The Corporal's Victory

In Boston last week, when the curtain rolled up on 1948's baseball season, a giant of a man (6 ft. 4 1/2 in.) limped out to pitch for the Philadelphia A's. On his left leg Leland Victor Brissie, 23, wore two socks and a plastic shin guard. He was not only a rookie but a southpaw to boot, and Plate-Umpire Cal Hubbard got set for a flurry of wild pitching. But the rookie's "live" fast ball cut the plate and his curve snapped over for strikes. Red Sox sluggers got only two hits in five innings.

The fourth hit was a vicious line drive from Ted Williams' bat that struck Brissie's left leg and caromed toward first base. A groan swept the stands; Williams angrily kicked the first base bag, apparently blaming himself for something he couldn't be blamed for, watching the giant rookie writhing in pain on the grass behind the pitcher's mound. It was the same leg a German shell had shattered four years ago when Corporal Brissie, a bazooka man, was leading a squad in the mountains above Florence, Italy. It had taken 23 operations and 40 blood transfusions to put Brissie on his feet; for a minute it looked as if Williams' smash had undone everything. But after a five-minute rest, Brissie was ready to pitch again.

He gave no more hits, no runs, and struck out Ted Williams the next time he came to bat. It was Brissie's first big-league victory (4-2). Said Philadelphia's 85-year-old Manager Connie Mack, who sweated out the game on the bench, "I never felt so tired in all my life." His lowly A's went on to win a third straight game from the highly-touted Red Sox -- and to enjoy, while they could, the strange sensation of leading the American League with a fat 1,000 average.

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