Day 3 of 2026 baseball book reviews: The Class of ’68 Brigade

“Before They Wore Dodger Blue: Tommy Lasorda
And the Greatest Draft Class in Baseball History”

The author: Eric Vickrey
The details: August Publications, 348 pages, $24.95; released Dec. 7, ’25
The links: Author site, publisher site, Bookshop.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

The time capsule that Sports Illustrated has become, in the musky scent of its recent emasculation, can still be a bit jarring.

When the SI issue of May 19, 1969 arrived at our house, proclaiming a group of “hot young” Dodgers were about come to the rescue of a franchise still trying to find its footing from a 95-win team getting swept in the ’66 World Series, then watching Sandy Koufax retire, and now braced for Don Drysdale heading in that direction, there was some reason for optimism for all the kids in my neighborhood. The magazine’s 40-cent cover price our parents paid was also worth an investment in seeing the future as predicted by our wise elders.

Manager Walter Alston, as we were shown, had Bill Sudakis, Ted Sizemore and Billy Grabarkewitz all ready for the reboot. Tell Danny Goodman to start cranking out World Series trinkets.

Given that those ’69 Dodgers would finish 85-77, fourth-best and just eight-games out in the newly created National League West, it was a bit of an illusion, but much easier to compartmentalize after taking in a 76-86 showing in ’68 (seventh in the elongated NL, 21 games back) and a 73-89 free-fall from ’67 (eighth place, 28 1/2 games back).

Yet, these three Musketeers fresh out of the Mickey Mouse Club would bring it back to glory.

With mixed results.

Sudakis, a catcher and third baseman who signed as a free agent in 1964 a year before the MLB Draft began, hit .234 that ’69 season in 132 games, age 23. Sudsy, as was his nickname, seemed to be all but washed up by ’72 when the Dodgers waived him.  The Angels kicked the tires on him before the ’75 season, then released him mid-way through after he hit .121 in 30 games. 

Sizemore, a 15th round draft pick in 1966, somehow won the ’69 NL Rookie of the Year Award following Johnny Bench (in ’68) and Tom Seaver (in ’67) in an otherwise so-so year for up-and-coming talent. Starting at second base, Sizemore would have a career-best 4.2 WAR, hitting .271 in 159 games, age 24. After upping that to .306 in ’70, the Dodgers capitalized on his value, sending him to St. Louis with backup catcher Bob Stinson for Dick Allen (which didn’t end up so well). Sizemore came back to the Dodgers in ’76 via a trade for Willie Crawford, but by ’79, the Dodgers were done with him again, sending him this time to Philadelphia.

Grabarkewitz, taken in the 12th round of the ’66 Draft, was bestowed jersey No. 1 when he came up for 34 games that ’69 season, going 6 for 65 (.092). But the next year, he was on the NL All-Star team, hitting .289 in 156 games with a team-leading 17 homers, 92 runs scored, 84 RBIs and 19 stolen bases.  

Then, poof.

In the 2024 book “Baseball’s Shooting Stars: Improbable Ascents and Burnouts in the National Pastime,” author David J. Gordon devotes a special chapter to Grabarkewitz, the man “who led the league in consonants” but was “stymied by badly timed injuries.” His 6.5 WAR in his career year in 1970 — a stat that didn’t even exist at the time but often used in modern times to measure former players in a new light — wasn’t that remarkable, but in the aftermath, Gordon write that Grabarkewitz “may have been the most extreme one-year wonder of any non-pitcher in MLB history … I can find no other historical example of a position player with a career lasting at least five years who posted a > or = 6.5 WAR in one season but played at or below replacement level for the remainder of his career.” Why he was out of the game by age 29, after a brief time with the Angels, can be baffling to some, but Gordon has a thought on that:

“My reflexive take on one-year wonders like Grabarkewitz is their career years were flukes and the law of averages caught up with them. But Grabarkewitz is something else. Nothing about his sterling 1970 season seems lucky or flukish. A combination of lesser injuries and an overloaded Dodgers farm system — not regression to the mean — conspired to prevent him from becoming the player everyone thought he would be for more than one season. I view Grabarkewitz mainly as a very unlucky player who might very well have achieved long-term success on a different team and under more favorable circumstances.”

Gordon allusion to “an overloaded Dodgers farm system” goes to why Vickrey’s book gives a greater context to how and why the team’s 1968 MLB draft remains, by consensus still today, the greatest haul of talent in the game’s history.

