(This Slice of Life is almost 60 years old.)
Monday, October 8, 1956, I was in my ninth-grade home room at the end of the day. The assistant principal, as he was announcing school bus departures over the P.A. system, also noted that in that afternoon’s World Series game, Don Larsen of the Yankees had so far pitched a perfect game.
The word “perfect” clicked in my mind. Was there actually something a human being could do that was “perfect”?
As soon as I got home, 15-20 minutes later, I went immediately to my parents’ bedroom, where the TV was, and turned the channel selector until I found the channel broadcasting the game. (There were only about five channels then, and no remote.) I saw the final three outs that climaxed that amazing 27 up, 27 down accomplishment. The catcher, who I didn’t yet know was Yogi Berra, ran toward the pitcher and jumped into his arms. There was only one camera shot, middle distance, probably from the level of the press box.
With that perfect game, baseball cemented itself in my heart.
(MLB.com has a short video of the highlights and the end of the game, with interviews with the participants and the announcer of the game.)