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FAVORITE GIANTS MOMENT #2: 1989 NLCS Game 1

After reading a couple of comments from my first installment about Will Clark and the 1989 NLCS, I became inspired to make that my next assignment.

The series was Will Clark's finest moment, and The Thrill was and still is my favorite baseball player. He was the last baseball hero I had before I got too old and jaded to ever really have a true sports hero again. I'm amazed by players, I admire some, I even have some love in my heart for the really good, loyal, hard-working ones (Woody, J.T. Snow, etc.), but I don't idolize them like I did Will. I even carried one of his cards around in my wallet for a couple of years in high school, so you understand the level of creepy fanboydom involved here.

At the time, this series was literally what I'd imagine heaven must be like -- my favorite player dominating  on the biggest stage. And Game 1 was probably the best single game Will Clark ever had. So watching this game was like watching a tape of my teenage self having sex with the hottest girl I had sex with -- It'll never get any better than that (but don't tell my wife I said that). Will's swing was just as sweet as in memory, which is saying something. And when he started swinging, balls started falling, first in the left-center gap for an RBI double, then over the wall for a solo HR, then onto Sheffield Ave., the street outside the right-field stands. It all ended anti-climactically, with a single, but by then the game was well out of hand. The totals: 4 for 4, 2 HRs, 2B, 6 RBIs.

Clearly, the moment of the night was Clark's first pitch grand slam off Greg Maddux in the 4th to put the game out of reach. And to answer a question I was asked in the comments section, I could not find any real evidence which would confirm or deny Clark's famous claim that he read Maddux's lips. I think we've all heard the story: Zimmer goes out to talk to Maddux, tells him what to do, and Clark, looking out at the mound, supposedly was able to see Maddux over Zimmer's head, mouthing the words, "fastball, inside."

On the tape, you can see Maddux's head over Zimmer's on the mound, and you can see both Clark and Mitchell standing in the on-deck circle, looking at the mound and talking. The camera cuts between the two shots ans everything looks as it would if the story were true. Clark does appear to be watching pretty closely, and while he is talking to Mitchell during most of it, he stops at end, just before Zimmer leaves. If he did see it, I can tell you one thing: he didn't say anything about it to Mitchell, just silently walked up to the plate.

If the stellar batting exhibition wasn't enough to remind me how much there really was to like about Will, his reaction upon returning to the dugout certainly was. As he reaches the top step and is being mobbed by teammates, NBC turns up a mic near the dugout just in time to hear him let out one of those shrill, Southern Fried yelps of his -- half battle cry, half stuck pig. At which point, Tom Seaver commented, "Does he have intensity or what?"

In each one of these tapes I watch, I see something I'd totally forgotten about. In this case it was the immense contribution from Matt Williams. We all remember the Matt Williams of the 90's, a prolific slugger with a great glove and an even better disposition. But only those of us who were fans between 1987 and 1989 remember the unbelievably bad Matt Williams. In fact, he's become a cautionary tale for me to pull out every time somebody is ready to give up on a young player and call him a bust. "Oh yeah," I'll start, "Sure, Alex Smith looks like shit right now, but let me tell you about another young player who looked like shit." I'll talk about how young Matty couldn't hit anything -- not fastballs, not breaking balls, not even Calvin Schiraldi. I'll tell them about how my buddy Yosh used to call out "3 pitches, no contact!" from the stands when Matt would walk to the plate. Then, I spring the twist on 'em: "That young player was... Matt Williams."

I remembered right when the switch turned on for Matt -- the middle of 1989. I remember him coming back up from the minors and leading the team in HRs and RBIs after August 1st. That, of course, includes Kevin Mitchell, who lead the league in both catagories. I realized he was a different player from then on, but in hindsight I didn't realize just how far he advanced that year. In what might have been the best swing of this game, Williams took a pretty good Maddux breaking ball down and away, and went with it, slicing a hard drive down into the right field corner to score two key runs in the first, in his first ever post-season AB. That, plus two Brooks Robinson-esque defensive plays to save Garrelts' ass.

Speaking of which, it's weird to see Scott Garrelts as the Game 1 starter, but the guy led the league in ERA that year at 2.28.

And lastly, for those of you fretting about this year's lineup, four words: Pat Sheridan, starting rightfielder.

WARNING: BONUS, NON GIANTS MATERIAL TO FOLLOW

I know the Giants and Niners are my most favorite sports teams because they cause me the most pain. But while doing this I have realized that two of the most purely exciting, electrifying, exhilarating moments I have on tape are actually of a team which, while I love, does cause me to seriously consider self-immolation -- Stanford basketball:

  1. The last 90 seconds of the Stanford hoops Elite 8 comeback victory over Rhode Island in 1998, featuring Arthur Lee's unconscious display of clutch sharp shooting, and culminating with Mark Madsen's steal and foul-drawing dunk, his mouth agape, screaming, his arms raised to the sky in exultation. One of the best sports viewing experiences ever. They play it on ESPN Classic sometimes, and I heavily reccomend setting the TiVo.
  2. The last 60 seconds of Stanford's comeback victory over Arizona in 2004 to run their record to 20-0, culminating in maybe the most racous celebration is Stanford sports history. Tiger Woods rushing the court, nerds trying to cop a feel of his wife -- amazing scene. Even the great Bill Walsh was in attendance. The highlight, of course, is Nick Robinson's miracle heave dropping and watching the place erupt, but a close second is just listening to Brent Musburger and Dick Vitale scream with each other, at each other, and over each other for a good 30 seconds after the play ends. Neither of them can hear themselves, let alone the other guy, but they have so many adjectives and exclamation points in their mouth, they just can't help it. I don't think I've ever seen Vitale so excited, and that's REALLY saying something. That's like saying, "I've never seen Snoop so stoned", or "I've never seen Russell Crowe so angry", or "I've never seen Grant with so many Thai hookers", or... Well, you get it.

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