On three occasions in his fourteen-year career in the majors, he had carried a no-hitter into the eighth inning, only to be foiled. His coup, which he pitched at the Stadium on July 18, 1999, is only the sixteenth perfect game in a century of major-league ball, but was also his own first no-hitter of any description. You want to be ready." He can't decide whether his model is John McEnroe or an earlier, lesser-known Spanish star, Manuel Santana, whom he would have seen winning Wimbledon.Ĭone, one could say, was ready and then some. "Players talk about stuff like this among themselves, believe it or not. "You always wonder how you'll look when the time comes," he says. And Cone, for his part, will come to believe that he unconsciously picked up that ecstatic, down-on-his-knees- and-head-to-heaven victory posture from watching some center-court Wimbledon winner on television, long ago, and tucking the picture away in his mind. This stuff can't be happening.Ĭabrera, the ninth batter in the order for the Montreal Expos, who have just been beaten by the Yankees, 6-0, in this perfect game - no hits, no runs, nobody on base - has foreseen his role in this freeze-frame as far back as the sixth inning, when, looking at the man on the mound and then counting the depleting outs and innings ahead, he sensed that he could be the final batter of the day. Larsen is back today, as it happens so is his catcher in that game, Yogi Berra. In an instant he will be rushed and ganged by his team-mates, converging from the field and flooding across from the dugout, but the scene - the ball in the air and the pitcher unexpectedly falling into an attitude of worship - is already fixed in baseball time, there with Carlton Fisk dancing up the first-base line and gesturing wildly to keep his shot fair Willie Mays with his back to us, looking up over his head to gather Vic Wertz's drive at the Polo Grounds center-field wall or, for that matter, Don Larsen pitching to Dale Mitchell here at Yankee Stadium (the old Stadium then), with the numbers, all zeroes, enormous on the black scoreboard behind him. Yes, this ball will be caught - it's the last out - and when the pitcher, David Cone, takes in the moment he sinks to his knees with his head flung back and his hands up above his ears. The pitcher, hurrying off the mound, watches the ball anxiously, pointing up at it, and shoots a glance over at his third baseman.
The shortstop, Orlando Cabrera, up at bat for the third time, swings and lifts a little foul fly off to the left of the infield. A Pitcher's Story - Innings With David Cone
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