Medford mail tribune., September 22, 1963, Image 50

SPORT
after blanking the New York Mets
xone night this summer, Sandy Kou
f ax, reeking of the hot poultice he had
applied to his shoulder before the game,
explained in the mellifluous tones of a
matinee idol why he is baseball's best
pitcher:
"A lot is mental. I had to learn how to throw
the ball down the middle. I used to try to over
whelm the batter. I had to learn control."
Obviously, Koufax is a thinker. He is also a
worrier. If he weren't both, his story would con
cern only another bonus baby who never made
the grade. Instead, it's the story of how think
ing made a promising athlete into a record
breaking star and then, ironically, nearly
wrecked his career.
"It was a 'B' game in Orlando (Fla.) during
spring training two years ago," the Los Angeles
Dodgers' lefty says in recalling what started him
toward greatness. "Norm Sherry was catching
me, and we had talked things over earlier."
Sandy had been worrying. This was his sixth
season in the majors and, except for such flashes
of brilliance as striking out 18 batters in one
game, he was still a "brick thrower" a fast
baller with no control and, hence, little future.
"What you want to do," said Norm Sherry, a
.200 hitter but a slugger in the brain circuit,
"is let up a little. Don't force your fast ball. Use
some strength in control."
In that "B" game, Koufax followed the ad
vice with success for a while, then the tempta
tion to let go with all his power became too great.
"I walked three in a row," Koufax says. "Just
like old times. Norm came out and said to let
up. I told him a fast ball was my best pitch. 'Try
it my way,' he said. I did and found I could
throw fast without total effort and still control
the ball."
That was a sorry lesson for batters. In 1961,
Koufax won 18 games and broke the National
League strike-out record. In 1962, he got off to
an incredible start: by All-Star time he was
14-4, had pitched a no-hitter, and again struck
out 18 in one game.
Sandy could now revel in the rewards of star
status. He'd never been the hungry kid of
baseball legend, of course. His father was an at
torney in Brooklyn, and Sandy lived the good life.
In 1954, Dodger scout Al Campanis shook hands
with Mr. Koufax, and the 19-year-old boy had
a $14,000 bonus.
One reason Mr. Koufax signed his son with
Brooklyn was that the youth could live at home.
But owner Walter O'Malley subsequently moved
his team to Los Angeles, so Mr. and Mrs. Kou
fax packed up and moved with Sandy. They
bought a new home but Sandy purchased one
of his own in Studio City, in which he installed
hi-fi stereo, an impressive library, and contempo
rary paintings. During the season, he had little
time to tool around Hollywood with beauty-contest
winners in his bronze-hued auto, but during
the off season he cut a romantic figure.
Sandy
Koufax
v - iMiLLn
Baseball's
Comeback
of
the Year
Last year doctors considered
amputating his pitching
finger; this year he's using it to
break pitching records
By JOHN KENT
With all this, a worrier-thinker naturally
starts worrying and thinking. The thought that
haunts all pitchers arose: what if, while batting,
I get hit on my bread-and-butter arm? Koufax
came up with a bright solution. By batting lefty, .
his precious left arm would always be away from
a pitched ball. So Koufax, normally a right
handed batter, switched. In this awkward stanc.
a pitch by Earl Francis of the Pittsburgh Pirates
jammed his left palm against the bat. Sandy
didn't think too much about it after all, it
wasn't the arm.
It's a fair guess, though, that this minor mis
hap caused what sports writers refer to as "the
mysterious Raynaud phenomenon," which the ar
ticulate Koufax doesn't think mysterious at all:
"A blow or trauma simply caused a blood clot in
the fleshy part of the palm, cutting off circula
tion to the finger."
. In midseason 1962, when Sandy appeared en
route to several records, the index finger went
numb and, to lesser degrees, his thumb and fore-
finger. Later, the pitching finger turned purple
from broken blood vessels. Doctors considered
amputating it at one time, but anticoagulants
reduced the clot. Koufax was through for the
season, however and so were the Dodgers, who
then blew a shoo-in pennant Hot stovers
added an ominous afterthought: "Koufax? he's
through for good!"
During an agonizing winter, Koufax never
showed that the whispers bothered him. He
added to his $35,000 salary by touring Las Vegas
and Miami Beach night clubs with Milton Berle.
On stage, he laughed off remarks about his pre- 1
cious pinky; off stage he would angrily cut off
questions about it
Spring training this year added to the pres
sure. In 18 innings, he allowed 11 runs. When
it came time for his season opener in Chicago
May 11, Sandy hadn't completed a game since
the previous July 4. The temperature in Wrigley
Field was near freezing, and even the warming
pad Sandy sticks his hand into between innings
couldn't relieve the numbness for long. But Kou
fax was determined to make this the test He
went out and beat the Cubs, 2-1, striking out 10.
A month later, he doused the last doubter by
pitching a no-hitter against the champion San
Francisco Giants. In early August, he was ap
proaching the 20-win mark, had nine shutouts,
more than 200 strike-outs, and a very low earned
run average around 2.00. "I wasn't worried about
my spring trouble," he said. "I start slow."
But later in the season, when he was sure he
had his comeback cinched, he revealed what he
really felt in those troublesome days. "I was
afraid to get mad at what happened to me. I felt
like Job, but I couldn't get angry at anybody but
the Lord, and if I did that I was afraid things
would get worse. So I took what came."
Does he think the ailment could recur?
"Listen," he says, patient now with question
ers, "it was an injury not a disease. It won't
come back." Then he pauses, half worried, half
thoughtful. "Not unless I bat lefty against Fran
cis again and that I'm not about to do!"
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