A TALE OF THREE CITIES: NEW YORK, L.A. AND SAN FRANCISCO IN OCTOBER OF ‘62 (26 page)

Other teams constantly made trade offers, but
the Dodgers resisted. Koufax's relationship with Alston continued
to be rocky. With former aces Carl Erskine, Don Newcombe and even
Sal Maglie no longer in the picture, Alston had hoped that finally
Koufax could be relied on, but he was still a project akin to the
Hoover Dam. One night Koufax and rookie pitcher Larry Sherry broke
curfew. Alston caught them and came pounding on their door. The two
pitchers were like frightened children while the manager tried to
literally break the door down, causing Alston to break his World
Series ring.

During the disappointing 1960 campaign, the
24-year old Koufax was a bust. By this point he had been in the big
leagues for six years and was the same age he would have been had
he played three years of college ball and a couple more in the
minors. Had he been a rookie in 1960, his 8-13 record would not
have been so disappointing. His 197 strikeouts in 175 innings was
phenomenal, but he also walked 100 batters. Koufax, unlike
Drysdale, was afraid to work inside, worried that his explosive
fastball could kill a hitter.

The turning point in his career apparently
came about on a plane ride to a 1961 spring "B" game against the
Twins. Roommate Norm Sherry told him that if he fell behind the
hitters he should "let up," because when he thew his hardest "your
fastball comes in high." Sherry also suggested that he throw more
curveballs.

For Koufax, he had heard every bit of advice,
but by 1961 was desperate and "ready to listen" because "I didn't
have anything to lose." He eased up and discovered his fastball did
not lose any heat, but suddenly could be controlled. His curve,
previously unused, was unhittable. That day he tossed a
seven-inning no-hitter.

In 1961, he finally hit his stride, winning
18 games with a 3.52 ERA, striking out an incredible (and
league-leading) 269 hitters with only 96 walks in 255 2/3 innings.
Again, however, the season ended in disappointment for the team,
but the young southpaw finally had arrived.

"He'd throw his fastball that started at the
letters, but by the time the batters would swing, the pitch was
already out of the strike zone," said pitcher Stan Williams. His
curve dropped from shoulders to knees and was all-but untouchable.
They often did not look like strikes but ended up in the strike
zone. He learned how to change speeds. Using his natural
intelligence, he was mastering the pitching arts.

"He shortened his stride on his front foot,"
said pitching coach Joe Becker. "That helped his control. Batters
used to read his pitches. He showed the ball when he brought it up.
Now he hides it and takes his time . . . he'll be one of the
all-time greats."

Entering the 1962 campaign, Koufax was a
mature man of 26. His first start came on "Chinatown Night." Reeled
in on a rickshaw, Koufax then defeated Cincinnati, 6-2 for the
club's first-ever win at Dodger Stadium.

Two weeks later he struck out 18 again
against Chicago, becoming the first to do it twice. In mid-May, the
index finger on his throwing hand started to go numb. Nobody could
determine its cause. By the summer time, he had won 10 games and
led the league in ERA. On June 30 he faced the fledgling New York
Mets in front of 32,000 at Dodger Stadium.

The first three New York hitters went down on
strikes, which took the minimum nine pitches. Los Angeles scored
early and everybody settled in to watch Koufax. A great play was
made by shortstop Maury Wills, who went deep into the hole and
threw out Frank Thomas in the second inning. Koufax walked four but
two double-plays helped him out. By the eighth, Koufax had 13
strikeouts.

"Either he throws the fastest ball I've ever
seen, or I'm going blind," lamented New York center fielder Richie
Ashburn, a former Philadelphia star destined for the Hall of
Fame.

In the ninth, pinch-hitter Gene Woodling
walked to lead off. Ashburn hit a curving foul down the left field
line, then forced Woodling at second on a grounder. Rod Kanehl also
grounded out. Felix Mantilla, who had beaten Koufax in a Spring
Training game with a ninth-inning single, bounced to Wills for the
force out and Koufax had a no-hit game.

However, the numb finger kept getting worse.
Nobody knew what caused it, or how to treat it. It looked dead,
with a white pallid color. Koufax would fool with it, pushing and
probing at it. His finger started to have the feel of wax.

