Remembering 1975

Remembering 1975

"This is special for me. I'm writing about recalling a distant and great memory for me. I wish I had more time to do a few more drafts and perfect it but that's reality. Enjoy!"

As a Red Sox fan, 1975 was a landmark year for me. This was the first year that I truly followed the Red Sox and I have never stopped watching them nor have I stopped rooting for them.

I was fortunate to live in New England and I was very fortunate that my parents brought me to Fenway Park on that particular day. I had seen the park before but never for a day game and never in the grand box seats. They were just left of the dugout, right behind the batters box. I have seen other parks since then but Fenway offers an intimacy that you can't get anywhere else.

In 1975, the Red Sox roared through into the World Series against what was the Cincinnati Red's – the juggernaut of the national league. It was a special time for me. TV-38 was broadcasting most of the away games with Dick Stockton and Ken Harrelson and the great Ned Martin and Jim Woods gave play by play on radio. As a kid I loved Dick Stockton's screaming excitement and energy but Ned was the better announcer. Ned was a legend in New England and I miss him even to this day.

The lineup for the Red Sox that day was nothing short of deadly. Imagine having Hall of Fame Catcher Carlton Fisk behind the plate and legendary Cecil Cooper at first. Denny Doyle, a forgotten second baseman was as good as Dustin Pedroia was in 1975. Doyle was short, muscular and could hit for power. Everything came together for him in 1975. At short, we had the great Rick Burleson. Rick could backhand a ball like no other person. He was the best defensive shortstop I had ever seen with great range and great abilities. At third, Rico Petrocelli who played with the legendary 1967 Red Sox at short held the corner. In the outfield we had Hall of Famer Jim Rice in left in his rookie year. Rice was so strong he didn't need natural talent but he certainly had it. We had MVP and Rookie of the Year Fred Lynn in center and together with Rice, they were called the gold dust twins. Lynn would have been in the hall if he could have kept his body healthy. Oh what modern medicine would have done for him. Lynn was Ellsbury (minus the speed) and David Ortiz (as far as power). Lynn could do anything. I miss him. In right, we had my personal favorite Dwight Evans who I mimicked at the plate when I played baseball at right field. I think of kids trying to copy Kevin Youk today. I know that feeling! Dwight had an amazing throwing arm and great defense. Had he had the hitting ability he would have seen the Hall of Fame. No question in my mind. Of course that's what Red Sox fans do -- we see our team as the best in the league. I remember an interview with Darrell Johnson long after being let go by the Red Sox. He stated that he loved it when fans called his 1975 team the best. I think Darrell was right!

My family brought me to Fenway in 1975 to watch the Red Sox at home. It was that photo perfect day with a sold out crowd. I remember stepping into the walkways where you saw glimpses of the stadium from the concrete bunkers filled with concession stands and cigar smoke. Oh I was so hungry to step out into the stadium itself.

I remember walking out into that field once we found our seats. Imagine being on the field that once housed Ted Williams and Johnny Pesky. It was once Jim Longborg's home and the place that poor Tony Conigliaro got smacked in the face with a pitch. It was the place where history stayed on its grass and on the old scoreboard. While other ballparks moved on to larger and more commercial enterprises, Fenway Park remains from a different time.

I didn't have all those thoughts back then. I didn't know of Longborg or Pesky or Ted Williams. I was just beginning my initiation into Red Sox lore. I only knew I was in Fenway Park sitting down on those hard wooden red seats. There were no seats on the green monster nor were there upper deck seats wrapped around the infield. It was much simpler then and frankly a bit grimier and run down. The trademark funky wraparound corners in outfield were always there as was the short left field fence. I remember how I, as a kid, noticed how much of a landmark the monster was in left field. It was such an unusual feature it was hard not to pay attention to it.

It was the first time I saw the pregame warmups. Johnny Pesky signed a baseball I brought along. I had no idea at the time who this great legend was. He seemed so understated and low key but a gentlemen and a kind person. It was the first time I noticed the polyester style uniforms. Pesky was a class act. He only stopped signing with his pen when the game started.

I remember going back to my seat as the game began. Roger Moret was on the mound that day. Man he was tall and lanky. The Oil Can Boyd of his day. I was impressed. He pitched his first inning wielding a strong arm and an archaic delivery. Fisk was catching. Carlton Fisk was catching. Can you imagine that? A Hall of Famer and I got to see him live!

After the first inning, I remember seeing Fred Lynn at the batters box. They were so close you could see the fabric of the uniforms and their faces and their stances. I couldn't believe how tall Carlton Fisk was or how physically fit Hall Of Fame Carl Yastremski was or how muscular Rick Burleson was at the plate with his trademark bent over stance at the batters box. These were the Red Sox of another time. They weren't diversified. They were all about power.

By the fifth inning things were looking grim. The park was feeling like a cemetary. The Minnesota Twins with their sharp blue uniforms tore out eight runs in four innings. It was nothing short of a blow out. The game was boring to me and the initial excitement of seeing Fenway had faded as much as the paint on our hard wooden seats. It was still bustling with vendors roaming the park with the typical foods of popcorn and hot dogs and beer. Fenway was a working class ballpark back then. The blue collars shone brightly on the fans.

By inning seven, thanks in part to Fred Lynn, Yastremski and Rice, the Sox were now 8 – 4. The Green Monster was heavily used to get those runs. How I understood why the Sox had such a problem on the road. Fly ball outs were home runs at home. Now the excitement was in the air. These were the Red Sox of 1975 with very few weaknesses.

