The strange, sad story of Don Bessent (and a connection)

    One of the saddest stories we encountered in our journalism career involved a 1950s baseball pitcher and where, when and how he died.

1957 Topps card

     The man's name was Don Bessent, the place was Jacksonville, Florida, the time was July 1990, and the circumstances were tragic.
     It was a self-imposed tragedy -- with alcohol as the cause.
     The details of his death and his baseball life are in the Los Angeles Times story below, published four days after the incident. I suggest you read that, as gritty as it is.
     Background info and connections:
     -- This ties into our blog a couple of days ago on The Boys of Summer, the Brooklyn Dodgers' 1950s teams and the book, and its author, Roger Kahn. 
     -- Don Bessent was a right-hander with much talent -- a hard thrower -- for the Dodgers from 1955 through 1958 (so Brooklyn the first three seasons and their first year in Los Angeles in that monumental move). 
     -- He was not mentioned much, if at all, in Kahn's book, focused on the 1952-53 Dodgers teams. Bessent was in the U.S. Army those years. But subsequently he was a teammate of most of the book's (and team's) stars, and Kahn is quoted talking about Bessent in the LA Times story. 
     -- And our connection? We were in Jacksonville, my first year at the Florida Times-Union, when news of Bessent's death broke. 
     It was a newsside story, really, but the sports angle helped enhance the coverage of the story. (Bessent's baseball career led to our department's follow-up efforts.)
     On that Monday, I happened to be in the 3:30 p.m. news meeting in which the contents of the next day's paper were outlined. Did not usually attend those meetings, but likely was there because the sports editor and assistant sports editors had the day off or other tasks.
     Among the stories newsside was covering was the death of a man inside his car parked outside the Wendy's restaurant near the Five Points intersection close to  downtown Jacksonville (and not far from our offices).
     That was on Saturday, but the police report apparently was not available to our reporters until that Monday morning.
     Sounded like a strange, sad story. And when the newsside editor said the man's name was Don Bessent, it got this baseball fan's attention. I remember saying something like: Hey, hold on, let me check on that. 
     I knew that name. Had to think, to try to place it. Had no idea about his Jacksonville background, but I knew it was a significant baseball name.
      Meeting broke up; I went to my desk and to the baseball guides on file and ... boom. Yeah, he pitched for the Dodgers in the 1950s. He is a local guy. It was a "wow" moment. 
       Back over to newsside to tell them: This is a significant sports name here. 
        As I recall, the newsside did its usual thorough job of coverage, and a day or two later, one of our sports columnists wrote a very nice piece on Mr. Bessent.
     He was 59 when he died. He had been out of baseball for 28 years by then. Lord knows the troubles he'd seen.
     He had two significant times of glory: 
     (1) As a rookie in 1955, he was part of the only World Series championship for Brooklyn, and his contribution was an 8-1 record after coming out of the minors to join the team near midseason;
      (2) Pitching in the 1956 World Series against the Yankees -- the team that originally signed him out of Lee High School in 1959 -- he was the winning pitcher in Game 2, working a strong seven innings (six hits, two runs) in relief. He stopped the Yankees for most of the game as the Dodgers, behind 6-0 after 1 1/2 innings, tied it with six runs in the second and rolled to a 13-8 victory.
      But he never blossomed into a major-league star; arm troubles curtailed his effectiveness. Although there are 1959 Dodgers baseball cards of him, he was in the minors that year and three more.
      In his final season, 1962, he pitched in 10 games for the hometown team, Jacksonville, in the International League. And then he was out of the game.
      In searching Google for information for this piece, we found the obituary for his widow, Joan, who died in Jacksonville last July 2 at age 85. 
      (Interesting sidelight on the LA Times story below: It mentions that Bessent was tipping off his pitches and the Yankees used whistling to alert their batters to what pitches he was throwing.).
      He was known in the Dodgers clubhouse as "The Weasel," a quiet guy respected as a loyal teammate. Good to know. It softens what was a difficult ending.         

Death of Bessent Is Special Tragedy : Baseball: Former Dodger pitcher is found in Florida parking lot, a victim of alcohol poisoning.

