Six months earlier, such a scenario would have defied comprehension. For a civilization which recently witnessed a moon landing, the Mets — cellar dwellers for the better part of their first seven years — were on the brink of an accomplishment registering as much awe as what took place 239,000 miles from earth.
Even 100 regular-season wins and a sweep of the Atlanta Braves in the NLCS did not convince skeptics that New York was capable of toppling the 109-win Orioles in the World Series.
Despite dropping Game 1 in Baltimore, the magic refused to fade. Three straight wins turned skeptics into believers. And now a win away, the elements bringing the Mets to this juncture — superb starting pitching and timely hitting — carried them to the top.
But fate intervened once more with Orioles up 3-0 and the poised to take the series back to Baltimore. The first pitch from Baltimore starter Dave McNally in the bottom of the sixth dove in on Cleon Jones and rolled toward the Mets dugout.
Jones went up the first base line thinking it hit him in the foot before home plate umpire Lou DiMuro called him back. Hodges stoically approached DiMuro and presented what turned out to be indisputable evidence: a ball with a small smudge of shoe polish. DiMuro was convinced. Jones was awarded first base.
Donn Clendenon, soon to be named MVP, stepped in and belted his third homer of the series to pull New York to within a run. Al Weis, anything but a power threat, delivered in the seventh with the game-tying home run (the only round-tripper he hit at Shea all year) to finish off a fabulous .455 batting average over the five games. Two doubles and two Oriole errors in the eighth resulted in a 5–3 Mets lead.
It was an advantage the Mets’ superb big-game pitcher would protect. Through three innings, Jerry Koosman allowed four hits and three runs. He yielded just one hit the rest of the way while his hitters mounted their comeback.
Koosman’s pitch in the top of the ninth to O’s second baseman (and future Mets manager) Davey Johnson was sent to deep left field. Jones, on the warning track, began to kneel as he secured the clinching out—almost as if to acknowledge the heavens for the miracle that had occured. Koosman jumped into the arms of catcher Jerry Grote as the masses congregated on a Shea Stadium turf that was ready to be torn to shreds.
What had been inconceivable in March was reality in October. The Mets, hundred-to-one odds to win it all when the season began, were World Champions. Amazin’.
