BALLPLAYERS | TEAMS | CHRONOLOGY | TODAY | BOOKS | NEWSLETTER | ERRATA | FAQ
Jump to:
Recent jumps
» John Clarkson
» whitey ford
» gary carter
» 1897
» 1965 Los Angeles Dodgers

What's New?
Current Totals
Free Newsletter

Report An Error
Fixed Bugs

Browser Button
Jump from anywhere!
Link Your Site

Get Published!
Reader Submissions

Team Pages
All Teams
Greatest Teams

The Ballplayers
Historical Matchups
Negro Leaguers
Hall of Famers
MVPs

Bookshelf
New Excerpts
Photo Collections

The Chronology
Flashbacks
Baseball Eras
Today in BB History
Anyday in BB History
Rules: 1845-1899
Rules: 1900-present

FAQ
Authors

BaseballLibrary.com
Copyright © 2002
by The Idea Logical
Company, Inc.

All rights reserved.

The Perfect Yankee
The Incredible Story of the Greatest Miracle in Baseball History
by Don Larsen with Mark Shaw
Sports Publishing, Inc., 2001 | Buy the book
« 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8

Chapter 22

The left-handed hitter Mitchell, sporting #8 on the back of his Dodger uniform, now assumed his crouched position deep in the batter’s box. Babe Pinelli, umpiring for what would be his final time behind the plate after nearly a thousand games and 22 years as a man in blue, kneeled touch-close behind Berra. Pinelli later admitted that he was so short of breath that he felt faint.

Gasping for air in the frenzy, the overflow crowd now focused on the mound. I raised my hands and arms to shoulder length, all the while hiding my ball inside the worn Wilson-model glove that covered my left hand.

I propelled the tiny sphere on its intended trajectory toward Yogi Berra’s mitt. While it took less than two seconds for that baseball to cut through the air and end up crossing the plate, those who witnessed my final pitch swore that time stood still.

I remember watching the ball turn over and over and head on a direct line with Mitchell’s uniform letters. I saw Dale commit himself and make a futile half swing. He didn’t connect and then I saw the ball pop squarely into Yogi’s mitt.

Instantly, Dale looked back at Pinelli. I watched the umpire’s mouth open, and he said something I couldn’t understand. A second later, Pinelli’s right arm pointed upward toward the sky.

Next thing I knew Yogi rose up out of his crouch. I saw Mitchell flail his arms and protest to Pinelli, but he was long gone. Without Pinelli or Yogi there, poor Dale looked rather lost. He was probably cussing at himself, wishing he’d either held up and taken a chance on a Pinelli ball/strike call or swung full-out at my pitch.

All the while Yogi was racing toward me with a huge grin on his face. When it registered that Pinelli had called strike three, I do not know. I didn’t fully realize what had happened until Yogi leaped into my arms.

Two hours and six seconds from the first pitch of the game had elapsed. Later I’d learn that Vin Scully had memorialized the moment when he was kind enough to say: “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the greatest game ever pitched in baseball history.”
» BUY THE BOOK
» MORE BOOKS



From The Perfect Yankee: The Incredible Story of the Greatest Miracle in Baseball History by Don Larsen with Mark Shaw.
Copyright © 2001 by Mark Shaw. Excerpted with permission.