By Bill Koch
Occasionally someone will ask me which event I most enjoyed covering during my 40 years as a sports writer. It’s impossible for me to pick one. I’ve been fortunate enough to cover five Final Fours, including the 1992 version that UC played in; and two World Series, including the 1990 Series the Reds won by sweeping the Oakland A’s. And I always mention the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney, Australia.
But there are memorable stories that had nothing to do with actual sporting events, slices of life that I witnessed, hoping that my words measured up to the moment.
One such moment stands out above all the others. Twenty-one years ago, on Feb. 13, 2000, I wrote about Sandy Koufax’s return to UC to pay tribute to Ed Jucker, UC’s two-time national championship basketball coach who was also the Bearcats' baseball coach. It was Jucker who gave Koufax an opportunity that ultimately landed him in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.
As I arrived that day for the basketball game between UC and DePaul, I knew Koufax was supposed to be there and I was determined to try to talk to him for a column. But I also knew that Koufax had a reputation for wanting to be left alone. When I heard he was in the president’s box, I walked up the arena steps and knocked on the door. I asked if Koufax was in there and was told that he was. Then I asked if Koufax would talk to me. “Wait a second,” I was told. “I’ll go ask him.”
A few seconds later, I was told, "He said to come on in.”
So in I went, feeling nervous as I clutched my notebook, pen and tape recorder. After Koufax and I were introduced, we sat on a couch where I would conduct my brief interview. But when I switched on my tape recorder, nothing happened. I started pushing buttons hoping to make it come on. Still nothing. My hands started to sweat as I fumbled around, silently cursing my fate.
Then Koufax came to my rescue. He smiled and said, “I guess you’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” meaning I would have to take notes while we talked, with no electronic backup. “I guess so,” I said with a weak laugh.
This is the column I wrote about that meeting:
The left-hander and the coach hadn’t seen each other since the lefty departed for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1954. Their paths wouldn’t cross again for 46 years.
Sandy Koufax would go on to secure a spot in baseball’s Hall of Fame as one of the dominant pitchers in the game’s history. Ed Jucker would coach UC to two NCAA championships and narrowly miss a third.
Koufax is 64 now, Jucker 83. They renewed their relationship this weekend, part of a fundraiser to establish an endowment for the UC baseball program. On Sunday, they attended UC’s 87-64 win against DePaul at Shoemaker Center.
The reunion was arranged by Ike Masali, who played on the UC baseball team with Koufax. Masali called his former teammate and asked him if he would make the trip to Cincinnati for his old coach.
“It was absolutely no problem,” Masali said. “He said, ‘If you want me to come for Ed Jucker, I’ll be there, but I don’t want any recognition.' Those were his exact words: I want to be one of the boys.”
That’s how Koufax was treated. During the halftime ceremony honoring Jucker, Koufax walked onto the court with the rest of his former baseball teammates. His name was never mentioned. If you didn’t recognize him, you wouldn’t have known the great Sandy Koufax was in the house. It was part of the deal.
But Koufax was never just one of the boys in Jucker’s mind.
”For him to come here as a member of that team was very meaningful to me,” Jucker said.
Jucker was UC’s freshman basketball coach and varsity baseball coach when Koufax arrived from Brooklyn on a basketball scholarship in the fall of 1953. He was a decent basketball player, averaging 9.7 points per game on a freshman team that went 12-2.
Near the end of that season, Koufax heard that the UC baseball team had a game scheduled in New Orleans, which prompted him to ask Jucker if he could try out for the team.
“He wanted me to take a look at him,” Jucker said. “What I saw was so amazing I’ll never forget it as long as I live, that somehow could throw a ball as fast as he could.”
Koufax conducted his first workout for Jucker in a gym.
“It was so dark it made it virtually impossible to catch the ball,” Jucker recalled. “But I saw enough to know that he was something special.”
Koufax saw enough of Jucker to sense something special too.
“He was just a good guy to play for,” Koufax said. “He cared about his players. I was 17 years old when I came here. I needed a little help. He was there for me.”
This is the same Koufax who was described in a Sports Illustrated article last year as an aloof mystery man who refuses to grant interviews to reporters.
He certainly didn’t mind talking Sunday. When I approached him, he talked about baseball today and about how much he misses the game he was forced to leave in 1966 after 12 years because of elbow problems. The aloof mystery man was a soft-spoken, silver-haired gentleman. He said he never read the SI article, but he knew all about it.
“They tried to make me look like a weirdo,” he said.
Koufax said he declined to be interviewed for the SI story because he didn’t want it to be written. “I’m not into privacy,” he said, “but I like anonymity. I like the idea of being able to go and do whatever I want.”
To that end, he declined to say where he lives in Florida. He said he doesn’t do much of anything these days, which probably was his polite way of saying it’s nobody’s business what he does.
But that doesn’t make him a recluse. A recluse wouldn’t have spent more than an hour talking to the UC baseball team.
“If they had any questions, I tried to answer them,” he said. “I told them to make sure they got their education. I was lucky. I made it.”
During his one UC baseball season, Koufax was 3-1 with a 2.81 earned run average. He struck out 51 batters, in 32 innings, an average of 14.3 per nine innings. He allowed only 16 hits, but walked 30.
“I didn’t have any pitching talent,” he said. “I could throw. I guess I learned something.”
Jucker hadn’t heard from Koufax in years when he received a call from him last July during baseball’s All-Star game. The call touched him.
“All he said was, ‘How’s your wife, Joanne?’” Jucker said. “She’s been in the hospital. That he knew that and asked about it really impressed me. It impressed me so much, when I hung up the phone, I cried. That shows you the class he has, the kind of person he is.”
Jucker, who lives in Okatie, S.C., has health issues of his own. He recently spent three months in the hospital with double pneumonia and feared that he might not be able to make the trip to Cincinnati.
It was a trip he badly wanted to make for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the chance to see Koufax again. He wasn’t disappointed. The weekend was everything Jucker had hoped it would be, and more.
To say that Koufax never would have been discovered if it weren’t for Jucker is probably a stretch. A pitcher as gifted as Koufax likely would have been found sooner or later.
That’s not the point anyway. Koufax doesn’t view Jucker as the man who made his career possible, but as a coach who took the time to care about him when he needed him.
As Koufax prepared to leave the Shoe midway through the second half of Sunday’s game, he and Jucker embraced for what could be the last time.
‘Thanks for coming,” Jucker said softly.
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Koufax said.
Then they hugged again. The left-hander and the coach, separated by 46 years before this weekend, but linked forever by one year at UC that neither has forgotten.
Occasionally someone will ask me which event I most enjoyed covering during my 40 years as a sports writer. It’s impossible for me to pick one. I’ve been fortunate enough to cover five Final Fours, including the 1992 version that UC played in; and two World Series, including the 1990 Series the Reds won by sweeping the Oakland A’s. And I always mention the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney, Australia.
But there are memorable stories that had nothing to do with actual sporting events, slices of life that I witnessed, hoping that my words measured up to the moment.
One such moment stands out above all the others. Twenty-one years ago, on Feb. 13, 2000, I wrote about Sandy Koufax’s return to UC to pay tribute to Ed Jucker, UC’s two-time national championship basketball coach who was also the Bearcats' baseball coach. It was Jucker who gave Koufax an opportunity that ultimately landed him in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.
As I arrived that day for the basketball game between UC and DePaul, I knew Koufax was supposed to be there and I was determined to try to talk to him for a column. But I also knew that Koufax had a reputation for wanting to be left alone. When I heard he was in the president’s box, I walked up the arena steps and knocked on the door. I asked if Koufax was in there and was told that he was. Then I asked if Koufax would talk to me. “Wait a second,” I was told. “I’ll go ask him.”
A few seconds later, I was told, "He said to come on in.”
So in I went, feeling nervous as I clutched my notebook, pen and tape recorder. After Koufax and I were introduced, we sat on a couch where I would conduct my brief interview. But when I switched on my tape recorder, nothing happened. I started pushing buttons hoping to make it come on. Still nothing. My hands started to sweat as I fumbled around, silently cursing my fate.
Then Koufax came to my rescue. He smiled and said, “I guess you’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” meaning I would have to take notes while we talked, with no electronic backup. “I guess so,” I said with a weak laugh.
This is the column I wrote about that meeting:
The left-hander and the coach hadn’t seen each other since the lefty departed for the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1954. Their paths wouldn’t cross again for 46 years.
Sandy Koufax would go on to secure a spot in baseball’s Hall of Fame as one of the dominant pitchers in the game’s history. Ed Jucker would coach UC to two NCAA championships and narrowly miss a third.
