Maz Moments

My home video collection captures an October 13, 1960 homerun no baseball fan may ever forget. I have a “greatest moments” in sports history VHS collecting dust on my bookshelf in my bedroom. Today I popped it in my VCR and fast-forwarded to moment #7. This day, 48 years ago, Bill Mazeroski launched a game-winning, championship walk-off 408 ft homerun to beat the New York Yankees in the World Series. The 1960 Forbes Field moment ended Game 7 in the most dramatic fashion. The score was tied 9-9 in the bottom of the ninth when the Wheeling, W.V. native leadoff against Yankees pitcher, Ralph Terry. The moment is so surreal and I can’t even imagine the emotions Maz must have felt. He wasn’t expected to hit a homerun. The Pirates were not the favorites to beat the Yankees. Pittsburgh was clearly overmatched against the team average 12 runs per game and racking up crazy offensive statistics. The gritty Steeltown team was down 7-4 in a seesaw Game 7 when Bill Virdon came to bat in the 8th inning for Pittsburgh. Virdon hit a nasty ground ball to Yankees shortstop, Tony Kubek. The ball took a bad hop and hit Kubek in the mouth. He immediately jerked his hand to his throat and was thrust to the infield, reeling to his right. The video shows him lying still for several moments before the umpire and teammates consoled him. Pittsburgh went on to score five runs that inning and take the lead. But, Mantle, Yogi and the Yankees soared back with two runs in their half of the ninth inning. Maz strolled to the plate in the tie game and the rest is history. Circling the first two bases, the helmet-less Maz was composed. But after he rounded second base, you could see the jubilation. He couldn’t contain the emotion. He was mobbed at home plate by Clemente and the rest of the underdog Pirates team. Terry played four more seasons for New York and gave up 108 more homeruns during his time in pinstripes. Bill Mazerowski played his entire career as a Buc and hit 138 more homeruns. I am sure Terry will never forget at least one homerun he surrended, and Maz most certainly cannot ever disregard his famous blast.



I was trying to think of my Maz moment. The closest I could come up with was a college tennis match as a sophomore. I was playing number one single for SUNY Fredonia at Buffalo State college. I won the first set against a player I previously lost in three sets to. I was very much looking forward to this rematch and was ecstatic after beating her in the first set. But, I dropped the second set with some careless mistakes and costly errors. The score was close, but it was the final set score that mattered. Since a third set was forced, I knew I would be the last player on the court. All the other matches were over or very close to ending. The lights were on and the sun was going down. Both teams had on their jackets and warm up pants. Some were even wearing gloves, hats and scarves. The October evening brought a collective chill.
Everyone gathered around court number one to witness the final deciding set between each team’s best players. At the time, I had no idea whether my match would decide which team won that day. It did happen to matter. All I knew was I wanted that win. It was neither a World Series nor anything close to being a championship event. The audience probably could care less about the outcome as long as they were home soon. But to me, it meant the world. It meant pushing myself beyond anything I could ever imagine. I literally was physically exhausted having only snacked on grapes and Gatorade in between sets. I remember going to the visiting locker room for a bathroom break, looking myself in the mirror and telling myself I was going to do anything to win this match. It’s baffling to me how I pulled out that win. How adrenaline is something you just cannot explain. How you keep focus when everything spells pressure around you. How the sweat on your forehead is so pronounced you can see the droplets on your eyelashes without trying to look. How you are your own worst enemy and your own best friend, all alone on a tennis court fighting each point as if it was the last time you would ever hit the ball. How nothing else matters because you are so locked in, so in the zone. How the ball seems to stick out like a sore thumb and blocking out any distraction is as easy as saying your ABCs. How when your heart just knows you have to keep going because if you stop now you will be letting it down. And when it’s all over and you win the match, your teammates smiles make you want to cry. And you cry. You cry because you did something real. You accomplished something bigger than yourself. You grew up with this game and even if it’s for only a moment, you are grateful for the time you reaped the benefits. One moment can last a lifetime. This is what Maz must have felt that October 13th. He probably felt it more.
Today was a perfect day for playing tennis. The mild and warm weather is conducive for the game. The red, yellow and brown tint of the trees’ shapely leaves make me yearn for the breadth of the tennis court. My home away from home, the perfect playing surface only gets enhanced with enchanting backdrops. I think about all the nice autumn afternoons in high school during tennis practice. These days were my favorite because the school day was over and the only care I had was hitting the ball back and forth. I especially enjoyed listening to the soccer horn or the football coach screaming out schemes in the background. Here and there, a moist leaf would flutter to the front of the service line and linger until the slightest breeze shifted its state.
Tennis in the fall means cotton socks, soft hooded sweatshirts and double-pocketed, neatly-ironed shorts. It means tightly laced sneakers and embroidered T-shirts. It means seeing the sun through the surrounding fence and looking at the panorama of foliage beyond the wooded forest. Autumn tennis is sitting on a metal bleacher seat sipping water and eating freshly picked apples. It encompasses everything beautiful about living in NY and growing up playing tennis for a purpose.
The crack of a bat in Game 7. The crack of a leaf on the tennis court. These moments do not last forever but the memories provide everlasting emotions.

Parting points: Listen to “Rise Above This” by Seether for a surprisingly soothing song

“Under their feet, the grass was fresh; beautiful shadows of branches flickered upon it, and speckled it; hedgerows were luxuriant; everything was at peace.”—Chapter VI, The Starlight from Charles Dickens’ Hard Times.