64. Tony Lazzeri, Joe DiMaggio, and the Yankees make a statement against the Giants and start a new Yankee dynasty, October 2, 1936, Yankee Stadium

Babe Ruth had retired.

        The Yankees had finished second for three straight years and won only one World Series in the last seven.

        Manager Joe McCarthy was dismissively called “Second Place Joe.”

        Perhaps their days as the feared powerhouse were done .º.º. or perhaps this skinny new Italian kid from San Francisco who had shredded the Pacific Coast League could make a difference in 1936.

        Then the kid, 21-year-old Joe DiMaggio, missed the start of the season after he burned his foot on a machine because he was too shy to ask why it felt so hot.

        But when the rookie debuted in May, everything changed. He had three hits in his first game, then batted .323 with 206 hits, 29 homers, and 125 RBIs in 138 games. He graced the cover of Time magazine. Teaming with Lou Gehrig and Bill Dickey, he helped the Yankees win the pennant by 191/2 games. A marvelous rookie campaign showing signs of true greatness, to be sure, but there was still the proving ground of the World Series. Not just any World Series but a Subway Series, the first since 1923.

        The Bombers had won it all in 1932, but the New York Giants were champions the year after; the Yankees had eight pennants to their credit, but the Giants had twelve. Both had won four championships, and 1936 was the battle for supremacy in New York.

        The Series did not begin auspiciously for the Yankees—Giant ace Carl Hubbell shut them down, and the Giants exploded with a four-run eighth in a 6–1 win. The Yankees needed to make a statement in Game 2 at the Polo Grounds on October 2 or lose control of the Series—no team had won a best-of-seven after losing the first two games.

        The Yankees did more than make a statement—they issued a manifesto, declaring that while Ruth was exceptional, his era would not be an exception. A new dynasty—one that some historians deem the most impressive of all Yankee reigns—had taken hold, built on an awesome blend of slugging, pitching, and defense. Game 2 linked the glory of the old and the new, highlighting Tony Lazzeri, a holdover from the Murderers’ Row lineup of the 1920s, and DiMaggio, who finished with a personal flourish that made it clear these were his Yankees.

        With two on in the first, DiMaggio surprised everyone by dropping a bunt for a single, filling the sacks for Gehrig, who’d hit more regular-season grand slams than anyone. There had only been one slam in Series history, by Cleveland’s Elmer Smith against Brooklyn in 1920. Gehrig lifted a fly to right, but it was catchable. Still, one run scored and another soon followed. The Yankees led 2–0.

        The Giants got a run back in the second, but in the third the Yankees expanded their lead to 5–1 and had loaded the bases again when Dick Coffman, the Giants’ third pitcher, faced Lazzeri.

        Nearing the end of his career, Lazzeri, a fellow Italian American from San Francisco, had (with shortstop Frankie Crosetti) been a valuable mentor to the young DiMaggio. He’d also driven in 109 runs. Still, he was remembered for a different World Series appearance with the bases loaded—in 1926 Grover Cleveland Alexander had fanned him in Game 7 to help St. Louis sneak past New York. But Dick Coffman was no Grover Cleveland Alexander, and Lazzeri smashed just the second World Series grand slam to punctuate the seven-run outburst.

        The Giants managed three in the fourth, perhaps because the Yankees’ famously flaky Lefty Gomez was growing bored—he even stopped pitching to watch a plane fly overhead. But the Yankees padded their lead with one in the sixth and two in the seventh.

        A 12–4 rout is not particularly noteworthy, but in the ninth the Yankees performed with enough panache at bat and in the field to make this a game for the record and history books. Jake Powell singled, stole second, and went to third on a fly-out. Yes, with an eight-run lead in the ninth, the Bombers played small ball. Gomez—one of the game’s worst-hitting pitchers—singled him home, then Crosetti, Red Rolfe, and DiMaggio singled in succession. One out later, Dickey cracked a homer to make it 18–4. That gave Dickey five RBIs, tying a single-game Series record .º.º. set by Lazzeri earlier that afternoon. (Yankee Bobby Richardson broke it in 1960.) Every Yankee had at least one hit and one run. They broke or tied 12 records in all. No other team has scored 18 in a Series game before or since. It remains the most lopsided rout in Series history, and a clear sign of what the Yankees had in store for opponents in years to come.

        One more sign soon emerged showing that the Yankees had a new superstar who belonged in elite company. Before the ninth inning, there’d been an announcement asking everyone to remain seated afterwards until President Franklin Roosevelt departed in a car driven specially through the center-field gate. In the Giants’ last chance, DiMaggio corralled two easy flies. Then, with a runner on second, Hank Leiber blasted the ball some 475 feet from home plate—a home run in many other ballparks, but in Yankee Stadium’s Death Valley merely an excuse for DiMaggio to display his long, graceful strides and knack for making even the most difficult plays look easy. He caught the ball on the dead run and took two steps up the stairs in center field toward the clubhouse. Suddenly, he remembered the president.

        The immigrant’s son from Fisherman’s Wharf stopped short and stood at attention, waiting. The president’s car rolled by, and Roosevelt, the young outfielder later told writers, gave DiMaggio a wink and a wave or the V for Victory sign.

        In the years to come DiMaggio would ensure that Yankee pinstripes continued to symbolize victory just as surely as Roosevelt’s V sign; the club would capture 16 of the next 18 World Series games played in capturing four straight titles. “I’ve always heard that one player could make the difference between a losing team and winner, and I never believed it,” Giant manager Bill Terry said about DiMaggio after that 1936 Series. “Now I know it’s true.”