On a warm August night in 1961, Ted Williams, the “Splendid Splinter” who had finished his Hall of Fame baseball career the year before as the last hitter to bat .400 in a single season, strode to the plate before an overflow crowd at Municipal Stadium in Waterbury, Conn., to face a young softball pitching phenom by the name of Joan Joyce.
The occasion was a charity fund-raising exhibition. Williams was in his Boston Red Sox uniform, No. 9. Joyce stood on the mound 40 feet away (regulation in women’s softball, as opposed to 60 feet 6 inches in major-league baseball), clad in the red-and-white jersey and shorts she wore as the premier pitcher for the Raybestos Brakettes, one of the top teams in the women’s game, with its home field 30 miles to the south in suburban Stratford, Conn.
Joan Joyce pitching in the Women’s Softball World Championship in 1974 in Stratford, Conn. With her leading the way, her Raybestos Brakettes became the first United States team to win the title. Credit...Joan Chandler
It was one of several such exhibitions in which Williams and Joyce faced off in the early 1960s, but the one in Waterbury — Joyce’s hometown, where the fans were chanting “Joanie, Joanie Joanie!” — proved to be the most memorable. It would become an oft-told tale in the lore that enveloped Joyce over her long career as, many would say, the most dominant player in the history of women’s fast-pitch softball and — given her prowess in basketball, volleyball and golf as well — as one of the greatest female athletes of her generation.
With a slingshot-like underhanded delivery, Joyce, a couple of weeks shy of her 21st birthday, took her full arsenal of blazing pitches to the mound that night: curveballs, sliders, fastballs and her trademark “drop ball,” which sunk over the plate. And while she warmed up, Williams, who was approaching 43 but coming off a sterling, age-defying final season in Boston (hitting .316 and swatting 29 home runs), studied the movement of her ball.
To no avail, as it turned out.
For 10 to 15 minutes, Williams, a left-handed hitter, swung at and missed almost everything Joyce, a right-hander, threw at him (save for a couple of foul tips).
“Finally,” Joyce later recalled, “he threw the bat down and said, ‘I can’t hit her’” and walked away.
Mighty Williams had struck out.
Years later, Joyce would tell her biographer, Tony Renzoni, how she once met a man who had fished with Williams off the Florida Keys. The man told her that he had asked Williams to name the toughest pitcher he had ever faced. “And he said,” she recalled, “‘You won’t believe this, but it was a teenage girl.’”