Call Me Lumpy: My Leave It to Beaver Days and Other Wild Hollywood Life (41 page)

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Authors: Frank Bank,Gibu Twyman

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BOOK: Call Me Lumpy: My Leave It to Beaver Days and Other Wild Hollywood Life
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Page 204
Norm Van Brocklin as quarterbacks, Vitamin T. Smith and Tank Younger and Stan West on the line.
This was our learn.
Not too shabby.
We were up against big Otto Grahamonly quarterback I ever saw, wore No. 60. Then he changed it to 14 at the end.
But they had Marion Motley . . . there were some pretty good players in that game.
The Rams broke my heart for 32 years. You know, you talk about being a Cub fan . . . the way we went through the '60s and '70s when we had George Allen, we were knockin' on the door every single year.
We had such incredible players. I mean, the Fearsome Foursome is the greatest defensive line in the history of football, and we couldn't win a goddam championship because we couldn't beat the Vikings and the Cowboys.
Every year.
I met Merlin Olsen of the Fearsome Foursome, and you talk about a vicious football player who looks like the biggest pussycat in the world.
When Merlin Olsen tackled you, you stayed down. He had a set of mitts on him and he slammed you.
I have his jersey from the 50th anniversary of the NFL. He was named to the top 50 team in the NFL.
So I've got Merlin Olsen's No. 74 jersey that he wore when we lost to the Cowboys in the championship game.
I bought it at auction on public televisionCalifornia Educational Televison. KCET. I bought it for 80 bucks. You know how many thousands it's worth now? I would say somewhere between $5,000 and $10,000.
If I had it autographed . . . you know, Merlin Olsen's agency is down here in Ventura. I know he'd autograph it for me if I took it in. He's a sweetheart of a man.
Right Merlin?
The Lakers were better to us fans in so many ways.
We were truly blessed.
We had Elgin Baylor. We had Jerry West.
Elgin was god.
And Jerry was god, jr.
And you know what?
They took turns being god and god, jr.
Chamberlain and Russell and all those guys were in the league then, and they belonged on any all-time team.
But we had Zeke From Cabin CreekJerry West. At the end of the game, you would rather give the ball to Zeke than put your money on a horse that was going to win by 20 lengths.
 
Page 205
Because Zeke was the greatest clutch shooter in the history of basketball. He was un-be-lievable. He was ice. I mean, they called George Gervin the Iceman, but he wasn't squat next to Zeke.
Oh, God, Zeke was it.
Too bad he wasn't around to take that shot Pops Selvy took. The Lakers would have won a title right then and there.
And Sylvia wouldn't have had to get the wine out of the tablecloth.
The Dodgers, of course, were a whole different matter entirely.
Here, we Angelinos had it as good as it ever gets in this world for sports.
We had Sandy and Don.
It didn't really matter who else we had.
We had Koufax and Drysdale.
We had some other good players, sure.
But as long as we had Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, it didn't really matter what weak sisters you brought out there.
You were going to lose to us. The Dodgers.
Sandy truthfully only had seven or eight great years, but that's all he needed, boy.
I guess of all the sportsand I love sports so dearlythe greatest sports duels I think I've ever seen were the Sandy Koufax-Juan Marichal pitching duels.
They were the treat of a lifetime.
How I hated that man, Marichal.
The 32 different arm angles, the leg kick. His kick was all the way to Venus.
And what a scumbag. He went after Roseboro, our catcher, with that bat that day.
And you know what? He got the short end of the stick for it. He got what he deserved. History has never treated him with the respect that he deserved.
In a way that was wrong.
See, Bob Gibson got in right away into the Hall of Fame.
Juan Marichal, who had to wait to get in, was 10 times the pitcher Gibson was. I know Midwest guys don't like to hear that. I'm telling you, Marichal was better than Gibson.
And I hated him.
He was a Giant.
I was a Dodger.
When I saw No. 27, Marichal, hit the mound, I'm sitting there going, "OK. Maury Wills will bunt, get on first base. He'll steal second. Charlie Neal will lay down the sacrifice to send him to third. And Frank Howard'll hit the fly ball to bring him home.
 
