A First-hand Report from Cincinnati and the (1970) All-Star Game

Tony Perez and the Big Red Machine factored heavily in the 1970 All-Star Game in Cincinnati. (via Brent Moore)

Tony Perez and the Big Red Machine factored heavily in the 1970 All-Star Game in Cincinnati. (via Brent Moore)

It’s been 45 years since Richard Nixon and I went to the best All-Star Game ever, in Cincinnati. The game will be there again this year, but it’ll have to do without either one of us. And it can’t possibly be as memorable.

How I happened to get there, short version: A guy at work, in Wilmington, Del., knew a guy who had a private airplane and a Du Pont family pedigree, which meant he presumably had gas money. And another guy knew a guy who could get us tickets to the game, and the pilot thought one of those was sufficient recompense for flying a half-dozen or so of us to Cincinnati.

This was a big deal, because the All-Star Game was. It ranked much higher on the roll of major sports events than it does today. Those who have come to know baseball since, say, the advent of the racing mascots may find it hard to envision this, but people used to care which team won the game, and not just who won the home run derby. One reason: There was no home run derby.

Even the players cared, enough to play hard enough to risk getting hurt. Famously, Ted Williams broke his elbow running into the wall chasing a fly ball at Comiskey Park in 1950. (Also, this may not be an example of effort, but it’s too good a story to pass up. Dizzy Dean took a line drive off his left big toe in the 1937 game. The trainer examined him and told Dizzy that his toe was fractured. His reply: “Fractured?! The damn thing’s broken!” It was, which led to a downhill spiral for Dean’s career.)

The All-Star Game also was special because interleague play was. If you lived in Cincinnati, you didn’t get American League baseball, meaning you didn’t get to see Brooks Robinson play third base or Frank Howard blot out the sun. There were fewer trades between the leagues, and TV baseball wasn’t ubiquitous. So there was a real rivalry. The 1970 game approached with the National League holding a seven-game All-Star winning streak and American League manager Earl Weaver saying he really, really wanted to end that.

For this season’s game, all sorts of things were new – or revived. When Arch Ward of the Chicago Tribune invented the All-Star Game in 1933, fans voted on the starting players. After Cincinnatians enthusiastically voted for their locals in 1957, though, MLB took the fan vote away (take note, Kansas City!), so the selection process went to various combinations of people involved in baseball. This year, 1970, the vote returned to the fans. As we’ll see, that had consequences.

Newer still was the venue. Not only was Riverfront Stadium still smelling of fresh paint – it had opened for baseball just two weeks before the All-Star Game — but it represented the dawn of a revolutionary era in baseball stadium construction.

They’re referred to now, scornfully, as cookie-cutter stadiums, all with the same no-frills, multi-purpose practicality, all substantially lacking in personality and character (are we in Philadelphia or Pittsburgh?), but it’s to be remembered that Riverfront was the first cookie in the box.

I grew up going to Wrigley Field and Comiskey Park in Chicago, old, old ballparks. Cincinnati’s completely enclosed flying saucer of a place was as unlike them as grass is to plastic. The field was even less traditional — from seats to shining seats stretched a carpet of green that called to mind the stuff they use for miniature golf fairways. It even covered the base paths, demarcated with white lines to show where base paths would be, if there were any. The only dirt was in 20-by-20 foot squares around the bases. It wasn’t the first stadium to use artificial turf, but these people did it on purpose. The Astrodome installed Astroturf only after it was determined grass wouldn’t grow indoors.

Still, baseball. The star power was terrific. The squads rostered 20 players who would be voted into the Hall of Fame. AL manager Weaver would be, too, as would home plate umpire Al Barlick and NL coach Leo Durocher. The National League manager, Gil Hodges, would get my vote if I had one. And Pete Rose, of whom we’ll hear much more below? He’s the all-time hits leader. Shouldn’t he be in the Hall? You bet. Regrettably, so did he.

Then there were memorable players of the next rank. There was Fritz Peterson, my one-time college classmate, who, with teammate Mike Kekich and their wives, a few years later would give new meaning to the baseball word “change-up.” There was Dick Allen of the Cardinals, who’d been Richie Allen the year before in Philadelphia, before being traded for Curt Flood, who changed baseball’s structure by refusing to report to the Phils. Among racetrack-going Mr. Allen’s well-known quotes: “If horses won’t eat it, I don’t want to play on it.”

Here he was, ready to play on it.

And so, on a steamy night in July, President Nixon threw a ceremonial ball awkwardly from the expensive blue seats down near the field to Tigers catcher Bill Freehan. Then he threw another, with considerably better form, up to fans in the next deck. The scoreboard proclaimed him “BASEBALL’S NO. 1 FAN.” The capacity crowd of 51,138, almost none having heard of a Washington building called The Watergate, cheered.

The opening acts gave no hint of what was to come, action-wise. Oh, the discerning fan could appreciate seeing the fine art of power pitching. Tom Seaver mowed down nine of the 10 batters he faced in three quick innings, only Carl Yastrzemski touching him for a single. The spectator with a sense of history could feel a thrill watching Willie Mays and Hank Aaron, their legends already well-established, converge on a lazy fly ball in right-center. Those who let their eyes wander from the game could gaze around this then-unique symmetrical stadium with its four decks, each a different bright color, and its long, flashy modern scoreboard, which faltered occasionally during the game.