By ELLIOTT ALMOND, TIMES STAFF WRITER, JULY 11, 1990
    Perhaps Don Bessent was not the best known of the fabled Brooklyn Dodgers. He was a young role player among the Boys of Summer.
   Still, his death Saturday at 59 will be marked by a special sadness because of its tragic elements.
    Bessent, who pitched for the Dodgers from 1955 to 1958, died in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant in Jacksonville, Fla., while employees watched.
    The Jacksonville Medical Examiner’s office reported that Bessent died of alcohol poisoning, aggravated by cirrhosis of the liver. The report said he had a blood alcohol level of 0.35% when he died, sometime between 4 p.m. and 5:30 p.m.
     Employees of the Wendy’s restaurant where he died said they noticed Bessent was slumped in his car in the parking lot. Police have not determined why he was at the restaurant in the upscale Riverside neighborhood of Jacksonville. Nor do they know where he had been earlier that day.
     Employees said Bessent at first said he was OK when they offered assistance, but later asked for help. They told police that assistant manager Cesar Taracena threatened to fire them if they called for help.
     Two employees, however, approached an off-duty police officer who called paramedics, said Sgt. Steve Weintrab of the Jacksonville sheriff’s office. The paramedics declared Bessent dead when they arrived.
     Mark Starbuck, a regional vice president of Wendy’s franchises in the Jacksonville area, said managers are not trained to handle the kind of emergency Tarcena encountered.
      Starbuck said restaurant officials are cooperating with an investigation by sheriff’s deputies and refused to discuss the situation.
      He said Taracena was fired Tuesday. Taracena refused to comment on the situation.
      Bessent’s death in his hometown ended a life that once was promising.
      Although overshadowed by such Dodger stars as Pee Wee Reese, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella and Duke Snider, Bessent made his mark--first as a starter, then as a reliever--in four seasons.
     He was best remembered for his World Series performances, pitching against the New York Yankees in five Series games in 1955 and ’56. He was 1-0 with a 1.35 earned-run average in 13 1/3 innings.
     Bessent, who grew up in Jacksonville, was called up to the Dodgers from their triple-A farm club in St. Paul, Minn., in 1955, at the same time as Roger Craig, now manager of the San Francisco Giants.
     The rookies were called when the team slumped in mid-summer after a 25-4 start. They gave the Dodgers a welcomed lift by pitching complete-game victories in a doubleheader against the Pittsburgh Pirates.
     Bessent went on to finish 1955 with an 8-1 record and a 2.70 ERA. In 1956, he was 4-3 with a 2.50 ERA and had nine saves. He was only 1-3 with a 5.73 ERA in 1957, then was 1-0 with a 3.33 ERA in 1958, the Dodgers’ first season in Los Angeles.
      “Don Bessent won my 27th game for me in 1956,” said Don Newcombe, one of the Dodger starters. “That save always reminded me Bessent was involved in helping me win the Cy Young (Award).”
      Teammates have fond memories of “the Weasel,” as they nicknamed him. Although Bessent was a quiet, well-mannered youngster, the Dodgers respected him.
     “He was quiet in his own way, but he would go to war for you,” Don Drysdale said. “They always talk about Dodger starters, but I’m the first one to say, ‘Hey, let’s talk about our bullpen, too.’ Don was part of those early great bullpens.”
     Newcombe recounted the time the Dodgers were barnstorming in Japan in 1956 when he and Roy Campanella, both blacks, were barred from certain establishments. Bessent and Bob Lewis refused to join their white teammates at such social gatherings, opting to stay with Newcombe and Campanella.
     Newcombe said he particularly respected Bessent for staying behind even though Bessent grew up in the South.
     Roger Kahn, author of “The Boys of Summer,” said Bessent’s quiet manner perhaps kept him from being more famous. But Kahn marveled at Bessent’s fastball, which many catchers did not want to catch because of its velocity.
     “His personality was recessive,” Kahn said. “He was just one of the many promising kids who came out of the Dodger system. One of the curious things was that they produced so many promising pitchers who blazed briefly and then expired. After the first year, we thought he would win 20 games.”
     Instead, Bessent was relegated to the bullpen, from where he could intimidate hitters with the fastball for a couple of innings.
      Drysdale recalled the frustration of having the Yankees read Bessent’s pitches, which encompassed a fastball and a curve. He said every time Bessent was about to throw a curve, they would hear a whistle from the Yankee dugout.
     “We couldn’t figure out why,” Drysdale said. “Later, we learned that every time Bessent threw a curve, he stuck his tongue out.”
      Bessent finished his big league career with a 14-7 record, a 3.33 ERA and 12 saves.
      He teamed with Clem Labine and Ed Roebuck to form one of the league’s best relief staffs.
     Bessent developed arm trouble in 1959 and retired in 1962 after four seasons in the minors.
      He graduated from Jacksonville Lee High School in 1949 and was drafted by the New York Yankees. After pitching for the Yankees’ farm club in Norfolk, Va., he was left unprotected and picked up by the Dodgers in the 1953 draft.
      “One thing that could be said for Don, he always went out strong every time he pitched,” Carl Erskine, a Dodger pitching star from the era, told the Associated Press.

Roger Kahn and "The Boys of Summer"

