Over the summer I had the z’chus (merit) to help out at the Jewish book club here on goodreads. One of my roles was to help select a category for the book that the group would read in October, the month this year when all of the holidays will take place. In light of all that has happened over the past year, I desired that the group start the new year on a positive note. We should read a book about a Jew who has inspired others in his/her achievements. While I did not include the caveat of a non Holocaust related book because I wanted the book to be more on the happier side, a Holocaust book won none the less. I am not one to kvetch as overcoming the atrocities of the Holocaust is indeed an uplifting moment in recent Jewish history. As a moderator I could not nominate a book other than give an example to the members. The consummate baseball fan in me could only think of one such example, and that is in the person of Sandy Koufax, my all time favorite non-Cub player even though he retired a decade and a half before I was born. Koufax was the Jewish star of stars, and I chose to reread this account of his achievements to give me koach (strength) as I move into the new year.
Jane Leavy grew up in the Bronx. Her grandparents’ apartment was a stone’s throw from Yankee Stadium, and the Bronx Bombers were her team. If the Yankees happened to be playing on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, Leavy would skip tuning into the game to attend services with her family. As a Jew this is what one does. Many times in her youth, Leavy witnessed the Dodgers, then of Los Angeles, play against the Yankees in the World Series, and her family was faced with a conundrum. How could they root against Koufax, the best Jew of them all. As an adult, Leavy remembered that Koufax one time famously did not pitch on Yom Kippur. At that one moment in time, she made the decision never to work on Yom Kippur again. Jane Leavy does not consider herself to be a religious person but she is inherently Jewish; so is Koufax, a nice Jewish boy hailing from Brooklyn. In his generation, if you came from Brooklyn, you were Jewish, lox, bagels, and all, no need for more observance than that. Leavy desired to write a piece on Koufax from both the angle of his Jewishness and the perfect game that he threw while in agonizing pain. Although he did not authorize the biography, he noted that if she wanted to go ahead with the project, it should be done correctly, and he leant himself to edit the biographical moments of his life. What followed is the inspirational book that I had been looking for.
Sandy Koufax is in the hall of fame because he was blessed with the left arm of G-D. Although Leavy writes about his early life, which influenced the man he would become, the bulk of her findings is about his time as a Dodger and the hope that he brought to his Jewish breathren. Koufax’s career spanned two halves, as the hometown kid in Brooklyn and the star of Dodger stars in Los Angeles who made it big. This was Hollywood of the 1960s when being a star meant something. He was also a Jew, who was not in the inner circle of most of the other white players. Only two decades removed from the Holocaust, antisemitism still existed in America. His closest teammates on the Dodgers were the black players who understood his position as a minority and went out of their way to make him feel welcome. Leavy cites a meeting between Hank Greenberg and Jackie Robinson during Jackie’s first year and Hank’s last; Greenberg told Jackie he understood what he would be going through and he had his support. By the time Koufax came up as rookie toward the end of Robinson’s career, Robbie, named so by broadcaster Vin Scully, took him under his wing so to speak. Although he did not get much playing time until the team moved west, Koufax had supportive teammates and stayed on as a baseball player rather than returning to college to study architecture. We are the people of the book after all, but Koufax’s career lied down a different path.
According to physicians, Koufax should not have been a pitcher. His arm was too muscular and too susceptible to injury. Between 1961 and 1966, he was untouchable. In those same years, his arm deteriorated and he had to take a cocktail of pills and treatments just to be able to pitch. His record and dominance speak for themselves but his arm looked like a balloon after starts and he knew that he was pitching on borrowed time. Those Dodgers relied on pitching and he was the leader. Without him there would be no World Series for those light hitting teams of the early 1960s. He never pitched on Jewish holidays and over time became the most eligible Jewish bachelor in America. One time he started a game against fellow Jewish pitcher Ken Holtzman. Holtzman’s mom was in a quandary: she wanted both her son and her favorite star to win and hoped for a no decision. At his peak, Koufax received more invitations to bar mitzvahs than pulpit rabbis, the majority of which he declined. Leavy notes that at a time only two decades after the Holocaust when Jews started to assimilate in America, Koufax showed that it’s ok to follow one’s dream and be Jewish. Jewish mothers everyone shepped nachas from this nice Jewish boy from Brooklyn, who would be the dream son-in-law for all of them.
He pitched because he loved it, loved the camaraderie of being on a team. Otherwise he would have become a doctor or lawyer or architect, professions more befitting of Jews. Leavy has the narrative come to a climax at the height of Koufax’s powers in 1965. On September 9, his arm in immense pain and the Dodgers in a pennant race, Koufax pitched a perfect game against my beloved Cubs. For a more descriptive account of the game itself, a wonderful read is Perfect Eloquence, which details the life of Dodgers broadcaster Vin Scully. For the batter by batter account, Leavy breaks the game down inning by inning, leaving me on the edge of my seat while reading, even though I knew who won. There is a grainy video available on YouTube and it is wonderful. Somehow, Koufax lead the Dodgers back to the World Series. The first game fell out on Yom Kippur, and he declared that he would not pitch. Although Minnesota area rabbis claimed that he attended services at their congregations, Koufax spent the day of atonement reflecting in his hotel room. By not pitching, Leavy states that this is symbolic of the 1960s rebellion movements, but it stands for something more, that Sandy Koufax is a Jew, although not religious, but he is making a statement for Jews that on Yom Kippur we do not work because this is what we do as a people. The following day, Koufax pitched and lost but would lead the Dodgers to the title pitching three times in eight days, his left arm all but done.
On October 7, 1965 Minnesota rabbi Moshe Feller presented Koufax with a pair of tefillin (phylacteries) as a gift of appreciation for not pitching on Yom Kippur. Koufax told the rabbi that he is not religious and might not lay the tefillin regularly, but he never pitched on Yom Kippur because it is not the right thing to do. His act brought hope to Jews that they can show pride in America at a time when anti semitism still abounded. One young man who idolized Koufax was Ira Green, whose son Shawn went on to play for the Dodgers later in his career. I doubt we will ever have another Jewish star like Koufax. There are not many Jews who are athletic stars as we are known for our brains more than for our brawn. During the 1960s Koufax made it ok to be Jewish when a younger generation more removed from immigration culture had began to assimilate. Jane Leavy interviewed Koufax’s friends, family, and teammates. She honored his privacy while still crafting a poignant picture of a man who is still regarded as the Jewish star of stars, not just in baseball but in all sports. From a purely baseball perspective, Jackie Robinson inspired me more so than Koufax. As a Jew, Koufax inspired a generation. When I read about the man or watch the grainy video footage, I can’t help but kvell.
Lshana tova u’mesuka. May you be inscribed for a good year in the book of life.
4.5 ✡️ stars