhand when the Yankee Clipper imparted to me some valuable words of wisdom.
“Always remember, Hank,” he offered, “maintain confidence in yourself and know for a fact, that the other guy had to put his pants on the same way you did…one leg at a time!”
I stepped into the batter’s box just as the public address announcer finished introducing me as a pinch hitter. With the spikes of my right shoe, I began to scrape away some of the bright orange clay, digging a small crease in the dirt for my back foot. I sensed a degree of familiarity as I looked out to the mound and saw Pierce again go to his set position. We had faced each other many times before, but never in such a crucial situation. This time things were different; he appeared to be rattled and uneasy. But maybe he had a just cause, as he stepped off the pitching rubber and glared over at Mays who was daringly extending his lead away from third base. Undoubtedly, Pierce was about to work himself into a pickle.
His first pitch came in high and fast. It was obvious that catcher Yogi Berra had called for something different like, perhaps a curveball that would break downward into the strike zone. Like a rocket, this fastball sailed past me about head high and barely nicked the tip of Yogi’s mitt on its flight towards the backstop! Seeing that Yogi had no chance to recover the wild pitch in time, I quickly sprung backwards, away from the plate and frantically waved to Willie, to let him know that the way was clear for him to come home to score. But, my signal to Willie was not really vital to the play. At the very instant the ball nicked Yogi’s glove, Willie was already about a third of the way down the baseline and heading for home. He had again put his incredible base-running instincts to good use and scored standing up, long before the elusive baseball had rolled to a stop! Even though Pierce’s wild pitch cleared the bases, the American League’s lead had been reduced to 6-4. We definitely had their ace lefthander on the ropes and our next job was to deliver a knockout blow. There’s an old baseball proverb that claims “no lead is a safe lead” and this adage should assume an even stronger tone when it is applied to a Major League All-Star game.
After seeing what Mays did with a pitch on the inside part of the plate, I thought it very unlikely that I would see any pitches in that same location. But, to my liking I got practically the same offering. The next pitch from Pierce was a fastball that once again found its way to the inner half of the plate. With a slicing swing, I managed to drive the ball the opposite way, over the head of second baseman Nellie Fox and into right-center field for a base hit! Mickey Mantle, the A.L. center fielder, scooted over to cut the ball off and threw it back to the infield. By getting on base, I had done my job, which was to simply keep the rally going and give our club a chance to get back into the game.