9-4-24 Reds vs Astros 6:40 PM

[Maldez]

*********** THIS DAY IN REDS BASEBALL / THE REST OF THE STORY ********************

Maybe the most bizarre incident to ever occur on a baseball field ...

Been saving this one up for a few weeks. Allow me to take you back to this night, 53 years ago. September 4, 1971 . I was eight years old, a month from turning 9. It had been exactly two weeks and one day since I had seen my first Reds game, a 6-0 shutout of the Pirates at Riverfront. But on this night , the scene was Chavez-Ravine, Dodger Stadium . Oh, how I hated the Dodgers!!! The Dodgers had won the series opener by a run the night before. This was the middle game of a three game set. It was a Saturday night. I was in my grandparents' kitchen, eating cheese and crackers and tomato and drinking my favorite, a glass of chocolate milk. My pawpaw was eating the same thing, except he was drinking his favorite sud, a tall Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I had my trusted Panasonic tuned to the game and was listening to Al Michaels and the Ol' Left-hander call the action. It was the bottom of the fifth inning. The sun had disappeared from view on the comfortable 75 degree night in Dodger Stadium. From my recollection, Al Downing was facing Jim McGlothin that night. In fact, it was Downing, I believe, who led off the bottom of the fifth by walking. Maury Wills followed with a single. Then Bill Buckner hit a grounder to third. Perez stepped on the bag, forcing out Downing. Next up, was Dodger CF, Willie Davis. And this is where all of the weirdness begins .

With Davis at the plate and Buckner and Wills on at first and second, respectively, I remember Al Michaels describing what happened next. It was truly a surreal moment, in what had to be one of the most bizarre nights in baseball history . As the Reds shortstop made a move towards second base for a possible pickoff attempt of the speedy Wills , a massive sack of something fell out of the sky like a missile, landing about 10 feet or so from the Reds shortstop , almost at the exact spot where he had previously been positioned.

Everyone--- announcers, players, fans, and ME, were in a state of disbelief. What was this bag that fell from the sky? Who dropped it , how did they drop such a huge bag, and why did they drop it? When it fell to earth between second and third base at Dodger Stadium , it exploded like a bomb, shooting its powdery contents across the infield. The grounds crew came out, examined the substance, determined its nature , and cleaned it up. The shortstop , who was still visibly shaken after the game, was somehow able to remain of sound enough mind to help turn a 6-4-3 double play off the bat of Davis to end the most bizarre inning in MLB history. Btw, the bizarreness doesn't end there. Around the same time that the bag shot down from the sky, a chicken was seen running amok in the outfield grass. Yes, a huge bag of something rockets to the ground and a farm animal is seen grazing in the outfield of Dodger Stadium, all in that one "Twilight Zone" half-inning 53 years ago this very night.

And now...for THE REST OF THE STORY. That Reds shortstop might very well owe his life to his counterpart on the Dodgers. That's right, on this night one shortstop likely saved the life of another, as the Reds shortstop would have been pounded into pancake batter if the bag had landed on him. Had Maury Wills, one of baseball's best base stealers, not singled and advanced to second base, the Reds shortstop would have been positioned precisely where the huge bag landed, and would have likely died in the most bizarre and grotesque fashion. Instead, the speedy Wills prompted the Reds to try and keep him close to the second base bag and , thus, tragedy was averted.

And now you know...THE REST... OF THE STORY. Well, you will know the rest of the story when someone tells us who the Reds shortstop was that cheated death that night and what in the hell was in that mysterious bag that fell from the sky that Saturday night, exactly 53 years ago.


Oh, it was almost a sidenote on this night, but the hated blue won the game 2-1 . Downing , who three seasons later, would surrender Aaron's 715th HR, won his 17th , besting McGlothlin. There were only nine hits in the game but one REALLY BIG MISS ...Thankfully!!!

Great story....here's another take on it...https://www.nytimes.com/athletic/172...odger-stadium/The night a sack of flour fell from the sky at Dodger Stadium

[64red]

*********** THIS DAY IN REDS BASEBALL / THE REST OF THE STORY ********************

Maybe the most bizarre incident to ever occur on a baseball field ...

