I've got video of the Eric Davis play throwing out Bonilla at third. I had it on youtube but the mlb cops act fast. Even the call is great. "He is...OUT AT THIRD BASE!"
"Boys, I'm one of those umpires that misses 'em every once in a while so if it's close, you'd better hit it." Cal Hubbard
I went to probably 30 games that year (skipping at least 8 days of school--sorry Western Row Elementary) and one of the greatest memories of my life was getting off the bus the day of Game 1 of the NLCS to see my dad--who never got off early--waving two box seat tickets at me as I hit the ground.
And if Sabo had got a bunt down we'd have won that game. But you know, I'd give a loss in Game 1 for a World Title any day.
Also, and I mean this very seriously, what would it take to get a DVD release of the entire Reds 1990 playoff run? I know Channel 5 had all the games then... I have Game 4 of the Series on tape but that's it.
And then Myers struck out Slaught and that was that.
Incidentally, that was a really good Pittsburgh team.
Ironically, Phil Mushnick's column on Friday in the New York Post featured Eric's throw:
LAME EXCUSES HAVE TO RUN OUT
By PHIL MUSHNICK
June 1, 2007 -- NOTE to Willie Randolph: Pander now, pay later.
Not that I'd pretend to tell Randolph how to manage, I'm just a baseball fan with TiVo. But I'm sure of one essential of baseball that Randolph, at least publicly and through the comportment of his players, doesn't seem convinced is essential: Running to first base.
Running to first can't prevent a team from winning a game, a pennant or a World Series. Not running to first can prevent all three.
Since 1990, when the hideous, cool-over-function trend of jogging toward first or immodestly loitering near home plate in the often erroneous presumption the ball will land over the fence had fully set in, big-league games have been determined by inexcusably indifferent - make that insane - base running.
To this day, Reds OF Eric Davis is recalled for making a great throw to third to nail the Pirates' Bobby Bonilla, by a foot, in Game 4 of the 1990 NLCS. And that foot, and then some, was the result of Bonilla's failure to initially run hard, apparently thinking he had homered. The ball smacked off the wall and back toward the infield before Davis ran it down.
When Bonilla swung, there was one out in the eighth and the Bucs were down a game and a run. Bonilla should have been on third, one out. Pittsburgh would lose that game, 5-3, and the series in six. And what's regarded among the biggest plays in that series was the byproduct of a big leaguer's conditioned failure to adhere to Little League Rule No. 1: hit ball, run.
Bonilla never got his own message. In the years that followed, he remained disinclined to run after hitting a deep fly, continuing to look TV-highlights slick at the risk of appearing terribly foolish. Manny Ramirez, Rickey Henderson and Mike Piazza all cost their teams plenty, choosing not to run, but that never stopped them from not running.
To that end, Carlos Delgado, last Friday, in the seventh inning of a scoreless game, was thrown out at second because he didn't initially run on a shot he hit to left-center that would have cleared the wall if only it hadn't. Embarrassing, counterproductive stuff, doubly so from the acknowledged team leader.
Yet that didn't prevent Delgado, four nights later in a close game, from failing to run to first before each of the two home runs he hit cleared the wall. Of course, he knew both were gone. Of course, he knew the homer he hit Friday was gone, too, the home run he hit when he was thrown out at second.
It appears that given the opportunity to be similarly thrown out tomorrow, next week or this September, Delgado, a slave to the fashion, will choose to do it again. He'd even, again, risk injury with an awkward slide at second, as opposed to reaching second standing up.
Of all the nutty things that have happened to our sports, from uncontested layups eschewed in favor of check-this-out slams that clang off the rim, to football games determined by taunting and showboating penalties, to Olympic skiing gold medals sacrificed to hot-dogging just short of the finish line, nothing seems as nuts as choosing not to run to first base.