No. 96: Darrell Russell

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal The Narrative of Our Region’s Athletic Heritage.  Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness and notoriety factor in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 96:

= Darrell Russell: USC football
= Lawrence Jackson: USC football
= Andrei Kuzmenko: Los Angeles Kings
= Neil Hope: Los Angeles Rams

The most interesting story for No. 96:
Darrell Russell, USC football defensive tackle  (1994 to 1996)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Los Angeles


USC defensive lineman Darrell Russell poses for a portrait prior to the 1997 NFL Draft. (Bob Riha, Jr./Getty Images)

At 6-foot-5 and 313 pounds, Darrell Russell was a supreme, spectacular specimen.

A reporter visited the USC campus the fall of 1995 to properly size up the sophomore defensive tackle for a profile piece. Eventually, he and a USC official got out a tape measure.

Russell’s calves were measured at 32 inches. About the size of a normal man’s waist?

“I wear a 40 or 42 waist,” Russell explained when asked about how he finds a proper wardrobe, “but I can’t buy a pair of pants according to waist size –I can’t get them on over my thighs. Without baggy pants, I’d have to wear shorts all the time.  … It’s a good thing for me the baggy-pants look is in, because without them I don’t know what I’d do.”

USC’s Darrell Russell (96) celebrates with teammate George Perry (88) after a stop against Arizona State in an Oct. 19, 1996 game at Sun Devil Stadium. USC lost 48-35 in double overtime.

Eleanor Russell, Darrell’s mother, once told the New York Times that she had ”never imagined raising a child to be so big, and such an athlete. But I knew I was going to raise a child who was going to think for himself — and hopefully to provide for himself.”

As a USC freshman playing against Notre Dame, Russell’s five-tackle game led to defensive coordinator Keith Burns remarking: “That (game) should be Darrell’s personal standard. When he does that every Saturday, he’ll be not only the best I ever coached in college football but maybe the best I ever saw.”

UCLA quarterback Cade McNown tries to avoid the pursuit of USC defensive tackle Darrell Russell in November, 1994 at the Rose Bowl. (Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

Nicknamed “Pookie,” the Pensacola, Fla., born Russell who grew up in San Diego would win the Morris Trophy as the best lineman on the West Coast after recording 19 tackles for a loss during his junior year.

Twice named All-Pac-10 first team as a sophomore and junior,  Russell ran the 40-yard dash in an astounding 4.8 seconds.

And then he ran right past his senior year and into the NFL.

Darrell Russell, right, with NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue after the Oakland Raiders took the USC defensive tackle No. 2 overall in the 1997 draft. (Bob Strong/ AFP via Getty Images)

The Oakland Raiders took Russell second overall in the 1997 NFL Draft, right behind St. Louis’ No. 1 pick of eventual Hall of Fame offensive tackle Orlando Pace, and gave him a seven-year, $22 million contract, the richest rookie deal in league history. Speculation was the New York Jets would take Russell at No. 1, but the Jets eventually swapped places with St. Louis.

”He’s a very intelligent young man,” Gil Brandt, a consultant to the NFL and a former Dallas Cowboys personnel director who studies the draft prospects, told the New York Times on the 1997 NFL Draft day. ”And it’s amazing how quick he is for such a big man. He moves around like an adagio dancer.”

Said to be “the next Warren Sapp,” Russell made the Pro Bowl in 1998 as a 22-year-old, move from left defensive end to right defensive tackle in his second year. He had 10 sacks, three forced fumbles and 64 tackles. He was in the Pro Bowl again in ’99 — 9 ½ sacks, 15 tackles for losses among his 35 solo tackles and four pass deflections.

He was, as his agent, Leigh Steinberg said, “on his way to the Hall of Fame.”

At some point, Russell started a pattern of failing NFL drug tests. His lawyer said it was a result of “second-hand smoke” the first time.

February 3, 2002: Oakland Raiders’ Darrell Russell, with two others, were charged and arraigned with sexual assault for allegedly drugging a woman and assaulting her in an Alameda home. Russell attorney is Anthony Gibbs. (San Francisco Chronicle/Lea Suzuki)

Russell eventually was suspended four games in 2001 for violating the league’s banned substance policy. He was suspended the entire 2002 season for another bad test.

“I just hope he can deal with it,” Oakland Raiders coach Jon Gruden told reporters in 2022. “But the bottom line, this is devastating for a young guy at the top of his profession to have to go through this.”

