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Phillies on Verge of Total Collapse

Sept. 28, 1964 - The fighting Phillies have become the fading Phillies, and they’re on the verge of fading right out of the National League pennant race. The streaking Cardinals moved past the Phils into second place tonight with a 5-1 victory to the delight of 24,146 at Busch Stadium. The defeat was the eighth in a row for the former league leaders, matching the longest losing streak in the league this season, and it dropped them 1½ games behind the first-place Reds. The Cards are one game in back of the Ohioans. Just eight short days ago, the Phillies led both clubs by 6½ games.

Righthander Bob Gibson outpitched southpaw Chris Short to win this one, although neither went the distance. Gibson departed in the ninth in favor of Barney Schultz when the Phillies rallied briefly, while Short was chased in the sixth when the Redbirds scored for the third time to take a 3-0 lead.

Rookie Mike Shannon was the big man for the Cards on offense. He drove in the game’s first run with a long sacrifice fly in the second inning, then clinched the game with a bloop single in the eighth to knock in the last two runs, both unearned.

Bill White led the Cards’ hit parade with three singles, while Ken Boyer doubled twice and scored each time.

“It’s like a nightmare,” said Short afterward, staring around the clubhouse in disbelief. “I felt good. I didn’t have my real good fastball, but I had a good curve. I made two mistakes. A 3-2 pitch I got up to Boyer and an 0-2 pitch to Shannon. If I have good stuff, I don’t make a lousy pitch like the one to Shannon.

“But I still can’t understand what’s happened to us. One mistake, and that’s it.”

Philadelphia manager Gene Mauch didn’t throw a table of barbecue ribs across the room after the loss or anything like that. But he was in that kind of mood.

The first wave of reporters who descended on the Phillies’ dressing room after the Cardinal victory walked through an open door and were greeted by a blast from Mauch.

“You S.O.B.’s — get the hell out of here!” Mauch yelled, slamming the door as they hastily beat a retreat.

He was in a more civil mood 20 minutes later, when the dressing room door was finally thrown open for the soft-stepping press.

“We’ve got time,” he insisted hoarsely. “We’ve won four in a row a lot more often than we’ve lost eight in a row.”

The defiance had gone out of him, but his patience wasn’t bankrupt. Reporters stared at him the way they would stare at a stick of dynamite with a short fuse.

“I can’t be clever,” Mauch protested. “I don’t want to talk. I just want to win.”


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