Been saving this one up for a few weeks. Allow me to take you back to this night, 53 years ago. September 4, 1971 . I was eight years old, a month from turning 9. It had been exactly two weeks and one day since I had seen my first Reds game, a 6-0 shutout of the Pirates at Riverfront. But on this night , the scene was Chavez-Ravine, Dodger Stadium . Oh, how I hated the Dodgers!!! The Dodgers had won the series opener by a run the night before. This was the middle game of a three game set. It was a Saturday night. I was in my grandparents' kitchen, eating cheese and crackers and tomato and drinking my favorite, a glass of chocolate milk. My pawpaw was eating the same thing, except he was drinking his favorite sud, a tall Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I had my trusted Panasonic tuned to the game and was listening to Al Michaels and the Ol' Left-hander call the action. It was the bottom of the fifth inning. The sun had disappeared from view on the comfortable 75 degree night in Dodger Stadium. From my recollection, Al Downing was facing Jim McGlothin that night. In fact, it was Downing, I believe, who led off the bottom of the fifth by walking. Maury Wills followed with a single. Then Bill Buckner hit a grounder to third. Perez stepped on the bag, forcing out Downing. Next up, was Dodger CF, Willie Davis. And this is where all of the weirdness begins .

With Davis at the plate and Buckner and Wills on at first and second, respectively, I remember Al Michaels describing what happened next. It was truly a surreal moment, in what had to be one of the most bizarre nights in baseball history . As the Reds shortstop made a move towards second base for a possible pickoff attempt of the speedy Wills , a massive sack of something fell out of the sky like a missile, landing about 10 feet or so from the Reds shortstop , almost at the exact spot where he had previously been positioned.

Everyone--- announcers, players, fans, and ME, were in a state of disbelief. What was this bag that fell from the sky? Who dropped it , how did they drop such a huge bag, and why did they drop it? When it fell to earth between second and third base at Dodger Stadium , it exploded like a bomb, shooting its powdery contents across the infield. The grounds crew came out, examined the substance, determined its nature , and cleaned it up. The shortstop , who was still visibly shaken after the game, was somehow able to remain of sound enough mind to help turn a 6-4-3 double play off the bat of Davis to end the most bizarre inning in MLB history. Btw, the bizarreness doesn't end there. Around the same time that the bag shot down from the sky, a chicken was seen running amok in the outfield grass. Yes, a huge bag of something rockets to the ground and a farm animal is seen grazing in the outfield of Dodger Stadium, all in that one "Twilight Zone" half-inning 53 years ago this very night.

And now...for THE REST OF THE STORY. That Reds shortstop might very well owe his life to his counterpart on the Dodgers. That's right, on this night one shortstop likely saved the life of another, as the Reds shortstop would have been pounded into pancake batter if the bag had landed on him. Had Maury Wills, one of baseball's best base stealers, not singled and advanced to second base, the Reds shortstop would have been positioned precisely where the huge bag landed, and would have likely died in the most bizarre and grotesque fashion. Instead, the speedy Wills prompted the Reds to try and keep him close to the second base bag and , thus, tragedy was averted.

And now you know...THE REST... OF THE STORY. Well, you will know the rest of the story when someone tells us who the Reds shortstop was that cheated death that night and what in the hell was in that mysterious bag that fell from the sky that Saturday night, exactly 53 years ago.


Oh, it was almost a sidenote on this night, but the hated blue won the game 2-1 . Downing , who three seasons later, would surrender Aaron's 715th HR, won his 17th , besting McGlothlin. There were only nine hits in the game but one REALLY BIG MISS ...Thankfully!!!

Was this an attempt by your neighbor the Colonel to apply his eleven herbs and spices to that chicken, or was the chicken being on the field just a coincidence?

[cumberlandreds]

Great story....here's another take on it...https://www.nytimes.com/athletic/172...odger-stadium/The night a sack of flour fell from the sky at Dodger Stadium

Unfortunately you have to pay to see that article. I remember hearing about this back then. I wasn't listening to the game that night. It may been too late for me. It has to be one of if not the most unusual occurrence of something during a MLB game. I don't think it has ever been explained. The part about the chicken I don't think I have ever heard. you would think it had to be related in some way though? Link to the box score of the game is below. I had always thought it was Concepcion at SS that night but it wasn't. He actually came into the game and played second base that night.


https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/...040LAN1971.htm

[LiferJim]

*********** THIS DAY IN REDS BASEBALL / THE REST OF THE STORY ********************

Maybe the most bizarre incident to ever occur on a baseball field ...

