During the last weekend of
July, there was an interesting sports story about an unprecedented 3-3-5 triple
play. In a game between the Giants and the Nationals, with bases loaded and no
outs, the Nationals first baseman snagged a low liner (one out), then tagged the
bag to doubled off the baserunner (two outs). Meanwhile, the Giants runner on
third thought the line drive had been short-hopped, so he kept running toward
home plate. The first baseman tossed the ball to the third baseman, who stepped
on the base (three outs).
The next day the sports
media announced it was the first ever 3-3-5 triple play in baseball history. (To
make scorekeeping easier, each player in the field has a number: pitcher 1,
catcher 2, first baseman 3, etc.)
There have been only 707
triple plays in Major League history, which is quite rare considering there are
approximately 2400 games played each year, and they’ve been playing Major
League Baseball since 1869.
Although it was the first ever
3-3-5 triple play in Major League history, I know for a fact it was not the
first one ever executed in the game of baseball. That’s because I hit into a
3-3-5 triple play in the spring of 1979. (By the way, unlike most of my
columns, I’m not exaggerating here.)
It was a blustery
afternoon in Lewisburg, PA, and the Bucknell team needed a win. (We always
needed a win. We led the league in five-game losing streaks.) Anyway, it was my
turn to bat, and the bases were loaded with no outs. I jumped all over an
inside sinker and pulled a line shot down the first base line. As soon as I hit
the ball, I instantly thought, “That’s a bases-clearing double into the right
field corner!” (Well, to be honest, my first instantaneous thought was, “Holy
cow, I actually hit it!” You see, in the previous few weeks I was more familiar
with 0-for-4 box scores than with line drives into the right field corner.)
However, before I could
take a step out of the batter’s box, the opposing first baseman leaped and
snagged my line drive (one out). Our runner on first was already halfway to second,
so the first baseman jogged over and stepped on the bag (two outs). Still in
the batter’s box, I groaned, “Oh no, first time I hit one hard in a week, and
it’s a double play!” But I was wrong; it was not going to be a mere double
play. As I stood there, staring off into right field, where a line drive extra
base hit should’ve been bouncing around in the corner, I heard footsteps to my
left. I looked over and saw our runner from third, now only about 20 feet away
from home plate. Apparently I was not the only one who had a vision of a line
drive deep in the right field corner. He has not seen the first baseman catch
the ball, and before I could yell, “Go back!” the third baseman was catching
the cross-diamond throw and stepping on the bag (three outs). Ugh, 3-3-5 triple
play! Scoring opportunity squelched. Losing streak intact.
The only other thing I
remember about that game was our head coach, who actually yelled at me for
hitting into a triple play. As if I purposely aimed my only solid hit in a week
at the first baseman. If someone had told me at the time it would take another
37 years for a 3-3-5 triple play to occur in a Major League game, I would’ve
been surprised. We made screwball plays like that seem fairly routine.
Baseball is a funny game,
ain’t it?
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