TWO FINE MEN, ONE GREAT MOMENT

By Edwin Cooney

I’m not big on “what ifs” in my personal life, politics, history or baseball. However, occasionally they’re just too compelling to ignore.

Most baseball fans are familiar with the “shot heard ‘round the world” at the Polo Grounds in New York even 59 years after it happened on Wednesday, October 3, 1951. That’s when Giants outfielder Bobby Thomson homered off Brooklyn Dodger pitcher Ralph Branca bringing the New York Giants from a 4 to 2 deficit to a 5 to 4 victory in the ninth inning of the final game of the National League playoffs. That moment and the two individuals involved have been celebrated on countless occasions and in countless ways over the years. The recent death of Bobby Thomson at Skidaway Island, Georgia on August 16th brings it to our attention once again with perhaps the greatest force since the day it occurred.

One of the most popular baseball trivia questions is: who was on deck behind Bobby Thomson when he hit the “shot heard ‘round the world?” The answer is Willie Mays, the man who would go on to hit 660 home runs during his All-Star career and become immortalized in the Baseball Hall of Fame. The implication of that question is, of course, that if Bobby hadn’t hit it, certainly Willie would have. Before expanding on the human aspect of this possibility, I’ll very briefly describe the situation.

Whitey Lockman and Clint Hartung were runners on second and third with one out. Bobby, the “Staten Island Scot” (he was born in Glasgow, Scotland on October 25, 1923), was at the plate. First base was open. The Dodgers could have walked the experienced Thomson who had driven in the Giants’ first run that day with a sacrifice fly to center field. He’d also homered off Ralph Branca in the first of the three National League playoff games two days previous. If they had walked Thomson to pitch to Mays, they would have had a force at every base. Had Bobby merely singled, it is likely that the game would have been tied at four each. Had Bobby “flied out” (hit the ball to any outfielder) with any depth, Clint Hartung would probably have scored from third and Mays would have come up with 2 out. Of course, anything might have happened within the game situation, but even more compelling than the game situation and its consequences, was the very human part of this event.

Bobby Thomson’s home run meant happiness for him and at least temporary devastation for Ralph Branca. There are audio recordings of both men after the game. In the joyous Giants’ clubhouse, Bobby responded to Giants’ announcer Russ Hodges’s inquiry as to whether he fell down coming around third base with “Fall down? I didn’t even touch the ground.” He’d just flown all the way around the bases. (Note: It’s been said that as the stunned and defeated Dodgers left the field, one man remained to make sure that Bobby Thomson touched every base. His name was Jackie Robinson).

Then there was Branca saying “Why me? Why me? Why did it have to be me?” Therein lies the human element that interests me most.

Bobby Thomson would play with the Giants through 1953. He would go on to the Milwaukee Braves where his broken ankle during spring training of 1954 would make way for Henry Aaron who would break Babe Ruth’s career home run record twenty years later. In 1957, he would return to the New York Giants for their last year in New York. Thomson would conclude his career with the Chicago Cubs, Boston Red Sox, and the Baltimore Orioles. He’d finish his career with 264 home runs and a solid .270 batting average.

Ralph Branca would pitch out of the bullpen for Brooklyn in ’52, go on to the Tigers in ’53, pitch briefly for the Yankees in ’54 and return to Brooklyn for a cameo appearance in 1956. He had a respectable 88 wins and 68 losses in his career.

Time can, if we allow it to, heal even the most devastating pain and put into perspective the most uplifting joy. Thus, beginning in the 1980s and extending almost to the present, Bobby Thomson and Ralph Branca relived that “historic moment,” not just for themselves, but for you and me.

I’m told that, for many years, Ralph and Bobby attended banquets, baseball card shows, charity golf tournaments and other events where they would pose for pictures, sign baseball cards and baseballs. For Ralph, it must have been cathartic. For Bobby, one would have to believe that it must have been both gratifying and humbling. Whoever had the audacity to bring the two men together is less important, I think, than their willingness, especially Mr. Branca’s, to publicly relive that incredible day—even if the almighty dollar was the elixir. Would such a sharing have worked had it been Branca and Mays? Would Willie’s stardom have dominated the force of a moment made more powerful because it took place between two men whose careers were mostly defined by that very moment? Might it have been called “Willie’s moment,” thus leaving little if any room for Ralph Branca?

From beginning to end, it seems, life is invariably loaded with ironies. Bobby Thomson, the man who hit the most glamorized home run in history, the man whose broken ankle in 1954 made way for Hank Aaron who would eventually go on to break Ruth’s mighty record, left us exactly 62 years to the date and day of the week of the passing of the Babe.

Wonders never cease, do they!

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY