Munson: The Life and Death of a Yankee Captain (23 page)

On Monday, July 23, Munson fell under the .300 mark for the season and into what would be a 2-for-24 slump. He was so banged up it was amazing that he was in the lineup at all. This season was getting away from the Yankees, and they knew it. They said the right things, but it was looking like a lost year.

Thurman always walked to the batter’s box with what can best be called a herky-jerky walk. There was nothing gladiatorlike about his presence on a baseball field. He wasn’t blessed with the body of Dave Winfield, nor the presence of Brett Favre. His teammates sometimes called him “Tugboat,” which perhaps captured his manner best of all. He was their leader, their captain, but he didn’t lead the pack with the grace of a luxury liner. He did it like a tugboat leading his charges, perhaps breaking through ice to do so.

He also waddled a little bit, like a bobblehead doll, set in motion with batteries. And yet there was a steely-eyed determination about
him as he jerked his head back and forth as though never quite able to relieve some bothersome kink in his neck.

And oh, could he be annoying adjusting his batting glove. Over and over, unhitching the Velcro, then refastening it, stepping out after each pitch, adjusting, flexing, resetting his helmet, digging in, positioning himself. No pitch was too insignificant to avoid the rituals. It could be a Wednesday afternoon in June against the Brewers, Yanks up by seven, eighth inning, and yet each pitch was to be studied, considered, analyzed, and pondered. “How did he pitch me last time when we were 0-2?” he’d wonder. And then, as he was adjusting his batting glove, he’d remember. Breaking pitch, low and away. And his concentration would return and his focus would be steely, and he’d take his practice swing—one, two, three—and stare at the pitcher.

Mike Barlow was on the mound at this moment. Barlow, a six-foot-six right-hander out of Syracuse University, was thirty-one years of age, in his fifth season. Munson hadn’t seen him much—he pitched for the Angels and matchups between this pitcher and this hitter had been few. Syracuse and Kent State hadn’t played each other in college.

This was the first game of a three-game series with the Angels, and if you wonder if it was a different era for baseball, consider this. Of four home weekday games that week, this was the only one on TV. There was no cable. It was on Channel 11, and it started at eight o’clock, as night games did back then when the games could still end around a reasonable 10:30.

This being the fourth inning, it would have been just past nine p.m. The Yanks had a little three-game winning streak going. Martin, having replaced Lemon as manager on June 18, was starting to feel a bit of momentum, although the team was in fourth place, eleven and a half games out of first, and dealing with a seeming epidemic of injuries to key players.

Munson, catching and hitting second in the lineup, had struck out against Don Aase in the first inning. Now Barlow was pitching and the Yanks were up 4-3—thinking, a little bit at least, about winning a fourth in a row.

Clockwise from top: Darla, Duane, Thurman, and Janice.
His siblings had all left home as soon as they could
. COURTESY OF DARLA MUNSON DAY

Thurman with his older brother, Duane.
“I left home and missed his high school years. That hurt me a lot, and maybe it hurt him too.”
COURTESY OF DARLA MUNSON DAY

A photo in his Binghamton uniform, first day at Yankee Stadium, 1968.
You can always tell a rookie photo from a veteran photo by the poise, or lack of poise, on display. Thurman had some poise
. COURTESY OF MICHAEL GROSSBARDT

Thurman and Diane, with Tracy and Kelly on Family Day at Yankee Stadium, 1972. COURTESY OF MICHAEL GROSSBARDT

Old Timers’ Day, 1976. Yankee catching heritage of (l–r) Bill Dickey, Yogi Berra, Elston Howard, and Munson.
“What time do you need me
?
”
he asked.
“Oh, he could be difficult.”
COURTESY OF MICHAEL GROSSBARDT

Cover of the 1974
Yankees Yearbook
, with the reigning “M & M” Boys, Murcer and Munson. COPYRIGHT © NEW YORK YANKEES. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Boston’s Carlton Fisk headed for a collision with Munson at Yankee Stadium.
It wasn’t until the mid-’70s that both teams peaked, and Munson-Fisk seemed to be the symbols of both
. COURTESY OF MICHAEL GROSSBARDT

Munson with Reggie Jackson.
It was all Yankee fans could talk about, with few siding with Jackson. Munson was “their guy.”
COURTESY OF MICHAEL GROSSBARDT

Diana Munson’s mother, Pauline, attends to restless four-year-old Michael, wearing his dad’s number 15, outside the Civic Center.
“He’s a handful, that little guy!”
AP PHOTO/BRIAN HORTON