Koufax pitched through it, effectively. He
hit a home run off Milwaukee great Warren Spahn, beat the Mets
again, defeated Philadelphia on July 4, and was scheduled to face
arch-rival San Francisco on July 8. While warming up, the finger
turned red. When pressure was applied, it felt "as if a knife were
cutting into it," said Koufax.

Koufax held the ball lightly and threw only
fastballs. He clung to a 2-0 lead and a no-hit game until the
seventh. The pain became intolerable, however. After throwing two
balls to Willie Mays, Koufax had to remove himself. Drysdale closed
and held on for the win, but Koufax was unavailable to pitch at the
All-Star Game in Washington, D.C. because the pain got worse. It
went from red to blue with an ugly blister at the tip.

Hoping the mid-season break had alleviated
the pain, Alston went with his ace after the break. Koufax could
still not apply enough pressure to throw his curveball, but managed
to go seven innings in a 3-0 win over the Mets. Finally, he lost
all feeling in his entire hand and was lifted. It was his
14
^th
win, and his last.

At Cincinnati, the finger "split open" and he
was lifted after one inning. The trainers came out and saw a "raw,
open wound." He flew back to Los Angeles to be examined by Dr.
Robert Woods.

After consultation,, he was taken to a
cardio-vascular specialist, Dr. Travius Winsor, who concluded that
he had a blood clot. The doctor told him that if he kept pitching
without treatment, he might have lost his finger and his career.
Drugs, shots and ointments were prescribed. The injury may or may
not have been a malady known as "Reynaud's Phenomenon." Frustrated,
seemingly having reached greatness after so many years of struggle,
he watched his team battle San Francisco without him.

Koufax lived in a hillside ranch home in
Studio City, surrounded by books and records that ran the gamut of
classical to rock. The home's location was perfect for its
occupant, located on a sharply ascending curve of a narrow street,
with a high retaining wall with heavy growth of landscaping.

"If you didn't know what you were looking
for, you couldn't possibly have found it," wrote his biographer, Ed
Linn.

His home was "a polyglot of decorating
styles: contemporary living room, early-American kitchen, a den in
Oriental," wrote David Plaut in
Chasing October: The
Dodgers-Giants Pennant Race of 1962
. "Stacked high along the
shelves were dozens of books and more than 300 record albums."

"He enjoyed music, and the one thing he
really loved to talk about was hi-fi components - woofers and
tweeters," recalled Vin Scully. Sandy built a do-it-yourself
"boombox," which consisted of a radio, tape recorder and speaker
wired into a lid, which he carried on road trips. He did not like
jazz.

He also co-owned an FM music station in
Thousand Oaks. He liked fine dining, gardening, golf, and beautiful
women. He never talked about his girlfriends, however.

"Whatever I do off the field, after baseball,
is my own business, so long as I don't cause any trouble," he told
Sport
magazine. "If I live alone, so what? If I like to do
something, who has to know? Who cares? I figure my life is my own
to live as I want. Is that asking too much?"

Handsome and intelligent, his reputation as
an eligible bachelor was built up by the media. Koufax certainly
liked the ladies, but since he was quiet about his love life, any
portrayals of a Don Juan image were dissuaded. Drysdale was helping
him make in-roads into Hollywood, however, which increased his
public profile.

Vin Scully said that Koufax was as nice a man
as there was on the team; "charming, always cooperative," he said.
"A lovely guy," but he was always by himself, had no close friends,
and if he did hang out with anybody it was usually a back-up
catcher or utility infielder. He liked Drysdale, but as fame and
Hollywood stardom linked both, he shied away from promulgating the
image of "Dodger gunslingers," subject to tabloid rumor.

Koufax ordered room service on the road
instead of going out and getting recognized. "I don't even remember
him going to movies much," recalled roommate Daryl Spencer.

Koufax would occasionally "go with the other
pitchers after a game," recalled Johnny Podres. "He'd have one
drink with us, put 50 bucks down on the bar and say, 'okay, boys,
have a good time.' Then he'd finish his drink and go home."

Dodger Stadium, set to open in 1962, was
built for Koufax and Drysdale, with its distant fences.
Expectations for Koufax were sky high. The Dodgers played mostly
night games, which worked to the pitcher's advantage. This included
Saturday nights, a novelty but very popular as it gave fans a
chance to enjoy their day and still make the game. The heavy smog
of the era also worked to reduce well-hit balls.

