The year was 1960. Dwight Eisenhower resided as President, Harper Lee got her book To Kill a Mocking Bird published and Pittsburgh Pirates second baseman Bill Mazeroski hit a walk-off home run to beat the New York Yankees in Game 7 of the World Series.
Ohio baseball coach Joe Carbone was in the seventh grade in Elkland, Pa. - a slow dribbler of a town about dead center between New York City and Pittsburgh.
Despite living in Pennsylvania, Carbone was the only Pirates' fan in Elkland. About everyone else, including his best friend, Tom Watson, rooted for the Yankees.
I think we (my dad and I) were the only two people in the community who were Pirate fans
Carbone said.
Carbone and Watson hit grounders and fly balls to one another and played home run derby in the fields near their respective homes.
At night, Carbone and Watson used the faint light from the sign in front of the bowling alley Carbone's parents owned. They would play in the street, trying to slap screamers past each other on the narrow lane.
That was all we wanted to do said Watson, who now resides in Sayre, Pa.
Watson envisioned himself as Mickey Mantle, while Carbone pretended to be his hero, Mazeroski.
The one thing that set him (Mazeroski) apart from the rest was that he was really quick on the double play Carbone said. They called him 'No Hands.'
Mazeroski, now in the Hall of Fame, was never considered a great hitter, though he did have a decent .260 lifetime batting average and had hit as many as 19 homers in a season before the Major League's power surge. But Mazeroski was known for his mitt. He won eight Gold Glove awards in his 17-year career.
When Carbone wasn't in school or playing ball, he would listen to Mazeroski and the Pirates' games on the radio - Pittsburgh's station KDKA was about the only one that was audible. But the radio only added mysticism to the game.
Because you couldn't see it
you probably thought it was a bigger deal than it really was
Carbone said.
Good plays became great plays through the airwaves while great plays became heroic.
On Saturdays Carbone and Watson crowded around a television to watch the 'Game of the Week.' At that point, it was the only baseball on television at all.
You only had one game
Watson said. When you didn't have it
you appreciated it more.
That year the Pirates finished the season at 95-56 and came into the World Series as the clear underdog. After all, the Bucs hadn't been to the World Series since 1927 when they lost to those same Yankees. But Pittsburgh took Game 1, 6-4, and hope was alive for the Pirates and their fans.
Carbone and Watson, meanwhile, watched the games after school in Elkland's gymnasium or during skipped classes. The games were still played during the day, and so the kids stayed.
Right after school
you'd run down to the gym because you didn't want to miss anything
Carbone said. By the time you got home
you'd miss a lot.
The series itself was up and down. The teams split the first six games, though the Yankees outscored the Bucs, 46-15, during that span. Still, Pittsburgh needed just one more win to take its first World Series since 1925.
So when Game 7 took place, there were two great friends sitting next to each other, rooting for different outcomes, hoping the other would lose in order to keep his own respective dignity.
I had my Pirate hat and everybody yelling at me
Carbone said. I just got verbally abused for like the whole week.
The Yankees had just scored two runs in the top of the ninth to knot the score at nine while tying up the duo's tummies as well. Then Mazeroski stepped to the plate.
When he came up