Been saving this one up for a few weeks. Allow me to take you back to this night, 53 years ago. September 4, 1971 . I was eight years old, a month from turning 9. It had been exactly two weeks and one day since I had seen my first Reds game, a 6-0 shutout of the Pirates at Riverfront. But on this night , the scene was Chavez-Ravine, Dodger Stadium . Oh, how I hated the Dodgers!!! The Dodgers had won the series opener by a run the night before. This was the middle game of a three game set. It was a Saturday night. I was in my grandparents' kitchen, eating cheese and crackers and tomato and drinking my favorite, a glass of chocolate milk. My pawpaw was eating the same thing, except he was drinking his favorite sud, a tall Pabst Blue Ribbon.

I had my trusted Panasonic tuned to the game and was listening to Al Michaels and the Ol' Left-hander call the action. It was the bottom of the fifth inning. The sun had disappeared from view on the comfortable 75 degree night in Dodger Stadium. From my recollection, Al Downing was facing Jim McGlothin that night. In fact, it was Downing, I believe, who led off the bottom of the fifth by walking. Maury Wills followed with a single. Then Bill Buckner hit a grounder to third. Perez stepped on the bag, forcing out Downing. Next up, was Dodger CF, Willie Davis. And this is where all of the weirdness begins .

With Davis at the plate and Buckner and Wills on at first and second, respectively, I remember Al Michaels describing what happened next. It was truly a surreal moment, in what had to be one of the most bizarre nights in baseball history . As the Reds shortstop made a move towards second base for a possible pickoff attempt of the speedy Wills , a massive sack of something fell out of the sky like a missile, landing about 10 feet or so from the Reds shortstop , almost at the exact spot where he had previously been positioned.

Everyone--- announcers, players, fans, and ME, were in a state of disbelief. What was this bag that fell from the sky? Who dropped it , how did they drop such a huge bag, and why did they drop it? When it fell to earth between second and third base at Dodger Stadium , it exploded like a bomb, shooting its powdery contents across the infield. The grounds crew came out, examined the substance, determined its nature , and cleaned it up. The shortstop , who was still visibly shaken after the game, was somehow able to remain of sound enough mind to help turn a 6-4-3 double play off the bat of Davis to end the most bizarre inning in MLB history. Btw, the bizarreness doesn't end there. Around the same time that the bag shot down from the sky, a chicken was seen running amok in the outfield grass. Yes, a huge bag of something rockets to the ground and a farm animal is seen grazing in the outfield of Dodger Stadium, all in that one "Twilight Zone" half-inning 53 years ago this very night.

And now...for THE REST OF THE STORY. That Reds shortstop might very well owe his life to his counterpart on the Dodgers. That's right, on this night one shortstop likely saved the life of another, as the Reds shortstop would have been pounded into pancake batter if the bag had landed on him. Had Maury Wills, one of baseball's best base stealers, not singled and advanced to second base, the Reds shortstop would have been positioned precisely where the huge bag landed, and would have likely died in the most bizarre and grotesque fashion. Instead, the speedy Wills prompted the Reds to try and keep him close to the second base bag and , thus, tragedy was averted.

And now you know...THE REST... OF THE STORY. Well, you will know the rest of the story when someone tells us who the Reds shortstop was that cheated death that night and what in the hell was in that mysterious bag that fell from the sky that Saturday night, exactly 53 years ago.


Oh, it was almost a sidenote on this night, but the hated blue won the game 2-1 . Downing , who three seasons later, would surrender Aaron's 715th HR, won his 17th , besting McGlothlin. There were only nine hits in the game but one REALLY BIG MISS ...Thankfully!!!

Thanks for jogging my memory. Since there were no domes at that time, it had to come from an airplane or an alien spacecraft, that had grown tired of baking


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[Maldez]

Unfortunately you have to pay to see that article.

