Black and Blue: The Golden Arm, the Robinson Boys, and the 1966 World Series That Stunned America (review)

For the most part, people love anniversaries—especially in sports. When one comes around, depending on the significance, one can count on a book or two to recognize the occasion. Lost in the fiftieth marking of Don Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series is the fortieth anniversary of what author Tom Adelman considers the "World Series that stunned America."

Adelman follows the exploits of the Baltimore Orioles and Los Angeles Dodgers as they inched toward their eventual showdown in the 1966 Fall Classic. He begins with the arrival of Frank Robinson, discarded by his former team, the Cincinnati Reds, in what is considered one of the most one-sided trades in history. The Reds followed the philosophy of former Dodgers general manager Branch Rickey, who believed it was better to get rid of a player a year too early than a year too late.

Robinson was a member of a generation of African American players laboring under pernicious racism among segments of society. He was deemed an angry black man by some, and his exile from a town where he enjoyed a good degree of success made him determined to prove the Reds' hierarchy wrong.

He joined another future Hall of Famer in Brooks Robinson, the stellar third baseman, but the rest of the Orioles players were competent if untested. The starting rotation—Wally Bunker (age 21), Dave McNally (23), Jim Palmer (20), and Steve Barber (the "old man" of the quartet at 28)—continued to astound their fans and confound opposing batters as they won 48 of 75 decisions, ably supported by a strong relief corps that combined for the remaining 45 wins. Robinson was big man on campus—indeed, he won the Triple Crown that season—along with his "brother" Brooks and first baseman Boog Powell.

On the other side of the country, the flashy Dodgers, led by Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Maury Wills, Tommy Davis, and a cast of supporting stars like Phil Regan, Jim Lefebvre, Ron Fairly, Lou Johnson, Jim Gilliam, and Ron Perranowski, edged out their perennial rivals, the San Francisco Giants, by a mere 1.5 games (the Orioles finished 9 games over the defending American League champion Minnesota Twins).

Adelman follows the fates of both teams as they plodded through the season with the requisite aches and pains. For the most part, he does an admirable job of keeping the excitement going. One bone of contention is when he singles out Koufax, long considered a courageous competitor, for what some might consider unfair treatment:

It will always be debated [emphasis added] just how much Koufax benefited from the twin expansions of the early 1960s: the addition of new Major League franchises in 1961 and the commissioner's enlargement of the strike zone in 1963. The former, it is believed, supplied Koufax with more naïve strikeout victims, while the latter is said to have helped him get high strikes on his rising fastball.

(74)

Other pitchers had the same chance to "benefit" from those changes; with the exception of a few aces like Don Drysdale, Bob Gibson, and Juan Marichal, they were not up to the task.

Adelman mixes in nonsport events as he explains the necessity for the distraction of the national pastime for a country dealing with racial unrest and the war in Vietnam. Some players, including Drysdale and Brooks Robinson, visited U.S. troops after the season, boosting morale as did their predecessors during World War II.

In a typical example of sports hyperbole, Adelman calls the 4-game sweep by Baltimore "one of baseball history's biggest upsets" (219). Granted, the odds-makers gave the nod to the more experienced Dodgers, but one could argue that the Pirates' win over the Yankees in 1960 or the Mets' victory over the same Orioles in 1969 might come higher on the list. The Dodgers...