      Roger Kahn this week passed on the great baseball world beyond our lives. His best-known book will be in my life forever.
      My copy of The Boys of Summer is well-worn, the cover a bit tattered. It was one of about 20 books he wrote, along with thousands of stories/articles.
     The story of the 1952 and '53 Brooklyn Dodgers -- a fabled team -- is not just about baseball, it is about life. It is also the story of Kahn's early life and writing (sportswriting) career, and the love for the Dodgers shared by him and his father.
     And, in April 1972 -- just after it was published -- the book was the subject of my first book-review newspaper column. That's how much I loved that book.
     I began that column by writing about Gil Hodges, the man-mountain first baseman of those Dodgers who had died (heart attack) -- as the manager of the New York Mets just the previous Sunday.
     The Dodgers weren't my team, nor is this even my favorite baseball book. That one is named Dynasty, and you might the team and the era -- 1949 to 1964 -- that covers. 
     Yes, that is the team that kept Kahn's Boys of Summer from winning the World Series. (But not in 1955.)
     Let's clear this up: In 1952 and 1953 -- when I was 5 and 6 -- I was still in the old country, not knowing the second thing about baseball (the first was it was a sport I knew as honkbal.) Did not know about the Yankees or the Dodgers ...
     Roger Kahn, by then, was a young sportswriter covering his hometown team for a hometown newspaper. What a life.
     He was as much a fan as a writer. Not uncommon for us sportswriting types. And after 1972, I was a fan of his, just as I remain a fan of many, many baseball scribes.
     (In fact, folded inside of my Boys of Summer book is a Sports Illustrated article on another great baseball writer -- the best ever, I think -- also named Roger: Roger Angell.) 
     In another life, another setting, maybe I would have been a Dodgers fan. Thanks to Kahn's book, I greatly appreciate those late 1940s/mid-1950s teams that were the Yankees' foremost (and perhaps bitter, but much-respected) rivals.
     You had to love Duke, Campy, big Gil, Skoonj (Carl Furillo), Newk, Oisk, Preacher, Clem, Joe Black, Billy Cox, Shotgun Shuba, Andy Pafko, and mostly, Pee Wee and Jackie. 
     But not Leo the Lip.
     Kahn, after several mostly personal chapters, visited more than a dozen of those old Dodgers stars almost two decades later to tell their stories and update their lives (by then, a couple had passed, so he visited their families and hometowns).
       We can say that, in a way, we -- particularly at the Shreveport Journal in the early 1980s -- borrowed from his book with the "whatever happened to ..." stories. Kahn's format was, well, our role model. And to some extent, that is  what we have done with this blog over the past seven years.  
---
      Here from the February 7 New York Post is part of the Kahn obituary written by Zach Braziller:

Roger Kahn (Associated Press photo)

     Roger Kahn, the accomplished author known best for his tale, “The Boys of Summer,” died Thursday night at the age of 92. His son, Gordon, told the Associated Press that Kahn passed away at a nursing facility in Mamaroneck [N.Y.].
     ... His 1972 best-seller about the Brooklyn Dodgers ... was a hit, 15 years after the club moved to Los Angeles. It alternated between Kahn's time covering the team in the early 1950s for the Herald Tribune and 20 years later.
     "At a point in life when one is through with boyhood, but has not yet discovered how to be a man, it was my fortune to travel with the most marvelously appealing of teams," he wrote. 
     Kahn got his start in 1948 with the [Herald] Tribune, working as a copy boy. He began covering the Dodgers, along with the [New York] Giants and Yankees, in 1952. He became the sports editor at Newsweek by 1956. He also wrote for Esquire, Time and Sports Illustrated.
      ... He was inducted into the National Jewish Sports Hall of Fame in 2006.
---
      When I think of the Dodgers and this book, I think of two friends who were avid Dodgers fans: (1) Billy Don Maples, our longtime buddy from Bossier City (with ties to Bossier High, Louisiana Tech University and then as a coach at Airline High in Bossier) and (2) Pete Alfano, a veteran sports and general writer/columnist at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram  during my time there who had Brooklyn roots and kept a miniature scale model of the famed Ebbets Field ballpark on his desk. They loved their team.
      We lost Billy Don (to cancer) two years ago. Miss him. He followed the Dodgers to the end.
      When I wrote the column on the book -- geez, 48 years ago -- Billy Don was one of the people who liked it most.
      Pete has moved on from newspapers, but at last glance was working -- teaching digital media writing at the University of North Texas in Denton. And likely still rooting for the Bums. He was always happy to remember 1955 when the Dodgers -- finally -- beat the Yankees in the World Series.
      Carl Erskine, at 93 and in his hometown of Anderson, Indiana, is the last living link to the featured individuals in The Boys of Summer, a pitcher whose chapter in the book was one of the most endearing. 
       And now the writer himself, the talented Roger Kahn, is gone. We thank him.
       (Next: A sad story, a Boys of Summer connection)

A link to Dad (and the Holocaust) in 1942

     