Dialing back to that ‘69 season, there was a brief glimpse of a 20-year-old Steve Garvey (1-for-3), 19-year-old Bobby Valentine (five pinch-running appearances) and 19-year-old Bill Buckner (0-for-1).

Valentine, Buckner and Garvey were prized pieces of a collection that included Ron Cey, Davey Lopes, Tom Paciorek, Doyle Alexander, Joe Ferguson and Geoff Zahn. Adding in Bill Russell, Charlie Hough and Tommy Hutton, the Dodgers’ foundation had been laid and would last more than a decade — let’s call it the 1981 World Series, after they team decided to let their prized infield break into pieces.

The link to all of them is Tommy Lasorda. As Vickrey details, it was Lasorda, that scout, who was a key figure in the Dodgers’ acquisition of talent before the instution of the 1965 MLB Draft — the first pick of that draft was Rick Monday, an outfielder from Santa Monica High who had gone to Arizona State and was all but signed as Dodgers home-town talent before the Kansas City A’s were allowed to take him. Just prior to that, Lasorda was the important figure in the Dodgers signing local talent Willie Crawford from Freemont High in L.A., one of the last of the “bonus baby” players who had to spend time on the major-league roster likely before they were ready.

Vickrey’s dive into the whole process of scouting and why the MLB Draft came about in the first place sets the stage for how the Dodgers somehow pulled off their ’68 feat at a time when owners were trying to suppress run-away salary expendures.

Fresco Thompson was promoted to the Dodgers’ general manager in June of ’68 right at the time of that draft, after Buzzie Bavasi left to join the expansion San Diego Padres. But when Thompson died that offseason at age 66, scouting director Al Campanis was promoted to GM for the ’69 season.

The 1970 Spokane Indians (via https://www.terryfrei.com/spokane.html)
Back row: Trainer Herb Vike, Jerry Stephenson, Doyle Alexander, Mike Strahler, Tom Paciorek, George Lott, Dick Armstrong, Charllie Hough, clubhouse boy Kent Schultz.
Middle row: Bill Buckner, Geoff Zahn, Sandy Vance, Dick McLaughlin, manager Tom Lasorda, Bart Shirley, John Purdin, Marv Galliher, Jack Jenkins.
Front row: Batboy Dave Vaughn, Bob Valentine, Bob Stinson, Bob O’Brien, Tom Mulcahy, Davey Lopes, Steve Sogge, Gus Sposito, ballboy Mike Wilson.
Not pictured: Steve Garvey, Tom Hutton, Bill Russell

The Dodgers’ Single-A farm team in Ogden, which in ’68 was managed by Lasorda, followed by its Triple-A farm time, 1970 Spokane Indians, where Lasorda was promoted, would have players who went on to account for 23 World Series appearances, 23 All-Star selections and on National League Most Valuable Player Award — Garvey’s in 1974.

Lasorda’s role in all this is important enough to make him the cover photo of the book — in his Spokane Indians uniform. He was still trying to figure himself out.

Version 1.0.0

As Vickrey notes on page 115, Lasorda carried around a 1960 self-help book called “Psycho-Cybernetics: A New Way to Get More Living Out of Life,” by Dr. Maxwell Maltz — how to achieve success by changing one’s self-image, boosting self-esteem and eliminating false beliefs and negativity.

“Have you ever told a story so often over a time that you finally believed it yourself?” Lasorda asked Spokesman-Review writer Mike Lynch in an interview. “Have you ever picked out a successful man in your field that you want to be like? … You tell yourself you’re the best. I wake up in the morning and I believe. I tell myself I’m the best manager in baseball … I speak before thousands of people every winter and I have confidence that I can without preparation entertain those people because I believe.”

Vickrey, who did 70 interviews for this book, goes on to report: “One pitcher who declined to go on the record for this book described Lasorda as more a politician than a manager. Some guys who played for Roy Hartsfield a year earlier preferred his more traditional style and thought Hartsfield possessed a higher baseball IQ.”

Maybe true, but Lasorda was learning the game like the rest of the talent around him, starting in the Dodgers’ minor league system in 1966. By 1973, Lasorda was the Dodgers’ third-base coach. By 1976, he was their big-league manager.