A Hardball Times Update
Goodbye for now.

The crowd was clearly pro-National League because it was very clearly pro-Cincinnati Reds. (Remember, this was the town which, some years before, had voted in an NL starting eight composed solely of its hometown men.) The relative quiet was broken with loud cheers when Tony Perez, the Reds third baseman, came to bat in the second inning. Jim Palmer struck him out. Two batters later, young Cincinnati catcher Johnny Bench got equal cheers – and equal treatment from Palmer.

The game moved out of the early innings but not out of the early swelter. The temperature was in the 80s, and the humidity felt the same. There was little, if any, breeze. Nixon remained in his box seat and in his blue suit coat and tie. In the style of the day, home plate ump Barlick wore his big black jacket over his chest protector.

The pace picked up a little. Jim Merritt, another home guy and the only National League All-Star who’d ever played in the AL, came in to pitch in the fourth. Yastrzemski welcomed him by hitting a pitch to straightaway center, deep, very deep. Willie Mays, age 39 and 16 years removed from The Catch in the World Series of 1954, went back and made the out look easy. Then he secured the last out of the inning on a Mays-made-famous basket catch.

End of four, still no score. The managers made their first position player changes. Pay attention here. The other fans and I certainly didn’t.

Let’s put you there in present tense. Hodges sends local kid and Reds favorite Rose to one outfield spot and Chicago Cub Jim Hickman, a late-blooming 33-year-old journeyman, to another. In the bottom half, Weaver subs his Baltimore guy Robinson in at third and assigns Ray Fosse to relieve Freehan and catch the second half of the game. Fosse’s a previously obscure almost-rookie who’s had a booming year at the bat for the Cleveland Indians. He’s hitting 100 points more than Freehan, with a catcher-splendid .893 OPS, but Freehan has an established reputation as a star part of the World Champion Tigers of two seasons ago. And the fans had the vote this year, so Freehan started. This will have consequences.

In the stands, there’s a loud roar for a loud foul from Bench before another strikeout. And Mays, with two on, hits a foul pop-up that comes down near Nixon. Otherwise, nothing. So far, no runner has made it past second base.

Gaylord and Jim Perry, pitching brothers representing the National and American Leagues, respectively, turn out to be what the offenses need. In the AL sixth, Fosse singles off Gaylord and scores on a Yaz hit, his second of what will be four in the game. The highlight of the NL half is Rose taking a ball four and doing his “Charlie Hustle” sprint to first base. An inning later, the Americans make it 2-0 when Fosse – him again – hits a sacrifice fly with the bases full. Next, it’s brother Jim Perry’s turn to give up a run: He loads the bases with bottom-of-the-order National Leaguers but escapes with just one score, on pinch-hitter Willie McCovey’s double-play grounder.

Now comes Bob Gibson. He would win a career-high 23 games this season, albeit with an earned run average exactly two runs higher than his historic 1.12 in 1968. Now, though, he was in a slump, for him. He’d thrown 11 complete games already, but in the most recent, he’d given up six runs and 12 hits. (He got knocked around some more for a couple of weeks after the All-Star Game before snapping back.)

Here, Gibson doesn’t have it. Yastrzemski smacks his third hit off as many NL pitchers, Willie Horton follows with another, and Robinson triples. Suddenly, a tight game is 4-1, the NL can do nothing in its half of the eighth (Hickman striking out with one on and two out), and my group is talking about what we’ll do after the game. Fosse draws a walk in the American League top of the ninth, but the visitors do nothing else. On comes Catfish Hunter, Oakland’s good-but-not-yet-great right-hander, to finish the game. Not so fast, Catfish.

Dick Dietz, who’d replaced Bench at catcher, hits a Hunter pitch over the 404-foot sign in center field. It’s 4-2. Bud Harrelson singles. One out later, Joe Morgan, later a Big Red Machinist but now a Houston Astro, lines a hit to right.

McCovey is up. Weaver brings in Peterson, lefty pitcher for lefty hitter. McCovey singles on an 0-2 pitch. Roberto Clemente, supposedly hors de combat with an injury, is announced as a pinch-hitter. See you later, Fritz. Mel Stottlemyre comes in to pitch. Clemente’s sacrifice fly ties the game. Rose fans for out number three, but we have extra innings.

The highlight of the 10th and 11th innings is watching Clemente in right field. Horton hits a ball off the top of the wall in right, and Clemente’s arm holds him to a single. An inning later, Tony Oliva slams one into the far corner in right, yet he barely beats a Clemente throw to second.

Now here’s the 12th. Batting for the junior circuit are Luis Aparicio and Yastrzemski, who have been there from the start. So has Nixon. The Office of the President had promised he’d stay for the whole game. History does not record whether any of the aides who made that decision said, “Uh, but what if it goes 12 innings?”