In March 2022, The San Francisco Chronicle quoted Willie Brown, the Raiders’ director of player development, as saying that Russell was hanging out with “the wrong crowd.”

“Darrell has been warned 957,000 times about certain things,” Brown told the newspaper. “Sometimes guys listen, but they don’t really listen until it’s too late.”

Michele Eggleton, Russell’s math and computer teacher in high school, was asked to see if she had any insight on what had been happening to him: “I think Darrell is a young man who is open game for predators. He didn’t grow up on the street, so he’s not street smart. He wants to be liked. And he’s not good at saying no.”

In August 2002, Russell was charged with driving under the influence of alcohol after his car was clocked at 60 mph in a 35-mph zone.

The Raiders released him in 2003, ending his time with them despite the fact he made 235 tackles with 28 ½ sacks in 75 games. Washington picked him up for eight games in ’03. More positive test results came. He was suspended indefinitely by the NFL.

Russell had seven league infractions by 2004 by the time he signed with Tampa Bay, which then released him as well when he had a third violation of the substance-abuse policy.

After he was reinstated, Russell had no more takers.

He tried to rehabilitate his career.

“You can’t get caught up in situations,” Russell addressed players at the NFL’s Rookie Symposium in the summer of 2005 in West Palm Beach, Fla. “You have to be careful who you hang with, places where you find yourself at.”

Darrell Russell’s father, Tony, was a Navy officer. He and Eleanor had been high school sweethearts in Matawan, N.J., and then moved the family to San Diego. Russell’s parents divorced when he was 5 and his mother remained a central force in his life.

Eleanor served as president of the Professional Football Players Mothers’ Association from 2003 to 2005.

Los Angeles Times, Dec. 16, 2005.

Ten days before Christmas, 2005, Russell’s life ended at age 29.

Police reports said that Russell, a passenger in a 2004 Pontiac Grand Prix driven by former USC teammate Mike Bastanelli, borrowed from another Trojan teammate, Larry Parker, did not survive after the car made an erratic lane change at about 100 miles per hour, hit two trees, a news stand, a fire hydrant, and a light pole on La Cienega Boulevard in the Pico-Robertson area. It then collided into the rear of an unoccupied MTA bus. The bus driver had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit. Bastanelli, 29, also died.

It took 20 minutes to extract the two from the wreckage. Russell’s blood-alcohol level was nearly double the legal limit for drivers.

Oakland Raiders defensive lineman Darrell Russell stares down the Pittsburgh Steelers’ offensive line during a game in Pittsburgh in December of 2000. The Raiders lost, 21-20. (George Gojkovich/Getty Images)

About two weeks after the accident, the New York Times’ Ira Berkow did a piece titled “Giving Advice, Then Ignoring It,” recounting how Russell had just been telling NFL rookies to beware of the things he had been entangled in: Alcohol, drugs, missed practices, missed team flights, arrests, suspensions. General naivety.

Justin Tuck, a defensive end drafted out of Notre Dame by the New York Giants in 2005, said he remembered Russell saying: “We can’t take things for granted. We have to be the same person we were before coming into the league. We can’t fall victim to fame and fortune, to being on a pedestal.”

Tuck, who ended up having an 11-year NFL career that included two Super Bowls and two All-Pro seasons, also said: “For sure, it was being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And you’re sorry that he didn’t take the advice that he gave us.”

Lincoln Kennedy, who made three Pro Bowls during an 11-year NFL career, was Russell’s teammate in Oakland for a time and grew up near him in San Diego. Kennedy told The Associated Press: “Darrell was a good guy, he really was. He was a big kid like me that had a big heart. He couldn’t say no to anybody. That’s what had a big deal with his demise, especially in the NFL, because he couldn’t let his friends go, from San Diego. He couldn’t let his past go. He always wanted to try to take care and do for other people. It ended up bringing him down. … The reason I’m so upset now is that I wish I could have done more to maybe prevent this.”

USC’s Darrell Russell pulls down Penn State quarterback Wally Richardson during the Trojans’ 24-7 win in the Kickoff Classic at the Meadowlands in East Rutherford, N.J., in 1996.(Al Bello/Getty Images)

ReignOfTroy.com writer Michael Castillo tried to size up Russell’s life in a piece that landed on May 27, 2016 — which would have been Russell’s 40th birthday. He concluded:

“The Darrell Russel story isn’t the romanticized and triumphant account of athleticism and grace that everyone hoped for. And fair or not, his history with off-the-field issues stained his public image, robbing him of being a fallen hero.

