Stardom Bit the Dust on One Bad Slide

Whenever old-timers gather--as they will at the Upper Deck Heroes Of Baseball old-timers’ game at Dodger Stadium this afternoon, the conversation among the L.A. Dodger fans inevitably turns to the great World Series championship teams of the early ‘60s.

They like to recall the sweep of the Yankees in ‘63, the comeback from two down in the ’65 Series against Minnesota, even the self-destruct playoff loss to the Giants in ’62.

The conversation quickly gets around to Sandy and Big D and Johnny Podres and the magnificent pitching staff.

Then, it lingers on Maury Wills, the first player to steal 100 bases.

It dwells on the favorite 3-Dog, Willie Davis, the man who went from first to third so fast that Casey Stengel said he couldn’t be followed by the naked eye.

They talk of Junior Gilliam, probably the greatest all-purpose player ever.

There’s even fond talk of Frank Howard, the man so huge he looked as if he should be wheeled up to home plate by gantry.

And Claude Osteen, who was so steady he could pitch with a glass of water on his head.

But what about Herman Thomas Davis? He gets mentioned in this company slightly more often that the groundskeeper. He comes into focus, if at all, as “the other” Davis.

But Tommy Davis was not “the other” anything. He stood alone. He was not only an integral part of those great Dodger teams, he looked like the surest one to get to the Hall of Fame. Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale did. Maury Wills should have.

In 1962, Tommy Davis led the major leagues in batting at .346. He led both leagues in hits with 230. And he led both leagues in runs batted in with 153.

To give you an idea of the dimensions of that last feat, no batter in either major league has had that many runs batted in since. In fact, only three men in National League history--Hack Wilson, Ducky Medwick and Chuck Klein, ever had more. Medwick had 154 in 1937 and since then, only Tommy Davis had 150 or more.

In the American League, no one had topped 150 since Ted Williams and Vern Stephens both did it in 1949.

That one incandescent year, Tommy Davis lit up Dodger Stadium. The brand-new facility’s fences were 10 feet farther out in those days, but T.D. hit 27 home runs nonetheless.

To get a measure of what Davis had done, you only have to know Willie Mays never drove in 150 runs. Nor did Ty Cobb, Henry Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Reggie Jackson or any other guaranteed lethal weapon of the grand old game.

Tommy Davis’ 1962 achievement has stood alone for 30 years. In fact, for 43.

The next year, he led the major leagues in batting again. In the World Series that year against the Yankees, he batted .400.

Clearly, Tommy Davis was on his way to Cooperstown with boilers hissing and the track clear. He would be the Dodgers’ clean-up hitter all the way to the ‘80s.

Then, it all faded. One night in May of ‘65, the Dodgers were playing the Giants.

“I had two hits in the game,” Davis says. “I was on first on my third or fourth at-bat when Ron Fairly hit a ground ball to Orlando Cepeda on first.

“As I went down the line, I saw (Jose) Pagan move to cover second for the double play. I shifted to go on the shortstop side of second and take Pagan out. Then, I saw him step aside.

“Cepeda had elected to throw to the pitcher and get the batter at first and pass up the double play. I tried to move to the other side of the bag and stop my slide. My spikes caught. My foot went one way, I went the other. I had a spiral fracture and a dislocation. I broke my ankle.”

Davis suffered more than a shattered ankle. It was one of those inexplicable catastrophic moments the game abounds in--Herb Score taking a line drive to the eye, Tony Conigliaro collapsing after being hit by an ear-high fastball.

Davis was never the same after that. He could always hit the baseball. He had six .300 seasons and ended up with a .294 lifetime average. He played 11 more seasons. The designated-hitter rule when it came in in 1973 was made to order for him. But he was not seismic anymore.

He began a discouraging odyssey through the journeyman stops of baseball. He went from superstar to supernumerary. The Dodgers traded him to the Mets for Ron Hunt and Jim Hickman in ’66 and, thereafter, Davis went through more towns than the Mississippi River.

Davis played for 1. the Chicago White Sox; 2. the Seattle Pilots; 3. the Chicago Cubs; 4. the Houston Astros; 5. the Oakland Athletics; 6. the Chicago Cubs again; 7. the Baltimore Orioles; 8. the Kansas City Royals; and 9. the Angels. It hardly paid him to unpack. Davis had to buy a paper to see where he was.

It could have been different. If Davis had gone in standing up that day in 1965, there’s no telling what his bubble gum card would be worth today.

But there is no doubt what his worth was to the great Dodger dynasty of 30 years ago. If he hadn’t made that one slide, it might be the rest of the team that you would have trouble remembering. They might be the Tommy Davis Dodgers. For two years there, they were.