Final outs of the 1980 World Series, through Bob Boone’s eyes
Relive the crazy inning that closed out the Phillies’ first title, 40 years ago today, through the words of the man with the best seat in the house.
Bob Boone rushed to put on his pads as fans in the packed Veterans Stadium crowd roared. They sensed the impending history.
Boone was stuck in the on-deck circle as the eighth inning of Game Six of the 1980 World Series ended and the Phillies took the field to try to close out their first franchise title in 98 seasons.
Embarking on a nervous sprint from the dugout to the mound was Tug McGraw. The trusty closer took over for Steve Carlton in the eighth inning with the task of closing out a championship. He walked two batters, allowed a run, but kept the Phillies’ lead in the potential clinching game, 4–1.
McGraw and Boone were close friends. Boone caught him through the regular season as McGraw, after retuning from injury in July, pitched 52.1 innings with a ridiculous 0.52 ERA.
So as Boone fought through knee pain to walk up the dugout stairs and catch McGraw’s warm-up pitches, he sensed right away that two-time All Star was off.
First pitch: high
Second pitch: high
Third, fourth, fifth pitches: all high.
“He was out of gas,” Boone said. “And what a lot of people don’t know is Tug was always scared to death. One of the things he did when he’d pound his glove on his leg, it was because he was really nervous.”
Tug wasn’t at the top of his game at this point in the season. He blew a save in Game Five of the NLCS in Houston, allowing two runs after an improbable comeback gave the Phillies the lead. He then came just feet away from giving up a walk-off homer against the Royals in Game Five of the World Series. McGraw tapped his chest above his heart before closing out the wild, pivotal win.
Now, after striking out Amos Otis to begin the inning, he walked a batter and allowed two singles to load the bases and put the tying run on first. As the wild pitches came in, Boone felt his friend glare at him from the mound.
“Tug and I were really close,” Boone said. “And he’s looking at me like, ‘Bob, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here. But I know you know and you can figure it out. So hurry up and figure it out so you can come and tell me.’
“And I’m watching him and I’m watching everything,” he added. “Where’s the ball coming out of his hand? Is he striding too low or too short? Is he picking it up differently? And I’m bearing down and trying to figure it out but he just keeps throwing it high. And I’ve got to go talk to him but I don’t know what I’m going to say.”
The pressure built as Boone walked to the mound. He took his time, hoping he could think of something –– anything –– to help McGraw in the most important of moments. Boone still had nothing when he reached the rubber and saw McGraw’s nervous face.
“So I get to the dirt and, I used to call him ‘Tuggles,’” Boone said. “So I said, ‘Tuggles.’ And he looked at me like, ‘Yeah, I know, you’re going to tell me something I need to work on here.’
“And I said, ‘Everything’s high.’
“And then I pivoted and walked back.”
“So, when I got back to home plate, I look back there and he’s just laughing. And all of the sudden, he turned back into Tug McGraw. It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever told a pitcher.”
McGraw locked in after the candid joke from his friend. But the hard work wasn’t over. He threw his first pitch to Frank White with the bases loaded and forced a pop up in foul territory.
Boone threw off his mask and followed the high fly ball as it drifted toward the Phillies dugout.
“I’m listening for the fielder to call me off,” Boone said. “It’s a much easier play for him. I’m not even supposed to be there. That’s Pete Rose’s ball all the way.”
Boone continued running farther down the Phillies’ dugout.
“So I’m running to the ball and I’m listening for him to call it,” Boone said. “And I’m not hearing anything. And I’m thinking, ‘Come on, Pete. Where are you?’
“My thought is, I’m going to go for this ball, we’re going to run into each other, we’ll miss it, and then we’re both falling into that dugout. But I know I can out rebound him so I’ve gotta go for this ball.
“So I reach for it and it pops out of my glove. I want to kill myself. And I want to kill Pete.”
Phillies fans all over collectively gasped.
“And then all of the sudden I reach down and there comes his glove in front of my eyes and he just catches the ball. And I wanted to kiss him.”
In one of the most dramatic plays in franchise history, Boone dropped a ball he insisted was never his to begin with and Pete Rose was there to make the catch.
Rose gets most of the credit for the insane play. Boone doesn’t buy it.
“I’m so far out of where I should be,” Boone said. “‘Charlie Hustle’ my ass. I’m the guy who hustled on this play. But it turned out pretty well.”
“We weren’t going to lose after that play,” shortstop Larry Bowa said. “That was an omen.”
Two outs. Bases still loaded. In the bullpen warming up was relief pitcher Ron Reed.
“If Tug didn’t get the last out here, I was coming in,” Reed said. “We worked him hard and he was out of gas.”
Up came Willie Wilson, who had already tied the World Series record with 11 strikeouts.
“He was having trouble hitting the fastball,” Boone said. “So we both knew we wanted it to come down to a fastball. But you couldn’t just pummel him with fastballs. You had to set up that last pitch.”
Police dogs and horses trotted around the warning track. Fans and players alike were confused by the chaos as the excitement built. Boone had to block out the distractions and lock in with McGraw as he threw two breaking balls for strikes.
With an 0–2 count, McGraw threw one more fastball high for a ball. At 1–2, Boone signaled for a fastball again.
Wilson swung right through it.
“He threw it right down the middle,” Boone said. “Belt-high.”
At the mound, McGraw waited for third baseman Mike Schmidt to celebrate. The two lived near each other and carpooled to the ballpark. On the drive down, Schmidt insisted McGraw wait for him to jump on the pile of teammates in order to star in the picture that would grace magazines and newspapers everywhere.
Boone watched a dozen or so feet away. He didn’t join the pandemonium right away. He just raised his arms, more in relief and exhaustion than pure exhilaration.
“I had broken my foot in the Houston series,” said Boone, who dealt with knee injuries all season. “There were two plays at the plate and I couldn’t walk after the last game. So that’s why after the game, when we won it, I just threw my arms in the air and walked slowly to the mound. It’s all I could do.”
The pain and the stress of a crazy ninth inning quickly subsided for Boone. He celebrated all night with his teammates who had finally gotten over the hump and won it all.
The next day, the four-time All Star and eventual Phillies Wall of Famer celebrated the moment with a sea of fans he had played for since he was drafted by the Phillies in 1967. After years of grinding it out behind the plate for the Phils, he had reached the top.
“It was just unbelievable,” Boone said. And just the fact that I was able to take my family on that trip down Broad Street, I get emotional just thinking about it. It was a team 10 years in the making. It was incredible.”
— Beyond the Bell contributor Graham Foley