Here's the article:

The night a sack of flour fell from the sky at Dodger Stadium
By Pedro Moura
Apr 7, 2020

The sun had set on a 75-degree Saturday at Dodger Stadium, the start to Labor Day weekend 1971. The Cincinnati Reds, the reigning pennant winners, were in town, and Dodgers left-hander Al Downing was twirling a brisk gem on his way to Comeback Player of the Year honors.

In the bottom of the fifth inning, the Dodgers pushed to add to their one-run advantage. Willie Davis stepped up to bat while legendary base stealer Maury Wills inched into a lead from second base. Reds shortstop Woody Woodward jogged to second base to provide a pick-off option for pitcher Jim McGlothlin.

Just then, a massive sack of something shot down from the sky at high velocity and landed where Woodward had been standing. At impact, the sack ripped open, shooting white powder across the infield. For at least a few seconds, the record is clear, no one did anything but gawk. Then the grounds crew emerged, studied the substance, determined it was flour and cleaned it up.

Still shaking as he spoke to reporters after the game, Woodward said the sack’s landing sounded like a “ton of bricks.” He realized immediately the flour could have killed him. The episode, and Woodward’s reaction, led beat writers’ coverage the following morning.

The Los Angeles Times reported the Dodgers had called the Federal Aviation Administration, “which, presumably, now is looking for a felonious flour-sack dropper.” The Long Beach Press-Telegram reported the team was “investigating several low-flying planes.” The San Bernardino Sun-Telegram reported the sack had been “tightly wrapped” and dropped by a “presumed idiot.” The Cincinnati Enquirer reported that another bag landed in the stadium’s parking lot around the same time.

“They say nothing new ever happens in baseball but don’t you believe it,” began the Enquirer story. “Saturday night … one of the strangest occurences (sic) in baseball history took place.”

By Monday, the occurrence vanished from the Los Angeles newspapers and from the Dodgers’ minds. Attention had shifted to previewing the Dodgers’ upcoming series with division-leading San Francisco. Downing, the Dodgers pitcher, played six more seasons in L.A. and does not remember the flour ever coming up among players thereafter.

The Enquirer did publish a follow-up story Monday, reporting that no arrests had been made and quoting more players’ reactions.

“When that thing hit, it sounded like a mortar shell going off,” McGlothlin was quoted. “It was an eerie feeling, like being in war.”

Best anyone can tell, that Sept. 6, 1971, story was the last time the incident made news. Scanning the sports and metro sections of local newspapers for the following days yields no results. To witnesses, the flour source has remained a mystery.

“I don’t recall any resolution to it ever,” said Fred Claire, the Dodgers’ public-relations official who would later become their general manager.

A half-century later, the falling flour remains an oddity, a trivia question, but nothing more. A few blogs have briefly summarized it over the years. The Hang Up and Listen podcast covered it in a short segment five years ago. On its 35th anniversary, the Reds cited the incident on the Great American Ball Park scoreboard.

Most of the roughly 20,000 fans and staffers in attendance that night appear to have forgotten about it. But, in addition to the internet, it has clearly remained lodged in the memories of a loyal few, eliciting continued confusion: Why doesn’t everyone else remember how weird it was?

“I have told the story to lots of people over the years and began to doubt myself,” a person identifying as Joey Almeida commented on a four-sentence 2008 blog post. “(S)ometime(s) you hear things over and over again, perhaps events you were not at, but begin to think your (sic) were. i remember this vividly. i am not crazy!”

Woodward is 77 now, living in Florida, working part-time as a Mariners scout. He served as their general manager from 1989 to 1999, calling up Ken Griffey Jr., drafting Alex Rodriguez and trading for Randy Johnson. When he is spotted these days, usually in the seats behind home plate at some minor-league ballpark, the most common questions he receives are about the 1971 event cited on his Wikipedia page.

A fan will notice his radar gun and ask what he is doing. He’ll introduce himself and exchange a few pleasantries. An inning or two later, after a phone has emerged and Googling has been done, they’ll return with a quizzical look and a question: “Tell me about the bag of flour.”