“But that doesn’t mean his story isn’t worth telling.

“And it doesn’t mean that Russell hasn’t had an impact on the players who have come after him, including those very men he spoke to in 2005.

“ ‘The first thing most rookies do is watch,’ Tuck told the New York Daily News in 2013. ‘That’s exactly what I did when I came in. You try to mimic what [veterans] do. That’s the best way we can teach them.’

“You can bet Russell’s words were with him forever.

“They should be. He was right. That he was unable to live by those words doesn’t change that.”

Darrell Russell poses prior to the 1997 NFL Draft in Newport Beach outside the offices of his agent, Leigh Steinberg. (Mark Boster/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

Who else wore No. 96 in SoCal sports history?
Make a case for:

Lawrence Jackson, USC football defensive end (2004 to 2007):

USC’s Lawrence Jackson (96) celebrates after recovering a fumble against Cal on November 10, 2007 at Memorial Stadium in Berkeley (Jed Jacobsohn/Getty Images)

Best known: The 6-foot-5, 260-pounder out of Inglewood High had 57 sacks in his prep career, capped off by 11 as a senior among his 142 tackles, four fumble recoveries and two interceptions in 2002. A four-year starter at USC — and starting 51 of 52 games in his career — Jackson posted a team-best 10 sacks in 2005 as a sophomore after having six as a redshirt freshman the year before. He combined for 14 ½ sacks and 28 tackles for losses as a junior and senior. Jackson became a first-round pick by Seattle in the 2008 NFL draft and spent five years in the league.

Andrei Kuzmenko, Los Angeles Kings left wing (2024-25 to present): His first season with the Kings produced five goals in 12 assists and a plus-6 mark in just 22 games after coming over from stops in Calgary and Philadelphia during the ’24-’25 season. He burst onto the NHL scene at 26 with Vancouver scoring 39 goals with 35 assists for 74 points.

Neil Hope, Los Angeles Rams linebacker (1987): Wearing No. 54 with USC, the 6-foot-2, 225-pound linebacker out of Fairfax High in L.A. had 144 tackles during his senior year for the 1985 Rose Bowl champions. He signed with the USFL Los Angeles Express to play in the spring league of ’85 but ended up with the Denver Gold. The team played a Thursday night game against the Express in May of ’85, and there was some 1,500 at the Coliseum, despite an announced crowd of about twice that size, setting a record for the smallest attendance of a USFL game. “I never thought I’d play a game in the Coliseum in front of a crowd this small,” Hope said after the 27-20 win in what would be the Express’ final game at the facility. “It was hard getting up for the game, but we had a job to do.” He signed with the Rams for the 1987 season and made it into just three games, done with football by age 24.

Anyone else worth nominating?

Day 17 of 2026 baseball books: More than a pursuit of triviosity

“The Complete Book of
Baseball Trivia:
Test Your Knowledge
with 750 Questions”

The author: Matt Chandler
The details: Sourcebooks/Callisto publishing, 208 pages, $12.99, released March 3, ‘26
The links: The publisher, the author, Bookshop.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

Something here just wasn’t lining up right. Even for someone like me who has to think a second — are the Atlanta Braves in the National League West, East, or American League Central with Houston’s Colt .45s?

Charging down the backstretch of a dopamine-demanding 750-question baseball trivia quiz, Question No. 460 seized up my cerebral cortex where reasoning and uncommon sense are stored.

The left side of the menu wasn’t matching up with the right side.

Jack Morris — grinded out the 10-inning, 1-0 Game 7 win for Minnesota (not Detroit) over Atlanta in 1991, earning him Series MVP and, whether deserving or not, an eventual spot in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Knew that.

John Lackey — a rookie called on to start Game 7 of the Angels’ 2002 World Series against San Francisco at Angel Stadium. I was there. They even got the name right: Anaheim Angels.

Randy Johnson — dominated the 2001 World Series for Arizona over the heavy (and emotionally) favored New York Yankees. After a complete-game 3-0 shutout in Game 3, five more shutout innings to start and win a lopsided, survive-or-die Game 6, and then, the next day, loping out of the bullpen for Game 7 with two out in the top of the eighth to wrap things up as Luis Gonzalez delivered the bloop-slap dagger in the bottom of the ninth.

