Don Larsen Still Packs ‘Em In Fans Flock To The Only World Series Pitcher Who Can Say: No Hits, No Runs, No Errors, No Man Reached First Base
Don Larsen will sign almost anything. A diaper, an old ticket stub, a forest of baseball bats, a bevy of baseballs and lots and lots of photographs of him, stretched out on a pitch, next to his lifetime stats.
It’s not the stats that keep the autograph hounds coming. His record in the big leagues was a lackluster 81 wins, 91 losses over 14 years.
The fans come because of the perfect game - the only perfect game pitched in the history of the World Series. Larsen was then a big-eared New York Yankees pitcher nicknamed Gooney Bird throwing against the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Now, 40 years after that Oct. 8, 1956 classic, Larsen can still draw a crowd. In fact, his popularity may be in the midst of a major revival, thanks to the recent release of his autobiography, “The Perfect Game.” He threw out the ball in the second game of this year’s World Series.
The Hayden Lake resident came to Jack’s World of Cards & Collectibles in north Spokane on Sunday to sign books, pictures, baseballs and whatever else was tossed his way.
Don Bach brought his treasured ticket stub from that perfect game. He and two buddies flew across the country to watch Larsen work his magic in front of the home crowd.
“To catch a no-hit game, I don’t think it’ll ever happen again,” said Bach. “Unless it’s a miracle.”
The Spokane man’s stub tells the story. The ticket itself cost $7.35. Bach wrote on the front that 64,519 people attended the game. He also wrote: “No hits. No runs. No errors. No man reached first base.”
Larsen, 67, isn’t worried about some pitching ace coming along and wiping out his record.
“They can’t beat it,” he said of pitchers today and tomorrow. “All they can do is tie it.”
About 500 people paid $10 for each autograph. Some were collectors, able to explain how to protect signed balls from sunlight and safeguard signed photographs in plastic sleeves. Others just wanted to touch Larsen, the man who humbled the Dodgers.
“I was in New York when you did that,” said Peter Barranco, reaching for Larsen’s hand. “And you did it against the right team, I tell you.”
After getting a photograph signed, Barranco said he wouldn’t pay money for many people’s autographs except for Larsen’s.
“I’m a rabid Dodgers-hater,” he said.
“When he did that, it was the greatest thing that could have happened.”
Larsen shook hands, posed for pictures and signed and signed and signed. He didn’t take a lunch break. He signed pictures “Best Wishes” and “To a diehard Yankees fan.” He even signed a baseball already autographed by Lou Gehrig. Under protest.
Larsen said he’s been busy signing all this year. He said he’ll write most anything.
“I won’t write a poem, though.”
With slicked-back graying hair and a wide-eared face, Larsen was polite to everyone, even humble. His sense of humor was drier than a bag of ballpark peanuts. He typically answered questions with one word. He used words like “muckety-mucks” and talked reverently about fishing.
Mel Addington came to meet Larsen because he’s a self-described Yankee nut. He remembered listening to the big game in an eighth-grade classroom in Ford, Wash. Half the class wanted the Dodgers to do something. The other half cheered on Larsen.
“I’m going to touch him,” Addington said.
His pal, Chris Reinbold, wasn’t as enamored. “My blood’s Dodger blue,” Reinbold said.
The men in line - and they were mostly men - dropped years in seconds, instantly becoming kids facing a baseball idol.
“Isn’t this exciting, Oliver?” Larsen asked his junior assistant.
“Yep,” replied Oliver Pitschka, 12, helping hand out letters of authenticity.
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: 2 Color Photos