I lost my father-in-law last week, and this is a tribute to him. I’ll explain the connection in a bit.
Hall of Fame pitcher Don Drysdale was one of the best—and most intimidating—pitchers in baseball history. Towering on the mound, he appeared larger than his 6-5 frame, and he was the master of the “brush-back” pitch. He was not afraid to pitch inside to batters in order to keep them off balance and off the plate.
Fellow Hall of Famer Frank Robinson was once quoted as saying, “He was mean enough to do it, and he did it continuously. You could count on him doing it. And when he did it, he just stood there on the mound and glared at you to let you know he meant it.”
Drysdale was sometimes overshadowed by teammate Sandy Koufax, but he was a dominant pitcher in his own right. He had a career record of 209-166 in a 14-year career, all with the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers. He had a career ERA of 2.95 with 2,486 strikeouts.
He threw 49 complete-game shutouts in his career, and he struck out 200 or more batters in a season six times. He also stepped up in the clutch. He had a 2.95 ERA in the World Series.
Maybe his most impressive record was six consecutive shutouts in 1968.
Drysdale was a nine-time All Star and was a three-time World Series champion. He was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1984.
It was pretty obvious early on that he was going to be special. In his first career start, he threw a complete game, allowing just one run and striking out nine.
In 1962, Drysdale won 25 games and led the Major Leagues in strikeouts with 232 to earn the Cy Young Award. In 1963, he struck out 251 batters and won Game 3 of the World Series over the Yankees, 1–0.
But he wasn’t just a dominant pitcher, he was a great all-around athlete. In 1965, he was the Dodgers’ only .300 hitter and he tied his own National League record for pitchers with seven home runs. That year, he also won 23 games and helped the Dodgers to their third pennant in Los Angeles.
Shoulder injuries shortened his career, and he retired during the 1969 season.
The next season, Drysdale began a broadcasting career that lasted the rest of his life. He was a broadcaster for five different Major League franchises, including his final six years with his beloved Dodgers. He also worked for NBC and ABC, and he didn’t limit his talents to just baseball games.
He also teamed up with Hall of Fame broadcaster Dick Enberg on Los Angeles Rams games, and worked with another Hall of Fame broadcaster, Keith Jackson, on college football.
He also was one of the hosts of ABC’s Superstars, which brought athletes from various sports to compete against each other in sports other than the one in which they earned their fame.
It was on one of those broadcasts that he met Ann Myers, the former UCLA basketball superstar. He took to her right away, but it took a little longer for her to agree to date him. They got married in 1986 and became the first couple in history where both husband and wife were enshrined in their respective sports’ halls of fame. They had three children, sons Don Jr. and Darren, and daughter, Drew.
So how is this a tribute to my father-in-law?
Lynn Young and I had a very unique relationship, especially as far as fathers-in-law and sons-in-law typically relate. I met Lynn the summer of 1966, between my first and second grade year when his family moved and started attending our church. He had a beautiful daughter who also had just finished first grade.
Seven-year-old boys aren’t supposed to like girls, so I had to keep my interest a secret, especially from my friends. But I think Lynn knew. He took me under his wing, a lot, so I could spend time with his family. I want to think he was in favor of Tammy’s and my relationship.
Lynn and I shared many of the same interests. He was a big sports fan, especially the Chiefs. He loved music; he loved to play the piano and sing. He also was a big fan of Peanuts, the Charles Schultz cartoon. Lynn could draw Snoopy better than anyone I knew, other than Schultz himself.
One thing we disagreed on was his affection for the Dodgers. He grew up in the 1940s and early 1950s in Topeka, Kansas, where the closest MLB team was the St. Louis Cardinals. There was no way he could go to St. Louis to see a game, so there was no connection. But he could pick up Brooklyn Dodgers games on the radio, as a local station carried the Dodgers broadcasts.
He remained a fan, even after Kansas City got a team and the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles. He would root mostly for the A’s, when they were in Kansas City, and later the Royals. But he always held onto that fondness of the Dodgers.
His favorite player was Don Drysdale.
