The choice was simple: Go to that day’s Bio class or
Stay home and watch Game 7 of the magical World Series.
It was 1960 and I was a serious student thinking
Pre-med in the footsteps of Drs. Casey and Kildare on TV
But that was fiction and Game 7 was reality so
I dropped Bio and stayed home and knew the Yanks would win.
(This was before the Mets were born and stole my heart,
But that’s a tale for another time.)
This was the time for the Bronx Bombers, living in my home borough,
To follow the script to the title as they had in seven of the last 12 years,
And as they would in 1961 and 1962; I made the obvious choice
And watched on my good old black and white RCA and waited
For the celebration. Mantle was still Mantle then and so were
Whitey, Yogi, Elston, Gil and Roger Maris, one year before his great
Home run chase with the Mick. How could they lose?
Dropping Bio 101 was so clearly worth it. Forbes Field was a great setting
For this David and Goliath match-up, the first Series show-up
For the Pirates since they lost to the Bambino and his Yanks in 1927.
These Yanks had won three games by scoring 35 more runs than
Their mediocre opponents from the City of Steel; this victory
Would be a different kind of steal! Biology may have been the
Study of life but this game was Life! I was into it, and when the Yanks,
Losing 9-7, tied the game in the top of the ninth I knew where it was headed.
And then my world collapsed. It happened quickly, on the second pitch,
The one that weakling Mazeroski sent flying over the left field wall —
And there I was, speechless, astounded, classless:
Instead of dissecting a frog, which I should have been doing,
I was left to dissect the Series — but it made no sense. Pittsburgh celebrated
And I debated Terry’s choice; when asked what kind of pitch he threw,
Ralph Terry said, “The wrong one” and that paralleled my choice:
My own decision was “the wrong one” too — but the mind,
In conflict with the heart, will never win. I lost that Series but
I won some wisdom from it, and so I guess my choice was worth it . . .
Still, I would have chosen ignorance, not wisdom, if it had meant
The Yanks would win that game.
THE POETRY OF THE GAME