Donnie Baseball's Greatest Playing Moment
Don Mattingly Played Big in His Only World Series
Apr 6, 2009
Despite his wonderful playing career, Don Mattingly reached the postseason only once. That was in 1995, when his New York Yankees became the first winner of the American League Wild Card and faced the Seattle Mariners in the inaugural five-game American League Divisional Series.
In the series, Mattingly shone above all other players, batting .417 with 10 hits, 4 doubles, 6 RBI, and, oh yes, one very memorable home run. It happened in Yankee Stadium in the midst of the now-classic fifteen inning, seven-hour long Game 2 of the series. During the first five innings of that contest, the Yankees couldn't get anything off Mariners starting pitcher Andy Benes, and trailed 2-1 entering the bottom of the sixth inning. That score would not stand for long.
Ruben Sierra Opens the Door
Ruben Sierra led off the inning. He had come up empty in his two prior trips to the plate. But this time, Sierra connected with a high fastball that came off his bat like a shot out of a two-ton cannon. In about three-quarters of a second, the projectile bounced off the facing of the upper deck for a solo home run. The ball hit so hard that it bounced almost 100 feet back onto the field.
If you look closely at that facing of the old Yankee Stadium, you will see a number of indentations from several prodigious blasts over the years. The deepest one, the most noticeable dink in the facade, however, is the direct result Sierra's rocket of a homer. Look for it the next time you are at Yankee Stadium (O, yeah, they closed it. Sorry).
More than 56,000 Yankee fans immediately erupted as one. After all, this was the first postseason series in the Bronx since the Yankees lost the 1981 World Series to the Dodgers. It had been a long and frustrating playoff drought in Yankeeville. But now the game was tied 2-2, and, unbeknownst to the cheering throng, the best was yet to come.
Don Mattingly's Memorable Home Run
Up to the plate strode Don Mattingly. The first baseman, who had already said that he would not play in 1996, was about to take the most important at-bat of his storied career. Chants of Donnie Baseball! Donnie Baseball!! could be heard from the Bronx all the way to Mattingly’s hometown of Evansville, Indiana. This was it. This was his chance to shine. After all those years playing on shitty teams that were bloated with crappy, overpriced free agents, Mattingly was finally here. On the biggest stage in sports. The biggest stage in the whole world, really.
On the second pitch, Benes tried to sneak a fastball past Mattingly. It was a big mistake. Donnie uncoiled from his familar low crouch of a batting stance and turned on the pitch. He connected with his textbook perfect swing and drilled the ball 440 feet into the right-center field stands. A home run. A blast. A bomb. Longer than any he had hit in five years.
Pandemonium is too timid of a word. Riot may be more appropriate. From the instant his bat met the baseball, at the very moment that the old familiar crack! filled the night air, Yankee Stadium exploded as it never had. Not even for Mickey Mantle. The frustration of so many fans, not just for their beloved baseball team, but for their single favorite player, was instantaneously unleashed in a furious, glorious explosion of pent-up emotion.
From the upper decks, thousands of fans threw thousands of beer cups into the lower level seats and onto the field. As Donnie rounded the bases, the flying drips of cold liquid, sparkling in the glow cast from the Yankee Stadium lights, created a scene reminiscent of the closing moments of The Natural. Which was perfectly appropriate. Because if you watched Don Mattingly play the game when he was at his best, you knew that you had seen the only player in history who truly rivaled Roy Hobbs in every respect. Donnie wasn't just the Natural. At times, especially in the 1980s, he was the Supernatural.
It took Donnie a mere twenty seconds to round the bases, but in those twenty seconds, 56,000 normally cranky and belligerent New Yorkers showed what it meant to truly love a baseball player.
After he touched home plate, the crowd chanted his famous nickname at a deafening pitch and continued to drench the field with beer and water, which mixed in with the raindrops that had begun to fall just moments after the impact.
Seattle Mariners manager Lou Piniella pulled his team off the field, telling umpires that he would not leave his players in harm’s way. Lou did the right thing. It was a crazy scene. A scene that only escalated when the crowd finally coaxed Mattingly to emerge from the dugout for a curtain call. Five more minutes of chanting and cheers ensued, and no Mariners would return to the field. Piniella threatened to forfeit the game. Again, he was not in the wrong. It was really something to see.
Finally, the crowd settled down, and the field was cleaned and play was re-started about fifteen minutes after the home run. Not even the Cincinnati crowd’s celebration after Pete Rose’s record breaking 4,192 hit rivaled the scene in the Bronx that evening.
Post-Script
The Yankees went on to win the game 7-5 when Jimmy Leyritz hit a walk off home run in the bottom of the fifteenth inning as the rain poured down on the heads of the Yankee faithful. It was after 2:30 in the morning. But nobody went home. The crowd stayed for another hour, singing New York, New York, and hugging one another while talking about the great blast that Donnie Baseball had hit in his first playoff series.
