Allie ReynoldsBy Bob Palazzo He came by way of Cleveland, To the Bombers in a trade. Its said Joe D suggested That the switch be made. Seems Joe respected his fast ball, That he tried but could not touch. Reynolds also had a reputation, Of producing in the clutch. But he seemed to lack stamina, So they gave him a swig of 'juice'. Thought that would help him last. Thought that would keep him loose. But instead he regressed, He actually became worse. What was wrong with Allie, And would this change reverse? Well it seems he was diabetic. And the alcohol given was wrong. Once put on proper meds he improved. It didn't take too long. For awhile it had appeared, He'd be put up on a shelf. But suddenly he was back, Back to his former self He was pitching like a pro. He lasted many an inning. The Yanks wished they had caught this, From the very beginning. He was now ready to start, He also pitched relief. It wasn't long before, He became known as Super Chief. He was stingy with the hit. Hated to allow a run. His period of Yankee success, Had only just begun. He became a leader of the staff. He was looked to as an Ace. He was proud to be a Yankee. But more proud of his race. Allie was Native American. He was born a preacher's son Making it to the majors, Was the biggest game he'd won. He heard the awful slurs, The insults and the names. But Allie just kept pitching, Winning all those games. But one year is special. It stands alone - unique. It's the year 1951, Of which I'm about to speak. That year Allie did something, That no Yankee had ever done. His specialty that year was no-hitters. Yes two, not just one. His first came in July. OK, but not much to remember. It was his second one, though That he pitched in September. That's the one they marvel, The one they still talk about. The game when it all ended, With that memorable last out. Yogi was squatting low, All he could do was wait. Up stepped the last batter, Who positioned himself by the plate. The batter was tall and slender A 'Splendid Splinter' he. As Allie delivered his pitch, It was plain for all to see It mattered not the batter, Be it slugger, swinger or other. Allie's fast ball was straight and true, It didn't waver or flutter. Williams popped one up. The story is well known. Yogi had it in his grip but dropped it. Had Allie's chance been blown? Others might have given up. But Allie was no quitter. He was bound and determined, To get his second no-hitter. Allie got back on the rubber, Made sure he was all set. He knew this was the batter That he had to get. He wound up and delivered His fast ball to 'The Kid'. Williams swung and hit the ball, And this is what it did. The ball soared up high behind the plate. When Williams swung, he popped it. Again Yogi tossed aside his mask, What if he caught, then dropped it? As Yogi circled under it, What was Allie thinking? Were his spirits soaring, Or were his spirits sinking? As the ball began its drop, From high on up above, Yogi eyed it as it fell, And landed in his glove. The second no-hitter was over, The mission was complete. Allie Reynolds went down in history. He had accomplished his 'repeat'. That game had special importance, To the Yankees as a team. For it clinched them the AL Pennant. They were once again supreme. I heard that story as a youth. It always was told the same. My Dad was sitting behind home plate, During that September game. And after my Dad passed away, And we went through his stuff, I found his scorecard from the game. It was all he kept - for me it was enough! Leave feedback on our message board. |