This hitter-happy World Series was distressing for anyone who remembers a time when pitchers didn't stand around for what seems an eternity, staring at the baseball, trying to decide what to do with it.
It's as if they know that nothing good can come of throwing it. So they hold on to it as long as possible, delaying the inevitable, fearing the ultimate outcome.
That wasn't a problem for Sandy Koufax. When the ball was in his hand, it was the hitter who knew nothing good was likely to happen.
Koufax was like a shooting star soaring across the baseball heavens, all but unhittable from 1962-66, equipped with five earned run average titles, four no-hitters and three Cy Young awards.
Now Jane Leavy's biography, "Sandy Koufax: A Lefty's Legacy," written with his tacit approval if not total involvement, sheds some light on one of baseball's more intriguing individuals. It is constructed around Koufax's perfect game, 27 batters up, 27 batters down, against the Chicago Cubs on Sept. 9, 1965.
The pitcher of the second part that night was Bob Hendley, just recalled from the minors and determined not to go back. And on that night, he just about matched Koufax pitch for pitch, perfect for four innings, taking a no-hitter into the seventh.
"He was doing it a little different way," Hendley said. "He was striking people out."
That, of course, was Koufax's way. Once he corralled his arsenal of pitches, he became the best strikeout pitcher of his time. He had a record 382 of them that season, 14 in the perfect game, including the last six batters.
The Cubs were well aware of what they were up against, especially Hendley.
"You're just back from the minors," he said. "It's your first start back. You know you're pitching against Sandy Koufax. It was big.
"When you're competing against Sandy Koufax, you know he's not going to give you much. The games I pitched best were the ones when I focused best. You don't see the hitter. You don't hear the crowd. You're concentrated. You block out everything else."
As he pitched that night, Hendley was struck by the similarities between himself and Koufax: both left-handed, both with a history of arm trouble, both about the same age, both private persons who shunned the spotlight.
There were two big differences, though. One was Koufax's rising fastball. The other was a breaking ball that looked like it was falling off the edge of a table. They were weapons few other pitchers possessed — maybe Bob Gibson, perhaps Steve Carlton, but not Bob Hendley.
Koufax had a unique way of treating pain, using both ends of the thermometer. He smeared on Capsolin, a pitcher's salve made of red chili peppers, a concoction so hot that it caused skin to blister. And he bathed his elbow in buckets of ice after starts.
All of this was done to extend a career that staggered at the start because of bonus baby rules and struggled through the middle and end because of injuries.
When he went out to face the Cubs that night, Koufax had decided he would pitch just one more year and then walk away at age 31, content with himself and his career.
Hendley would be gone a year after Koufax. One more similarity
Lou Johnson opened the Dodgers' fifth inning with a walk, the first baserunner of the game. It led to an unearned run, scored without benefit of a hit. Hendley's no-hitter remained intact until there were two outs in the seventh, when Johnson hit a flare to right field that fell for a double.
Meanwhile, Koufax was zipping along.
"As the game wore on, he was getting better and better," Hendley said. "I recall the last inning most of all. Harvey Kuenn batted for me. He was the last batter. Everybody was on the top step of the dugout. We were all thinking the same thing. Could he break it up?"
The answer was no. Kuenn went down on strikes. The perfect pitcher had pitched the perfect game.
Hendley won two earlier decisions against Koufax and then beat him again in a rematch of the perfect game pitchers at Chicago a couple of weeks later.
"I'm 3-1 against him," he said brightly.
Years later, Koufax learned that Hendley had no memento from that night. A few weeks after that, he autographed a ball and sent it to Hendley. Not just any old ball, but a ball from that era, with Warren Giles' name on the spot reserved for the league president.
Perfect, Hendley thought, just like Koufax.