The Greatest That Ever Was

Sandy Koufax. Gentleman, Jew, myth. Driven by integrity, class, and an unyielding competitive spirit.

He was, almost accidentally, the greatest left-handed baseball pitcher in history. He only pitched twelve seasons in the National League before severe arthritis in his throwing elbow terminated his career. He never pitched in the minor leagues, going from having only pitched four college games before signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1955 at the tender age of nineteen.

But oh, what an incredible career it was. He spent his first six seasons battling his manager’s Jewish bigotry and distrust. He was classed in the same bucket as black players – somehow a stain on the purity of baseball. He was accused of being wild; a guy who could throw hard but had no control. It wasn’t entirely accurate, as he was used sporadically, and rarely given a fair chance to pitch.

But in 1961 he proved to be so good, even his manager’s biases couldn’t keep him from the mound. In thirty-five starts he finished with 18 wins against 13 losses. He pitched fifteen complete games over 255+ innings, striking out 269, with an ERA of 3.52. Pitching in relief he also notched a win and a save. That was just the beginning of a six year stretch when he had no peer, becoming the most dominant pitcher in baseball.

From 1962 to 1966 he won 111 games and lost only 34. In 1963 he was 25-5, with twenty complete games and a microscopic ERA of 1.88. After that year’s World Series New York Yankee catcher Yogi Berra asked, “How the hell did he lose five?”

Maury Wills, the hall of fame Dodger shortstop later replied, “He didn’t. We lost them for him.”

In those five years Koufax was essentially untouchable. With a fastball that could hit 100mph and a curveball that literally fell off the table, no one could hit him. Willie Mays, in 23 seasons a lifetime .301 hitter, said, “I knew every pitch he was going to throw, and I still couldn’t hit him.”

In 1962, he was 14-7 with only 26 starts. In May he was hit by a pitch that caused nerve damage in his throwing hand. He kept pitching, and in June threw his first career no-hitter before finally going on the injured list. He missed nine weeks but still led the National League in season ERA at 2.54, the first of five years in a row he would lead the league.

His 1964 season was also cut two months short when he jammed his elbow sliding into second base. He was diagnosed with traumatic arthritis, resulting in an elbow that would swell to the size of a knee whenever he threw. Still, with only 28 starts, he went 19-5 with an ERA of 1.74. Missing the last two months of the season probably denied him four consecutive Cy Young awards as the outstanding pitcher in both leagues.

In those days pitching rotations used four pitchers. You pitched every four days instead of today’s every five. For a season, that equated to forty-one starts instead of today’s thirty-three. By comparison, today’s pitchers are coddled, rarely completing games or throwing more than 110 pitches each start. Sixty years ago, starting pitchers were expected to pitch nine innings, no matter how many pitches it took.

Koufax was known to throw over a hundred pitches in warmup, then throw a complete game. He once pitched a thirteen-inning, 215 pitch complete game. Warren Spahn, another all-time great left-hander, in 1963 dueled Juan Marichal for sixteen innings, eventually losing 1-0 when Willie Mays hit a walk-off homer. Spahn had thrown 201 pitches, Marichal 227.

But the greatest game ever pitched may have been September 9, 1965 at Dodger Stadium in Chavez Ravine. Koufax won in nine innings, 1-0. He had pitched a perfect game that, at the time, set a record of four no-hitters for a pitcher. The loser, Chicago Cub veteran Bob Hendley, had thrown a one-hitter. The run that scored was unearned, the result of an error.

By the time the 1966 season came along, Koufax knew he was probably pitching his last season. The arthritis was so bad, his whole arm would swell and turn black after each game. He got regular steroid shots in his elbow. Once a week he would get cortisone shots. Nowadays, doctors rarely give you more than two of those, total, forever. The days before, the days of, and the days after each of his starts he would take Butazolidin, a powerful anti-inflammatory no longer used on humans.

That shit, by itself, killed several people before the FDA finally banned its use. They still use it on racehorses. I took it after my first knee operation in 1976, when nothing else would work against persistent swelling. They regularly tested liver function when you took it.

Before every start he would also douse his arm and shoulder with the 1960s versions of Atomic Balm or Capsolin. They were capsaicin-based, industrial strength heat rubs that left you feeling as if your skin were on fire. He used so much of it so regularly his uniforms had to be washed separately, and the heat never came out of them. Another player once donned one of his team sweatshirts and almost immediately threw up. It could be deadly hot. But if you were hurting, in those days you did what you had to.

In 1966, the Dodgers needed to win the last game of the season to get to the World Series. Koufax was asked to pitch on two day’s rest. In the second inning he told his catcher, John Roseboro, he would only be throwing fastballs from here on out – he couldn’t get the curve ball over the plate. For seven and two-thirds innings he threw fastballs. Home plate umpire Doug Harvey said, “And they knew what was coming. And he still won the game, and the pennant. It was the greatest exhibition of baseball I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And Harvey didn’t know the half of it. In the fifth, something popped in Koufax’s back. He demanded more Capsolin rub for his arm, shoulder and back. The trainers put it on wearing rubber gloves. They tried to pop his back. Then Koufax popped pain pills every inning until it was over.

All that, just so he could pitch. He pitched so well, most people didn’t realize how bad it was. Having personal experience with swollen, arthritic joint injuries, I can’t imagine being able to do what he did, much less do it better than anyone ever had.

Still, his manager, Walter Alston, the one who at first refused to recognize his talent, now refused to preserve it. Eddie Mathews, the Atlanta Braves hall of famer, recalled a game repeatedly delayed by rain, that was finally finished at 2 A.M.: “They’ve had Sandy in the ballgame, sitting down during the rain delay, back in the ballgame, sitting down during the rain delay, back in the ballgame. Never in the world did I understand why they did that to Sandy. But at two A.M. I hit a home run off him to beat him. I’ve never seen a pitcher abused like that in my life.”

That last season, 1966, the year he pitched with the most pain and disability, he won 27 games against 9 losses. His ERA was a career best 1.73. He pitched 323 innings and twenty-seven complete games, striking out 317. The year before he was 26-8 with a 2.04 ERA when he pitched 335 innings also with twenty-seven complete games, striking out a still National League record 382. His combined Earned Run Average over his last four years was 1.86, a number that defies comprehension. The statistics go on and on. He was a god, pitching from the heavens.

Years after Koufax had beaten Hendley for his perfect game and fourth no-hitter, Hendley was often asked what it was like to be the other guy. He would always say, “It’s no disgrace to get beat by class.”

Thirty-five years later on Bob Hendley’s birthday, Sandy inscribed a 1966-era correct baseball with “What a game” and mailed it to him with a note. It said, “We had a moment, a night, and a career. I hope life has been good to you – Sandy.”

That’s Sandy Koufax. Class and integrity, competitiveness and respect. Through and through. My childhood hero and a man I continue to idolize, not because he is the best pitcher that ever was but because, even when he had all that, he was and remains a great human being.

All quotes in this article are from Jane Leavy’s biography, Sandy Koufax, A Lefty’s Legacy. Harper Collins, New York, 2002.