Vickrey, who lives in the state of Washington, was curious about this time in the Spokane Indians’ history after doing a 2024 CASEY Award-finalist book “Season of Shattered Dreams” about a tragic bus crash that affected the franchise in 1946. Nine members of the 1946 Western International League’s team died and the other six were injured in a June bus crash to the bottom of a ravine in the Snoqualmie Pass going through the Cascade Mountains in Washington. It remains the deadliest accident in the history of American professional sports.

It is no accident, all these years later, that the Dodgers’ ’68 MLB Draft, and its subsequent success at various levels through the minors and majors, is worth looking back to see how and why there was some magic in place. Was it scouting genius? A minor-league regime to maximize the picks’ potential? Pure luck?

All of the above.

How it goes in the scorebook:

Worthy of a panel discussion.

So here you go: A panel discussing that includes Vickrey and “Before They Wore Dodger Blue” — as well as former Dodgers general manager Fred Claire — is set for Saturday, April 11, from 2-to-3:30 p.m. at the Los Angeles Central Library. Vickrey and Steve Dittman (“Jim Gilliam: The Forgotten Dodger,” which we reviewed in 2024) are also guests on this Baseball Digest/August Publications podcast.

One more thought:

A year before that 1969 SI cover of the Dodgers’ “hot young” core, the magazine’s 1968 baseball preview issue included the Dodgers’ Alan Foster, a local kid out of Los Altos High in Hacienda Heights, was lumped in a group of “Best Rookies.”

Yes, it included Cincinnati catcher Johnny Bench. But Foster, like the other four pitchers around the future Hall of Famer, were far from “best” when their careers are reviewed. Foster, who pitched 16 2/3 innings in two starts during the ’67 season to merit all this hope, would complete a’68 season with a 1-1 mark in three starts over 15 2/3 innings. In ’69, he was 3-9 with a 4.38 ERA in 15 starts (more promise: two were complete-game shutouts). By 1971, he was traded to Cleveland, posting a 14-24 record in four seasons with the Dodgers to go with a 4.07 ERA.

More to follow up:

The Gifts We Take from Baseball: A Dodger Photographer Memoir,” by Richard Kee (Taylor Publishing, 152 pages, $29.95; published Nov. 8, 2025)

As a follow up to his 2023 “The Dodger Collection,” Kee comes back through the lineup with more thoughtful reflections on the “gifts” he received from his years around the team capturing moments that remain cherished. Now, we have more of his back story to them. The photos may speak 1,000 words, but Kee’s own words added as a narrative make them all the more special. Especially the stories that don’t have a photo to go with them — like granting Tommy Lasorda’s “favor” to get over to Lil’ Joe’s in Chinatown to pick up a massive tray of rigatoni “so good it could’ve ended a war.” Or the one about when Ken Brett had his jeans sliced up by his teammates as a prank but played it off as if he didn’t notice it while signing autographs for kids. Or the time Vin Scully called to thank him for being at an event, another act of kindness. We miss those times, those asks, and that food. Kee is a gift we take from our profession.

The Ross Porter Chronicles: Vol. 1: The Dodgers Years,” by Ross Porter with Mike Kunert (Halcyon Street Press, 244 pages, $24.95; released Oct. 13, 2025)

Of all the saved interviews Porter had with Dodgers players and beyond during nearly 30 years with the organization (1977 to 2004), hired to do TV and radio play-by-play as well as pre- and post-game Dodger Talk, this seems to be the first of several books full of transcript discussions he offers up. Along with some are QR codes that gets the reader to more audio and photographs. The lineup for this one: Vin Scully, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Don Sutton, Jerry Doggett, Jaime Jarrin, Ron Cey, Peter O’Malley, several stories by Tommy Lasorda, and Porter talks to Rick Dempsey (and his own wife, Lin, who was there) about that 22-inning, 1-0 game in Montreal in 1989 that Porter called in its entirety.

