On August 1, 1979, the Yankees ended a series in Chicago. Munson had played first base that day because his aching knees were hurting badly. Catchers need more rest than shortstops and center fielders. Munson knew he could no longer catch every day. His Yankee future had to be at first base or as the team's designated hitter with an occasional catching game.
Fritz Peterson, out of baseball by now, was working as a spokesman for the Baseball Chapel, an organization of the game's religious players. Peterson had found a new wife and religion at about the same time. Peterson called Munson in the clubhouse. He wanted a social visit with his old catcher.
"Can't do it," Munson told him. "I'm flying my plane home right after the game."
Munson had purchased a Cessna Citation twin-engine jet about six weeks earlier for $1.5 million. The stubborn catcher had been warned that the plane was too fast and too sophisticated for a pilot of his skills. Munson, inflexible about this as he was about most things, insisted he could handle it.
He had asked Lou Piniella and Bobby Murcer, recently returned to the team, if they wanted to fly home to Akron with him on the Monday off day. Each refused because of family obligations.
Piniella recalled, "Thurman was concerned about the how the plane was acting. He also heard about showers in the area and wanted to get home before the showers. "
He flew home without incident, arriving at his Akron home at 3:00 A.M. He got four hours sleep, spent some time with his wife and children, visited with his in-laws who lived nearby and were always kindly to him, and went downtown to Lucia's, a popular hangout.
Two friends, trained pilots David Hall, thirty-two, and Jerry Anderson, thirty-one, agreed to go up with him while Munson practiced touch-and-go landings with the Cessna at the Canton-Akron airport. Munson sat in the pilot's seat of his plane, Hall sat in the copilot's seat, and Anderson sat in the single passenger seat.
They took off at 2:45 P.M. on a clear afternoon. The men in the control tower watched the sleek silver plane with the NY 15, Munson's Yankee number, disappear to the left on a clear, cloudless sky. Munson flew the plane over the Ohio countryside for about fifteen minutes, circled back toward the airport, and called the tower for landing clearance. The plane came in slowly to the airport. Investigators later suggested "pilot error," because the plane was moving too slowly as it neared touchdown.
At 3:02 P.M., a thousand feet shy of runway nineteen of the Canton-Akron airport, the plane sliced into some trees, flew past Greensburg Road, crashed into the ground below a rise that led to the runway, and quickly caught fire. Hall efficiently kicked out the right side door and fell to the ground. Anderson, singed on his hands and neck, stumbled out after him. They turned to look for Munson. He was still in the plane. They ran around the burning plane and looked into the cockpit. Munson's head was tilted sideways. He was motionless. From outside of the damaged plane the two friends tugged and pulled at the catcher. He was harnessed into his seat. They tried desperately to release him. They could not. Suddenly, the fuel was ignited and the plane was covered in flames and smoke.
Detective Williams Evans, called to the scene by a witness from a nearby farm house, logged his arrival at 3:07 P.M. He found Anderson thirty yards from the plane, on his back, gasping for breath. Hall was leaning on a tree some forty yards in the other direction, his clothes charred from the flames, his eyes glassy, his mouth open as he sucked in air. Evans raced to the plane, still smoldering in flames, but couldn't get closer than ten feet.
Firemen arrived at the same time as an ambulance. Both survivors were rushed to nearby Timken Mercy Hospital.
Thurman Lee Munson, thirty-two years old, Yankee catcher and captain, was dead.
From All Roads Lead to October by Maury Allen.
Copyright © 2000 by Maury Allen. Reprinted with permission.