The World Series, from its inception in 1903, has spawned many memorable tales, myths and legends.  As such, there have been numerous books written about the history of the Fall Classic, which is on the verge of entering into its second hundred years.  In Series Endings, Thomas Porky McDonald offers up an alternate take on the October showcase that has truly become an American classic.  The question of “Why?”, as in “Why did this player make the last out of the World Series?” or “Why was another on the mound for the final out?” is broached herein.  As the subtitle states, this is a whimsical look at the final plays of the Fall Classic.  There are no concrete reasons given as to why Bill Mazeroski and Joe Carter are to date the only Major Leaguers to hit a Series ending home run, or as to why so many others have been less successful in the final moments of any particular Series.  The idea that the final batter, pitcher or fielder being merely a matter of “luck of the draw” or “natural progression”, a cop-out as much as a reality, depending on your outlook, is dismissed as too obvious in Series Endings.  What is related here are a number of disparate instances in the lives of those who at one time or another found themselves involved in the ultimate play of the final game of the competitive baseball season.  Whether anything before or after their moment in the spotlight had any bearing on that moment is for the reader to decide.  McDonald merely lays out the situations, before, after and during, in a thought-provoking volume, which also summarizes each of the 99 World Series played from 1903 through 2003.

Series Endings is a unique book that asks the casual observer, marginal fan or rabid “crank” to step back and consider the possibilities of life, using a century old institution as a backdrop.  The existence of the “baseball gods”, which are clearly vibrant and alive to McDonald, is tossed up throughout, with previously unheralded names, such as Bob Kuzava, Debs Garms and Charlie “Boss” Schmidt weaving seamlessly with more well known characters such as Babe Ruth, Pepper Martin and Jackie Robinson.  All of these men, along with so many others, have at some point been involved in the final play of a World Series.  These stories fuel this resultant book, one unlike any ever written about baseball’s Fall Classic.

Thomas Porky McDonald is a poet and writer who has written a number of book which use baseball and the ballpark venue to relay his views on life, in general.  Two of his most recent releases, Where the Angels Bow to the Grass, A Boy’s Memoir, and The Air That September, each showed a different part of the writer’s soul.  Where the Angels Bow to the Grass, taken mainly from his childhood days of the 1960’s and 70’s, described the bond between McDonald and his father, Bill “The Chief” McDonald.  The Air That September was a singular lifetime New Yorker’s look at the events of September 11, 2001, sandwiched by the Summer that had been and the post-9/11 relevance of the game of baseball.  Previously, McDonald had published the first of a scheduled four poem collections, spanning the years 1989-2002.  Ground Pork: Poems 1989-1994, was released in 2002, and will be followed by Downtown Revival: Poems 1994-1997, sometime in 2004.  The remaining two volumes, Closer to Rona: Poems 1997-1999 and Still Chuckin'’ Poems 1999-2002, are due to be published in the near future.  McDonald’s “Irishman’s Tribute” trilogy, a three-volume paean to the National Pastime, consisted of An Irishman’s Tribute to the Negro Leagues, Over the Shoulder and Plant on One: An Irishman’s Tribute to Willie Mays and Hit Sign, Win Suit: An Irishman’s Tribute to Ebbets Field.  Containing short stories and historical material, as well as a small dose of McDonald’s trademark baseball poetry, each book took a nostalgic look at why baseball was and is so vital to so many.  McDonald has also published a book of short stories called Paradise Oval.  Born in St. Albans Naval Hospital in Queens, McDonald has lived in nearby Astoria his entire life.

Certain games become in time, larger than life, if only for one electric moment in the course of the action.  Game Seven in 1926 at Yankee Stadium was such a game.  It began and ended with the greatest star in the land at the forefront, with a significant detour down memory lane creating some pure American folklore along the way.  Jesse Haines and Waite Hoyt started this contest that began innocently enough.  In the first, Haines walked Ruth, the Babe’s eighth free pass in the Series, tying his own record set in 1923.  Then in the third, the big guy finally got a pitch to hit and naturally the score became 1-0, New York.  Ruth’s blast into the bleachers in right center was his fourth of the Series, another in a long line of records.  It also made a statement that the Babe was ready to be the man in Game Seven, if they would pitch to him.  But they wouldn’t, as he would see, and in the third, the Cards took a 3-1 lead as errors by Koenig and Meusel set up a two-run single by the St. Louis shortstop, Tommy Thevenow.  In the New York sixth, back-to-back doubles by third sacker Jumpin’ Joe Dugan and catcher Hank Severeid made it a tenuous 3-2, especially since Haines was developing a blister.  Combs led off the seventh with a single and subsequent walks to Ruth and Gehrig left the Yankees with the bases loaded and two out.  The moment of truth had arrived.

Hornsby, in a move reminiscent of Bucky Harris in 1924, waved to the bullpen and brought in a legend, Old Pete Alexander, to relieve Haines.  Alex, a man known to keep late hours, has been portrayed over the years as having no inkling to getting in Game Seven after his complete Game Six performance.  Actually, Hornsby was said to have told Alex that he might need him out of the pen and the veteran was thus not hungover from a night in defiance to Prohibition when he entered the game to face Lazzeri.  Old Pete was, simply put, the best that Hornsby had, and he delivered.  Lazzeri drilled a 1-1 pitch foul, deep down the leftfield line, and then connected with only air on his next swing.  It was the most famous strikeout since the Mighty Casey had whiffed for the Mudville nine.  It would be replayed in literature and motion pictures for years to come.  Many times it would, in fact, be portrayed as the final out of the Series, and in a way, it was.  But it was only the seventh inning, and before this Series ended, there would be one more electric moment, less dramatic, yet more bizarre.

Alexander, having met the crisis head on and lived up to his immortal status, retired the side in order in the eighth.   In the ninth, he made it six in a row by getting both Combs and Koenig on grounders to Bell at third.  Up stepped Ruth, who had walked two more times since his home run had opened the scoring.  The Babe now hoped for one last swing, but Alex was pitching carefully and determined (Old Pete had, in Game Two, pitched the only game of the Series in which Ruth did not draw even one walk).  Finally, a 3-2 pitch just missed catching the corner and the Bambino had extended his record to eleven free passes.  The next batter, Bob Meusel was poised to deliver the big hit, but never got a chance.  Inexplicably, Ruth took off for second, and was caught stealing by St. Louis catcher Bob O’Farrell.  Hornsby applied the tag and just like that, the Series was history.  Long time Yankee GM Ed Barrow called it “the only dumb play I ever saw Ruth make.”  The Babe, for his part, said he didn’t think that the Yankees would get two successive hits off Alex in the groove that he was in.  If he, the Babe, could get to second, he could score on an outfield hit by Meusel.  Perhaps being walked so many times had made the big fella itchy to make a big play, as his persona dictated.  Whatever the case, Ruth had once again finished as the center of attention, in a most unique way.

As it turned out, the 1926 season began with a 38-year old legend pitching an old Champion to victory, and ended with a 39-year old legend pitching the new Champion to victory.  It also ended with a man not known for his glove (Hornsby) tagging out a man not known for his legs (Ruth).  And for good measure, through 2003, it was still the only World Series in history that did not end directly off the final pitch.  However, Old Pete Alexander did throw a memorable final pitch in the 1926 World Series; he just threw it two innings early.