In the early innings it became a game that didn’t require me to be in my best form, as I received a good amount of offensive support to assure our win. Roger Maris got his year off to a booming start by cracking two home runs, while Bill Skowron chipped in with four hits. I got in a full day’s work, pitching a complete nine innings for an 8-4 win. I was allowed to work comfortably most of the afternoon as our lead over Boston was never in real jeopardy. But there was a moment in the late innings when an aging, yet still imposing Ted Williams stepped up to the plate to face me. He took a couple of practice swings, projecting a calm confidence that only a few of the game’s greatest batters could show. I stood squarely, facing the plate and toeing the pitching rubber as I began a full windup. In my over-confident way, I wanted Williams to see for himself the best pitch that a cocky sophomore pitcher from the sticks of Virginia could muster.

Fortunately for me, there were no runners aboard when ‘ol Teddy Ballgame connected with one of my fastballs which found its way to the upper portion of the strike zone. This linedrive, which exploded from Ted’s bat, went off like a cannon! It took off, sailing directly above my head, not so high, but quickly gaining altitude. For a split second it seemed to be only slightly out of my reach, as I made a foolish and useless stab at it with my glove. Had I been able to somehow snag that speeding, low flying projectile, chances were, my left arm would have likely been taken along with it. The baseball continued to rise like a meteor on its way to straight-away centerfield. It appeared to leave the field of play in no time flat. And to my amazement, it landed several rows back in the stands for what was thankfully, just a solo homerun.

As Williams rounded the bases, I vividly recall staring down at the orange clay of Fenway’s mound. I was shaking my head in disbelief. I was stunned. I had never seen a ball hit so hard, yet so low that traveled so far! Before Ted made his way to homeplate, my catcher, the great Elston Howard, slowly approached me and stopped just in front of the mound. Ellie had his mask pushed back, resting atop his navy blue cap when he reached forward to slap a fresh new baseball into the palm of my open glove.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that one, Jim,” he advised me. “That’s nothing new. Ted Williams does that to the best of ‘em!”






My string of consecutive wins continued. I seemed to have no problem picking up right where I had left off the year before. The powerful bats in our daily lineup were producing runs in such abundance that it was widely agreed the job of a Yankee pitcher was the easiest job in the world. Maris, Mantle and Skowron were all hitting well and driving in runs like there was no tomorrow. Our other regulars, as well as the guys on the bench, were all contributing to our winning ways. Whenever any of our reserves were called on to fill a spot in the lineup, each of them was always up for the challenge and always did a little more than what was asked. Our batters were certainly living up to the team’s old name, “Bronx Bombers.”

Yet, our success was not just a result of our potent offense. Our pitching staff had the lowest E.R.A. in the league, as starters Art Ditmar and Whitey Ford were having top notch seasons. Our relievers were playing a major role in things, too. The leaders in our bullpen, relief aces Luis Arroyo and Bobby Shantz, had a real knack for performing their magic tricks in the late innings. We all had our sites set on winning the pennant this season and we were doing it with a full team effort.

By the end of June, we had taken over first place in the American League and as a team, the Yankees seemed to be firing on all cylinders. I continued my streak, racking up wins against Boston, Kansas City and Washington. A particularly memorable victory came my way in New York in the form of a rematch with Early Wynn and the White Sox. But it was against the Baltimore Orioles that I did my best work. It made no difference whether it was a home game in Yankee Stadium or on the road in Baltimore; I seemed to have the Bird’s number and was able to defeat them consistently. It was especially satisfying to beat them on the road in Baltimore in front of some of my old friends from back home. There were a few folks who would often drive up from Virginia to see me pitch and it was important that they saw me at my best. I didn’t want any of them to go home disappointed after their long trip.

My performances against the Orioles must have impressed Baltimore’s manager, the late Paul Richards. Even today, some fifty years later, it’s my old friend Ralph Terry who won’t hesitate to share with anyone the flattering remarks Richards made concerning my pitching. According to Ralph, Richards once told a sports writer he would have made me his first choice if he were to pick any pitcher in the league to add to his own team. What a great compliment, coming from someone whom I continue to regard as one of the top managers of his time. But I was just as happy that Paul never got a chance to make that decision. I would have always preferred to remain a Yankee!