Black Friday, 7 October 1977: The Worst Loss in Phillies History

 

Black Friday. To Philadelphia sports fans of a certain age that expression conjures up images, not of (now happily declining due to internet commerce) harried Christmas shoppers looking for deals at suburban malls the day after Thanksgiving, but of a baseball game played at Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia on the afternoon of October 7, 1977, four years before the expression was first used, in the Philadelphia Inquirer, to explain the day after Thanksgiving's role in putting retailers "into the black."

I am referring, of course, to game 3 of a deadlocked, one game apiece best-of-5 National League Championship Series between the 101-win, NL Eastern Division champ Phillies and the 98-win Los Angeles Dodgers, the champions of the NL's Western Division. Last month I recalled the collapse of the 1964 Phillies and the bizarre event that began it all, the naked steal of home by the obscure Chico Ruiz on September 21 of that year. But whereas that "infamous" collapse took place in slow motion, as it were, over 10 excruciating days, the collapse of the 1977 Phillies, no less bizarre, but infinitely more catastrophic considering how good the team was, came shockingly quickly, in the span of a mere 10 minutes in the top of the 9th inning of a game they led by 2 runs with 2 outs and no one on base.

The 1977 Phillies were, if not the best, certainly the most talented team in the checkered, 139-year history of the club, whose 11,112 losses remain the most of any franchise in American professional sports history (runner-up are the Boston-Milwaukee-Atlanta Braves at 10,757; methinks the Phillies' record is safe for a few more generations). From 1968-1974, it was business as usual: the team had seven consecutive losing seasons, averaging more than 91 losses per year. But things were about to change. Good trades, most notably those for starting pitcher Steve Carlton in 1972, second baseman Dave Cash in 1974, and outfielder Garry Maddox in 1975, the development of homegrown talent such as outfielder Greg Luzinski, catcher Bob Boone, shortstop Larry Bowa, and especially third baseman Mike Schmidt, and the inculcation of a new attitude by the infectious enthusiasm of Cash led to a breakthrough in 1975, when they won 86 games and finished in second, 6.5 games behind the Pirates.

Mike Schmidt
(photo credit: John Iacono, Sports Illustrated)

Then came 1976, when they sprinted out of the gate and blew away the competition from the start. They compiled a 56-25 record the first half of the season (I still remember going to games and the computerized scoreboard precipitantly bragging "Baseball's Best" when the team took the field to start the game), and by August 26 had built their lead over the Pirates to 15 games. Heck, even the 1951 Brooklyn Dodgers couldn't have blown that lead! But they tried. Dredging up the ghosts of blown pennants past, they promptly lost 8 in a row and 13 out of 15. When, after sweeping the lowly Expos, they proceeded to lose two more to the Bucs and one to the Cubs on a walk-off single by Jerry Morales off Ron Reed, they stood a mere 3 games ahead of Pittsburgh with 16 to play. But they managed to right the ship, winning 13 of their last 17 to finish the season with a (then) team record 101 wins and a spot in the NLCS, where they met the buzz saw known as the Big Red Machine of Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, Tony Perez, George Foster et al., and were promptly swept by the eventual World Series champions.

1977 started out completely differently. In the off season they suffereed a major blow when they lost their all star second baseman, Cash, to free agency, and subtracted their over-the-hill first baseman Dick Allen via release. In their place they picked up the serviceable Ted Sizemore and grave digger Richie Hebner. And things didn't start well. They managed to lose 6 of their first 7 games to the lowly Expos and mediocre Cubs, and didn't get over the .500 mark until their 27th game, by which time they were mired in 4th place, 5 games off the pace. On June 15th, they remained stuck in 4th place, 8 games off the pace with a 31-28 record, when they made their most significant move of the season, one reminiscent of the one the Cardinals had made on June 14, 1964, when that eventual championship team had been 7 games off the pace and traded for Lou Brock: they dealt pitcher Tom Underwood and outfielders Rick Bosetti and Dane Iorg for creaky-kneed, though electric, outfielder Arnold Ray "Shake 'n Bake" McBride, who would go on to hit .339 the rest of the way for the Phils with 11 homers and 27 stolen bases in 85 games. The team would finally hit their stride in late July and move into first place on August 5. They would win 13 in a row from August 3-16, and then, after a rare Carlton shellacking by the Expos, 6 more from the 18th to the 23rd, making it 19 out of 20, during which time they built a 7.5 game lead over Pittsburgh. At season's end, they once again had racked up 101 wins to match their total from the previous season. Their home record, meanwhile, 60-21, was staggering. They led the league in runs, batting average (.279), and slugging, and were second in homers (behind only the Dodgers). Future Hall of Fame third baseman Schmidt had the lowest batting average among the starting eight at .274, while his 38 home runs and 101 RBI were only good enough for second best on the club, behind Luzinski, whose 39 homers and 130 RBI were accompanied by a .309 batting average. Schmidt and Maddox (along with pitcher Jim Kaat) each won Gold Gloves, and both Bowa and Boone were likewise in the upper echelon of defenders at their positions. Carlton won 23 games and posted a 2.64 ERA to win the second of his 4 Cy Young Awards, and the team boasted  four relievers―Gene Garber, Ron Reed, Tug McGraw, and Warren Brusstar―with sub-3.00 ERA's, 7+ wins and 46 combined saves. But what really separated this team from all others was its bench: Davey Johnson, 8 homers and a .321 average in 186 at bats; Carlton's own designated catcher, Tim McCarver, 6 homers and a .320 average in 169 at bats; defensive specialist first baseman Tommy Hutton, .309 average in 81 at bats; and defensive specialist outfielder Jerry Martin

