Sept. 25, 1964 - “Class will tell,” shouted Whitey Ford as he and 30 other semi-dressed men watched television in Washington tonight. They were watching the football Giants rally on the television. The Yankees had already done their rallying.
The Bombers came from three runs behind to defeat the Senators, 6-5. Roger Maris hit two home runs, and Joe Pepitone hit one. The second homer by Maris, in the ninth inning, was the winning run. The Yankees lead the American League by four games with nine to play.
If winning is the measure of class, the Yankees are the classiest of all teams. If there is more to class than winning, maybe the Yanks have that, too. When Maris tips his cap and blows kisses to some fans — the way he did tonight — a new dimension is added to Yankee class.
The recipients of Roger’s attention were two men seated next to the Yankee dugout. They had heckled Maris for six innings. Low and behold, when he came out to bat in the seventh, there they were, 10 feet away.
“They wanted to know how many home runs I had,” Maris reported. “They were louses, drunks. You should have heard the things they said. I didn’t say anything. When I hit the home run, I told them I had one more than before.”
This reply didn’t stop the two men. They continued their tirade and managed to attract the attention of Elston Howard and Hector Lopez. “You don’t get too many of them around the ballpark,” Howard said. “You hate to hear stuff like that. They were cursing and holding their throats, you know.”
Howard and Lopez peered out of the Yankee dugout while the Yanks were batting. The two fans held beer containers in shaky hands and peered back. “I told them we’re gonna win,” Howard said. “I told them to stay right where they were because we’re gonna win.”
Pepitone tied the score in the eighth, and it was still tied when Maris batted in the ninth. “They were still cursing,” Maris said. Maris belted Jim Hannan’s pitch over the right-field fence and jogged around the bases. The men clapped derisively. One of them held out a handkerchief. Then there was a vulgar gesture.
Roger Maris does not make vulgar gestures. He makes sporting gestures. He doffed his batting helmet and bowed as he ran. Then he blew a kiss. “That’s the only way to do it,” he said. “That makes them even madder. You know, I was glad to have them there. They may even have helped me. I wasn’t doing much before that.”
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