Tommy Davis turned 23 years old during Spring
Training in 1962. Like Koufax, he was a Brooklynite; born in the
borough in 1939. The Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood he was raised
in, which housed Ebbets Field, was by the time he reached high
school a rugged area, infested with crime and drugs. Church helped
keep Davis out of trouble, but he was street smart, too. He
gravitated towards sports, starring in baseball and track at Boys
High School. The big sport in Brooklyn among black youth, however,
was basketball, and it was his first love. The problem was that "I
couldn't shoot a lick, I was a garbage man," he said.

Pure athletic ability, however, made him
competitive enough on the court to earn a place on the all-city
team with Doug Moe and Satch Sanders. He and his pal Lenny Wilkens
were offered scholarships to Providence, but his grades were not up
to snuff so he signed with the Dodgers. Dreams of being a hometown
hero went up in smoke when the club moved to Los Angeles

Davis was a 6-2, 200-pound right-handed
batter with a natural line drive stroke. Before Charlie Lau taught
hitters like George Brett to swing down on the ball, Davis was
doing just that. His vicious drives reminded old-timers of Napoleon
Lajoie, who hit balls that posed danger to pitchers, first basemen
and third basemen in the first decade of the 20
^th
Century.

Davis, who enjoyed modern jazz, hit .325 in
43 games at Hornell of the Pony League in 1956. The next year Davis
established himself as a major prospect when he lit up the Midwest
League, batting a league-leading .357 with 104 RBIs for the Kokoma
club. After hitting .304 at Victoria of the double-A Texas League
in 1958, he was elevated to Montreal, where he played out the
remainder of the season.

In 1959 Davis was on fire at Spokane of the
triple-A Pacific Coast League. There was hardly a statistic that
did not bear his star on it, indicating a league leader. This
included games (153), at-bats (612), hits (211), average (.345),
put-outs (414), plus 32 doubles, 18 homers and 78 runs batted in.
Davis had the power to be a 40-homer man, but went for line drive
average instead.

Davis was called up at the end of the 1959
campaign, but broke in successfully during his rookie campaign of
1960, when he batted .278. He was a left fielder but could also
play third base, a problem position that the Dodgers were not able
to solve in the years between Billy Cox and Ron Cey. In 1961 Davis
hit .278. Los Angeles expected to win with pitching in 1962, but
they certainly had bats in the line-up. Like Koufax, Davis hid his
competitive nature behind a placid disposition.

"The first impression you get of Tommy is
that he's too nonchalant and a little lazy," Alston observed of
him. "He appears half asleep, but he's quick as anybody. It's just
that his actions and the way he walks around are a little
misleading."

In 1961, Davis occasionally came out late for
batting practice, prompting a tongue-lashing from Alston, who was
normally placid until his ire was stirred.

"This is the only thing I can do, maybe the
only thing I can do well," Davis said. "Don't you think I want to
make as good a living out of baseball as I can?"

Pete Reiser took it upon himself to handle
Davis personally. "I'm Tommy's father and his nursemaid," said the
former star. "I figure out what he needs. Sometimes I bawl him out.
Other times I treat him nice. I told him he has to be mean and mad
at everyone in the world to be a good hitter."

"Tommy was probably the best pure hitter I
ever saw," claimed Dodgers broadcaster Jerry Doggett. In 1962,
Davis learned how to hit to right field, but he got off to a slow
start. Bavasi used financial incentives to get his charges to
improve their production. Bavasi offered him $100 if he tried not
to pull everything. Davis's hits to right and right-center would
cost the general manager $3,500 ($100 per hit).

Davis was married with two daughters. "When I
see those ribbies on the bases, I see dollar signs," Davis said.
"It means more money in the bank" for his family. He definitely
proved himself a better hitter with men in scoring position. "He
was a great clutch hitter," said pitcher Ed Roebuck. "It seemed as
if he knocked in an awful lot of runs with two outs."

"Every time there was a man on base, he'd
knock him in," said Sandy Koufax. "And every time there were two
men on base, he'd hit a double and knock them both in."

"With no one on, he goes for power and
presses," said team vice president Fresco Thompson. "With men on,
he concentrates better. He simply is a better hitter with men on
base."