Boog Powell, 1994 Upper Deck All-Time Heroes #195

On this date in 1966, the Orioles wrenched victory from the jaws of defeat with some timely pinch hitting. It was a run-of-the-mill Friday game pitting the first-place Orioles against the tenth-place Red Sox, and only 13,657 fans turned out to Memorial Stadium to witness it. They didn't have much to cheer about through eight and a half innings, as Boston pitcher Lee Stange had scattered six singles and a pair of walks while striking out only one batter. John Miller was even better for the O's, yielding just three singles and two walks and striking out seven. But the Sox bunched their runners together and scraped together single runs in the eighth and ninth innings, positioning Miller for a hard-luck loss.

With catcher Larry Haney and reliever Eddie Fisher due up against Stange in the last half of the ninth, manager Hank Bauer called upon his reserves. First he sent another catcher, Vic Roznovsky, up to bat for Haney. The result was a pinch-hit home run, spoiling the shutout. Bauer's next move was a true no-brainer. Curt Blefary had started the game for the Birds at first base, leaving Boog Powell free to bat in the pitcher's spot representing the tying run. Next thing you know, BOOM, the ball was gone, the game was tied, and Stange had been pulled. It was only the third time in major league history that two pinch hitters had slugged back-to-back home runs. The Orioles loaded the bases against reliever Don McMahon with one out, but Russ Snyder was forced at home on a Blefary grounder and Bob Johnson popped out to send it to extra innings.

Finally, in the bottom of the 12th, the O's were victorious against Boston relievers Dan Osinski and Jose Santiago. Paul Blair led off with a single, Roznovsky (who had stayed in to catch) bunted him to second, Boog was intentionally walked, and Luis Aparicio earned a free pass to load the bases. Santiago was summoned from the bullpen and promptly gave up the walkoff single to Snyder. Baltimore won 3-2 and extended their considerable lead over the second-place Tigers to 12.5 games. And so few were there to see it all happen!

Al Bumbry, 1994 Upper Deck All-Time Heroes #73

Here's an unusual card that's part of Upper Deck's 225-card All-Time Heroes set, released in 1994. It highlighted retired players, and not just the same couple of dozen Hall of Famers that we're used to seeing by now. For instance, the checklist features Al Bumbry, Lee May, Boog Powell, and Paul Blair. Though Bumbry is listed as an Oriole (he played 13 of his 14 big league seasons in Baltimore, save for a 68-game career-ending stint in San Diego), and the primary card photo depicts him in an O's uniform, the inset photo shows the outfielder wearing a Boston Red Sox cap. Presumably Upper Deck grabbed a picture of Al from his tenure as a Red Sox coach, which lasted from 1998 through 1993. I have the rest of the Orioles from this set, and all of them have inset photos with Oriole caps. What gives?

Paul Blair, 1994 Upper Deck All-Time Heroes #197

If this season was 500 games long, I think the Orioles would still find ways to surprise me. I hit "publish" on last night's blog post at 11:26, when the O's were trailing the Mariners 2-0. Shortly thereafter, I called it a night. Wei-Yin Chen was battling, but clearly didn't have his best stuff. Meanwhile, anybody not named Nate McLouth couldn't touch Seattle starter Erasmo Ramirez, a 22-year-old Nicaraguan rookie whom I had previously confused with ex-Phillies pitcher Elizardo Ramirez. The way the Birds were swinging the bat, I didn't have high hopes, but I certainly knew that a two-run deficit was not insurmountable, especially for this year's team. When my alarm sounded at 6:00 this morning, I clambered out of bed and picked up my phone from the dresser as a reflex. I checked the notifications and found that Chris Davis had come through in the ninth inning with a game-tying two-run single, but there was no indication of a final score. "Maybe they're still playing," I thought facetiously. I had no idea how close that was to the truth.

Not only did the O's and M's play extra innings, they played an entire extra game: 18 frames total. The game took 5 hours and 44 minutes, making it the fifth-longest contest in team history. The Orioles pushed across the winning runs on a Taylor Teagarden single (giving him seven RBI and six hits on the season) and a Mark Reynolds fielder's choice grounder with the bases loaded. Jim Johnson, the 16th pitcher used in the game, nailed down his 44th save with a perfect outing, bringing the 4-2 Baltimore victory to a merciful end at 12:54 local time...3:54 AM back here on the east coast. In addition to the 16 pitchers, managers Buck Showalter and Eric Wedge combined to use 32 position players. Seattle completely turned over its infield configuration, and Buck used four different second basemen (Robert Andino, Ryan Flaherty, Steve Tolleson, and Omar Quintanilla). The O's briefly forced another first-place tie with the Yankees, held strong with a three-game cushion for the second wild card, and reduced their magic number for postseason play to a clean dozen thanks to their unfathomable 14th straight extra-innings win.