    Look at these two photos -- from 1942 -- and know that they are special to us, and that, finally, we have copies.
     These two people are my father, Louis Van Thyn -- listed as Levie Van Thijn here -- and his first wife, Estella Halverstad. The photos came to us from Belgium, sent to us on Sunday through Facebook.
     Dad, pictured here, was 23; Stella was 21.
     Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, so the timing is perfect because these are Holocaust-related.
     They are on display and part of the large database from the Kazerne Dossin -- the national Holocaust memorial museum of Belgium. 
     (It is like the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., the World Holocaust Remembrance  Museum -- Yad Vashem -- in Jerusalem, Israel, and the Dutch National Holocaust Museum in our original hometown, Amsterdam.)
     The Belgian museum is located in Mechelen -- a city between Antwerp and Brussels, the two largest cities in Belgium -- and that is significant, and symbolic.
      Mechelen is where, mostly in 1942-43, Jewish and Romani (gypsy) "prisoners" of the Nazis were held and then sent on transport trains to the concentration camps. Read on for the numbers.
     We are grateful to our cousin, Heleen (Kopuit)  Borgenicht, and her husband, Jacky, for making the 17-mile (27-kilometer) trip from their residence in Antwerp to the museum and providing us with the photos for our records and this piece.
     As Heleen noted, the museum has four floors -- each floor with 160 columns and 40 rows of photos -- of the (mostly) Jewish "prisoners." Heleen wrote "the walls were covered with photos." 
     So, without having the specific location, she and Jacky had to search and search to locate my father's wall photo. 
     Which they did, and here is Heleen (right) pointing to Dad's photo, and a closeup look (left) at the then young Louis.
     It is, as you might imagine, emotional for us to see him as he looked when he was about to head to Auschwitz.
      All the people in the photos on the wall went to the concentration camps -- and for the great majority went to their deaths.
       The Kazerne Dossin website says 25,274 Jews and 354 Romani (gypsies) were transported from Mechelen and that two-thirds were killed upon arrival at the camps.
      Only 1,395 of those listed survived. That word "overlevende" stamped on Dad's photo means survivor.
      Stella did not survive (the word "disparu" on her photo and so many others means disappeared, or death).

Dad (fourth row down, middle)

      Note on Dad's database page: his date of birth (6-7-1919; here in the U.S., it would be 7-6-1919); his place of birth (Amsterdam); his geslacht/gender (man), his spouse's name (the last name is incorrectly spelled, a z instead of s); his beroep/occupation; his departure date from Mechelen (24-10-1942); transport (XV); transport number (180); the number (70726) the Nazis tattooed on his left forearm; and, finally,  the category overlevende ... the answer is "ja," YES.
       On another database page are listed his "arrest" date (18 Jul 1942); his arrival date at Auschwitz (26 Oct 1942); his father's name (Natan Van Thijn -- it should be Nathan); his mother's name (Sarah Van Beer -- it should be Van Beem).
      Meticulous as the Nazis were, they did mess up some record-keeping ... as well as millions and millions of lives.
     And they must have been proud, otherwise why not destroy all those records when it was obvious the war was coming to an end and they were not going to rule the world? 
---  
     In 1942, Dad was living in Antwerp, with hopes of learning the diamond-cutting trade (thus the "diamondslijper" listing for his occupation). Actually, that did not happen.
     He was already a Dutch Army veteran and, after Nazi occupation of The Netherlands, a released POW.  He had moved to Antwerp from Amsterdam at age 16, living with an aunt and uncle, and doing odd jobs before there was a place for him as a diamond-cutting apprentice.
       After the Nazis released Dad and other Dutch soldiers in late 1940, he went back to Antwerp and eventually married Estella, and they were living with her parents when the Germans/Nazis began their full-scale "arrests" of most Jewish people in western Europe.
     Estella's parents' photos, too, certainly are in the Kazerne Dossin museum.
---

     Heleen also did a database search for her maiden name -- and found photos and information on two women: Trijntje Kopuit and Rosette Rachel Kopuit.
    And, yes, they are part of her family ... and ours. Both were born in Amsterdam.
    Trijntje was a great niece of my mother's grandfather Maurits. Rosette Rachel was a cousin of the brother-sister who were my grandmother and Heleen's grandfather.
     Trijntje, born in 1881 (age 60 when she was deported), is  listed as an employee' de maison -- domestic servant.
     Rosette Rachel, born in 1880 (63 at deportation), is listed as a professor. Neither survived the Holocaust.
     The name Rosette Rachel is significant to us, a link to family names. Rozette (with a z) was my mother's given name (Rose for short). Rachel is our daughter (named for Mom's mom, so our Rachel's great grandmother).
     Mom, as many know, also was a Holocaust survivor. Having been picked up by the Nazis in Amsterdam, like most of her family and Dad's family, her transit camp was in Holland (Westerbork). From there they went on the infamous cattle-car trains for the trip to Auschwitz.   
---
     At Mechelen, the prisoners were held in Belgian Army infantry barracks. A commemorative plaque was first placed there on May 30, 1948, and beginning in 1956, an annual ceremony has been held to commemorate the Holocaust victims who were housed there.
     After the war, the barracks were converted to a school and had other uses before they became dilapidated, and torn down. But several groups pushed for a Holocaust museum to be built, right next to the barracks' area.
     The Mechelen memorial museum first opened November 11, 1995. A few years later there was need for a larger, updated facility, which opened November 26, 2012.
     Officially, it is the Memorial Museum and Documentation Centre on Holocaust and Human Rights.
     Through cousin Heleen, we first heard about the newest museum before it opened, and the Kazerne Dossin -- connecting me to Dad -- sent an invitation to attend the opening. 
     That did not develop, but through correspondence, we learned of the existence of this database and these photos.
     We had no clue of what we might be receiving, no preview, and to be honest, the museum was asking much more of a payment than we were willing to make.
     Heleen also had been unable to attend the museum opening, but promised that some day she would visit the museum and try to find Dad and Estella's photos. 
     She has come through and we have it to tie into today's Remembrance Day.
     It is the 75th anniversary of January 27, 1945, when the Auschwitz camp was liberated by Allied forces. My mother and father -- and my sister Elsa's -- were free (but never free of the memories) and a few months later they would meet in Amsterdam, starting new lives.
     We remember the Holocaust every day. We will never forget.

