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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
This review isn't helpful but I really don't care., July 27, 2001
While thinking about what to say in this review I was reminded of some commentary written about Miles Davis where a jazz critic I have long since forgotten observed, "Miles plays for himself. The listener's appreciation is merely an irrelevant by-product." Under no circumstances do I consider myself to be the literary equivalent of the musician (and artist) that was Miles Davis however the spirit of the quote is a fair assessment of the following review. If Ed Gruver had written a biography of commensurate quality about any other baseball player, at most I would have rated it four stars. Imposition of the name Koufax, establishes an entirely unique dynamic for me. Throughout my childhood, every member of my family and basically every adult I knew well were Dodger fans, nevermind the fact the team was initially 600, and eventually 3000 miles removed from where I lived. I must have been enveloped by a steel industry induced rust belt fog for my pre-teen, adolescent and young adult years because up to the point of Jackie Robinson's death the basis for our unwavering support never occurred to me. No one ever said a thing, it was just the way it was. My family would gather around and listen to Bob Prince's call of Pirates' games just so we could find out how the Dodgers were doing. If the Dodger's were on NBC's game of the week, it became an event comparable to today's Superbowl parties. As a lefthanded kid who fancied himself a future major league pitcher and a Dodger fan to boot, Sandy Koufax was the embodiment of perfection. I'm forced to smile in consideration of my now obvious hypocrisy when I think about the number of times I admonished my children regarding adulation of sports figures, chiding them to remember the athlete should be admired for accomplishments on the field but heroes should be sought from other disciplines. This coming from a man who a few years ago came across an old elementary school autograph book where some erstwhile friend had written, "to the boy who thinks he's Sandy Koufax but is not and never will be," thereby terminating our friendship on the spot. Not only did I consciously attempt to emulate the Koufax delivery, but while recently watching some tapes of my son, I realized when I taught him to pitch, his delivery became a right-handed version of the Koufax form. My first job was hawking newspapers in the stands of Forbes Field during Pirates games. I found out that way I could get in for free. In 1965, I was fortunate enough to be at a doubleheader where the Dodgers starting pitchers were Koufax and Drysdale. Koufax gave up first inning homers to Bob Bailey and Donn Clendenon, then he shut down the Pirates, went all nine (naturally) and the Dodgers won 5-2. I don't have the slightest clue what happened with Drysdale in the second game. Without question, baseball is the american sport with the most time-tested adages and overwhelming conventional wisdom. The book says a fastball cannot rise and in the late innings, hitters will catch up with the pitcher who depends on the fastball. The book didn't factor in Sandy Koufax. He even affected my perceptions of historical significance. Two people I promised myself I would never forget were Michael Collins and Bob Hendley. The former did not get to walk on the moon, and the latter only gave up one hit, one walk and no earned runs, but found himself on the short end of the Koufax perfect game against the Cubs in 1965. Mr. Gruver transported me back to an era of pleasant memories. It is hard to get younger fans in the present era to comprehend just how dominating a player was Sandy Koufax. Comparisons between eras are always difficult however rating Randy Johnson, Martinez, Clemons or Maddox against the man I consider to be the greatest seems so inadequate, particularly when you consider the physical challenges he had to overcome the last two seasons he played every time he picked up the ball. The guidelines have changed but this is a man who completed as many games in those two seasons as today's 5 man rotation pitchers start. I only wish the authors' style and format had been as inspiring as his subject matter. The storyline of Koufax's life takes place around the backdrop of a pitch by pitch account of the 7th game of the 1965 World Series. Mr. Gruver seems to suffer from short term memory loss as time after time he repeats the same information, occasionally in successive paragraphs. Anyone who knows anything about Koufax knows his legendary reclusiveness would inhibit any author writing an unauthorized biography, so the absence of input from Mr. Koufax was not surprising. Mr. Gruver, however, fails to adequately compensate. Nevertheless, KOUFAX is still a book any baseball fan will enjoy. It's been said there will never be another Ruth, Brown, Laver, Ali, Nicklaus, Jordan, only time will tell. But in the case of Sandy Koufax...
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