So, that makes it 1d, 2a, 5b.

According to how we were taught to take the SAT some 50 years ago, how do we resolve the last two possibilities? Is this where we pull out phone and Ask Jeeves?

(That’s rhetorical, of course. It is with some nostalgic regret that we discovered the unbeloved search engine ran out of gas just recently. It was said to be a quiet, peaceful death. No next of kin to notify. Someone, however, still has possession of the domain name “ask.com” Here is the official obit):

For the good of society and our own mental health, we can’t just give in to the urge to search engine everything when our brain pauses for a second to gather itself.

If needed, we’ve constructed a few healthy guidelines.

First, don’t default to Google. It’s become Garbage.

Google man control some 85 percent of the search-engine market, but this cesspool of misguided algorithms, paid-sponsored AI inserts, unhelpful suggestions and outdated references is why Corey Doctorow has included it as Exhibit A in hiss book, “Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What To Do About It.” Get the book, of course, just not on Amazon, which is another tech giant/digital platform that, as Doctorow writes, “systematically degrades user experience for profit.” That description is even on the Amazon book listing, luring you to still buy it.

If you can also override whatever is causing your software to default to Bing — aka, Microsoft Revenge — because that powers Yahoo Search and AOL. Lycos is as relevant as MySpace. ChatGPT, You.com, Waldo, Ecosia, Yep.com, Perplexity AI … maybe technically in the search engine family, but we still can’t trust what’s being loaded into the front end of its wood chipper. . We smell musty oak that pines for accuracy.

DuckDuckGo is our go-to. There’s first a feeling like entering a changing room at Nordstrom, feeling you’ve got far more privacy than what security cameras are pointed at you in your local Ross Dress for Less.

That said, back to this five-part puzzle.

Continue reading “Day 17 of 2026 baseball books: More than a pursuit of triviosity”

Day 16 of 2026 baseball books: Fast, furious and fearless folklore, backed up by the facts

“Nolan: The Singular Life
of an American Original”

The author: Tim Brown
The details: Grand Central Publishing/Hachette, 352 pages, $30, released May 19, ’26
The links: The publisher, the author, Bookshop.org


So Young, So Great:
Bob Feller Electrifies
Baseball and America”

The author: Jim Ingraham
The details: University of Nebraska Press, 280 pages, $36.95, due for release June 1, ’26
The links: The publisher, the author, Bookshop.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

Jacob Misiorowski, so young and so … worrisome.

The Milwaukee Brewers’ 24-year-old seems to be on a fast-track for success just months into his second full season. We thought things were rushed a bit when they included him on the National League All Star team in July when he’d just made a few starts and started moving the needle on social media.

Let the record show that on May 8, 2026, the 6-foot-7 right-hander threw the seven fastest pitches ever recorded by a starting pitcher.

Some, in the same inning.

Taken out after 95 pitches, going long enough to be credited for the win in a 6-0 blanking of the New York Yankees, Misiorowski hit the 103 mile-per-hour mark 10 times. He topped out at 103.6 with the last pitch of the first inning — getting Aaron Judge to fly out to right, before striking him out twice in subsequent matchups).

“The Miz” did this all wearing a cringe-worthy, weird-blue “Wisco” Nike City Connect jersey that years from now will cause MLB historians, as well as Brewers fans, to be horrified.

According to data collected in the Statcast era that began in 2008, a starting pitcher in an MLB game had thrown a fastball clocked at 103 mph or greater just four times prior to that day. Included in that 18-year span was one previously delivered by Misiorowski — just seven days earlier. It came as he was in amidst throwing a no hitter, and had to come out after 5 1/3 innings against Washington because of a hamstring cramp.

Misiorowski, at this moment, has thrown 11 of the fastest 14 pitches ever by a starter. That’s a line of demarcation when compared to hired-gun relievers such as  Aroldis Chapman (105.8 mph in 2010 for Cincinnati, 105.7 mph in 2016 for the Yankees), Ben Joyce (105.5 mph in 2024 for the Angels) and Mason Miller (104.5 mph in the 2025 post-season for San Diego).

In throwing his fastball about two-thirds of the time, Misiorowski has what’s also called a “perceived velocity” of more than 105 mph. His extra-large frame and long arms drive down off the mound and toward the batter with a release point much closer to what they are used to seeing. “A gangly stick of dynamite who is exploding past previous notions of what is possible for starting pitchers,” is how one writer sized him up.

