Don and the Perfect Game: PYP 377

Don Larsen died this month, at the age of 90.

He played baseball professionally from 1953 to 1967, and had a less than stellar career. As a pitcher, his lifetime record was 81 wins and 91 losses. He played five of those years with the powerhouse New York Yankees during their dynastic heyday in the 1950s; his record for lesser teams was a dismal 36 wins and 67 losses.

And yet he's one of my favorite players of all time.

Because on October 8, 1956, Don Larsen pitched the only perfect game in World Series history.

Somehow, everything broke his way for 27 batters in a row. Jackie Robinson got a legitimate hit in the second inning, but the ball somehow caromed off the 3rd baseman's glove right into the hand of the shortstop, who threw Robinson out by a step. Billy Martin and Mickey Mantle also made astounding catches for outs.

And when the last pitch, a called strike 3, whiffed pinch hitter Dale Mitchell, catcher Yogi Berra ran to the mound and leaped into Larsen's arms in one of the most iconic photos in sports history.

But my affection for Larsen is based on a personal connection to that game: my father was there.

Since it's one of the most famous games in baseball history, lots of fans claimed to have seen it – certainly many more than Yankee Stadium could have held.

And although I knew that my dad would never have lied about it, it was still cool when he opened an old cigar box and bequeathed me one of his most prized possessions: the ticket stub for that 5th game of the Series.

Lessons from Larsen

I love the unlikeliness of it; how this frankly mediocre pitcher pulled off a feat that has only been matched 22 other times in all of Major League Baseball history, and never again in a World Series. I mean, Larsen wasn't even playing well at the time. He had totally tanked in Game 2 against the Dodgers, squandering a 6-run lead and getting chased off the mound in the second inning after giving up four walks.

And yet here he was, turning in one of the most virtuosic performances ever.

I keep that ticket stub in my office, to remind me that past failure doesn't have to predict future failure.

That no matter how much we may be struggling, there may be grace and redemption in this next moment.

And that this most perfect game of all time was not planned, premeditated, ordained, or sought after. No one could have predicted it and no one should have expected it, Larsen least of all. Reflecting back in 1998, he marveled at the control he displayed in that game; a control he said he never had in his life, before or after October 8, 1956.

He threw 97 pitches in that game, a remarkable low number. And I like to believe that he threw every one of those pitches, not in pursuit of a perfect game, but for their own sake. To pitch for the sake of throwing a ball that came in fast, accurate, and tricky.

Larsen had complete control over where and how he threw each pitch, and zero control over what the batter would do with it.

Control

Likewise, we have the possibility of complete control over our own actions and choices, and zero control over what the world throws at us.

Start a jogging habit, and all of a sudden the freeze of the century descends on your town and it's unsafe to go outside.

Decide to eat a plant-based diet and the next day there's a two-for-one sale at the delicious pizza joint across the street from your office.

Create a monthly budget to save for retirement, and your HVAC unit dies and puts you right back into credit card debt.

In other words, we can do everything right, and there are no guaranteed outcomes.

As long as we focus on the outcomes we want, we're kind of taking our eye off the ball of the present moment.

Doing For Its Own Sake

When we turn our goals into idols, we lose our connection to the present moment.

The future we want – physique,