The Astrodome had just knocked off King Kong to take over his spot as The Eighth Wonder of the World on Friday night, April 9, 1965! After defeating the New York Yankees, 2-1 in 10 during the previous evening’s original contest, the Houston Astros were getting ready on Saturday morning, April 10, 1965, to square off at 1:30 PM against the Baltimore Orioles in the second domed game of all time, but the first to be held in the fearsome daylight. – It would not be mere rainbows that kept falling on the outfielders’ heads that fateful day.
Even though Houston Chronicle writer John Wilson would type a post-game homer column for the Sunday edition that found a headline title of “Astros Say It Wasn’t Bad at All,” it was. The Astros would take the Orioles that afternoon with 11 runs, 17 hits, and 3 errors against a tote board of 8 runs, 11 hits, and 3 errors for the Birds, but guess what was helping this game to produce a grand total of 19 runs, 28 hits, and 6 errors? Baseball doesn’t have an “invisible ball” stat column. Anything that falls safely to earth while a fielder is frozen in motion or ducking or covering his head has to be ruled either a hit or an error.
And so they did. – On the “E” side, errors were charged to catcher John Orsino, 1st baseman Boog Powell, and shortstop Luis Aparicio of the Orioles; to 3rd baseman Leon McFadden, right fielder Rusty Staub, and center fielder Jimmy Wynn of the Astros; and to two miscues that I will assign here and now, nearly 48 years later, to John Wilson and the Houston Chronicle: (E7): for not seeing the Orioles press guide clear enough to know that catcher John Orsino does not spell his last name as “Orsini” – and for constantly repeating that error throughout the game story and box score; and, (E8): for making that typical Houston Comical error variance from the truth in even those earlier times that the visual problem on fly balls wasn’t bad at all, according to the Astros! – What a douche-bag, suck-em-up to the Judge play for more free rides and whiskey that story was!
It was awful. Even fans lost sight of balls hit into the daylight glare of the dome. The effect on vision had to play into almost every failed catch in any game to be played under these circumstances. The club would have to paint the roof, block the sun, kill the grass, and bring in AstroTurf to save the day. It was either do that much – or else, stop calling what they played under the circumstances of the first Astrodome day game by the name of “baseball.”
Tags: first Astrodome day game
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