Pitching a perfect game is a finger-biting matter of dealing with inches, a lot of luck, solid defense and a good umpire.
But for Point Loma High School graduates Don Larsen and David Wells, their masterpieces were lonely vigils, with a bench full of superstitious New York Yankee teammates avoiding them.
Padres announcer and emcee Jerry Coleman related to a Hall of Champions luncheon audience last week how difficult it must have been, because only 17 pitchers have turned the trick in 106 years. They were joined at the head table by the Padres’ Cy Young winner, Randy Jones.
Larsen’s talents as a Pointer basketball player brought several significant college scholarship offers, but he chose to sign with the St. Louis Browns baseball team for a $500 bonus and a contract for $150 a month to play for Aberdeen, S.D., in the Class C Northern League.
As a kid growing up in Ocean Beach and listening to rock ‘n’ roll, “Boomer” Wells said he always wanted to play for his favorite teams — the Yankees and Padres. He was drafted in the second round by Toronto.
Forty-two years passed between Larsen’s stunning of the Brooklyn Dodgers, 2-0 on 97 pitches, in the only World Series perfect game (Oct. 8, 1956) and when Wells stopped Minnesota 4-0 on May 17, 1998, with 120 pitches.
Larsen, 77, lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, overlooking Hayden Lake and 100 miles from the Canadian border. Meanwhile, Wells, 44, lives in La Jolla, with temporary residence in Peoria, Ariz. with the Padres.
Larsen recalled when Dodger manager Walter Alston inserted Dale Mitchell to pinch-hit as the last batter.
“It’s a wonder I didn’t faint, because I had gotten past 26 outs, and here was one of baseball’s toughest batters,” he said. “I looked up and said, ‘Just get me through one more, please.'” Mitchell took a called third strike, outside. Maybe a “gift” from plate umpire Babe Pinelli?
Along the way, there were anxious moments, like Jackie Robinson’s hard-hit ball bouncing off third baseman Andy Carey’s chest to shortstop Gil McDougal for the force-out. Then Mickey Mantle flagged down Gil Hodges’ ball to deep center.
The other came when a whistling liner just missed the foul line. Third base umpire Ed Runge said later, “It missed by this much,” showing a small space between his thumb and index finger.
Strangely, it was an uncomfortable link-up that day for Wells, the burly, tattooed left-hander, and plate umpire Tim McClelland. The pugnacious pitcher and stiff-necked umpire didn’t get along.
“He was a bad umpire and he didn’t like me,” said Wells. “He booted me out of an earlier game when I argued about his calls. He was always on me.”
But that day, both men were on their good behavior, and, aside from his only 3-2 pitch situation in the game, Wells “knew it was there.” He got out of that jam with a fastball down the middle for a swinging third strike.
“The fans were making me nervous,” Wells said “Every pitch, even if it was a foot outside, they’d scream at the umpire… [or] yell ‘strike.’ Otherwise, outside of a hard-hit ball off Chuck Knoblauch’s chest, we were cruising.”
As for the toughest hitters they had to face in their career, Larsen brought laughter when he said, “Ted Williams: He owned the game. If Ted didn’t swing at it, it was a ball.”
“George Bradford was so tough I just started hitting him with a pitch to get him out of the way,” said Wells.
The mystique of a no-hitter brings loneliness, when other players avoid any conversation.
“[In] the seventh inning, I asked Mantle what’s going wrong, everyone is avoiding me,” said Larsen.
And Wells said, “About the fourth inning on, they didn’t want to sit by me on the bench. And I was looking for conversation. It’s just the cardinal rule: just don’t jinx him.”
Looking back at his perfect World Series game, Larsen once said, "They can never break my record. The best they can do is tie it."