Misiorowski is just the latest unique metronome, keeping his own time, tempo and rhythm. He also has the cool, somewhat mythological back story. Pronounced miz-uh-ROW-skee, he went to of Grain Valley High just outside Kansas City. During the 2002 June MLB draft that took place at L.A. Live during the MLB All-Star festivities, Milwaukee took him at No. 63. Twenty-six pitchers were taken ahead of him. The Angels (taking shortstop Zach Neto at No. 13) and the Dodgers (taking catcher Dalton Rushing at No. 40) had their sights on other targets.

Misiorowski may have been stashed away at Crowder Junior College in Neosho, Missouri, about three hours south of K.C. — where Interstates 44 and 49 merge near by the Arkansas/Oklahoma/Kansas border on the western edge of the Ozarks — but the Brewers knew.

When some try to handicap the early markers of the 2026 NL Cy Young race, it’s easy to be marveled at how Misiorowski, who struck out a team-record 11 for an Opening Day appearance, has launched almost as many fastballs at 100 mph or swifter just in his last four starts (143) as every other starter in MLB combined has thrown all season (144). He is also on pace to roll up the greatest strikeout ratio (14.1 strikeouts per nine innings) of any starter in history.

Assuming he makes it to enough innings.

Milwaukee Brewers manager Pat Murphy has compared Misiorowski to “a young prizefighter finding his way.” Others see him in line with contemporaries Paul Skenes or Hunter Greene. His age-to-production ratio so far is like Felix Hernandez.

Maybe, someday, the names Feller and Ryan will come into the conversation. As long as he isn’t a Mark Fidrych, Kerry Wood, Mark Pryor. Or Steve Dalkowski.

Joe Posnanski wrote in a May 15 Substack post:

I watch Jacob Misiorowski’s impossible feats of strength with anxiety and worry. I want to enjoy (his accomplishments) the way I enjoyed watching Nolan Ryan or Rob Dibble or Justin Verlander throwing blazing pitches.

Alas, when I watch Misiorowski pitch, I can’t help but see the “Misiorowski Feels Elbow Discomfort; Will Skip Next Start” headline, followed by, “Brewers Optimistic That Miz Will Not Need Surgery,” followed by “Misiorowski Hope For Quick Recovery from Tommy John.”

But what can you do? Ask The Miz to throw slower? I mean, that’s not viable.

I sometimes wonder: Would baseball be a better game if teams were allowed to use only two pitchers on any given day? This is not a serious suggestion — it’s obviously not going to happen — but more like a thought experiment. Pitchers used to maxing out for five innings would find it hard to adjust to their new reality.

But what would happen long term? I imaginevelocity would drop, pitchers would develop more secondary pitches, the knuckleball would return into the game, star pitchers who could throw 250 or 300 great innings would become the most valuable commodity in the game. I think, in time, pitchers would adjust because they’d have no choice but to adjust.

I’m not saying that’s a better brand of baseball — in many ways, it’s not — but for people my age, it’s a more familiar game.

Because we have reams of history to reference in this case.

What was Nolan Ryan doing at age 24?

He had been with the New York Mets’ organization for six seasons, and was a 10-game winner at that point. But also a 14-game loser. With three complete games in 26 starts over 150-plus innings. The Mets didn’t really know what to do with him, so after that 1971 season, they shipped him to the California Angels. The eight-time All Star wasn’t done until 1993 when he was 46 — almost twice Misiorwoski’s current age.

When Bob Feller reached his 24rd birthday, he was a full-grown man wearing a U.S. Navy coveralls as a chief petty officer aboard the USS Alabama during the height of World War II. He had enlisted the day after the Pearl Harbor attacked in 1941.

By that point, it felt as if Feller had already has a lifetime of experiences in Major League Baseball. From 1936 to 1941, from the age 17 through 22, Feller had 117 complete games in 175 starts for the Cleveland Indians. He was top three in the AL MVP voting three times. At age 19 — the number he eventually wore on his jersey — he made his first of four All Star games in a row. He would have likely won four Cy Young Awards during that run had that had been a thing at that time.