―Luzinski's designated late-inning replacement (more on this presently)―6 homers and a .260 average in 215 at bats. The team seemed impregnable, at least as far as the National League was concerned, even when opposed by a team as formidable as the Dodgers.

After splitting the first two games of the NLCS in LA, the Phils came home to the Vet with confidence, knowing that if they won on Friday the 7th, they had Steve "Lefty" Carlton ready to take the mound on Saturday night. Taking the mound for the Phils was 19-game winner Larry Christenson. Facing him was Burt Hooten, ironically nicknamed "Happy" by manager Tommy Lasorda, who had won 12 games with a fine 2.62 ERA during the season, and who had a fine fastball to go along with his signature knuckle curve. Nothing happened until the top of the 2nd inning when, after Steve Garvey looped a single to center, Dusty Baker ripped a double to the wall in left center. After the "Secretary of Defense" Garry Maddox uncharacteristically juggled the ball while picking it up, Garvey lumbered home and was met by Larry Bowa's pinpoint relay throw, which Bob Boone, who had blocked the plate perfectly, caught and then applied the tag as Garvey pinwheeled away from the plate. Home plate umpire Harry Wendelstedt, who had somehow not positioned himself adequately, nevertheless called Garvey safe, not realizing he had never touched the plate (on the YouTube video, the play may be seen at the 10:12-11:02 mark, and then again at 11:25). After Rick Monday flied out, 8-hole hitter Steve Yeager singled to plate Baker, giving the Dodgers a 2-0 lead going into the bottom of the 2nd.

Philadelphia fans are notorious for their hostility, but rarely do they get the credit they deserve in providing home-field advantage for their teams. The bottom of the 2nd inning, October 7, 1977, was one such day. The Phils' best hitter, Greg Luzinski, opened the inning, by singling to the hole between short and third. Burt Hooten, however, had his best stuff, and two batters later, a Richie Hebner forceout and a Maddox strikeout, Bob Boone came to the plate with 2 outs and Hebner on first. Boone kept the inning alive by looping a single to left center. And then things unraveled for the highly strung Hooten. First he walked Ted Sizemore to load the bases. That brought up the pitcher, Christenson, a .135 batter on the season (though, to be fair, he did hit 3 home runs). On two consecutive pitches, Hooten appeared to have struck Christenson out with fastballs over the plate, but Wendelstedt called them balls, Finally, he walked Christenson to plate Hebner and put the Phillies on the board as Hooten and manager Tommy Lasorda became ever more incensed … and the sellout crowd of 63,000+, noticing it and sensing blood, grew louder and louder. Hooten, clearly shaken and taking time to walk around between batters, proceeded to walk the next two batters, McBride and Bowa, in the midst of the deafening din, putting the Phils up, 3-2, before Lasorda came and relieved Hooten (the whole sequence may be seen roughly between the 20 and 30 minute marks of the video). Rick Rhoden then came in and retired Mike Schmidt on the first pitch to end the inning. [For those who want the listen/watch, the hot mic during the pitching change, when Phils' announcers Harry Kalas and Rich Ashburn go off on Harry Wendelstedt for his incompetence in both halves of the inning―Kalas: "the game should be nothing to nothing"―is classic.]

