the abbreviated reign of “neon” leon spinks

OOPS 146
were roaming the fi eld at will, all of them certainly drunk, some of them
naked. The antics overshadowed what was actually a dramatic comeback
by the Indians, who’d been down 5–1 in the sixth inning but had tied it by
the ninth.
That’s when Ten-Cent Beer Night reached its full potential.
“Gradually, the streaking, showboating, and taunting gave way to
sheer violence,” wrote Dyer. “Fights raged in the stands all eve ning, but
direct combat didn’t spread to the field until the ninth, when one guy
climbed over the outfield wall, ran up behind Texas right fielder Jeff Burroughs,
and grabbed his cap.” When Burroughs tried to retrieve it, he
fell.
Seeing his player go down, and not certain what had happened,
Billy Martin—no slouch when it came to ill- considered behavior—
grabbed a bat and led his team into the fray. After they arrived to help
their downed right fielder, they found themselves surrounded by hundreds
of Cleveland fans. According to various reports, some were carrying
chains, knives, and pieces of broken stadium seats. To the Rangers
rescue came . . . the Indians. Also carrying bats.
Combat began and lasted about ten minutes, turning Municipal
Stadium into what one sportswriter later dubbed “the Beirut of ballparks.”
At least one player was hit in the head by a steel folding chair thrown from
the stands, and the injured home plate umpire later referred to the beery
horde by using many colorful expletives, as well as the phrase “pack of
animals.” The Cleveland police, apparently alerted to the unfolding riot
by an off-duty sergeant working stadium detail, showed up in force somewhat
after the fact with twenty cars from the tactical and impact units.
The final box score:
• at least nine arrests for disorderly conduct;
• at least sixty thousand cups of beer served;
• an officially recorded 9–0 Indian loss after the umpire
declared the game a forfeit.
“Team own ers and league commissioners have been forced to take