Oh, and after the game, the Birds announced that they were boosting their exhausted bullpen by calling up 19-year-old phenom Dylan Bundy, who would be the first teenager to make his major league debut for the O's since fellow first-round draft pick Mike Adamson took the mound 45 years ago. Bundy and 20-year-old infielder Manny Machado could give the 2012 team their most precocious duo since Paul Blair and Frank Bertaina both landed in Charm City at age 20 in 1964. I won't even attempt to guess what the Orioles will do next.

Lee May, 1994 Upper Deck All Time Heroes #193

Let's celebrate May Day with the best of the three Mays who have suited up with the Birds. (The others are father and son duo Dave and Derrick May.) Of course, coming from Washington College, May 1st has a loaded meaning to me.

Back in 1968, when Lee was clouting 22 home runs in his second full season in the bigs with Cincinnati, former Washington College English professor Bennett Lamond decided to revive the British tradition of May Day by holding class on the campus green. He and his students read poetry and drank wine. Apparently, he struck a chord with those undergrads, because they returned to the green that evening, and I would wager a guess that more wine was involved. I'm not sure if there was more poetry. The event became something of a ritual, and it soon morphed into a two-night gathering at the flagpole. As the clock neared midnight and April 30 turned to May 1 - and again the following evening - college students anticipated the approach of summer and the end of classes by partaking liberally in alcoholic beverages and removing all of their clothes.

I've been surprised over the years by the sheer number of people that ask about May Day when they find out that I went to college in Chestertown. It turns out that other than being founded by George Washington, being located on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, and being home to the largest undergraduate literary prize in the nation, my little college is notorious for its annual nudity-fest. So let me try to answer the questions you and others might have about May Day.

First of all, it's not all that it's cracked up to be. The unfortunate thing about nudism is that for every person you can think of that you might like to see in the buff, there are probably ten others that you'd rather not get an eyeful of. Let me tell you; it's the latter that you remember. Excuse me while I shudder violently.

Meanwhile, the student body might have numbered 1,100 or so, but there weren't a whole lot of them who were free-wheeling (and soused) enough to eschew their mentionables and unmentionables. As the years went by, there was a larger contingent who contented themselves with standing on the periphery, fully clothed and ogling the romping nude masses. That's fairly creepy, but those that decided to take pictures really crossed the line.

However, one thing that helped keep the outlandish and playful aspect of May Day alive was the creative ways that some folks found to celebrate throughout the day. Naturally, clothes were required in classrooms, dining halls, and so forth. I can recall guys and girls wearing kimonos, bathrobes, and even yellow police tape to push the boundaries.

As for me, I did my best to avoid the eye of the desnudo hurricane until my senior year. The first of May was a Saturday, and as the evening wore on, I was in my suite sharing drinks with friends. The clock drew close to midnight, and the combination of liquid courage and the knowledge that it was now or never spurred me on. But I wasn't about to go it alone. One close friend (whose identity I will do my best to protect) agreed to be my partner in crime. We still had some modicum of modesty, so we decided to streak down to the flagpole incognito. My friend wore a gorilla mask, and I of course donned my Rey Mysterio, Jr. lucha mask. I can recall walking over to the campus green, still clothed, before quickly slipping out of my sandals, shorts, and shirt and handing them to my bemused girlfriend. I recall charging down "The Hill" behind my friend, who promptly lost his balance halfway down and rolled to the bottom. There was a certain rush of adrenaline that I felt, standing in the midst of several dozen people, no one wearing anything other than a smile. Someone I didn't even know playfully accused me of trying to hide, so I pulled up the wrestling mask and gave her a glimpse of my face. But really, there wasn't much to the whole thing. Shocking, I know. We milled about for a few minutes, had our fill, and climbed back up The Hill. I gathered my garments from my better half, put them on, and went home.

When I look back on that night of semi-reckless abandon, one thought crosses my mind:

I'm glad that I graduated before Facebook became popular.