In 2024, Joe Posnanski did a Substack post called “Revisiting Greatness,” as he decided he wanted to examine all 270 Baseball Hall of Fame plaques and rank them, in order, of those that were in the most need of rewriting. Of Feller’s plaque, which came in at No.188 on his list, Posnanski noted how the stats just don’t jump off the plaque that maybe they once did. He wrote: “I’m not sure why the plaque doesn’t include Feller’s multiple awesome nicknames, “Rapid Robert” and “Heater from Van Meter.”
When awesome baseball records are set, there’s a strong temptation to believe that they will never be broken. And some probably never will be broken … I’m sure that when Bob Feller was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1962, nobody could imagine the great records on his plaque being surpassed. But then a guy named Nolan Ryan came along.”

Can’t recall anyone asking Ryan or Feller to throw slower and preserve their health. Different times, different mindsets.

Connecting Misiorowski to Ryan to Feller isn’t a fair real linear exercise at this moment. Nor will it really be years from now. But the way history will document any of this makes it all the more intriguing. Because the one thing we know they all shared: They all threw a baseball pretty damn fast. By whatever measurements were best available at the time, and whatever medium (radio, TV, social media) were best at conveying those stories.


New York Newsday columnist Steve Jacobson started a piece in August of 1989 this way:

Every time the smoke of another of those showcase gems by Nolan Ryan, the baffling Old Man of fastball pitchers, reaches Cleveland, Bob Feller feels a twinge. Perhaps it can be interpreted as a twinge of jealousy; it’s a definite twinge.

Feller was the Strikeout King of the early days when radio and then television told us about the romance of the fastball. Feller accepts compliments as comfortably as he accepts paid autograph sessions. He won 266 games from 1936 to 1956 and missed almost all of four seasons during World War II. He won 25 the year before he left and 26 the full year he returned, so he might have won another 80 or 100 games.

“Ryan has us on longevity,” Feller said. “My wife says his arm must have been built on a Wednesday. I still say (Walter) Johnson must have been the fastest.”

Feller still owns the record for the fastest fastball in the semi-official clockings listed by the Hall of Fame. Ryan’s best is 100.8 mph. Feller’s was 107.9. He’ll stand up to defend that mark.

The strikeout records are subject to interpretation. When Ryan struck out 383 in 1973, it was during the era of the designated hitter and he didn’t get to throw to a single pitcher. But when Feller struck out 348 in 1946, a strikeout was still a strikeout.

The Anaheim Stadium message board during the ninth inning of a game Nolan Ryan pitched when first measured by a speed gun in 1974.

If these are the hairs you choose to split, consider that on April 26, 1990, Ryan, at age 43, tied Feller for career one-hitters with 12, a masterful effort over the visiting Chicago White Sox in a 1-0 complete-game triumph. When Feller was 43, he had been retired for six seasons.

When Ryan threw his record-extending seventh no-hitter in 1991, he was 44, the oldest to achieve such a feat and the first to do it in three different decades. Of Feller’s three no-hitters, the most remarkable is the one on Opening Day 1940. He was just 21.

At some point during that 1990 season, the 71-year-old Feller chimed in again for the record:

“Ryan’s a good pitcher. He’s learned how to pace himself. He’s learned how to pitch. But he’s mad at me because I’ve said that I could throw harder than he can. I don’t know why that bothers him. When Walter Johnson said he could throw ‘a mite harder’ than me back when I was just coming up, it never bothered me.

“My fastball was once timed at 98.6 miles per hour by photo-electric cells at home plate, but by then it was losing speed, maybe as much as 15 miles per hour. That was long before the radar gun they use now. The radar gun gives you the average speed of a pitch from the mound to the plate. On a radar gun, I would’ve averaged 105 to 107 miles per hour.”

When Feller died in 2010 at age 92 of leukemia, columnist Joe Posnanski, a Cleveland native, wrote:

Continue reading “Day 16 of 2026 baseball books: Fast, furious and fearless folklore, backed up by the facts”

Day 15 of 2026 baseball books: The drawing power of dual-edged storytelling

“The Ballpark and Beyond:
An Illustrated Celebration of
Baseball’s Rich History”

The author: Todd Radom
The details: Sports Publishing/Skyhorse/Simon & Schuster, 248 pages, $29.99, to be released May 26, ’26
The links: The publisher, the author, Bookshop.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

Illustration: Los Angeles Times

So, whatta you think about the newest Geffen Playhouse?

That’s our playful referencing of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art’s new $724 million addition, the Geffen Galleries, opened to the public as of May 4. It took 20 years of planning and six years of construction. It took going back to the drawing board, a lot of patience and persistence, and a city’s open-mindedness to add something this miraculous on the Miracle Mile.