Day 1 of 2026 baseball book reviews: Sho-ing off for the kids

Decoy Saves Opening Day

The author: Shohei Ohtani and Michael Blank
The illustrator: Fanny Liem
The details: HarperCollins, 32 pages, $21.99, released Feb. 3, ’26
The links: The publisher and Bookshop.org

Shohei Ohtani: A Little Golden Book Biography”

The author: Nicole de las Heras
The illustrator: Toshiki Nakamura
The details: Little Golden Book Biographies/Penguin/Random House, 24 pages, $5.99; released March 3, ’26
The links: The publisher and at Bookstore.org


A review in 90 feet or less:

An AI overview collection of words and symbols generated from a search engine ask specifically about “Shohei Ohtani insane endorsement income” quickly will engineer this kind of answer-nugget:

“Shohei Ohtani is projected to earn an estimated $125 million in endorsement income for 2026, with nearly 20 global brand partners, making him the highest-paid athlete in the world from endorsements alone, according to Sportico data via Boardroom. This follows an estimated $100 million in marketing revenue earned during 2025, on top of a $2 million salary with the Dodgers — a threshold only previously reached by legends like Tiger Woods, Roger Federer, and Stephen Curry”

We believe this to be true, because the AI primary source for that information seems to spitting out an Instragram post made by MLB on Fox and Fox Sports. Those numbers had been regurgitated many times over by other media platforms, including the Los Angeles Times, when, in the headline “Why $100 million in endorsements says Shohei Ohtani is the global face of sport,” the writer went on to deduce: “In Ohtani, whose face appears on everything from airplanes to skin care products, baseball at long last has its Michael Jordan: the superstar that has transcended sports and ascended to the status of global pop culture icon.”

He can hit. He can pitch.

He can write a book. Not one of those “as told to” mass-market, ghost-written, give-us-the-gossip type of sordid tale.

No new dirt here on Ippei here. It’s about a different dog.

Ohtani’s handlers must be painfully aware there is no money to be made in the book publishing business.

Just ask writers such as Bill Plunkett, who did the 2025 “L.A. Story: Shohei Ohtani, The Los Angeles Dodges and a Season for the Ages” or Jeff Fletcher, who fashioned an update of his 2022 “Sho-Time: The Inside Story of Shohei Ohtani and the Greatest Baseball Season Ever Played.” All their deadline work dancing around their regular job of covering the Dodgers and Angels didn’t generate royalties that will allow them to lead a more regal suburban existence.

Ohtani’s co-author, Michael Blank, could even clue him in. Blanks is a venture capitalist who has been with Creative Artists Agency for 15 years.

Continue reading “Day 1 of 2026 baseball book reviews: Sho-ing off for the kids”

No. 42: Tom Selleck

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. 42:

= James Worthy, Los Angeles Lakers
= Ronnie Lott, USC football
= Ricky Bell, USC football
= Walt Hazzard, UCLA basketball
= Don MacLean, UCLA basketball

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 42:

= Connie Hawkins, Los Angeles Lakers
= Kevin Love, UCLA basketball
= Lucius Allen, UCLA basketball and Los Angeles Lakers
= CR Roberts, USC football

The most interesting story for No. 42:
Tom Selleck, USC basketball forward (1965-66 to 1966-67) via Grant High of Van Nuys and L.A. Valley College
Southern California map pinpoints:
Sherman Oaks, Van Nuys, Los Angeles (Sports Arena), Hollywood


The 42 preamble

UCLA unveiled a Jackie Robinson monument on campus on March 5, 2016.

In November of 2014, UCLA announced it would retire the No. 42 across all its men’s and women’s sports teams. It was following up what Major League Baseball did 17 years earlier, this time to honor one of its most noteworthy alums, Jack Robinson.

UCLA may have also been nudged by another local university for the concept of this kind of number retirement. In February of ’14, Cal State Northridge’s athletic department retired the No. 58 among all its sports programs to mark the year — 1958 — when the school opened.

Conveniently, the timing for UCLA’s declaration marked the 75th anniversary of Robinson’s arrival as a student-athlete on the campus.

After two years at Pasadena City College, Robinson, out of Muir Technical High, went to Westwood in February of 1939 on an athletic scholarship. He departed in the spring of 1941, a few units short of a degree and with no graduation. The story goes that Robinson needed to make some income to help his family in Pasadena. He would soon go into the military.

But Robinson sure did put a spotlight on the university. He was the first four-sport letterman in UCLA history – football (1939 and 1940), basketball (1940 and 1941), track and field (1940) and even a little baseball (1940).

In 2004, a Jackie Robinson statue was created to sit near Jackie Robinson Stadium just west of the UCLA campus (Getty Images)

Even more convenient was UCLA announcement’s was just after the success of the 2013 film, “42.”