The Dodgers tied the game in the 4th on an RBI single by Dusty Baker, after which nothing of consequence happened until the 8th. Phils' manager Danny Ozark had inserted reliever Gene Garber in the 7th, and Garber rewarded him by inducing 6 consecutive weak grounders. In the bottom of the 8th, the Phils made their move … with help from the Dodgers. Hebner doubled to lead off the inning, and was singled home by Maddox. But rightfielder Reggie Smith overthrew cutoffman Garvey, and the error allowed Maddox to go all the way to 3rd. The very next batter, Boone, hit a grounder to Ron Cey at 3rd, but he likewise threw wildly to first, allowing Maddox to score an insurance run and Boone to move to 2nd. At the time, with Garber on the mound, no one seemed concerned that Boone was left stranded by three consecutive batters. A two-run lead in the 9th. Gene Garber, with his 2.35 ERA and 19 saves on the mound. No problem! Or so it seemed.

Two batters later, it still seemed that way. Garber induced Dusty Baker to hit a weak chopper to Schmidt and Rick Monday to ground weakly to Sizemore. Two outs. No one on. The fans rose (Over the years, I have learned this is usually an omen of bad things to come.) Lasorda, realizing he needed 2 runs to tie, lifted Steve Yeager for pinch-hitter Vic Davalillo, a 40-year old fossil who had hit .301 for the '65 Indians and .318 for the '72 Pirates, but who hadn't played in the major leagues for 3 years prior to being signed by the Dodgers in August. After one wild swing and miss, the crafty Davalillo, noticing how deep Sizemore and Hebner were playing on the basically concrete surface of the Vet, laid down a magnificent drag bunt to keep the Dodgers' hopes alive. Lasorda then sent another fossil, Manny Mota, to the plate to bat for pitcher Lance Rautzhan. Mota, who would go on to break Smoky Burgess's record for most pinch hits lifetime with 150 (he currently ranks 3rd), batted .395 in 1977. Also, in his last at bat of the regular season, he hit a pinch hit home run off the great J. R. Richard, the first home run he had hit since 1972. Now, in his very next plate appearance, Garber quickly got ahead of him, nothing-and-two. But then he dropped a low and inside changeup that Mota crushed on a line to the wall in left. Martin―no, it was still the leaden Luzinski, routinely taken out for Martin for defensive purposes late in games by Ozark!; why, oh why, Danny? With Martin in the game, the Phils would have won then and there―instead of gauging the ball's trajectory and racing to the spot like any competent outfielder, ran a circuitous route toward the ball while watching it, not knowing exactly where the wall was. At the last minute, Luzinski jumped, the ball hit his glove … and bounced out, off the wall, and back into his glove. He fired the ball back into second, where the ball inexplicably got past Sizemore, with Hebner likewise inexplicably not backing Sizemore up. The Keystone Cops routine resulted in the Phils' lead being cut to 6-5, with Mota on 3rd, but still 2 out. No need (yet) to panic.

The author with Larry Bowa, whose two great throws on Black Friday were
neutralized by bad calls by umpires Harry Wendelstedt and Bruce Froemming

That brought up Davey Lopes. Garber induced yet another grounder, but this one wasn't like the others. This was a smash, right to Schmidt, who was playing up to guard against the possibility of a bunt by the speedy Lopes. It was hit so hard that he didn't have time to gather himself. Instead, it bounced off his glove to his left, straight to Bowa, who alertly grabbed it out of the air with his bare hand and rifled the ball to Hebner just in time to nail Lopes at first on a bang-bang play (@1:55:35). Except First Base Umpire Bruce Froemming called Lopes safe, allowing Mota to score the tying run. To make matters worse, Garber then unleashed a slider while trying to pick Lopes off, and his error allowed Lopes to move into scoring position. Of course, Bill Russell then singled through the legs of Garber to plate the go-ahead run before Reggie Smith grounded out to end the inning. In the bottom of the 9th, the Phils had Bowa, Schmidt, and Luzinski coming to the plate. But it wouldn't have mattered if it was Mays, Mantle, and Aaron. The Phils were toast. The 63,000 at the Vet knew it. I, watching the game in the lobby at my college, knew it. When, with 2 outs, Greg Luzinski was plunked with a pitch and Ozark sent Martin out to pinch run for him, the entire Philadelphia region, in exasperation, wondered, why now? After Richie Hebner grounded out weakly to Garvey at first to put the team out of its misery, all that needed to be determined was when the end would come. And it would come the very next night, in a game played in a constant downpour at the insistence of Major League Baseball. Watching that game in a friend's living room in Havertown, PA is one of the most depressing memories of my life. So ended the glorious promise of the 1977 Philadelphia Phillies. It would be the Dodgers, not my Phillies, who would meet the Bronx Bombers in the World Series, and ultimately succumb in 6 games, not least under the weight of Reggie Jackson's 3 home run outburst in the deciding game.

