It's June 4th, 1974, at Municipal Stadium in Cleveland, Ohio.

Standing on the dugout steps, 46-year-old Texas Rangers manager, Billy Martin,

watches his players settle into position.

It's the final inning. Cleveland Indians have just tied the game and with runners on base,

they're in a position to win. Billy leans against the rail, considering whether to make a

pitching change. But then one of his players grabs his arm, points urgently toward right field.

A fan has vaulted the wall and is running straight at rangers outfielder Jeff Burroughs.

Billy winces as the fan grabs for Jeff's cap.

Jeff lunges after him, then stumbles and crashes to the dirt.

And at that moment, something in Billy snaps. All night, his players have

been heckled and abused by drunk fans. Play has already been stopped several times for

spectators encroaching on the field. Now it looks like one of his players has been physically

attacked. It's time for it to stop. Billy pulls a bat from the rack and charges up the dugout

steps. The Rangers players around him grab bats of their own and follow. Hands tightened around

the wooden handles because they're not going to let one of their teammates be pushed around.

But the Rangers aren't the only one storming the field. Hundreds of fans push past security, spilling over the walls like a wave.

An umpire signals for order, but no one pays any attention.

Bottles then begin to rain on the field from the higher tiers.

Firecrackers go off and smoke curls through the air.

Billy and the Rangers close in on their fallen teammate,

their bats raised and ready. They reach him just as the crowd closes in, too. The two groups

jostle and push, and baseball is forgotten as Cleveland Municipal Stadium dissolves into chaos.

...