Robert A. LaRosa's Memories

In 1967 for the final game I was painting the trim on my house. I had instructed my wife to move the TV to each window that I was close to so I could see the game. So when the final out was made, a pop up to short, I was there on a 50 foot ladder looking in the window at the final play. Thank God I was young and stable.

Being a member of the BoSox Club we had access to World Series tickets. I took games One and Seven. I remember everything out those two games. All the men were wearing top
coats and soft hats. In those days, you dressed up for the game. In game one I was in section three. There I saw many movers and shakers of the Boston business community all pretty happy with there seats. Every time I take my grandchildren to theBoSox game I think of 1967 and Section three.

Robert A. LaRosa
Member since 1

Bob Rutchik's Memories

I have wonderful, priceless, memories one from the beginning, middle, and the end of the 67 season and a tragic one from that magical season.

Iremember sitting in my mother's car on a Friday April afternoon waiting for her outside the beauty parlor where she was having her hair done listening to Ned Martin and Ken Coleman call the action as BillyRohr tried for immortality, only to be denied by Elston Howard with one out, I believe, in the 9th.

Iremember watching that remarkable play by Jose Tartabull where he caught Ken Berry's fly and with his rag arm threw a fly ball to Elston Howard, now a Sox, who blocked the plate and caught the ball and tagged out Duane Josephson. (Or was it Josephson who hit the fly and Berry who tried to score?) That made me a believer because the WhiteSox speed and pitching game, literally, ran circles around the slow, ponderous, Red Sox. The Red Sox could never beat these guys. Now, the Red Sox finally beat them.

I remember being at Wonderland Dog Track on an August Friday night and hearing over the PA system the news that Jack Hamilton had beaned Tony and getting sick to my stomach. I remember that picture of him and his swollen left eye the next day in the papers. I knew, as otherSox fans did then no matter how much we wanted to deny it, that was the end of the charismatic Tony C's burgeoning Hall of Fame Career.

Most of all I remember the last weekend against the Twins with Yaz going 7 for 8, a triple crown weekend for the triple crown year. I remember Kaat started the Saturday game and Killebrew, I think, started at 1st for that game and made a big error. Yaz also made a great catch, but can not remember if it was Saturday or Sunday.

I remember as if it was yesterday after Petrocelli caught the last out me and friends going on Route 128, in my Mother's car again, to a car show at Suffolk Downs and listening to the end of the Tigers v. Angels game and that magic moment when McAuliffe, later a Sox, hitting that popup to Knopp and every car, it seemed, on Route 128 touting their horns in celebration. I still hear those horns.

I also remember Gentleman Jim Lonborg not being a gentleman on the mound. He hit, I thnk, 19 batters that season. Today, that would get a pitcher suspended for the season. He also was no easy out at the plate. I remember him hitting a double in
some game.


Bob Rutchik
Now of Rockville, MD
Then of Gloucester (Gloucester High Class of 65)

H. Tracy Mitchell's Memories

In September of 1967, I am just finishing my tour of duty with the US Navy, and all New Englanders on board the USS Randolph, CVS 15, home based in Norfolk, Virginia, were stuck to the "tube" for the summer, watching, or listening to "The Red Sox". I think there were more New Englanders on board than any other team fans.

H. Tracy Mitchell
Medfield, MA

40 YEARS AGO

An American In Paris, 1967

Sox Fan Nancy Macmillan recounts her 1967 story:

In a Red Sox season that was, as the DVD has it, impossible to forget, my most vivid and enduring memory originated not in Fenway Park, but 3,000 miles away.

The trip to Europe my husband and I had planned as our last getaway before our first child arrived in December coincided with the end of the regular season—bad timing! When we made the arrangements, the RedSox didn’t look like contenders for the pennant, and once they started their surge, it was too late to change the dates of our trip.

So here we were in our funky hotel room in Paris, the morning after the season ended. Before the Internet and other wonders of modern technology, news of baseball games was scarce on the other side of the Atlantic. As we drank our coffee in bed, we speculated about the weekend just past. Could the RedSox have won both Saturday and Sunday and taken the pennant? At first it seemed unlikely, but then we decided they could have won, and we needed to find out as soon as possible.

But how? Finally, one of us thought of the American Express office a few blocks away. Surely someone there would know all the important news from the U.S. We got dressed and proceeded to American Express. It turned out all the employees were French, but they had the information we and the other 20 or so Americans in the office were eager for. When they told us the RedSox had won the pennant, we total strangers hugged and danced and whooped and hollered, to the puzzlement of the office staff—an early manifestation of RedSox Nation.

We were back in Boston in time for the World Series, and that was wonderful, but what I’ll always remember is the celebration for the Impossible Dream team in Paris.