Ted Williams (Getty Images/Getty Images)
A picture-perfect spring day called 36,431 to the House That Ruth Built on this Sunday.
What wasn’t to like? The Yankees were playing better, future Hall of Famer Lefty Grove was on the mound for the Red Sox and Ted Williams was in town—a guy who everybody seemingly loved to hate.
Portsider Grove would surely give the Yankees some trouble, but guys like Joe DiMaggio saw even the best pitchers as challenges, not impossible obstacles to overcome. The sun was out, the subways were humming. The birds were singing. All was right in the Big Apple.
Four players in the New York lineup were hitting more than .300 (including the improbable mercurial start for catcher Buddy Rosar at .472). Charlie “King Kong” Keller was heating up.
Oh, and while few had noticed, DiMaggio had a modest 10-game hitting streak. Not loud, but his hits had been meaningful—like the day before.
Bring out the brooms, the Sox were going to get swept.
Once the game began, all the great expectations for were gone. The Sox got to journeyman left-hander Marius Russo: A run in the second was followed by three more in the third.
Keller’s three-run homer brought the Bombers close in the bottom or the inning, but eventually Boston would cruise, 10-3.
DiMaggio got a hit, a bleeder to the outfield that came with two outs and nobody on halfway through the game.
While the Yankees were as quiet in the dugout as they were at the plate, the other dugout was all smiles.
The great Lefty Grove ran his record to 3-1, threw fewer than 100 pitches in getting through the Bomber lineup, and lowered his earned run average to 3.68. Not bad for a 41-year-old with a tiring arm and a bad knee.
One-for-four. Blah. DiMaggio had nothing to say to the press. He dressed quickly and had his driver take him straight home. He had to get ready for a long road trip. The train left early the next day. The Yankees were going to Washington.
Dom DiMaggio wouldn’t be invited to dinner on this night. He’d scored three runs. Williams, in a rare show of tolerance of the New York press, hung around the locker room a little longer on May 25, 1941. He had just gone 4-for-5 and raised his average to .404.
When John Drebinger of the New York Times asked Williams if he could keep that average climbing, Williams didn’t mince words:
“If they pitch to me, I’ll hit it.”
As we’ll see, they kept pitching to Williams—and he kept hitting the ball.
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