Page 206
"The Dodgers win, 1-to-nothing, with Koufax."
That's how we won the pennant in 1962.
Sandy did it.
And in '63. I mean, every time Sandy pitched, you expected a no-hitter.
He used to put 10,000 people in the stands wherever he went.
He was the greatest gentleman, the most incredible pitcher, I have ever seen.
I have never seen a pitcher with control like he had, with speed, with finesse.
They've tried to name the greatest athlete, and people argue, like, Jim Brown from football. Or Wilt Chamberlain in basketball. Or you could say Magic Johnson.
But for command of a sport, to be the most dominant force in your sport, Sandy Koufax to me was the greatest athlete of professional baseball, football or basketball.
Not swimming, because Mark Spitz holds that slot down with seven world records and seven gold medals.
Yeah, right, Carl Lewis in track and field. But, look, it took Carl Lewis 50 jillion Olympics. Spitz did it in one. With a death threat over his head.
But no one holds a candle to Koufax in my mind.
You had to see Sandy to believe him.
I was in the stands for two of the no-hitters.
The second no-hitter I was sitting in about the 10th row behind home plate.
I'm tellin' you, I saw the dust coming off Roseboro's mittevery time that ball hit that catcher's pocket like a rocket.
I wanted to go, "My God, his hand must be throbbing."
Sandy must have been going 102 to 105 miles an hour, and each one of those pitches was dead at the crack of the knee on the inside or the outside portion of the plate.
And he would sit there and he would throw a rainbow curve that looked like it came from Cleveland.
You couldn't pick this son-of-a-gun up until it was past you.
It wasn't even fair.
These guys were missing the ball so bad.
And Sandy was effortless.
He didn't break a sweat.
He was just so good.
I have Sandy's uniform framed and autographed in my den.
If I had to carry something out of a burning building, I would yell at Rebecca (well, at least, I'd make sure she knew how to get out) to take a few pictures of the kids.
Then I would run downstairs to the den.
 
Page 207
I'd tell Sophie, our long-haired dachshund, "You better follow me." Same for Mr. Benny and Neemer, the cats. "You better follow Sophie."
And then I would grab that autographed uniform of Sandy off the wall and carry it out of the burning building.
It means a lot to me.
I bought his uniform in 1969.
It wasn't autographed but I knew it was authentic. It was the Rawlings uniform. It was before everyone and his brother started making jerseys.
In fact, I was talking to this sports memorabilia guy one day and he mentioned he had a Don Newcombe uniform and a Sandy Koufax uniform and a Duke Snyder uniform.
All three Dodgers, among the greatest of the greats.
Why I didn't go after all three of them, I'll never know.
But all I do is look at him and ask, "How much you want for the Sandy uniform."
"I don't really think I want to sell it," he said.
I said, "I'll give you a hundred bucks for it."
He says, "Nah."
I know he's playin' meremember, not too many people beat me at poker. But I don't care.
I want the jersey.
I said, "I'll give you 200 bucks, and I'll give you cash so you won't have to report it."
He said, "OK."
So I gave him 200 bucks.
And I had the uniform in my closet for years. I didn't get it autographed by Sandy until five years ago.
My daughter Kelly's girlfriend at school . . . her dad owned this chain of stores. Still does. I think it's the biggest chain of sports memorabilia in the country.
They're all over the place.
And Sandy appeared there. Sandy is under contract . . . he would have autographed it for nothing, but he has to charge $85 because of the contract.
So I said, "Hey, that's cool. I understand that."
I'd have given him a thousand for it. I didn't care.
So when I was in Kansas City, I took the jersey over to this great framer in Lenexa, this suburb on the Kansas side.
The woman looks at me and says, "We just did two George Brett jersies in the last two weeks."
I said, "Well, there's No. 32. I want it very special."
And she put a beautiful Dodger blue background on a gorgeous pine frame, And it's just a tremendous piece.
 
Page 208
I bought a Joe DiMaggio autographed picture and I think I got a pretty good price for it.
I paid $400.
DiMaggio was very, very shy on handing out autographs.
I have an autographed picture of Ted Williams made up.
Ted was a big hero.
I consider Ted the greatest hitter I ever saw with my own two eyes.
Ted was this very tall, thin, elegant man, wound up like a swiss watch. And he would go through that ball and follow through with the most incredible, sweetest swing I have ever seen.
In talking about these people, it may strike you as misspent emotion.
Maybe so.
Maybe I should have invested my heart and soul in something more meaningful.
Well, I did. My wife, my kids, my job.
But after that, why get worked up about fun and games?
It's just the way I am.
I think these people display an artistry that touches us in beautiful ways.
Horses affected me that way.
I cried when Native Diver died.
I went to his funeral at Hollywood Park.
I swear to God.
To this day, I have a Native Diver sweatshirt.
He was my horse.
Native Diver was the only three-time winner of the Hollywood Gold Cup.
I followed this horse whenever he'd run. I would be at the track to watch him.
He had guts.
He'd come out of the gates, open up a four, five-length lead, and then take a breather on the far turn.
The entire pack would catch up with him.
He'd look.
He'd see them.
And then he'd just take off.
It was like a kid, 'Na-na-na-na-na."
And he'd win by five lengths.
He died on the way down to Del Mar.
He choked.
Something happened and they couldn't save him.
Everyone went crazy when Native Diver died.
And I cried like a baby.
HollywoodLos Angeles in generalwas so great back then.

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