Yaz gets his fourth hit – tying an All-Star Game record – but that’s it. Bottom of the 12th. Joe Torre, pinch hitting against California Angels lefty Clyde Wright, scorches one to the left side of the AL infield. Robinson leaps to field the ball, Yastrzemski, at first base, leaps to catch Robinson’s throw. Torre’s out. Clemente grounds out routinely. Two out, nobody on and the 13th inning is around the corner.

The Cincinnati crowd has cheered faithfully and loudly for its local heroes but so far has been rewarded with oh-for-eight with seven strikeouts from Bench, Perez and Rose. The fans make some noise again for Rose, and he singles up the middle. Billy Grabarkewitz of the Dodgers, the only rookie in the game, squeezes a ground ball past Aparicio at short.

Now it’s Hickman, having the year of his life. His middling power had been good enough for him to knock around the NL with three teams over seven years, but only once had he hit as high as .250. He’d found something late the previous year with the Cubs, though, and at age 33 is thumping senior circuit pitching with an OPS well over 1.000.

A right-handed hitter, Hickman is particularly strong against left-handed pitchers. Weaver might or might not know that, Hickman being a lifetime NL player and stats not being then what they are now. But there is nothing he can do in that regard anyway. Wright is left-handed, but so are the two pitchers he has remaining, his own Orioles, Mike Cuellar and Dave McNally.

So Wright pitches to Hickman, who whacks a line drive into center field. Amos Otis charges hard and throws quickly and accurately as Rose comes around third. Rose and Otis’ throw arrive at home plate at the same time. Fosse reaches for the ball. Rose charges hard, never hinting at a slide. And here’s a football play on the baseball field – Rose’s left shoulder crashing into Fosse’s left shoulder, Fosse going down. Rose is safe. Game over.

You’ll see that play on video a hundred times leading up to and during this year’s All-Star Game, which will be played in Cincinnati on July 14 – exactly 45 years after the classic. But in case you need a reminder, here you go:

Fosse, a longtime broadcaster for the Oakland A’s, will tell his side of the story for the thousandth time. Rose, now in detente with MLB, has been given leave by new commissioner Rob Manfred to return to the scene of the time.

The game won’t be at Riverfront Stadium, which lasted 25 years under that name, then until 2002 as Cinergy Field. It’s gone.  The 2015 All-Star Game will be at Great American Ballpark, a smaller, baseball-only structure next door to what was the Riverfront site. As for the other principals: Rose emerged unscathed from the wreck, his win-at-all-costs image firmly implanted in our baseball consciousness. Fosse was hurt. His shoulder was never right again; though he had a 12-year major league career, he never came close to the success he’d had for a few glorious months at age 23. Jim Hickman, after his spectacular 1970, went back to being Jim Hickman until his career ended in 1974. As did Nixon’s, come to think of it.

References and Resources

  • Baseball-reference.com
  • The Ballpark Book, by Ron Smith. The Sporting News, 2000.
  • Baseball’s Greatest Quotes, compiled by Kevin Nelson. Simon and Schuster, 1982.
  • The NBC radio broadcast of the 1970 All-Star Game/li>


Joe Distelheim is a retired newspaper editor whose career included stints as sports editor of The Charlotte Observer and Detroit Free Press. He co-authored Cubs: From Tinker to Banks to Sandberg to Today.
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87 Cards
8 years ago

As was noted, Cincinnati cut it close as host. Riverfront Stadium opened for business on June 30, 1970 thus the All-Star Game was just the eleventh game there. On June 1, Commissioner Kuhn confirmed the event and city; Atlanta was standing by to host the 1970 ASG.

Yaz was the MVP but on the losing team; Brooks Robinson in 1966 did the same.

Johnny P
8 years ago

Cinergy Field was open until 2002, not 1992.

Fritz Peterson
8 years ago

Nice job Joe. Hope to see you again someday. I love writing!
Fritz

Dennis Bedard
8 years ago

Great article. Couple of points that need to be highlighted. Players and fans took this game very seriously. I remember the 1-0 game in 1968 at the Astrodome. For some reason, these games meant something and it showed in how they were played. I am not certain that inter-league trades were that unusual. Of the players you mention, Frank Howard, Gaylord Perry, Hank Aaron, Mike Cuellar, and Dave McNally were all two league stars. Other names not mentioned but who played in the game were Frank Robinson, Jim Fregosi, Claude Osteen, Dave Johnson, and Boog Powell, each with experience in both leagues via trades, with Robinson being the product of probably the worst trade in Reds history.

Frank Jackson
8 years ago

If anyone is going to Cincinnati anytime soon, the Reds Museum (next to the ballpark) has an exhibit on the previous All-Star games played in Cincinnati. Also an exhibit on Tony Perez, who will be honored with a statute next month. The Reds Museum is a must…supposedly more baseball artifacts than any museum outside of Cooperstown. Of course, they go all the way back to the 1860s, so there’s more to talk about.

DENNIS BEDARD
8 years ago

And let’s not forget another great Reds’ moment in All Star history: Tony Perez’s 15th inning dinger off of Catfish Hunter in the ’67 game in Anaheim.

Scooter
8 years ago

This was a delightful article. Thank you.