Baseball: the second time
After foolishly quitting the game in 1960, I definitely have a lot of regrets. Most of my time in the next two years was spent at the racetrack. You see, my love for racehorses has always been with me, ever since I was a kid. My dad started leading me to the track and I had an uncanny ability to pick winners. Don’t laugh, most of my success as an adult revolved around my knowledge of horses.
But let’s get back to baseball. It took me two years to get my release from the Dodgers. In 1962, one day a sheet of blue paper arrived in the mail with the news that he was no longer on the blacklist. Now he was 25 years old. Was it too late to try again? I asked my best friend Isaac Berger the question. Isaac was a famous Olympic weightlifting champion from Israel. Could I get back in shape to compete? Isaac said, “Let me train you for 6 months and I’ll have you in the best shape of your life.” Every day I followed a grueling program of weight training, running, and batting practice. After a few months I moved to California and kept working hard. My fortunes were improving when I connected with the Milwaukee Braves in the Training League. This is a place where young players can stay in shape during the winter.
Our first game was against the Angels in Anaheim. I hit third and played first base. He was a bit concerned, as he hadn’t faced live pitching in almost three years. The result was encouraging. I got three hits in the game and played an error-free ball at first base. The next game was scheduled against the New York Mets in Inglewood. My coaches were happy with me and my prospects for returning were excellent. Little did I know what to expect.
When I took to the field that fateful day, it never occurred to me that this would be the last day I would wear a major league uniform. Before the game we used to practice in the infield and I would take my usual position at first base. Everything went smoothly until the last pitch I had to make to third base. The coach hit me with a grounder. I picked it up and as I completed the throw, I felt a sharp pain in my elbow. At first I ignored it, but when I got to hitting in the first inning, the pain was so severe that I couldn’t swing properly. The coaches took me out of the game and sent me home. The next day I made an appointment with the Los Angeles Rams orthopedic specialist, Dr. Daniel Leventhal.
The rest of the story is very cut and dry. Dr. Leventhal took several X-rays and when he finished, he found bone fragments in my elbow. With no arthroscopic surgery available in the 60’s, it gave me two options. Operate now and miss another year or play through the pain and have surgery after the season. Neither option made sense. I pondered on it for a couple of minutes and then, realizing my situation, I said to the Dr. “If I really hurry, I can make posting time in Santa Anita.” I never looked back and as one race ended abruptly, the next started its racing career …
Sy Bonem