In my title for this post, I called this "the worst loss in Phillies history." To me, it only has three rivals: The Chico Ruiz game of September 21, 1964, that led to that Cinderella team's shocking end-of-season collapse; October 20, 1993, Game 4 of the World Series, when they blew a 14-9 lead, allowing 6 runs in the 8th inning to lose, 15-14, to the Toronto Blue Jays to fall behind 3 games to 1, ultimately losing the series in game 6 on Joe Carter's 3-run walk-off homer off Mitch Williams; and October 7, 2011, Game 5 of the NLDS, when Chris Carpenter outdueled Roy Halladay, 1-0, and the Phillies' season ended with slugger Ryan Howard on the ground in a heap with a torn Achilles' tendon, his career effectively ruined. Each of these games was devastating in its own way, but the '77 loss has them all beat. The '64 team was good, surely, but lacked the talent of the Cardinals, Giants, and Reds. As devastating as their collapse was, hindsight suggests that their win totals of 85 and 87 in 1965 and 1966 are more commensurate with their actual talent levels than the 92 they won in '64. The same goes for the '93 team. No team I have followed was more fun to watch. But this is a team that finished in last place in 1992. They then finished in 5th place in 1994. Indeed, they are the only Phils' team to have a winning record between 1986 and 2001. So as infuriating as their World Series bullpen meltdowns may have been, they could not have been totally unexpected. The 2011 loss is somewhat more difficult to gauge. On the one hand, this was the team that set the team record for wins in a season with 102. Yet, in hindsight, one can see that this was the last gasp of the team's core that had won the World Series back in 2008. Its major stars―Howard, Chase Utley, Jimmy Rollins―were all well past their prime. Even their best pitcher, Halladay, who pitched heroically in defeat that day, was, although no one knew it at the time, done as an ace pitcher: 19-6, with 8 complete games, a 2.35 ERA, 220 strikeouts, and 8.8 WAR that year, he would last only two more seasons, winning 15 games with a cumulative 5.15 ERA and -0.3 WAR.

The 1977 fiasco was different. The team's stars were all in their prime―Schmidt 27, Luzinski 26, Maddox 27, Boone 29, Bowa 31, McBride 28. Even their ace, Carlton, though 32, still had 6 prime years and 2 Cy Young Awards remaining in his left arm. Yet the loss clearly took something out of them. In 1978, they led the division for most of the year, but won only 90 games, 1.5 games ahead of the 2nd place Pirates. After the season, once again, they were eliminated by the Dodgers in the NLCS. After acquiring Pete Rose via free agency in 1979, the team slipped to 4th place before finally going over the top in the glorious 1980 season. But I often wonder, if Black Friday never happened and the Phillies had won the pennant―or even beaten the Yankees in the World Series―would they have ever made the move to purchase Rose? Would the glories of 1980 have ever happened?

Black Friday occurred when I was 20 years old and a senior in college. When I look back at this painful event today through the eyes of memory, I can see clearly how the Chico Ruiz game and Black Friday serve as bookends, as it were, of my youthful Philadelphia sports fandom, events that have shaped my continued, lifelong fandom at a profound level. The lesson I learned as a 7 year old in 1964, to wit, that my Philly teams are always likely to choke and come up small at the worst possible moments, was reinforced on Black Friday in 1977. Futility―or is it phutility?―is the norm. Cheers are always there, as loud and threatening to the opposition as any place in the USA. But there are always plenty of boos held in reserve for what always seems to be the inevitable disappointment. In the years since Black Friday, the Phillies have won the only two World Series championships in the franchise's history (1980, 2008). The Sixers have won an NBA title (1983). And the Eagles have even won their first Super Bowl (2017). But my constitutional pessimism when it comes to my teams remains. Positive thinking seems all too often to be outside of my reach, try as I may to summon such vibes. Hard-bitten cynicism as defense mechanism. The hardest lessons to unlearn, after all, are those learned firsthand by experience.