The late actor Chadwick Bozeman played Robinson on his journey through Pasadena to UCLA, to the Dodgers’ Triple-A Montreal Royals, before it was decided he was equipped to join the Brooklyn Dodgers and wear that number 42.

The fact that Robinson never wore No. 42 at UCLA in any sport seems to be beside the point. UCLA’s accounting department acknowledges that as it finds places in almost every athletic platform to make sure a “42” is branded somewhere.

The “42” is painted at each 25 yard line at the Rose Bowl during a UCLA-Utah game in August of 2025. Why not at each 42-yard line?

“Jackie Robinson established a standard of excellence to which people the world over should aspire,” said athletic director Dan Guerrero, a former UCLA baseball player, during the announcement. “We want to ensure that his is a legacy to be upheld and carried forward by Bruins for generations to come. While he wore several numbers at UCLA, Jackie Robinson made the number 42 as iconic as the man himself. For that very reason, no Bruin will be issued the number 42 — in any sport — ever again.”

For UCLA basketball, he was No. 18. For UCLA football, he was famously No. 28. What he wore playing baseball, the Bruin statkeepers still aren’t sure.

The UCLA Bruins’ 1940 baseball team photo. Jack Robinson is top left.

We had sought out UCLA’s sports information department for more info, but it can’t find any evidence he even wore a baseball number. The Dodgers and the Baseball Hall of Fame’s research department in Cooperstown, N.Y., didn’t produce anything. Neither did a dig through the Amateur Athletic Foundation nor the Pasadena City library archives. Employees at the Jackie Robinson Foundation finally were asked to quiz Rachel Robinson about it. She replied: I don’t know.

For now, it remains an iconic, and ironic, mystery. Which seems pretty twisted in itself.

There also seems to be no magical story behind why Robinson wore 42, other than it’s what the Dodgers gave him to wear.

In Triple-A, Robinson wore No. 10. During his days with the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues, various accounts have him wearing Nos. 5, 8 and 23.

Ken Griffey Jr. is probably most responsible for making No. 42 more ubiquitous. When then–MLB Commissioner Bud Selig retired No. 42 for all of baseball on April 15, 1997 — 50 years after Robinson’s MLB debut — Griffey, then with the Seattle Mariners, asked that his uniform number be flipped from 24 to 42 for that day. It was.

By 2004, the league started an annual Jackie Robinson Day. In 2007, Griffey, then with the Cincinnati Reds, asked Selig if he could wear 42 again for the special occasion. Selig got the OK from Rachel Robinson — and the offer was made to any MLB player who wanted to make that number change as well. Then it became a thing.

Dodgers manager Dave Roberts, a UCLA graduate, addresses the team at the Dodger Stadium Jackie Robinson statue outside of center field.

We might come up with 42 reasons why Robinson didn’t become our prime focus for No. 42, but the primary reason is that No. 42 is far more acrimonious with Robinson’s Brooklyn Dodgers career. He didn’t come with the team when it moved to Los Angeles. Robinson retired in 1957 before the Dodgers could trade him to the rival Giants.

At PasadenaClsc.com, a Jack Robinson T-shirt.

A company named PASADENA CLSC (pronounced Classic), was started in 2019 by graphic designer Dennis Robinson, the grandson of Jack’s brother, Mack, to celebrate his great uncle’s legacy as well as celebrate the community’s history. By some accounts, Robinson would not have been comfortable with this “42” branding opportunity by MLB. Especially as it seems “42” has become a selling point when put on all sorts of hats, clothes, jackets, socks … It’s easily identifiable with a man, a cause and a statement of one’s social justice beliefs. The MLB duly notes that with its own product line.

We consider Robinson’s greatest impact in Southern California sports history when he wore No. 28 playing football.

In 2017, when the Dodgers unveiled a statue honoring Robinson outside of Dodger Stadium, Vin Scully, as the master of ceremonies, told several stories about his relationship with Robinson, going back to Scully’s first year broadcasting Dodgers games in Brooklyn in 1950. Scully punctuated that speech with this “Jackie Robinson Day” celebration on April 15:

“All across the country, in every major-league ballpark, every player will be wearing 42. And what does the 42 means? It doesn’t mean that (the players) are all equal. … but the one thing they share in carrying 42 is the fact that the man who wore it gave them the one thing that no one at the time could have ever done. He gave them equality. And he gave them opportunity. Those were the two things many of those people never had to hold in their hearts when they first began to play. So, yes, 42 is a great number, it means a lot for a great man, but it is a tremendous number when you think of a man who wore it with such dignity, with such pride, and with such great discipline.”

A book pin offered at IdealBookShelf.com

So there’s that …

Anyone else able to explain how the number 42 seems to be somehow attached as the “Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything”?

In Douglas Adams’ late ’70s/early ’80s comedy/science fiction book series, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” No. 42 is the simple answer that comes up after a super computer called “Deep Thought” spends 7 ½ billion years of calculation pondering that the aforementioned question. Or was it a real question. The creators did not actually know what the “Ultimate Question” was, rendering the answer 42 even more confusing.

Adams, when asked, said he simply picked that answer because it was an ordinary, small number.

How so? What does it all mean? Was he a Jack Robinson fan?

Sit with that awhile and see where the universe takes you.


No. 42: Tom Selleck

You never know when a low dose of a early-morning TV chat show might actually clarify some urban Hollywood legend and lead to some legitimate record-keeping.

In May of 2024, Tom Selleck climbed up in the high-back chair as a guest on “Live with Kelly and Mark,” taking questions about how he went from a USC basketball player to a Hollywood actor based on his newly released memoir, “You Never Know.” The nattering ABC coffee klatch visit was also a place to get nostalgic for the end of his participation in the long-running CBS series “Blue Bloods.”

“You wanted to be — and I did not realize this — a professional athlete!?” co-host Kelly Rippa piped up as she boosted herself up in her seat.

Selleck shrugged.

“Well, it was kind of a fantasy,” he said sheepishly. “(At first) it was baseball, then I got a little burned out, and by the time I got to ‘SC, I thought it was basketball …”

“You got a scholarship, in fact!” Kelly interjected.

“No,” Selleck answered, almost apologetic. “I was a walk on. Basically my real job was riding the pine at USC … I earned a scholarship my last semester.”

Continue reading “No. 42: Tom Selleck”

No. 37: Tom Seaver

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. 37:

= Donnie Moore: California Angels
= Lester Hayes: Los Angeles Raiders
= Ron Artest/Metta World Peace: Los Angeles Lakers

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 37:

= Kermit Johnson, UCLA football
= Bobby Castillo: Los Angeles Dodgers
= Ron Washington: Los Angeles Angels manager
= Tom Seaver: USC baseball

The most interesting story for No. 37:
Tom Seaver: USC baseball pitcher (1965)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Los Angeles (USC), Manhattan Beach, Twentynine Palms


Tom Seaver was a stellar bridge player.

Bridge can be a tricky game. The trick is to gather the least the number of tricks bid by the partnership at the four-person table. The rules seem simple, but mastering the strategy and complexity of it all takes time and practice. Intelligence and patience are rewarded.

During his brief time as a USC student — a pre-denistry major, because he sensed he might need a fallback career — Seaver sometimes could be found with friends hanging out at the 901 Club on Jefferson Blvd., famous for its hamburgers and beer.

And bridge building, when he was there.

In the abridged version of how Seaver went from college baseball to a pro career, there should have been a simple bridge there for him to cross from USC to the Los Angeles Dodgers’ stellar starting rotation of the 1960s.

Instead, there was a toll to pay, and the Dodgers balked.

That’s where Seaver’s poker face came into play. A fantastic 2020 book by acclaimed author and former minor leaguer Pat Jordan revealed how deep a Seaver was. But when it came to his MLB future, Seaver wasn’t bluffing on contract demands. Eventually, both the Dodges and USC lost out.

As the Vietnam War started in 1962, Seaver wasn’t keen on being drafted out of Fresno High, where he just finished his senior baseball season with a 6-5 record but made the Fresno Bee All-City team. Still, he had no pro offers, nor any college interest.

So Seaver enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserves in 1962 and ’63, with bootcamp at Twentynine Palms. He realized eventually the extra weight and strength he gained in that training allowed him to eventually throw a more effective fastball and slider.

His roadmap to the bigs started with one season at Fresno City College as a freshman, then earning a scholarship to play at USC, the perennial NCAA title team under coach Rod Dedeaux (see SoCal Sports History 101 bio for No. 1).