So Woodward is the best versed in telling the story. He remembers how well Downing and McGlothlin were pitching. He remembers the way he could never see anything above the light towers at Dodger Stadium. He remembers the white flash out of the corner of his eye. He remembers telling teammate Tony Pérez the flour could have killed three or four tightly-packed fans in the stands. He remembers periodically looking into the sky the rest of the game, anxious about a salvo.

And he remembers thanking Wills for saving his life.

“You know, Maury,” Woodward began, “I don’t ever remember being thankful you were on second base, but tonight I am.”

There is only one element of the evening that has escaped his memory. None of the people polled that night recall it, either. And the newspaper accounts differ on precisely when it occurred, but they all report another accompanying oddity around the time the flour fell: A chicken was running amok in the outfield.

The Enquirer reported that the fowl was first noticed before the flour fell, and that its presence served to distract everyone from the flour as it fell. The Times reported that the chicken was first noticed after the flour fell, while the grounds crew was cleaning up. Neither the Press-Telegram nor the Associated Press stories made mention of any farm animals.

Downing did not recall a chicken. Neither did Press-Telegram reporter Gordon Verrell. Times reporter Ron Rapoport recalled nothing at all of the flour incident; Verrell, did, but vaguely. Every person polled mixed up details from the newspaper accounts, particularly the location where the flour struck.

“You have your story right there,” Verrell said by phone from rural Virginia, where he retired. “All these old guys don’t know what they’re talking about.”

All these years later, two aspects of the evening continue to puzzle Woodward.

1. How could there not exist one single photograph of the flour strewn across the infield? It boggles his mind.

“Can you imagine if that happened in this day and time?” Woodward said. “All the social media, the 24-hour news services, it would’ve been all over the news. It just shows you a sign of the times.”

In that era, newspapers ran far fewer photographs than they do now and in smaller sizes. More stories ran on front pages. There were no baseball photos in the Times, the Press-Telegram or the Enquirer that Sunday. It is not clear whether the game was broadcast on television locally in Los Angeles.

2. Why was there no resolution?

To this question, Woodward has at least something of an answer, which he offered for the first time last week. Of this, he has never informed an inquiring fan.

He remembers running into a Dodgers official on the field before the next day’s series finale, but he does not remember who. He asked the man if the team had looked into the origin of the flour. He was told the Dodgers had. They had located a small private plane flying low through the area at the time.

“But, as the Dodgers,” Woodward was told, “we are not going to talk about it because we don’t want to give someone else the idea to do it.”

“I thought that was a pretty weak response,” he added. “I think I’d rather nab the guy and let everyone in the sports world know you can’t do anything like that.”

Still, Woodward felt better knowing something about it, even an unsatisfying something. And he hoped for more. At month’s end, he retired from baseball and began television work for the Reds. Soon, he became the head coach at his alma mater, Florida State. By decade’s end, he was climbing Major League Baseball front offices. All along he kept up with industry news.

“I really thought later on, somewhere along the line, I’d see an article about the investigation,” he said. “But it never came.”

Perhaps the Dodgers covered it up in an attempt to make fans forget. If so, they succeeded. It was both forgotten and never replicated. Perhaps the runaway chicken aided in the forgetting. Perhaps, as Downing suggested, the enlivening pennant race did, too. The Dodgers trailed San Francisco by 8½ games that night, but they quickly gained ground and ultimately fell only one game short.

Another possible explanation: The day the flour fell was the same day as the deadliest plane crash in American history to that point. Alaska Airlines Flight 1866 crashed into a mountain near Juneau, killing all 111 people on board. The FAA and the National Transportation Safety Board were busy investigating.

Forty-nine years later is too late to say definitively. We must rely on fragile memories.

As a player, Woodward relished his Dodger Stadium visits. In the afternoons before games, he would grab a newspaper and sit in the box seats, reading and taking in the verdant scenery. There was no place like it, he thought.

It never felt quite as relaxing after the falling flour. His playing days were done, and he could not escape the terrifying memory. As the decades pass, levity can come to accompany fear, and Woodward can laugh about it now. And he knows he will never forget it. How could he?

“There’s been so many fabulous stories coming out of Dodger Stadium,” Woodward said. “But this is probably the most bizarre story coming out of there ever.”