Routine Moments in Baseball History: Something Almost Happens, Then Doesn't

Welcome back to Routine Moments in Baseball History, a running weekday feature that looks back at plays that have been ignored by the history books because history books only talk about things that are important or interesting. Today's installment is "Something Almost Happens, Then Doesn't."

One of the defining characteristics of a baseball game is how tension manifests out of nothing. With one out, a batter gets on base because the shortstop bobbles a grounder, then the next batter strokes a single into left field, putting men on first and second. All of a sudden the crowd in Minnesota's Metropolitan Stadium is paying attention. Something's happening. It's only the top of the first, and already the Boston Red Sox are threatening to score. Down on the mound, pitcher Jim Kaat, a gawky left-hander, is sweating, and first baseman Dick Stuart is walking to the plate.

It's August 12, 1963, five months before the movie Dr. Strangelove came out—a fact I mention because Stuart is most famous for his "Dr. Strangeglove" nickname, one of the best monikers in sports history. He was also called the Boston Strangler, Stonefingers, the Man with the Iron Glove, and the Ancient Mariner (because "he stoppeth one of three" balls hit his way). The guy couldn't play first base to save his life, but he could destroy baseballs, and that's what counted. He was tall and big and solid, an all-American slab of a man, and when he connected with a ball it would get the fuck out of there. He swung at a lot of junk and he struck out a lot, and you look back at his .312 on-base percentage during the 1963 season and shake your head. Still, Dick Stuart was really good at one thing in the early 60s: hitting home runs. And now he has a chance to bust the game wide open practically before it begins. People are shifting in their seats.

Some, you might even say most, individual at-bats are forgettable things. The walks, the fly balls, the long moments of the pitcher waiting for a sign and the batter standing ready—everything just blurs together into the sports equivalent of white noise. But there are times when baseball reveals itself to be a sport full of possibilities, of potential energy that could uncork itself at any time. Stuart towers in the batter's box, Kaat goes into his wind-up, the runners on first and second watch the ball, practically quivering with anticipation.

Stuart chopped the ball to third and got into a double play. The Red Sox would go on to win anyway, 5-4.

This has been Routine Moments in Baseball History. Follow Harry Cheadle on Twitter.