An LSU football prediction ... for 2043

      Joe Burrow reminds me of Steve Spurrier, and vice versa. And I have a prediction that will be a common bond concerning the Heisman Trophy.

Steve Spurrier (left) was one of the Heisman Trophy winners standing
behind Joe Burrow when the LSU QB accepted his award in December 2019.

     (You will have to read to the bottom of this blog to see the prediction.)
     Maybe even Spurrier -- never bashful -- would laugh at the quarterback comparison. Yes, both are Heisman Trophy winners (Spurrier 1966, Burrow 2019), but in complete different eras of football. Spurrier loved the passing game even in 1964-66 as Florida's starting QB, but in that era, the passing game was so limited.
     He was a good enough passer -- and a leader, and kicker -- to be a first-round NFL Draft pick. Burrow likely will be the first player to be selected in the 2020 NFL Draft. 
      Spurrier is partisan still to the Gators he coached into a national power for 12 years and also to  South Carolina, where he coached for 10 1/2 years. But we have to believe that he loved this LSU passing game and its quarterback (even if he was rooting for Florida on October 12 (Tigers 42, Gators 28).
     This is what I believe is the main common bond for Spurrier and Burrow: Both are total winners. 
     They both have national-championship credentials -- Spurrier in 1996 as The Old Ball Coach, director/designer of Florida's sensational passing game; Burrow in 2019 as the leader of LSU's best-in-history offense.
     Both honest, maybe too much so for some people. Brash -- Spurrier with his words, his biting "fun"; Burrow with his actions -- waving bye-bye to Texas fans, his "show the money" gestures, his pointing-to-the-ring-finger display Monday night.
     Spurrier, in his Florida association, was as much of a nemesis for LSU as Nick Saban has been as Alabama coach.
      Steve Superior, as the Gators' QB, was 3-0 vs. LSU in 1964-65-66. As Florida head coach (1990-2001), he was 11-1 vs. LSU, and most of those games were not close.
     LSU's only victory was in 1997 -- 28-21 -- when Florida was the defending national champion and ranked No. 1 again, and after that upset, LSU running back Kevin Faulk was on the cover of Sports Illustrated.
     But Spurrier this week was on LSU's side.
     He told 247Sports, prior to the national-championship game: "... They [LSU and Clemson] both know how to win. They aren't going to beat themselves. Both teams have excellent quarterbacks. As an SEC guy, I have to sort of pull for LSU.
     "Joe Burrow -- I got to know him a little bit during high school when he came up there. He's a wonderful young man and has a good family. ... It's really going to be an interesting game to watch."
     And it was.
---
     Burrow, barring a trade, appears headed to the Cincinnati Bengals as the first pick in the NFL Draft. Good luck to him.
      No guarantee that he will be a great NFL player, a star, anywhere close to the magnitude of his 2019 LSU performance. 
      Look at the list of Heisman Trophy-winning quarterbacks starting in the 1960s, and it is a history lesson. 
      Terry Baker (Oregon State, 1962) was the first; Burrow is the 32nd.
      Baker was the first pick in the '63 NFL Draft, by the Los Angeles Rams, and lasted three years -- basically "a bust" -- before he was off to play in Canada.
       Only two Heisman Trophy QBs in the last six decades (Roger Staubach, Jim Plunkett) led Super Bowl winners, only one (Staubach) is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, only one other (Cam Newton) has played in the Super Bowl.
      Evaluate the group and you find some starters who had nice seasons, some that faded away, some were busts (hey, Johnny Manziel) and some that never had a chance or even tried. 
      We'll see about the five Heisman QBs before Burrow -- Kyler Murray, Baker Mayfield, Lamar Jackson (this season's NFL MVP, playoff flop last weekend), Marcus Mariota, Jameis Winston. 
       I will make no prediction on Burrow's NFL future -- no "rocket" arm, just a darned accurate one -- except I would not underestimate him. His command of the game, his incentive and leadership will carry him a long way.
      But remember, he's going to the Bengals. They are not the Bayou Bengals.

--- 

     Speaking of predictions, how about this one from our friend Paul Finebaum (Shreveport Journal sports-news writer, 1978-79) and now well-known SEC Network pundit (and, many think, Alabama booster) on Tuesday, November 19:
      "This will be LSU's last week at No. 1."
      Yes, we took note of that.
      Well, Paul was right ... for a couple of weeks and not entirely. LSU did drop behind Ohio State in the College Football Playoff rankings after that week -- after Ohio State beat Penn State -- but never fell from No. 1 in The Associated Press poll. 
     And, after the conference championship games, Paul was wrong. LSU went back to No. 1 in every poll/ranking ... and stayed. So Paul, on this, is wrong forever.
     It's his job -- analysis, predictions, interviews -- and be outspoken, keep viewers interested and  watching, keep them talking with and about him. So let's give him a break. 
     As my wife always reminds me, throw enough predictions out there, and some might even stick. 
---
     So, back to Spurrier and Burrow, here is my prediction: 
Someday, as Spurrier did at Florida, Burrow will return to LSU as the head football coach. 
     He has the football genes (his father coached for decades), he has the football smarts, he might even play for 10 years in the NFL (Spurrier did, mostly as a backup QB to John Brodie with the 49ers), and then he can go into coaching.
    Like Spurrier as the folk hero returning to his alma mater, Burrow will return to LSU and Louisiana, where he is now a forever legend. 
      It took Spurrier 24 years (1966 to '90) between Heisman Trophy QB to Gators' head coach, so project Burrow at LSU in 2043. Not many of us will be around to see my prediction come true. ... (Throw enough out there and some will stick.)
       So, in 2043, when someone comes across this blog when Joe Burrow is named LSU head football coach, let our kids and grandkids know we got this one right. Thank you.

"A team for the ages" indeed

    Here is one perspective: LSU football is not Alabama football, but this "perfect" national-championship season was a helluva imitation.
     It matches 1958 as an undefeated, untied, No. 1-ranked season, the only two in LSU history. Alabama has had -- count 'em -- seven of those, nine perfect seasons overall and 12 national titles of some sort.
     Alabama, it seems, does this all the time (and don't we get tired of it?).
     It was not until November 9, when these Tigers finally slayed the Alabama dragon after eight long years (and nine consecutive losses), that I thought LSU could win this national championship.
       Until then, I was a bit of a skeptic. Too many so-so to subpar defensive performances -- too many misreads, too many missed tackles, too many big breakdowns.
       Looks foolish now to have underestimated this LSU team. 
       But now, after this fantastic season, this fantastic team and, yes, this fantastic quarterback, those of us who have been longtime LSU fans can relish it.
      Storybook. These Tigers met every challenge. When they faced adversity -- and that wasn't often, or for very long -- they overcame it. 
      They actually trailed in six of the 15 games, three times in one game (Auburn) and by 10 points against Clemson.
      LSU fans know this refrain: 1958 ... 2003 ... 2007 ... 2019 ... and next year. That's football national-championship gold.
      Think most of us agree: Joe Burrow had the greatest season any LSU player -- and any major-college quarterback -- has ever had.
     And I believe even Billy Cannon would have conceded that  "Burreaux" now will be considered LSU's greatest player.
      When Coach Ed Orgeron -- a great story himself -- says this is "a team for the ages," he'll get no argument here.
      We'll see where LSU football goes from here, but we don't expect to see this type season/team in our lifetimes again. Too much to expect.
      But did you expect this 15-0 season? Did I? Heck, no. Knew the Tigers were experienced, had great depth at a lot of positions, had potential big-time talent, and the usual challenging schedule. 
         How good would Burrow be this year? His receivers? Did they have a real No. 1 running back or would it be by committee? Were they really serious about a fulltime commitment to a spread offense? Would they stick to it?
Would the offensive line be much improved over its inconsistent 2018 play? Defensive front looked potentially tough, except what about that huge hole left at inside linebacker with Devin White gone to the NFL? Was true freshman cornerback Derek Stingley Jr. really that good, and with that, would the secondary be as talented as advertised?
      And ... and ... could these Tigers finally beat Alabama?
      Think we have our answers.
---
     Orgeron, in recent interviews, said he thought the Tigers could win the national championship after they turned a third-and-17 play, trying to protect a 37-31 lead on Texas, into Burrow's 61-yard TD pass to Justin Jefferson with 2 1/2 minutes to play. Burrow, typically, slid left to avoid the Longhorns' pass rush and found Jefferson wide open.
      Glad Orgeron was so confident after that. I wasn't.
      Great and explosive as the Tigers were offensively, they wallowed through the first halves against Northwestern State and Utah State and Missisippi State. 
      And the defense was just awful at times against Vanderbilt and even worse against Ole Miss, with QB John Ryes Plumlee running wild and scoring on runs of 46, 60 and 35 yards -- some completely untouched -- and for 212 yards overall, part of the Rebels' 614 yards (402 rushing).
     As I posted on Facebook, the linebackers (especially Patrick Queen, Jacob Phillips and Jacoby Stevens) and, surprisingly, safety Grant Delpit were misreading plays badly, caught out of position, and when in position, missing tackles. So un-LSU defense-like. Distressing. Not national-title caliber ... at all.     
    But, but, but ... in two of the biggest tests, Auburn and Florida, that defense made the plays when needed. Against Auburn, lots went wrong for LSU in the first 10 minutes and yet, our Tigers hung in, kept their poise and took control. Same for the Florida challenge after the Gators went up 28-21 in the third quarter. LSU, given a break or two, scored the game's last 21 points.
     And after the Ole Miss defensive debacle, the Alabama showdown and a wild runaway first half, a two-touchdown final minute for LSU and a shocking 33-13 lead. 
     Sure, the Tide helped out with huge turnovers -- Tua's all-alone fumble and a foolish pass intercepted -- and Bama's defense wasn't what we've seen for years. 
      When Bama, as expected, began its comeback and Stingley, on a rare bad day, was burned by the Tide's excellent receivers, LSU's offense proved -- again -- how potent it was and how its receivers were better even than Bama's. So was the QB.
      With that victory, even I could see the end of the national-championship road.
      The last four games were potential challenges met in  resounding and convincing manner. Must admit that the Texas A&M game meant a lot. After that seven-overtime joke a year ago -- that one stuck in our minds almost every day since -- it was especially gratifying that the Aggies were completely dismantled.
      But to beat two great programs always -- Georgia (SEC Championship Game) and Oklahoma (CFP semifinals, Peach Bowl) -- in one-sided games and to outlast a Clemson program that had won 29 games in a row, meant quite a finish. You knew that last step would be a difficult one -- Clemson was talented, well-coached and prepared -- and it was.
      It was LSU's time, and Joe Burrow had the magic touch that turned a potentially very good team into a great one.
       Two other factors: (1) the offensive line, so sporadic in the previous two seasons, was tough enough and consistent; (2) great a passer as Burrow was, it was his pocket presence -- his ability to sidestep the pass rush and pick his spots to run the ball (and he's a deceptively fast and adept runner) --  that kept LSU's offense moving. 
     And that defense? Yes, it gave up some big plays and was burned occasionally. But the last four games, the tackling was solid and those linebackers -- especially Queen against Clemson when, on one play, he had a touchdown-saving tackle -- and Delpit played up to their capabilities.
      Because it wasn't what we have come to expect from LSU defenses over the decades, you could say that this wasn't a perfect LSU team. But what the heck does that matter now? It was a perfectly fine season.
      And whatever the future brings -- with the famous Casablanca line in mind -- we can say this: LSU will always have 2019.
      (Next blog piece: Joe Burrow, a prediction)

Larsen was perfect for my scorebook

     My baseball travels -- limited but fun -- never put me in the same place as Don Larsen. But he was a big part of my early baseball days.

     Don Larsen and I were scorebook buddies, if you will.

     When he died (of cancer) on New Year's Day at age 90, my first thought was about my little blue-covered baseball scorebook, a birthday present in 1958 when I turned 11.

     I knew, I remembered, that one of the games I scored in that book -- my first efforts at scoring baseball games, something which would become a recurring theme in my sportswriting career -- was Larsen's Game 3 start in the 1958 World Series.

     Dug into the files downstairs for that scorebook and it reminded me of how often I saw him pitch in the late 1950s.

     He won that game 4-0, with seven dominant innings (and two more from fire-throwing, thick-glasses reliever Ryne Duren), both of them hard-drinking Yankees stars of the late 1950s.  

     It was arguably Larsen's second-biggest pitching victory of a 20-year pro career (14 in the big leagues). The Milwaukee Braves, defending World Series champions after their 1957 conquest of the Yankees, had won Games 1 and 2 of the '58 Series, too.

     So they really needed Larsen to come through that October 4 at Yankee Stadium. But, of course, they knew he was capable. He had proven that on October 8, 1956. 

     His perfect game that day -- the greatest game ever pitched in baseball history (and let's not argue about that) -- made him a forever Yankees and baseball legend.

     Legendary, too, is crusty New York baseball writer Dick Young's lead on the game: "The imperfect man pitched the perfect game."

     That fall, '56, we were new to this country; baseball was a new sport to us. But having seen the Yankees on TV a few times that summer, I liked the pinstriped uniforms, I liked the looks of the center fielder wearing No. 7 on his back, I liked the winners. It was the start of a lifelong love affair.

     I remember that the result of that game was the big headline in the Shreveport Journal -- the afternoon paper -- that day, by the time we got home from school. We had begun taking the newspaper not long after arriving in the U.S.; those sports pages helped me learn to read English much more quickly.

     Because World Series games, all in the afternoon, began at noon Eastern time, 11 a.m. Central, and the game  lasted only 2:06, it was over by 1:06, so the Journal got it into its city edition. They slipped Larsen's head shot in at the bottom of Page One.

     I hardly knew how significant it was, did not really understand what "perfect game" meant, but did realize that it gave the Yankees a 3-to-2 games lead in the Series over the Brooklyn Dodgers. 

     And Don Larsen came into my life.

     By 1958, I did know how important his Game 3 victory was. And I knew that just about every time the Yankees were on TV, and I recorded a game in my little scorebook, he was in the lineup one way or another.

     Scored a dozen games in that book, all Saturday afternoon "Game of the Week" television games -- the only baseball game each week on TV in those days, on CBS (Channel 12, KSLA, in Shreveport). Dizzy Dean and Buddy Blattner were the announcers. Simple days.

     What did I know? Had the home team on the left page  of the book (should have been on the right). Didn't have enough space for all the substitutes. Recorded walks with a simple "b" (should have been "bb"); recorded singles with an "h" (should have been 1B).

     Four of those games were Yankees vs. Boston Red Sox (so what's new?) -- and Boston won them all (but the Yankees, winning the American League for the fourth year in a row, finished 13 games ahead of the third-place Red Sox in the standings).          

     In the first game I ever scored, Don Larsen was the losing pitcher with five mediocre innings. 

     He also was the losing pitcher in a significant game I scored on September 20, 1958 -- a no-hitter by Hoyt Wilhelm of the Baltimore Orioles, the most-often-used relief pitcher in baseball history for years and years, the old knuckleball expert making a rare start. 

     (It would be another 45 years before the Yankees were no-hit again, by six Houston Astros pitchers on June 11, 2003.)

     Wilhelm's knuckler was at its dancing best, but Larsen was darned good, too -- a one-hitter for six innings. The Orioles won 1-0 on Gus Triandos' seventh-inning home run off little lefty Bobby Shantz. It's right there in my scorebook.

     In two other games I scored, Larsen did not pitch. But -- because he was one of baseball's best hitting pitchers of his day -- he pinch-hit. He walked and scored vs. the Red Sox in August '58; he struck out against the Cleveland Indians in a May 2, 1959, game.  

     I recall being so happy to have scored his 1958 World Series Game 3 victory. He wasn't perfect -- he gave up six hits -- but he was tough, and so was Hank Bauer at the plate -- a two-run single in the fifth, a two-run home run in the seventh. 

     Larsen was a big, rangy guy for his day, a talent whose reputation was as an often wild character away from the stadium. His nickname: "Gooney Bird." No secret he liked his nightlife and his drinks. 

     He could be luckless -- evidence was a 3-21 record for the  Orioles in 1954 and 1-10 for the Kansas City Athletics in 1960, both awful teams -- and could be lucky, the trade to the Yankees before the 1955 season as part of a historic 17-player deal with Baltimore that also sent fellow right-handed pitcher Bullet Bob Turley to New York.

     Larsen was most often a starter for most of his Yankees time with records of 9-2, 11-5, 10-4, 9-6 and 6-7. 

     He was good enough that manager Casey Stengel turned to him in big games. That start on the day of The Perfect Game was crucial because the Series was tied.

     And the next two seasons (1957, 1958), he started Game 7s for the Yankees vs. Lew Burdette and the Braves.  In '57, it was a 5-0 loss; in '58, it was a 6-2 Yankees victory, although Larsen lasted only 2 1/3 innings and Turley relieved, pitched out of a bases-full jam in the third with the Yankees leading 2-1 and was magnificent for the final 6 2/3).

     Another Larsen contribution to the Yankees, not of his doing: They traded him away before the 1960 season to the Kansas City Athletics, along with Hank Bauer -- a wonderful right fielder for the Yankees for a dozen years -- and others. The main piece the Yankees received in the deal: Their new right fielder, Roger Maris. 

     So Larsen helped bring in Maris. A very good trade.

     In 1962, Larsen pitched in another World Series -- against the Yankees. He worked briefly in relief in three Games (1, 3 and 4), and -- luckily -- was the winner in Game 4, although he pitched only one-third inning and faced only two batters (walked one).  

     After his Yankees career, Larsen pitched for six MLB teams over eight years, but only briefly for more than two years with any one team (Giants, 1962-63-six games in '64). He made only 14 starts after 1960; his last majors stop was with three games with the Cubs in 1967.

May 20, 1968

May 8, 1968, game
in Shreveport

     His final three seasons were mostly in the minors, including Texas League stops (Dallas-Fort Worth in 1967, San Antonio in 1968). A personal memory: Larsen pitching -- in relief -- for the San Antonio Missions against the Shreveport Braves in '68, the year our city returned to the TL. Larsen lost one game to the Braves in the ninth inning; he earned a save at our not-yet-faded old ballpark. 

     A few weeks later, he retired from the game, with an 0-4 record for the Missions. He was 39, a legend forever. 

 ---

     In recent years, our views of Don Larsen was at the Yankees' Oldtimers Day, on his introducting making his way onto the field using a walker. Almost every year, he was greeted by and sat next to Dr. Bobby Brown, the Yankees' third baseman of the late 1940s/early 1950s.

      Dr. Brown, at 95 now the oldest ex-Yankees star at the Oldtimers' Day festivities, resides in our seniors facility in Fort Worth. The gracious, story-telling Doctor was -- like Larsen -- a Yankees World Series star, with key game-tying and game-winning hits in 1947 and 1949.

     His MLB career, interrupted by two seasons in the U.S. Army during the Korean Conflict, ended in 1954, so he was never teammates with Larsen. (Dr. Brown then had a 25-year career as a cardiologist in Fort Worth, followed by 10 years back in baseball as American League president.)

     He and Larsen talked often at the Oldtimers' Day weekends, and had a connection. Larsen lived on a lake in North California where Dr. Brown's brother, a carpenter, built his own home.

     Dr. Brown was a high achiever all his life, in several phases, certainly considered a hero by many people. 

     Don't know that "hero" describes Don Larsen. I would say, was an underachiever for his baseball talent. But no question, he was the ultimate overachiever on one perfect day and he won't be forgotten.

      He was a big man in my scorebook.

San Antonio Express column after Don Larsen's baseball retirement, June 28, 1968