GOD MEANT BASEBALL TO BE PLAYED ON THE RADIO:

Long Shot (Ralph Kinney Bennett, 18 May 2006, Tech Central Station)

That Monday night, May 28, 1956, is etched in my memory. School had ended that day, Daylight Savings Time was in full bloom and ancient ritual demanded that even though it was a cloudy and relatively cool day, we boys of Rector, Pa., should go swimming until dark at Devil's Hole, our favorite "deep spot" in the rushing mountain creek a mile above our house. But what about the big game?

Did I say life was good? Our family had recently acquired a then-new and exciting piece of technology -- a transistor portable radio. It was a teal-colored plastic Philco, about the size of a big dictionary, with a convenient gold handle on top.

We sat it on some rocks beside the swimming hole, volume turned to the max, listening to a rasping Bob Prince's play-by-play. The Dodgers had the superb Carl Erskine, who had recently pitched a no-hitter, on the mound. And even before he had to walk out to the hill, Duke Snider smashed a home run, knocking in Junior Gilliam for a two-run lead in the first.

We swam and horsed around, our lips turning blue from the ice cold water. We paused only when Long came to the plate, standing shivering in our dripping trunks around the radio. Long's first time up he grounded out to second. Back to the water. Then, in the fourth inning, Long was at the plate again. The count went to one and one. Erskine fired what he later described as "a good overhand curve. Low and away."

I wish I could say I heard the "crack of the bat." I didn't. Long had poled the ball into the lower deck in right center. The only thing I remember is the roar from that Philco portable. It overwhelmed the little speaker. The plastic grill on the radio vibrated. You couldn't hear the hoarse-voiced Prince, just the long roar that reverberated across the water of Devil's Hole and through the woods. I could hear someone whooping through the open window of a cottage just down stream.

At Forbes Field Bob Skinner tried to take his place in the batter's box. The noise was deafening. Erskine and the other Dodgers and the umpires stood patiently, looking around the park. Every time Skinner tried to step in and let the game continue the roar got louder. He'd step back out with a kind of a shrug and a grin.

Finally, and this was rare in those days, Dale Long stepped out of the dugout and doffed his hat to the delirious crowd. Branch Rickey, former general manager but now an "adviser" to the club said he had never seen anything like that during a game.

The Pirates went on to win 3-2. Long got his eighth home run in the record streak and Bob Friend got his eighth victory. We walked down the dirt road from Devil's Hole in the darkness fiddling with the Philco to hear snatches of the post-game banter. But the batteries were almost worn out. We made up a little chant. "How long can Long go on? How long can Long go on?"

Well, we learned how long the next night. Don Newcombe tamed Dale Long 0 for 4 at the plate, and hit a triple to help his own cause as the Dodgers won. A couple of weeks later, Long hurt his ankle with a fouled off pitch. He slumped and the Pirates, after a heady start, slumped too. They ended the season with 66 wins and 88 losses, in seventh place, 27 games out of first. At least they didn't repeat in the cellar. The Cubs finished eighth. [...]

Dale Long died of cancer in Palm Coast, Fla., January 27, 1991, having seen his record tied but not broken. He had come to know both sides of the old saw that the distance from obscurity to fame is much longer than the distance from fame to obscurity. But his name still shimmers in the flickering light of his one great feat. Each time a run like Mench's or Bonds' takes place I think of him and, frankly, I always hope the now thrice-shared record holds a little longer. And I think of the roar from that old Philco on a spring night half a century ago.

How could his parents come that close but not make his middle name Kiner?

Posted by Orrin Judd at May 18, 2006 1:59 PM