By inning eight, Lynn, Rice, Yastremski and Fisk pounded the ball and gave Minnesota a revolving pitcher's door until the ninth where the Sox had the game at 8 – 7. That's right. Three runs in two innings.

In the ninth, I got to witness the greatest comeback I had ever seen at Fenway. Cecil Cooper pinch hit. Cooper parted ways with the Red Sox in 1976 in a trade involving George Scott. George had the build of a David Ortiz. He finished his career with the Sox while Cooper never looked back. I still remember starring at him and watching the first pitch. Cooper quickly sent the ball into the right field bleachers. I still can see the angle of the ball and the way the crowd – including myself -- bolted upwards feeling adrenaline flow over us. It was now 8 -8. I could imagine Ned Martin screaming on the radio over that hit. I was certainly screaming and the once docile crowd was roaring with excitement.

Next came pinch hitter Doug Griffin. Doug was a great contact hitter that was small and diminutive. You expected only base hits from him. He was a bit like Dustin Pedroia but lacked the fielding talent and range to play day to day. Doug hit a base hit and my heart raced. Jim Rice was up next. Jim Rice, Mr. Power looked like a man you didn't mess with at the plate. This was Jim Rice! I mean, Fisk, Yastremski and Rice all on the same team. All Hall of Fame inducties. It was amazing.

Rice hit a line drive towards that dreaded hole in center field. It was the deepest part of the park and baseballs bounced around like pinballs out there. Doug was scrambling around second as the Twins struggled to retrieve the elusive baseball. Doug was now rushing around third. My heart skipped. This could be it. Doug was scrambling around third and heading home. Nobody was making a throw to home plate. Nobody! Doug sailed into home plate and was immediately grabbed by Fred Lynn who practically tore the uniform off his jersey. The entire team scrambled around Doug as if Doug has become the hero of heroes. The game was over. The Sox had won it 9 -8. They had done the impossible. The entire team scrambled around Doug just to feel that moment. Lynn looked like he was going to burst with enthusiasm. They were now just kids around the sandlot after winning a game. The crowd was deafening and blistering with excitement. I didn't even notice the Twins. All I knew was, I saw a moment that would last my entire life.

I think it was five minutes later when suddenly it was all over. The fans moved on to home. The team moved on to the dugout and whatever duties they had afterwards. The world had shut down around me. Fenway was now becoming a memory. The game that had so captured my attention was over. The time of utter escape was gone. What had happened? I wanted another moment with Yastremski and Rice and Lynn and Tiant and Lee and Drago and Willoby and all those greats I had followed through the season. Everybody moved on with their lives and as I looked back at the stadium, I didn't realize at the time how special that memory would be for me, or how long it would last in my memory. We left the stadium and headed on home. I was still reeling with excitement but couldn't believe it was over. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. Come on Mom and Dad...can't you see that? Do we always have to be so orderly and so organized? Do we always have to live and die by the schedule? Can't we just stay and soak up the grandeur of the moment?

To this day as I write it, I can still see those images in my head. The game is lost with time. It never got televised and outside a few surviving audio clips, that game will only live on in my memory. Oh why couldn't they have had the technology back then. TV-38, when they did film the games only saved the highlights. This precious memory would never be saved for the fans to relive it.

Carlton Fisk is now retired after making the Hall Of Fame wearing a Red Sox cap. It was a somber moment for me in a way. Fisk played more with the White Sox than the Red Sox and the Red Sox had not treated him well in the end. Cecil Cooper never looked back and found a home with the Brewers. Denny Doyle was forced into retirement and founded a baseball clinic. Rick Burelson found a new home with the California Angels (now the LA Angels) but arm problems forced early retirement. Rico Petrocelli managed the Pawtucket Red Sox for a while until he retired. I actually got the see a game that he managed. The Paw Sox were destroyed in that game. No comeback for him. Jim Rice makes it to the Hall. Fred Lynn, after 1975 was never the same and Dwight Evans, after going on to the 1986 World Series with the Sox was forced to retire with Baltimore. Lousy move. The Sox got a pretty useless power hitter in trade. Baltimore got the better deal. Dewey now is a consultant in player development with the Sox.

It always happens that at the start of Spring Training every year for the Red Sox, I think back at that game of 1975. It was such an innocent time for me. My parents are in Maine living out the rest of their lives. My childhood is over. My innocence, long since departed. My memories fading with time.

I think that's what makes us fans of the Red Sox. Maybe we don't necessarily care about outcomes. Maybe we don't essentially care about World Series wins. Maybe what we care about is that continuity. The continuity of the Red Sox. The players will always change but when you see Dewey Evans broadcasting a game or Rice getting into the Hall Of Fame, somehow you know your family is still with you. Maybe what we really see in the Red Sox is that family that is impossible to create in real life. This family stays with you. It changes but stays the same. It is dependable and exciting. It can break your heart but also lift up your spirits.

Sometimes, I confess how much I would love to sit in Fenway Park just one more time and watch Yastremski and Doyle and Burleson and Tiant and Lee and Drago hit the field one last time and make a game of it. Sometimes I would love a reunion of the 1975 Red Sox right down to Tim Burton and the other lesser known players. Sometimes I would like to go back in time and live at Fenway Park in 1975 and watch them play. I would love to see Darrell Johnson manage that team and Lynn make another spectacular catch or Burleson do his magic. Will we ever have times like that again? Will any of us? God, I wish we did.