This is the third part in a series about the Red Sox Impossible Dream season and the Summer of 1967 in Boston. Learn more about this project.
TONY CONIGLIARO COULDN’T WAIT to bat in the fourth inning, anticipating a fastball over the plate, seeing himself smash it back up the middle. He’d been in a hurry his whole life, a baby nicknamed “Choo-choo” for his high-energy crawling, a 4-year-old who begged his mother to tie his shoes each morning so he could spend all day at the park, tossing a ball and swinging a broomstick.