A rule-bending, disorienting design brings us:

== A Peter Zumthor creation that’s been compared to a “concrete blob.” And a “concrete sandwich.” And a “concrete cow-paddy.” And a “concrete amoeba.” One even went so far as to call it “The Great Los Angeles Turd.” The New York Times called it “uplifting, lyrical and pugnacious.” The Wall Street Journal called it “a work of furious originality and ambition.”

== Counter-initiative floor-to-ceiling windows to draw in all the “urban light,” but if you’re really having a moody day, just draw the metal curtains.

== Cold, and cool, dungeon-like rooms to display an eclectic arrangement spanning Van Gogh to Ansel Adams to Diego Rivera among its 2,000 pieces, with far more awaiting in storage.

== A scrumptious 30-foot-span pedestrian overpass bridging Wilshire Boulevard, which might seem unnecessary until you park yourself on one of the benches and feel levitated over the mindless Door Dash traffic flow below.

== Its own Erewhon cafe. Drink, presented in art form. So why not?

Archinect.com

If one dares to call it polarizing, another insists it’s a “petri dish for experimental design.” And, oh the social media photo ops. TimeOut Los Angeles has put in the time to offer the 10-most photogenic things to see, as you angle to get a litter of tar-soaked Saber-Toothed Cats in the background with the proper aperture. Bravo, Pleistocene megafauna.

Don’t spin your wheels here on Superlative Alley. Cruise through if you’re over in that part of the freeway-free grid. Because, as you may know, art always brings serendipitous joy and rhythm to one’s spirits, especially if you’re experiencing May Gray, heading into June Gloom.

Raise the bar, too, when art is mashed up with anything sporty.

Not to paint ourselves into a divergent corner here, but …

I was stumped for ways to size up the latest amazing graphic art-meets-well-researched story presentation that Todd Radom has created and, seeking enlightenment and inspiration, I took an artistic side trip. I decided to contact him directly and flip this on him for a moment of glee.

During an email exchange, I asked Radom if he had seen the new collection of published work by LJ Rader called “Art But Make it Sports: Where Art and Sports Collide” (Chronicle Books, 176 pages, $18.95, released March 16, ’26.) This book is deserving, perhaps, of its own review amidst these new baseball books. But I wanted Radom’s take on it first.

From “Art But Make it Sports: Where Art and Sports Collide.”

“LJ Rader is brilliant — the guy is a genius, seriously,” Radom said. “I took art history classes in college and I’m married to a trained art historian, but his photographic memory and knowledge of art is striking, funny, and unique.”

Radam said he first connected with Radar on social media “when I conflated the Astros’ World Series scandal and The Ashcan School, the early 20th century art movement that depicted urban scenes with dark, gritty realism. I think ‘Art But Make it Sports’ is the only forum where you can include ‘ashcan’ and ‘trash can’ and connect artist John Sloan to the 2017 Astros.”

What Radam appreciates most about Rader is how he has “a unique brain. A layman who is interested in art and has the ability to retain shapes, colors, composition … all toward fun! We need more of that!”

So while that may seem like the perfect endorsement for Rader when his book goes to paperback — but, resist if possible — it’s also interesting to us that a review of “Art But Make It Sports” in the New York Times/The Athletic provoked Keith Law to write in the lead: “LJ Rader is the genius behind” … and then went on to explain how this project started on Instagram in 2019 and then bled over into Bluesky, and here’s a Q&A with the gentleman.

Another sidenote: Wasn’t it Rader who was responsible for seizing on a photo of a 2019 home-plate scuffle featuring Cincinnati Reds hitter Yasiel Puig taking on a hoard of yellow-clad Pittsburgh Pirates and suggesting it looked like some Renaissance battle painting? Somehow, we just assumed it was him — but then, there wasn’t an actual painting that the photo mimicked. Was there?

Cincy Shirts, a Cincinnati-based apparel company, seems to have commissioned a faux version of the moment to look like a Renaissance era work and dubbed it “El Guerrero Rojo” — aka, the Red Warrior — then slapped it on T-shirts. Puig then wore it out in public.

For the acuteness, perspicacity, inventiveness and a soothing virtuosity Radom pours into this latest work, it’s not a surprise we’ve come to link it to all sorts of other inspiring sports/art mashups lately.