After Seaver posted an 11-2 mark at Fresno City, the Dodgers were interested. But not more than $2,000 interested. Maybe it was $3,000. That was their reportedly their offer in 1964, the last time MLB teams would have the freedom to sign whomever they wanted before the draft kicked in.

Seaver declined the Dodgers’ gesture and went panning for gold elsewhere.

Dedeaux, who called Seaver the “phee-nom from San Joaquin,” agreed to give him one of his five USC baseball full scholarships — if Seaver first played in Alaska summer ball in ’64. Dedeaux worked out a deal for Seaver to pitch for the Alaska Goldpanners of the Alaska Baseball League, which showcased college talent. The 19-year-old experienced his first Midnight Sun Game in Anchorage — the 10:30 p.m. start on June 21 for the summer solstice that has become part of baseball lore.

In 19 games, starting five, Seaver was 6-2 with a save and 4.70 ERA to go with 70 strike outs in 58 2/3 innings. Later that summer, playing in an National Baseball Congress World Series in Wichita, Kansas, Seaver, now with the Wichita Glassmen, hit a grand slam in a game where he had been called in as a relief pitcher. Seaver would say that was one of his career highlights.

At USC, Dedeaux slotted Seaver as the Trojans’ No. 3 starter – also on the staff was junior Bob Selleck, the 6-foot-6 older brother of eventual USC basketball, baseball and volleyball player and actor Tom Selleck.

Continue reading “No. 37: Tom Seaver”

No. 53: Don Drysdale

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. 53:

= Don Drysdale, Los Angeles Dodgers
= Keith Erickson, UCLA basketball
= Rod Martin, Los Angeles Raiders

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 53:

= Jim Youngblood, Los Angeles Rams
= Lynn Shackleford, UCLA basketball

The most interesting story for No. 53:
Don Drysdale, Los Angeles Dodgers pitcher (1958 to 1969), California Angels broadcaster (1973 to 1981), Los Angeles Rams broadcaster (1973 to 1976), Los Angeles Dodgers broadcaster (1988 to 1993)

Southern California map pinpoints:
Van Nuys, Bakersfield, Hollywood, Los Angeles (Coliseum, Dodger Stadium), Anaheim


To tell the truth about the dogma of Don Drysdale, there’s a legendary aura of “Big D” that goes beyond bigger-than-life discoveries about the 6-foot-6 right-handed sidewinder, a San Fernando Valley-reared kid who spent all 14 years of his big-league career with the Dodgers organization, moved with them back to Los Angeles from Brooklyn, and spent the last six years of his life as a broadcaster with them.

See how this works:

From the 1960 issue of Sport magazine, the self-authored story: “You’ve Got to Be Mean to Pitch”

Truth that’s been told: Don Drysdale led the league in putting the “mean” in a meaningful pitch.

Dare to discover: If some SABR-cat researcher was compelled to look it up, we’d suspect there was enough evidence to confirm Drysdale threw more brushback/purpose pitches than anyone else in his era. Four times, he led the majors in plunking batters — 154 HBP in all, more than 10 a season, and an National League record at the time of his retirement in 1969. But it played into his philosophy: You knock down/hit one of my guys, I knock down/hit two of yours. If they are hit in the process, well …

Further research from Fangraphs on the essence of the “Two For One Special,” aka the “Drysdale Revenge Factor,”‘ shows that 18 times in his career, Drysdale hit two or more batters in a game. That mindset traces back to Drysdale’s by former veteran Brooklyn teammate Sal “The Barber” Maglie. Properly stated, it puts the idea in a batter’s mind that while the pitcher could claim ownership to half of the 17-inch home plate, you weren’t always sure which half Drysdale picked in that situation.

Batters knew the drill.

“Batting against him is the same as making a date with the dentist,” Pittsburgh’s Dick Groat once said. Added San Francisco’s Orlando Cepeda: “The trick against Drysdale is to hit him before he hits you.”

In a 1979 interview with the New York Times’ Dave Anderson, Drysdale, 10 years after his retirement, said delivering the inside pitch was a “lost art.”

“I just feel,” he was saying now, his right forefinger swirling the ice in his Scotch, “that when you’re pitching, part of the plate has to be yours. … The pitcher has to find out if the hitter is timid. And if the hitter is timid, he has to remind the hitter he’s timid.”

(Love that imagery).

Continue reading “No. 53: Don Drysdale”