The Barons lost the opening game to Charlotte, 2–1, wasting a strong pitching performance by Nicky Curtis. The loss, coupled with Lynchburg’s tenth win in a row, dropped them out of first place for the first time since May.
In the morning, Sullivan received a telegram from Finley:
Dear Sully,
Know you and the boys have been going through a bad storm of late. I’m sure the storm will pass and you will see the sunshine and the rainbow.
Tell the boys when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
Go out and play loosey-goosey baseball and have lots of fun. And regardless of whether you win or lose, I want you to take the boys out tonight and be my guests for two-inch steaks.
Regards,
Charlie Finley
Although the telegram struck Sullivan as a bit disingenuous, he read it to the team prior to the second game. They bounced back, winning 7–3, sparked by an RBI double by Reynolds, a homer by Rosario, and strong pitching from Lindblad (11–7). Coupled with Lynchburg’s loss to Asheville (snapping their winning streak at ten), the race was now all even again, with five to play.
In his first inning against the Yankees, Blue Moon gave up a single to Tony Kubek, a walk to Bobby Richardson, and then, after retiring Roger Maris, he threw a fastball down the pipe to Mickey Mantle… and the A’s trailed 3–0.
Blue Moon was pulled after just two innings, yielding a total of six runs, six hits, and two walks.
“Not what we were hoping for,” concluded Finley.
Learning of Blue Moon’s disastrous debut, Sullivan paused to wonder. Why had Finley started him against the mighty Yankees instead of letting him open against an easier team, say, the Senators, especially after Blue Moon hadn’t even gotten out of the first inning in his final start with Birmingham?
He shrugged.
In the fifth inning of the third game against Charlotte, Reynolds stepped to the plate with two runners on, the Barons trailing 2–1 despite solid pitching from Tompkins.
Charlotte starter Bill Whitby delivered a hanging slider, coming in over the plate big as a tetherball. Reynolds uncoiled, making perfect contact. The left fielder didn’t even bother to move, the ball leaving the park at the 375 mark.
In the top of the seventh, with the Barons leading 5–2, Reynolds stepped up again, this time with a runner on first.
“Be alive up there,” warned Sullivan.
Sure enough, the first pitch knocked him down. The second pitch left the yard at the 375 mark again, giving him five RBIs for the game.
Seated in the press box, Belcher marveled. “That boy’s the best hitter on the planet right now,” he declared.
In the eighth, Reynolds came up with the bases loaded and the Barons leading 13–2. With the count 3–0, Sullivan gave him the green light. It was a fastball, low and in. Reynolds golfed it high and deep to left center. As he dropped his bat and headed to first, the ball sailed over the fence—by a hundred feet—giving him a grand slam… and his third homer of the game and nine RBIs.
For the second time in two weeks, he’d hit three monster home runs in one game, all of them blasts that would’ve cleared any ballpark in America. His nine RBIs was a Southern League record.
And just as important, the victory kept the Barons tied with Lynchburg with four to play.
In the raucous Baron clubhouse, Belcher raised his arms and asked for quiet. “Steaks are on me tonight,” he announced.
Lindblad nudged Hoss. “You gonna order another chicken-fried steak?”
In the Sunday-afternoon finale against Charlotte, Reynolds led off the second inning with a deep drive to straightaway center. Gone—his fourth consecutive homer, an all-time Barons’ record. Charlotte countered with two runs in their half of the inning, but in the bottom of the third Reynolds scorched a liner over short to drive in another run and put the Barons on top.
“Damn, they held him to a single,” observed Belcher.
Sullivan had taken another gamble in starting Paul “Droopsy” Seitz in this crucial game. It was Blue Moon’s turn in the rotation, but with him off getting pulverized by the Yankees, the start went to Seitz. Of all the pitchers on the staff, nobody puzzled Sullivan more than the laconic Seitz. He threw as hard as anyone on the team, and had a knuckle curve that broke so sharply when he threw it messing around in the outfield before games, nobody wanted to play catch with him. But ever since the disaster of opening night and his two weeks on the disabled list, he had been a base-on-balls machine… until the last couple of weeks, when he’d become Sullivan’s most reliable man out of the bullpen.
Helped out with two double plays in the seventh and eighth innings, Seitz picked up the win in a 6–4 Baron victory.
“I think it’s time to order the grass skirts,” hollered Hoss in the rowdy post-game locker room.
With their three wins in a row against Charlotte, a confident group of Barons climbed aboard Iron Lung for the seven-hour trip to Lynchburg and the final three games of the season. Lynchburg had also won, so going into the final series, the teams remained tied, with all the aggies, steelies, and cats’-eyes on the line. Slated to pitch the opening game for the Lynsox was King Kong himself, Manly Johnston.