When we caught wind that Radom produced “The Ballpark and Beyond” — and immediately paid up to get a signed copy — our expectations were a bit lofty after embracing his previous work, “Winning Ugly: A Visual History of Baseball’s Most Unique Uniforms” (Skyhorse Publishing, 184 pages, $19.99 paperback, released 2018). Our review at the time noted Radom had put together something that was “uniformly superior to anything we’ve seen like this before.”

When he did “Fabric of the Game: The Stories Behind the NHL’s Names, Logos and Uniforms” with Chris Creamer, Radom could expand more on this imaginative merger of imagery and verbiage.

This time, combining 150 original illustrations to go with his own 75,000-plus words, Radom creates 75 unique entries to soak in for all they’re worth. He goes off on appreciations of the game’s origins, its personalities, the quirky equipment, strange-but-true happening — leading the reader into his climactic wheelhouse, the “Hall of Jerseys,” under the umbrella of “The Look of the Game.”

If the purpose of this is, as Radom writes in his intro, to spark “introspection, discussion and curiosity … how can you not be intellectually curious about baseball?” — please indulge us in that exercise as we have our top half-dozen playlist of what resonated most with us:

Continue reading “Day 15 of 2026 baseball books: The drawing power of dual-edged storytelling”

Day 14 of 2026 baseball books: Any legal recourse to egalitarian promises not delivered?

Bleacher Seats and
Luxury Suites:
Democracy and Division at the
Twentieth-Century Ballpark


The author: Seth S. Tannenbaum, Ph.D.
The details: University of Illinois Press, 304 pages, $30; released March 31, ’26
The links: The publisher, the author, Bookshop.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

To anyone of a certain age still most profoundly comfortable printing out an airline boarding pass because this idea that a QR code will stay secure in your smart phone after TSA is done running it through their radio-active scanners — or, more realistic, the problematic consequences of watching that smart phone fall into a Terminal 5 restroom urinal just 10 minutes before Group 12 is called — the plight of Errol Segal doesn’t sound all that bothersome.

A so-called “long-time season-seat holder” — as if that is a necessary qualification — Segal’s end game recently was to just get the Dodgers to just give him printed-out Dodger Stadium entrance tickets. Yes, everyone else seems A-OK with the post-COVID practice of having tickets downloaded to an app, to be waved in front of an infrared light with the aid of a very useful employee there to problem solve. You just hope this works through your glass-cracked phone screen, and, if you’ve bought tickets on the secondary market, the company’s software is compatible with with the stadium’s approved ticketing partner.

Plus, Segal is just fine with his flip phone and how it fits in his day-to-day business. His age or whether he can afford some kind of iPhone/Android upgrade shouldn’t be a factor either.

It’s perhaps with some irony that this story didn’t seem to grab many people’s attention until — thanks to modern technology — it became a thing on social media.

Those seeking more intel on Segal’s struggle and his feeling he had been “thrown under the bus” by the team’s administrators sticking to policy could access a) an extended video interview Segal did on a local TV news channel that, after airing a couple times, was now on the company’s website; b) the MSN.com cut-and-paste steal of a California Post story; c) AOL hjijacking a story it found on the demographically-aligned Fox News Channel; d) an earnest follow-up piece by the helpful publisher of the Los Cerritos Community News, and e) this Facebook post that, of course, didn’t quite frame the fan’s age accurately according to other reports, and then provided a perfectly toxic discussion thread, where punctuation-challenged pinheads could chime in with things like:

“Ill be that guy. If you cant use an iPhone in 2026, thats on you. He was 63 when the first iPhone came out. Im sure hes smart, hes had plenty of time to learn how to use apps. Also, iPhones are pretty user friendly for the older community”

“Lots of people feeling sorry for this guy who has had season tickets for 50 years … nah. I appreciate his fandom, but it’s better for him if he learns to live in today’s world. I’m sure someone can teach him how to use a phone. If it’s the learning something new that’s frustrating, that’s not the Dodgers’ problem. I’m GenX, and when we started working, we had to learn how to use all kinds of technology, still working, have learned to use AI, and will continue to learn my whole life. “I don’t know how” is a lame excuse.”

“Can’t wait for the Gen Z’s to get rejected cuz the eye scan doesn’t recognize ‘ancient eye rolls’ in the 22th century!”

“Wait til he tries to buy a hotdog with a $20”

Continue reading “Day 14 of 2026 baseball books: Any legal recourse to egalitarian promises not delivered?”