The stage was set for the Orioles to stumble after their loss to the Mets in the ’69 World Series, but they didn’t. In fact, they picked up right where they had left off before running into the Mets. They opened the season with five wins and ran away with their second straight AL East title after beating back a challenge from the Yankees in June. With an intimidating sense of purpose, they won 19 of their last 22 games to finish with a 108–54 record and a 15-game lead.

The blueprint was the same as ’69. Mike Cuellar, Dave McNally, and Jim Palmer each won at least 20 games, and the veteran bullpen seldom faltered, with Moe Drabowsky returning from Kansas City in June to help. Paul Blair, Brooks Robinson, and Davey Johnson won Gold Gloves. Offensively, Don Buford and Paul Blair continued to get on base, and Frank Robinson (.306, 25 home runs), Brooks Robinson (94 RBI), and Boog Powell (35 homers, 114 RBI) continued to drive them in. It was Powell’s best year, and he was named the AL’s MVP after finishing second to Harmon Killebrew in ’69. Elrod Hendricks continued to carry a catching platoon that produced 17 homers and 74 RBI, and outfielder Merv Rettenmund, a product of the farm system, hit .322 with 18 homers.

Frank Robinson: “If we had beaten the Mets in ’69, I don’t know that we would have come back as strong. That was a lesson for us. The best team doesn’t always win. You also have to be the best-prepared team and go out and do the job. Losing set us back on our heels, but only for the moment. We recovered over the winter and rededicated ourselves to coming back and getting in good shape and winning [the pennant] again and getting back to the Series.”

Boog Powell: “I thought I should have won the MVP in ’69. Killebrew led the league in RBI; he was right there in home runs and everything else. But I think I hit over .300 that year and he about .270. One of the nicest things that ever happened to me was that Killebrew came up and said, ‘You should have won the MVP.’ That’s a nice thing. Then I went and got it in ’70.”

There was a sobering moment early in the runaway season when Blair was beaned one night in Anaheim, California. The Angels’ Ken Tatum threw a pitch that hit Blair in the face and dropped him as if he were a losing gunslinger in a western movie. Blair was on his way to a second straight strong season, having produced 26 home runs and 76 RBI in ’69 and given indications that he might surpass those totals in ’70. He missed three weeks after the beaning and came back to finish with 18 home runs and 65 RBI, but he seldom produced that well over the rest of his career, and some speculated he was never the same at the plate.

Brooks Robinson: “He really looked like he was coming into his own, and then that terrible beaning was the worst I’ve ever seen. Oh, it was just unbelievable. Tatum threw sidearm and hit him flush and just crushed him. He was never the same after that as a hitter.”

Paul Blair: “I was out twenty-one days, and they threw me back in there and I hit .304 the rest of the season. People say, ‘After you got hit you didn’t hit the same,’ but I did. Before I got hit I stood on top of the plate. After I got hit I stood on top of the plate. The biggest factor why I didn’t hit as high was Frank Robinson getting traded after the ’71 season. With him behind me, I knew at two and oh or three and one [counts] what they’d throw me. They’re not going to walk Paul Blair to get to Frank Robinson, so they’re going to throw me a fastball. After Frank was gone, they were throwing breaking balls, too. And the slider was a pitch I had problems with. I wasn’t disciplined enough to take those pitches and walk. And that was my biggest downfall right there.”

Earl Weaver: “I don’t know, getting beaned affects you. I got whacked in New Orleans when I was playing in the Southern Association, and I never did stay in against a right-hander after that. If you talk to Blair, he’s going to say it didn’t have an effect on him, but if you look at the stats, him hitting left-handers as opposed to right-handers, there were certain right-handers I had to pull him out against.

“He still got over 400 at-bats a year, so he was still in there hitting some right-handers. Was 26 homers [in ’69] a fluke? I didn’t think so. I think Blair could have continued to do that. I think the beaning had a little bit to do with the fact that he didn’t. It didn’t affect his defense. And it didn’t bother him against certain pitchers. But it has to have an effect long-term.”

One change from ’69 to ’70 was the return of Drabowsky, the eminent prankster who had gone to Kansas City in the expansion draft before the ’69 season. Now thirty-four and near the end of his career, he was reacquired during the ’70 season and won four of six decisions, helping fill out a veteran bullpen. He also returned with a new array of practical jokes, many involving telephones.

Dick Hall: “One night he ordered Chinese food from the bullpen. Just got on there and talked to the guy and ordered some egg rolls or something and had them delivered. Another time—and he got in trouble for this—he set off some M1 firecrackers. He crawled through the hedge over to the other bullpen to set off the firecrackers, and the front office saw him from the owner’s box.

“But the best was when we went to Kansas City, where Moe had played and knew everyone. The bullpens were set back, so you couldn’t really see them from the dugout, and it was early in the game, and we’re winning 1–0 or something, and the K.C. pitcher is pitching all right. So Moe gets on the phone and dials up their bullpen and clears his voice and imitates a coach, ‘Get Krausse up.’ Lew Krausse was a guy in their bullpen.

“So it takes Krausse a minute or two to find his glove, and pretty soon he starts warming up. Meanwhile, their pitcher hadn’t really been in trouble. There was no one on base. And you can kind of sense when you’re needed. So Krausse started slowing down a little, and he’d put his hands on his hips, and we’re just dying laughing.

“All of a sudden Moe gets kind of scared. Because here’s a guy throwing early in a game when he isn’t needed. It’s kind of a no-no. What if he was needed later on? And the K.C. dugout has no idea, because they can’t see the bullpen. So poor Moe realizes he needs to get back on the phone. So finally he calls the bullpen and says, ‘No, this is Moe; I was the one who told Krausse to get up.’ And Krausse had stopped throwing anyway, because there were two outs and a man on first, and the guy was pitching good.”

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