July 28, 1971--Brooks Robinson, often (justifiably) considered the best defensive third baseman in baseball history, must have thought that some evil wizard put a spell on his glove overnight, because he committed three errors--not in a doubleheader, not even in a single game, but in a single inning.
The crowd of 22,000 had to be wondering: Had someone given the Baltimore Orioles’ defensive superman kryptonite?
It happened in the fifth inning of the Baltimore Orioles’ day game against the Oakland A’s at Memorial Stadium. The O’s Mike Cuellar was having a pretty good day for himself, in the midst of an eight-strikeout, six-hit performance--but Robinson was suddenly making him work much harder than necessary.
With two out, the A’s speedy shortstop Bert Campaneris laid down a perfect bunt that would have been a base hit anyway. But Robinson’s fumble sent Campaneris racing to second and put pitcher Blue Moon Odom (who had walked previously) on third. A’s leftfielder George Hendrick got on base because of a second bobbled ball by Robinson. Yet a third miscue by the 11-time Gold Glover scored Odom and Campaneris before Cuellar himself stanched the bleeding by striking out Reggie Jackson.
At the plate, Robinson wasn't much better: 0 for 3, including grounding into two double plays.
Luckily, the A’s could not capitalize further on Robinson's awful day, and teammate Frank Robinson accounted for all the Orioles' runs in the 3-2 contest with a three-run homer in the ninth inning off reliever Rollie Fingers.
Over the past decade or so--most agonizingly, after Mariano Rivera blew the save and the seventh and deciding game of the 2001 World Series to the Arizona Diamondbacks--Yankee fans have grown accustomed to either Joe Torre or Joe Girardi saying of their normally lights-out closer, “This just goes to show that even Mo is human.”
The Cincinnati Reds must have felt that this “human” moment of Robinson’s came nine months too late for them. In the 1970 World Series, the Big Red Machine had felt ready, at different points, to tilt the fall classic decisively in their own direction--until, that is, a wicked Johnny Bench line drive was hit in the direction of “Brooks Robby” (the name bestowed on him by New York tabloid headline writers to distinguish him from “Frank Robby,” i.e. Frank Robinson). Anybody else would have been handcuffed by a ball like that, but Brooks somehow managed to spear it. In the same series, a Lee May grounder down the line at third provided another highlight reel for the third baseman.
Oh, and at the plate, Robinson hit .429 with nine hits, including two homeruns (one giving the Orioles the victory in the third game).
No wonder Robinson was named World Series MVP that year. No wonder the Reds fell to the Orioles, four games to one.
Had he been a banjo hitter, it’s unlikely that Robinson would have entered Cooperstown. (See, for example, the fate of teammate Mark Belanger, who, with eight Gold Gloves but only a .228 lifetime batting average, was the very definition of “great field, no hit” at shortstop.)
Nevertheless, like Ozzie Smith, Robinson’s great fame derives from his magic with the glove. The plaque for "the Human Vacuum Cleaner" at Cooperstown speaks of the records he set at his position for seasons, fielding percentage, games, putouts, assists, and double plays.
In 1971, Baltimore’s starting rotation became the first to have four 20-game winners in the same season: Jim Palmer, Mike Cuellar, Dave McNally, and Pat Dobson. But it’s a real question how successful they would have been without Robinson (who, despite that bad inning, would go on to receive his 12th of 16 consecutive Gold Gloves) at the hot corner.
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