Koufax is 64 now, Jucker 83. They renewed their relationship this weekend, part of a fundraiser to establish an endowment for the UC baseball program. On Sunday, they attended UC’s 87-64 win against DePaul at Shoemaker Center.
The reunion was arranged by Ike Masali, who played on the UC baseball team with Koufax. Masali called his former teammate and asked him if he would make the trip to Cincinnati for his old coach.
“It was absolutely no problem,” Masali said. “He said, ‘If you want me to come for Ed Jucker, I’ll be there, but I don’t want any recognition.' Those were his exact words: I want to be one of the boys.”
That’s how Koufax was treated. During the halftime ceremony honoring Jucker, Koufax walked onto the court with the rest of his former baseball teammates. His name was never mentioned. If you didn’t recognize him, you wouldn’t have known the great Sandy Koufax was in the house. It was part of the deal.
But Koufax was never just one of the boys in Jucker’s mind.
”For him to come here as a member of that team was very meaningful to me,” Jucker said.
Jucker was UC’s freshman basketball coach and varsity baseball coach when Koufax arrived from Brooklyn on a basketball scholarship in the fall of 1953. He was a decent basketball player, averaging 9.7 points per game on a freshman team that went 12-2.
Near the end of that season, Koufax heard that the UC baseball team had a game scheduled in New Orleans, which prompted him to ask Jucker if he could try out for the team.
“He wanted me to take a look at him,” Jucker said. “What I saw was so amazing I’ll never forget it as long as I live, that somehow could throw a ball as fast as he could.”
Koufax conducted his first workout for Jucker in a gym.
“It was so dark it made it virtually impossible to catch the ball,” Jucker recalled. “But I saw enough to know that he was something special.”
Koufax saw enough of Jucker to sense something special too.
“He was just a good guy to play for,” Koufax said. “He cared about his players. I was 17 years old when I came here. I needed a little help. He was there for me.”
This is the same Koufax who was described in a Sports Illustrated article last year as an aloof mystery man who refuses to grant interviews to reporters.
He certainly didn’t mind talking Sunday. When I approached him, he talked about baseball today and about how much he misses the game he was forced to leave in 1966 after 12 years because of elbow problems. The aloof mystery man was a soft-spoken, silver-haired gentleman. He said he never read the SI article, but he knew all about it.
“They tried to make me look like a weirdo,” he said.
Koufax said he declined to be interviewed for the SI story because he didn’t want it to be written. “I’m not into privacy,” he said, “but I like anonymity. I like the idea of being able to go and do whatever I want.”
To that end, he declined to say where he lives in Florida. He said he doesn’t do much of anything these days, which probably was his polite way of saying it’s nobody’s business what he does.
But that doesn’t make him a recluse. A recluse wouldn’t have spent more than an hour talking to the UC baseball team.
“If they had any questions, I tried to answer them,” he said. “I told them to make sure they got their education. I was lucky. I made it.”
During his one UC baseball season, Koufax was 3-1 with a 2.81 earned run average. He struck out 51 batters, in 32 innings, an average of 14.3 per nine innings. He allowed only 16 hits, but walked 30.
“I didn’t have any pitching talent,” he said. “I could throw. I guess I learned something.”
Jucker hadn’t heard from Koufax in years when he received a call from him last July during baseball’s All-Star game. The call touched him.
“All he said was, ‘How’s your wife, Joanne?’” Jucker said. “She’s been in the hospital. That he knew that and asked about it really impressed me. It impressed me so much, when I hung up the phone, I cried. That shows you the class he has, the kind of person he is.”
Jucker, who lives in Okatie, S.C., has health issues of his own. He recently spent three months in the hospital with double pneumonia and feared that he might not be able to make the trip to Cincinnati.
It was a trip he badly wanted to make for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was the chance to see Koufax again. He wasn’t disappointed. The weekend was everything Jucker had hoped it would be, and more.
To say that Koufax never would have been discovered if it weren’t for Jucker is probably a stretch. A pitcher as gifted as Koufax likely would have been found sooner or later.
That’s not the point anyway. Koufax doesn’t view Jucker as the man who made his career possible, but as a coach who took the time to care about him when he needed him.
As Koufax prepared to leave the Shoe midway through the second half of Sunday’s game, he and Jucker embraced for what could be the last time.
‘Thanks for coming,” Jucker said softly.
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Koufax said.
Then they hugged again. The left-hander and the coach, separated by 46 years before this weekend, but linked forever by one year at UC that neither has forgotten.
Comments
Post a Comment