WHAT ROGER WROUGHT!

By Edwin Cooney

The date was Sunday, October 1st, 1961. The clock at Yankees Stadium read 2:43 p.m. A crowd of only 23,154 watched the Red Sox big right-handed Virginian Tracy Stallard take his windup. Their focus, however, was the husky hitter standing in the left-handed batter’s box, his 35 oz Louisville Slugger cocked about the height of his left ear. Evan (Tracy) Stallard (he was always known by his middle name) drove his body and the five oz baseball toward home plate. Before the nine-and-a-half-inch leather-covered spheroid could reach catcher Russ Nixon’s glove there was a loud crack of bat on ball. The ball shot toward the Yankee bullpen in deep right field. It landed in the seats to the right of the bullpen some 365 feet from home plate. It was Roger Maris’ 61st home run of the 1961 American League season.

Nobody, not even Roger Maris’ bitterest detractor, doubted what he had just done, but what did it all mean? What had Roger Eugene Maris, a native of Hibbing, Minnesota who had spent his youth in both Grand Forks and Fargo, North Dakota, just wrought? Did he really understand its magnitude? Did his fans or his detractors?

Above everything else, Roger Maris cared most about his family, his faith, and his friends. Babe Ruth’s home run record, except as a mark to be matched or bettered, was of little interest to him. His status as a New York Yankee was important as a part of his professional obligation but it went no deeper than that. A small town man, he’d definitely have preferred to bring a championship to the Kansas City Athletics for whom he’d played from mid 1958 until he was traded to the Yankees in December of 1959.

The year 1961 found Roger Maris competing with teammate Mickey Mantle for the Babe’s almost sacred achievement.

In mid July, Baseball Commissioner Ford Frick, who had once been a friend and a ghostwriter for Babe Ruth, the “Sultan of Swat,” announced that if either Maris or Mantle were to be regarded as a single season home run champion, he’d have to hit 61 home runs in 154 games. Otherwise, an asterisk or some other mark would be put in the official record book to indicate a definite distinction between the old and new records. After all, the commissioner observed, the Babe had set his record of 60 home runs in the 154 game schedule of 1927. With the addition of two new franchises, the 1961 schedule consisted of eight more games -- a total of 162.

Still, as Roger Maris told reporters, he’d do his best. “I don’t make the rules,” he said.

Aside from the Babe’s ghostly presence, Maris’ teammate and friend Mickey Mantle was another factor. Although the press and media continuously sought to uncover jealousy between them, they were friendly enough to rent an apartment in Queens, along with teammate Bob Cerv, far from the prying gaze of the public eye!

Even Yankee fans who were perfectly willing to see Ruth’s record broken were split between the M&M boys. Most favored Mickey since the year 1961 marked the beginning of his eleventh season as a Yankee. It was only Maris’ second season in Yankee pin stripes.

Due to a late season injury and illness to Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris ultimately prevailed. His 61 home runs achieved a very practical goal: greater earning capacity for the security of his wife Pat and six children, Susan, Roger Jr., Kevin, Randy, Richard and Sandra.

However, young Maris was almost totally tone deaf to stardom. He bristled at questions he regarded as an invasion of his privacy. “I’m a married man,” is all he’d say in response to a question as to whether or not he “played on the road.” Often moody and “surly,” he wasn’t a storyteller. Unlike Mickey Mantle, Maris had no stories to relate about exploits with the adventurous, the famous, and the beautiful. Thus, long before he left the Yankees after the 1966 season, he was regarded by many as being unworthy of his own achievement.

As time moved on, people began to take a second look at Commissioner Frick’s asterisk. First, they discovered that it didn’t really exist. Second, they came to realize that other records achieved in a season or lifetime were accepted as such without comparing the number of games or chances held by previous record holders. Finally, time -- the great healer -- knit Roger Maris, the Yankees and the fans back together in a bond made up of sentiment and appreciation.

Fifty years is more than half a lifetime for most of us. Its glory is that it blends memory and outlook in such a way as to cause the past and the present to merge into the mellowest of experiences. By the time of his December 14th, 1985 death from lymphoma cancer, Roger Maris doubtless realized his own contributions to the turmoil of his unhappiest New York Yankee years. Still he could honestly retain his pride in his principles of hard work, loyalty and dignity.

What Roger Maris wrought occurred exactly 50 years and two days ago. He once observed that if he had it to do again, he wouldn’t change a thing. If I, as a mere observer, could relive it, I’d be delighted to do so. It would be even more thrilling if you could share its fullness with me!

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY