“SANDY’S FIRST W” and “PAVIN’S RUN”

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954. BROOKLYN DODGERS VS CINCINNATI REDS

AUGUST 27, 1955

EBBETS FIELD

QUALITY OF PLAY—8.01

DRAMA—6.22

STAR POWER—8.65

CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—5.67

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—6.85

LOCAL IMPACT—6.81

TOTAL: 42.21

“SANDY’S FIRST W”

Sandy Koufax probably should have been a great concert pianist. His fingers were uncommonly long, and the boy born in Bensonhurst as Sanford Braun may have concentrated on music had his parents not gotten divorced. Certainly his father, Jack Braun, didn’t believe in athletics as a future. He often told Sandy “spending on baseball is a waste of money” and “a baseball player you will never be.” But when Irving Koufax, the lawyer who married Sandy’s mom Evelyn to become Sandy’s stepfather, entered his life, things changed. Irving was enthusiastic about the teenage Sandy’s athletic talent, 

Those big hands and long fingers helped Sandy become an excellent basketball player as well, a star at Lafayette High and good enough to get a scholarship in the fall of 1954 to the University of Cincinnati, who were a few years away from back-to-back national championships. The hoops coach, Ed Jucker, also handled the baseball team, and he convinced Sandy to try his hand at pitching. 

Koufax had pitched a little in high school (where a teammate was future Mets owner Fred Wilpon), but he developed in Cincinnati , although he was the proto-Nuke LaLoosh as a collegian. He soon set school records for strikeouts, but also averaged a walk an inning. His wildness scared batters, catchers, and umpires alike.

Still, he was undoubtedly a live arm, and as a Jew he was particularly attractive to the New York teams, always eager to pad their attendance with the local Hebrews. The Yankees sent a Jewish scout to talk to Sandy, which perversely offended him; the Giants offered little cash after a tense Koufax was unimpressive at his workout for the Harlem club. Milwaukee swooped in with a late, rich offer of $30,000, but in the end Sandy was always going to be a Dodger. They gave him a $14,000 bonus to sign with the home town team, and a $6,000 salary. That bonus wasn’t a lot, but it guaranteed that Koufax would not spend any time in the minors, according to the rule in place at the time. 

So when Koufax returned from the disabled list after an ankle injury in June, he had to stick with the big club. Brooklyn optioned out a light-hitting middle infielder named Tommy Lasorda to make room for Koufax.  The future (L.A.) Dodgers manager liked to say, “It took the greatest left-handed pitcher in baseball history to get me off that Brooklyn club — and I still think they made a mistake.”

Manager Walter Alston seldom used his lefty with the exploding curve and the occasional relationship to the strike zone. Koufax didn’t make his MLB debut until June 24, with two scoreless innings in relief. He got his first-ever start on July 6, in Pittsburgh, lasting 4 2/3 innings and walking eight, though only one run scored. 

After that, Sandy was glued to the bullpen bench. Koufax pitched only four innings across three games for close to two months. At last, he was slated to start a game against—appropriately enough, given his collegiate roots in the Queen City—Cincinnati, on a 92-degree Saturday afternoon, August 27, 1955, at Ebbets Field in Brooklyn.

The Dodgers were cruising toward the National League pennant, burying the opposition after a disappointing 1954 campaign that saw the hated Giants best them by five games. Although they had lost three straight, Brooklyn led Milwaukee by ten full games entering the weekend, a gap Alston deemed safe enough to risk throwing his wild 19-year old rookie at the Reds, who were 18 games back. “Sandy Koufax, a child of 19, was chosen to lead the befuddled Brooks out of the wilderness,” wrote Dick Young in the Daily News. 

The Dodgers cruised before a crowd of 18,133, the majority of whom were Knothole Gang kids and women who got in for free that day on promotions (just 7,204 paid the gate fee). The ladies and youngsters saw Jackie Robinson and Carl Furillo blast two-run homers, sending the Ebbets faithful into a party atmosphere. It was 3-0 after the first inning, allowing Sandy to settle in with a working margin. Robinson provided a classic bit of JackieBall to make it 4-0, beating out an infield hit, stealing second and third, and scoring on a groundout. His homer in the 7th (Jackie’s first since June 28) capped the scoring in an eventual 7-0 triumph. 

But the story was Sandy, the “strapping alumnus of Lafayette High.” He dominated from the jump, making sluggers like Ted Kluzewski and Wally Bell look foolish (Bell took a golden sombrero that day, going 0-4 with four strikeouts). Big Klu touched Sandy for a bouncing single and a walk, and came up with two on in the sixth. Alston trotted out to the mound. Koufax said to him, “This is the guy I want to pitch to. He’s the only one I haven’t got out yet.” That was good enough for Alston, and moments later, Koufax “slipped the popup pill to Klu” to escape trouble.

Koufax hurled a complete game shutout, giving up just two hits (to go with five walks). His 14 strikeouts were the most by any hurler in the National League to that point. Brooklyn batters fanned nine times themselves—the 23 combined K’s tied the major league record at the time, which has long since been demolished. 

AFTERMATH

In his next start, on September 3, Koufax threw another shutout, over Pittsburgh. He allowed just five hits. Those were his only two wins as a rookie. 

He would go on to have a fairly decent career.

His performance on NYC mounds wasn’t especially stellar, however, at least compared to his overall resume. In his injury-shortened career Sandy appeared in 45 games in New York, be it at Ebbets Field or the Polo Grounds or, as an L.A. Dodger, Shea Stadium. He started 24 of those, and posted a 12-6 record with a 3.34 ERA. He whiffed 182 batters in 183 1/3 innings in those games, and walked 70 (at Ebbets Field he struck out 44 and walked 44, a handy encapsulation of his wild early days, August 27, 1955 notwithstanding).

This of course doesn’t count Sandy’s most fabled NYC start, which came in Game One of the 1963 World Series at Yankee Stadium. Koufax whiffed 15 Yankees en route to a victory that heralded a stunning sweep of the Bombers (and of course this game will appear high on the list). 

Meanwhile, the 1955 Dodgers were better known for finally beating the Yankees and winning the World Series than for Koufax’s debut, but it all has a place in the NYC1000.

WHAT THEY SAID

“He had a real good curve and his fastball was good too. His control was all right. He never was wild at any time. Didn’t ever miss the plate by much."
—Roy Campanella, Dodgers catcher, on Koufax’s debut

FURTHER READING:

A Lefty’s Legacy by Jane Leavy

VIDEO:

953. 1995 U.S. GOLF OPEN

FINAL ROUND

JUNE 18, 1995

SHINNECOCK HILLS GOLF CLUB

QUALITY OF PLAY—6.75

DRAMA—8.05

STAR POWER—7.77

CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—7.35

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—6.05

LOCAL IMPACT—6.25

TOTAL: 42.22

“PAVIN’S RUN”

In the summer of 1995, the highly exclusive enclave of Southhampton, the home of Shinnecock Hills Golf Club, saw two golfers better known for frustrating defeats battle for victory. One, Corey “The Jewish Bulldog” Pavin, was generally considered at the time the best player on the PGA Tour who had yet to win a major. The other, Greg “The Shark” Norman, was generally considered at the time the best player on the PGA Tour who couldn’t win a major.

Okay, to be technical, Norman had won a pair of British Opens. But his rep was that of a player whose luck at the big tourneys, if it existed at all, was sour. He found a way to lose a playoff in the 1984 U.S. Open by eight strokes. He handed Jack Nicklaus the 1986 Masters by chasing a birdie on 18 that turned into a shot into the gallery and a bogey. He shot 76 in the final round of the ’86 PGA Championship that sent him crashing out of the lead. He was the only player to lose all four majors in a playoff. Larry Mize chipped in from 140 feet to steal the 1987 Masters from him. He shot a 76 at the 1990 U.S. Open to hand the tournament to Nick Faldo. And on and on and on.

In 1995 he added New York to his litany of close but not enough…

Norman remained at the top of the sport when the Open came to Shinnecock for the third time in 1995, but the times were changing. In the field was the left-handed version of Norman, Phil Mickelson, who likewise was exceptionally talented—so talented, in fact, that his relentless drive for amazeballs shotmaking often cost him victories. And there was an amateur playing in the field who would soon transcend the sport—Tiger Woods.

Shinnecock Hills is a very difficult links-style course, especially when the wind was howling as it was that June. And the setup in 1995 was fiendish—tiny, saucepan hard greens and brutal rough that lined the twisty fairways. “Man, I go rabbit hunting in that stuff. You don't go in there; you send your beagle in there to get something out,” whined Fuzzy Zoeller, whose down home stylings would be less knee-slapping in a couple of years when he threw racist shade at Woods.

Tiger was not yet the gym rat, Navy SEAL-cosplaying, tough out snapped ligaments legend he would become. The conditions quickly wore him down, and he pulled out on Friday with the sort of arm injury Rodney Dangerfield claimed to have in Caddyshack. It would be just about the last time anyone could accuse Woods of being soft.

If anything, the Saturday weather was tougher. The wind gusted to nearly 30 MPH, and a baking sun made the already tiny greens hard as concrete. Only three players broke par. Norman, thanks to an amazing day spent saving par up and down the course, took a one-stroke lead, tied with Tom Lehman at one-under. Mickelson was a stroke behind. Pavin was three back. 

Pavin was no slouch—he led the Tour in earnings one season, and had a dozen wins to his name. But he had never won a major, and with his slight frame (just 5’9”, 155) and lack of power off the tee, Pavin seemed more like a guy you would play with at a local muni tournament than a contender at the U.S. Open. 

But he made his putts, which almost no one else did during the final round Sunday. Everyone else came undone on the greens. “No leader managed to make a putt longer than his leg for two hours,” wrote Rick Reilly in Sports Illustrated. Mickelson was totally shattered by the par-5 16th hole, which had tortured him all week. “That hole just crushed me,” he moaned, after a double bogey on Sunday sent him crashing out of contention. 

Pavin rolled in an 8-footer while Norman was missing one half that length to grab the lead with one hole left. The par-four 18th at Shinnecock is difficult, with a long uphill onto a tiny green whipped by crosswinds. Pavin had launched a meh tee shot to about 230 yards from the hole. He couldn’t even see the flag, given the hillock in front of him and his diminutive size. He pulled out a two-iron, but his caddy, Eric Schwarz, called upon the wisdom of the Talmud and recommended a four-wood instead. 

Pavin cranked it, and he knew it hit it well. But he couldn’t actually see the ball land. So Pavin sprinted after his shot like it had stolen his wallet. “The ball was blocking out the flagstick,” Pavin said afterward, “and I thought, ‘Oh, man, that thing might go in!’” It didn’t quite, but rolled to within five feet of the cup.

It was one of the great shots in Open history, especially given the circumstances. Pavin had to compose himself right there on the fairway, where he sunk to a squat and said a little prayer. “I let my emotions get loose,” he said. “I had to get them back inside me.” He didn’t—at least not enough to drop in a birdie and clinch the title. Pavin missed his first putt all day, at the worst time, leaving the door ajar a crack for Norman, who still had two holes to finish. Suddenly, here was Norman with some rare luck in a major. If the Aussie battler could birdie either 17 or 18, he would force a playoff. 

The world was rooting for Norman, but Norman being Norman, he didn’t come through. He chunked his second shot on 17 into a bunker and bogeyed the hole, falling two back and handing the Open to Pavin. It was Pavin’s first major championship. It was Norman’s 51st second-place in his career to that point. It took an incredible approach shot and an emotional uphill sprint to do it, but Norman was bested again. 

AFTERMATH

Norman’s wife Laura left Shinnecock in tears, aghast at watching her husband suffer yet another tough loss in a major. Norman’s two British Opens (in 1986 and 1993) were the entirety of his wins in the Big Four, despite dominating golf for the majority of the 80s and 90s. These days, of course, he bathes in Saudi petrodollars as CEO of the LIV Tour. Pavin’s amazing shot and breakthrough at Shinnecock was the defining moment of a strong if unspectacular career. The ’95 Open was his lone major victory. A Shonda to the Juden, Pavin turned his back on his Jewish heritage and converted to Christianity. Imagine how many majors he would have won if hadn’t?

WHAT THEY SAID

“I wanted to see that ball land. All I could see was ball and pin. It was probably the best shot I’ve ever hit under pressure.”

—Corey Pavin

FURTHER READING:

In The Club by Rick Reilly, Sports Illustrated

VIDEO: