Over the Moon

I got an email the other day from a stranger named Molly Woon, urging me to go to a political event I will never attend.

I still need to make a significant conscious effort not to read her name as “Wally Moon.”

Moon was one of the first players whose names I knew from listening to Dodgers radio broadcasts.  That was a habit I picked up in 1965, the summer I turned 9.  Vin Scully and Jerry Dogget spoke of Wally respectfully. They treated him as a hitter of some renown.  I believed him to be a great hitter, with tremendous power.  I did get the idea that maybe his game had slipped a little recently, but it seemed clear that Vin and Jerry expected him to regain his form at any moment.  I got the impression he was Walter Alston’s secret weapon, reserved for use when things were most critical.   I always expected him to do something wonderful at the plate.

I went to my first baseball game in 1965. Wally Moon did not appear.  Nor did my favorite player, Maury Wills.  I missed Moon, but I pined for Maury.  My uncle, the family’s only serious baseball player, consoled me. “He’ll probably pinch hit or pinch run for somebody,” he said. Wills never got into the game. Just nine Dodgers appeared, even though it went 10 innings.

The pivotal player was my second-favorite, Sandy Koufax, shutting the Pirates down inning after inning.   Don Cardwell matched him, inning after inning .

In the top of the 8th, Pittsburgh’s Bob Bailey blasted one to deep left field. I can still see Lou Johnson, his back touching the low fence, reaching up and a little back to catch the ball, robbing a home run.  My uncle told me “he probably just saved the game.”  The score was 0 – 0.

Koufax saved the game again for the Dodgers in the top of the 9th inning. Manny Mota led off with a single.  Clemente came to bat next.  Mota  reached second on a wild pitch. Clemente hit one back to the pitcher, and Koufax threw Mota out at third.  I don’t remember the play.

In the bottom of the tenth, John Roseboro and John Kennedy both flew out to Clemente. For the second time in the game, the notoriously poor-hitting Koufax worked Cardwell for a walk.  Cardwell then walked Wes Parker.  Jim Gilliam lofted a fly to right field. As he had already done at least once that game, Clemente decided to make a basket catch, even though my uncle thought it was needlessly risky. (“Clemente’s probably the best outfielder in the world” my uncle had said, “but you still shouldn’t catch the ball that way.”) I can still see the ball settling into his glove — and popping out. Koufax scored the winning run on Clemente’s error.

“You might never see him do that again,” my uncle said as we stood up to leave.  I’m not sure if he was talking about Clemente or Koufax. It doesn’t matter. I never saw either of them do that again.

I know I’ve told you a version of this game recap before.  But I’ve told it differently this time, because Molly Woon got me thinking about Wally Moon. I wanted to fix him into the firmament of the stars as they appeared in 1965.

I never got to see Wally Moon play in person. 1965 was his last season. He had only 104 plate appearances, batting .202, .304, .270, with one home run.  I just looked that up.  I had no idea he was that bad.

On the other hand, in 1961, he was Edgar Martinez in the outfield: .328, .434, .535.  He led the league in OBP.  I just looked that up, too. In 1959 he led the league in triples. He was Rookie of the Year for the Cardinals in 1954. I had no idea he was ever that good.

To a 9 year old in 1965, 1961 was ancient history.  I suspect Vin and Jerry, for whom 1961 was practically yesterday,  knew in 1965 what was happening to Wally, that his career was almost over at age 35. But they spoke so respectfully, so graciously, they never gave 9-year-old me any reason to suspect I was catching this waning celestial player in his last phase.

Now, 53 years after my one season listening to Wally Moon’s exploits, poor miss Molly Woon has no chance of ever establishing with me her identity independent of an old baseball player. This is true even though Woon lives and sends me uninvited emails, while Moon died in February at age 87.