The Departure of Big D

When towering Don Drysdale took the mound, National League batsmen made certain they stayed good and loose at the plate. "I've never thrown deliberately at a batter's head in my life," the 6-ft. 6-in. pitcher once said. What he unquestionably did do was snap off blazing sidearm fastballs and dancing curves with bullwhip fury. In the process, he set a lifetime league record for most hit batsmen (154). This year, the overpowering ace of the Los Angeles Dodger staff proved he had as much guts as the batters who had faced him during the past 13 seasons. He pitched game after game despite an injury deep in his shoulder socket that robbed his arm of its power and left him in agony after every throw. He spent five weeks on the disabled list and completed only one game in twelve starts. But he kept coming back to give it another try Said Coach Jim Gilliam: "He is as great a competitor as I've ever seen. He is a pitcher who never quits."

Last week Drysdale, 33, finally did call it quits. At a crowded and emotion-charged news conference in Los Angeles, he gravely announced: "I deeply regret having to retire, but as they say, there are some things that are inevitable --like death, taxes and retirement from professional sports. The elasticity is gone from my arm, and I haven't been able to throw a good fast ball all year. I couldn't stand to be a four-inning pitcher, and that's just about all I'm good for now." Appearing with Drysdale, Manager Walt Alston wept unashamedly. "I'm sure I owe as much to Drysdale," he said, "as I owe any individual on the Dodgers over the years."

Alston may have been overwrought by the drama of the moment, but his statement was coldly accurate. The last of the old Brooklyn Dodgers on the Los Angeles staff, Drysdale became one of the most formidable pitchers in baseball history. He teamed with the brilliant lefthander, Sandy Koufax, to lead the traditionally weak-hitting Dodgers to five National League pennants. Although he often pitched in Koufax's shadow, he was the workhorse of the Dodger staff; from 1962 to 1965 he hurled more than 300 innings a season. He holds the club record for most games won (209), most strikeouts (2,486) and most shutouts (49). He shares with Koufax and St. Louis Cardinal Bob Gibson a league record for registering 200 or more strikeouts during each of six seasons. He won the Cy Young Award as the outstanding pitcher in the majors in 1962, when he posted a 25-9 record. Drysdale appeared in eight All-Star games and was the winning pitcher in 1967 and 1968. Last season he broke Walter Johnson's 55-year-old record by pitching 58 scoreless innings, a string that included six shutouts.

Greasy Kid Stuff. Drysdale's reputation was built on more than statistics. His penchant for throwing "dusters" prompted Atlanta Braves Slugger Hank Aaron to label him a "mean" pitcher, and San Francisco Manager Herman Franks hinted last year that Drysdale had more on the ball than honest sweat. That led to Drysdale's "greasy kid stuff" commercial,* which still regularly appears on television. His boyish visage and brash charm also won him spots on The Rifleman and the Donna Reed Show, and he once sang with Milton Berle in a Las Vegas nightclub. He also owns a rich stable of race horses, two of which he keeps on his Hidden Hills ranch in the San Fernando Valley. That enterprise helped make him one of the richest ballplayers in the game. In fact, by 1966 he was in so comfortable a financial position that he and Koufax were able to hold out for an unprecedented dual contract for $1,000,000 over three years (Drysdale eventually settled for a one-year, $115,000 contract of his own).

There are a few who suspect that Drysdale can be lured out of retirement for the 1970 season. Dr. Robert Woods, the Dodger physician, noted that the big pitcher's injury "could heal in several months." Teammate Maury Wills, who quit earlier this year and then returned shortly thereafter, insists that "I know Don is not finished. I think he will be anxious to show up at spring training next year and see if he can come back." Not a chance, says Drysdale. "I'm going to miss it," he says. "Quitting has left me with an empty feeling. But this is final. I'm through."

* The rival manager accuses Drysdale of brushing his pitching hand over his hair to pick up grease that aids him in throwing spitballs. Drysdale angrily stalks into the clubhouse and emerges triumphantly holding his hair tonic, a well-known, nongreasy brand.

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