Maybe it was because of Drysdale’s reputation for being tough. An Army veteran, Lynn admired guys who were tough. When he’d be watching a football game and a guy would get injured, he would say, “Tape it to one of its buddies and get back in the game.”
I sometimes wondered if Lynn wished I was tougher. A lifelong desk jockey, I wasn’t the outdoorsman or blue-collar worker that he was. But I think he was proud of who I was, partly because of the role he played in my life. We had mutual respect for each other.
We also had a special spiritual bond. When I was 8-years old, I decided I was ready to get baptized. Our church had a policy that if a man got baptized, an elder would help him before and after (a very private moment). If a woman got baptized, an elder’s wife would help. But if a child got baptized, regardless of gender, an elder’s wife would help.
I didn’t want any part of that. I said, “I don’t need a woman helping me. I want Lynn Young.” I didn’t just ask for an elder; I asked for my favorite elder.
Lynn was a spiritual mentor to me, and as I matured—sort of—and got older, I think I was able to fill that role for him at times too. We had a lot of great talks about our faith.
In 1989, I had the opportunity to write a book about UCLA basketball. My dad and I went to Los Angeles to do research and to do some in-person interviews. That’s when I met John Wooden and Bill Walton, among others. The book was mostly about the men’s basketball program, but it celebrated the 25th anniversary of Pauley Pavilion, so I included a chapter on some of the other events in the hallowed arena’s history, including women’s basketball.
I set up an interview with Ann Myers, now Ann Myers Drysdale, to interview her in her home. I was stoked that I would be able to brag to Lynn that I got to meet his favorite ballplayer. But when my dad and I got there, it was just Ann and her then-2-year-old son, Don Jr. Don Sr. was on a road trip with the Dodgers.
My dad kept Don Jr. busy so Ann and I could visit. We had a great time, and she and I remain good friends to this day.
When we got back to Kansas City, my family went to my in-laws’ house for dinner so I could talk about the trip. Part way through the conversation, I said, “Hey Lynn, guess who I got to meet while I was in Los Angeles.” He said, “Who?” and then gasped when I said “Don Drysdale.”
I had him. I continued, “He’s not as big as I thought he’d be. In fact, he’s a little guy.”
Lynn was always very respectful to everyone, and he didn’t want to argue with me. But he had a puzzled look on his face as he tried to figure out how the “mighty Don Drysdale” could be a “little guy.”
I strung him along far enough and then I said, “Oh, I meant Don Jr., his 2-year-old son. Don Sr. was on the road, but I figured his son would be bigger.”
Lynn laughed a familiar “you got me” laugh.
That fall, when I went back to Los Angeles to deliver the books, I ran into Annie. I said, “I’ve got your book and I’d like to bring it to the house.” She said, “Just give it to me now.” I said, “No, I want to bring it to the house.” We exchanged the same conversation again, until she said, “Oh, yeah, Don is home.”
We drove up the hill to their house, which stood at the top of a cul-de-sac in Pasadena. We walked up the long sidewalk and then climbed up a few steps to the door and rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, this towering figure opened the door and said, “You must be David.”
We had a great conversation, until I told him what I had done to Lynn. The look on his face told me I was about to get one “high and tight.” I explained the unique relationship I had with Lynn, and he understood. But he still wasn’t happy
.
He then excused himself and came back with a postcard of his Hall of Fame plaque. On it, he wrote, “To my best fan Lynn, best wishes, Don Drysdale.”
The most intimidating ballplayer I ever met had a soft side.
When I got back home, we again went to my in-laws’ for dinner. Part way through the conversation, I said, again, “Lynn, guess who I met in Los Angeles?” He wasn’t going to fall for that again, so he said, “Don Drysdale? Is he still a little guy?
I said, “Donnie Jr. is growing, but his dad is a big fan of yours. He asked me to give this to you.” I pulled out the postcard and handed it to him.
Lynn wasn’t a man who easily shed tears, but I think there were some in his eyes that night.
Much like the ones in my eyes today. Lynn, I miss you.