Fenway Park was already full half an hour before game time last Saturday. Someone behind where Ron and I were sitting had a transistor radio on with Joe Garagiola babbling about the Reds' starting pitcher, Don Gullett. "I think you'd have to call Gullett a pure pitcher," Garagiola said. "And with his ability to bat, you'd have to call him a pure hitter, too. For that matter, Gullett's just a pure athlete."

"Well, Joe," the man behind us growled, "you're pure nuts." The fellow behind us was right, because last Saturday afternoon did belong to a pitcher--but not Gullett. It was Luis (Looee) Tiant.

Just about that time, as a squadron of planes pulling signs advertising everything from Hustler Magazine to Glory Denims buzzed overhead, a familiar figure walked out of the Boston dugout. He headed across the outfield with his characteristic gait and by the time he reached the bullpen, the entire crowd was chanting "Looee, Looee." Tiant had the masses charmed and they responded to his every move. It seemed as if he drew strength as well as encouragement from the yelling throngs. When he finished his warmup, you could almost sense that Tiant had the crowd, the Reds, and the game in his complete control.

We got to the ballpark early (10 a.m.), before the gates were even open. Between the Kenmore subway stop and the bleacher gates, Sam, a friend of mine who had come all the way from South Carolina to watch the game, had already bought two Red Sox hats, a pennant, a bumper sticker, a coke and a Fenway frank. He was also appropriately dressed in a Bosox red sweater and navy blue pants. He did withstand the temptation to get the other items being sold, which ranged from buttons with a picture of the gold dust twins (Lynn and Rice) to a World Series pen and pencil set.

When we got inside Fenway, Ron and I found that our seats on row 50 were just four rows down from the scoreboard in right field, while Sam and his little brother sat a couple of rows down from us. The Sox were just finishing batting practice when we got there. Whenever someone like Yaz or Fred Lynn would finish hitting, a horde of reporters would descend on him for the latest quote.

The Reds left no doubt what they were most concerned with when they had their turn in the field. As batters stroked shot after shot either off the Green Monster or into the screen that tops it, outfielders tossed baseballs against the wall and scoreboard to see how the ball bounced off it. Johnny Bench cockily strode into the batting cage and sent four pitches in a row over the fence, three of them over the screen. Tony Perez next stepped in and put one out of the park and then Bench came back to smash two more into Landsdowne Street.

The Reds might as well not have worried about the wall, however, since they did not come close to hitting one of El Tiante's pitches that far. For that matter, they had a hard time getting on base as Tiant retired the first ten men in order before Joe Morgan managed to get to first and then to second by the grace of the umpire.

It was only appropriate that Tiant would single to lead off the bottom of the seventh inning for Boston, and the crowd loved him for it. It was also appropriate that Yaz singled to bring in Tiant with what proved to be the winning run. Midway through the ninth inning, when Boston appeared to have it wrapped up, the 35,000 fans stood and started chanting "Looeee, Looeee" to honor the first person to pitch a World Series shutout in four years. Curt Gowdy later gushed that in all the years he had personally watched World Series games, he never saw one person so dominate an entire game. And for once, I'd have to agree with him.