THE HEBREW HAMMER, FLIP AND SANDY

Henry Benjamin Greenberg (born Hyman), Albert Leon Rosen and Sanford Koufax (born Sanford Braun) played a little ball.

Baseball.

Once this land’s national pastime.

Not so today perhaps, but a great, great game.

And they all did baseball proud.

Only Koufax, who will be 85 later this month, is still with us.

But all three left sterling legacies which will never be forgotten.

Hank Greenberg was thought to be the first Jewish superstar in American team sports.

Not so.

In fact, it all started around 64 years before Greenberg made his MLB debut, with Lipman Pike, who became baseball’s first professional player by virtue of accepting $20 a week to play third base for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1866.

On July 6, 1866, Pike hit 6 home runs, including 5 in a row, in a 67–25 victory over the Alert Club of Philadelphia.

[Editor’s Query: How ‘alert’ could they have been to give up 65 runs?]

Also known for his speed, Pike once raced and beat a famous trotting horse named “Clarence” in a 100-yard sprint (in 10 seconds flat), winning a $250 prize, worth a shade under eight grand in today’s dollars.

And Lipman Pike was Jewish.

Other top players soon followed suit, and within three years, the first all-professional team was born in Cincinnati.

In 1871 the National Association was formed as the first professional baseball league, and Pike joined the Troy Haymakers for its inaugural season.

He was the team’s star, batting .377 — sixth-best in the league — and led the circuit in home runs with 4, during an era when 4–6 homers in a season was considered quite formidable.

There is a group pushing for Pike to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

“Based on career statistics alone, Pike deserves to be in the Baseball Hall of Fame. His statistics are even more impressive if you factor in the prejudices of his day that he had to overcome. But beyond mere numbers — as the first professional baseball player, and the first Jewish player, manager and umpire — Pike was a pioneer, and baseball’s Hall of Fame is the place for pioneers.”

— Richard Michelson on Lipman Pike

Jews such as Lipman Pike, Barney Dreyfus and Albert Von Tilzer made a profound impact on the early days of baseball.

Dreyfus, the owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates from 1899–1932, was instrumental in helping to create the World Series, which began in 1903.

In 1909 he built Forbes Field, a classic ballpark, and in the wake of the 1919 Black Sox scandal, he advocated for a commissioner to govern the game.

He was a key man in the appointment of Kenesaw Mountain Landis in 1920 and was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2008.

And Albert Von Tilzer, you ask?

He composed the music for “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” which, after the National Anthem, became the song most often played in the U.S.

Back to “The Hebrew Hammer,” “Hankus Pankus,” or “Hammerin’ Hank,” aka Greenberg.

Hank Greenberg was an extraordinary baseball player — transcendent in every sense — who rose above religious prejudice to become an American icon.

Observed John Rosengren, author of Hank Greenberg: Hero of Heroes, “His is a story that transcends sports. He was a remarkable figure during a time of intense ethnic identification in America…”

Rosengran said baseball at that time was America.

“At 6-feet, 4-inches, Greenberg shattered all the stereotypes about weak Jewish athletes. For that, he was a hero to Jewish Americans. And for his 47 months in the military, he became a hero to all Americans.”

The Detroit Tiger icon’s achievements were on a par with those of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig during the Golden Age of Baseball.

He was a beacon of hope to American Jews who faced bigotry during the Great Depression and World War II, his luminous career spanning the ’30s and ’40s.

Greenberg played first base and outfield for the Tigers beginning in 1930 and from 1933–1941 and 1945-’46.

For those aforementioned 47 months — the longest of any major league player — as a captain in the US Army Air Forces, he served his country during what would have been the prime years of his career.

(Had he not served in the military, Greenberg likely would have hit more than 500 HRs and amassed more than 2,000 RBI).

He finished with the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1947 and was widely recognized as one of the game’s preeminent power hitters.

In 1938, his fame skyrocketed when he hit 58 HRs, falling two short of the Babe’s record of 60 in a single season.

His attempt to knock off the Babe was followed closely in the press and by baseball fans all over America.

“Hammerin’ Hank” was chosen the AL MVP twice — in 1935 as a first baseman and in 1940 as a left fielder — the first of four players to win the award at two different positions.

(Stan Musial, Robin Yount and Alex Rodriguez are the others; ARod is the only one to do it with two different teams).

Greenberg was the first major league player to hit 25 or more home runs in a season in each league, and he remains the AL record-holder for most RBIs in a single season by a right-handed batter (183 in 1937, playing a 154-game schedule).

In a 1,394-game career he collected 1,276 RBI.

In 1947, Greenberg set another benchmark when he became the first major league baseball player to earn more than $100,000 per year — about $1.2 million in 2020 dollars.

He was a five-time All-Star, and a two-time MVP in just 9 full seasons, a self-made star, notorious for his work ethic and regimen.

He was a member of four Tigers World Series teams which yielded two championships in 1935 and 1945 and was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1956.

Hank Greenberg’s prodigious lifetime accomplishments with the bat — .313 BA; 331HRs; 7 seasons with 100+ RBI; 4X AL HR Leader; 4X AL RBI Leader — aside for the moment, the highlights of his inspirational career constantly made the national headlines, not the least of which came in May 1941 when he became the first star ballplayer to enlist in the Armed Services.

(Ted Williams, Joe DiMaggio and Bob Feller also enlisted but Greenberg was older than the other three — 35 in 1946 when he returned — and clearly had lost many of his potentially most productive years).

In June of 1945, he was the first ballplayer to attempt a comeback after such a prolonged absence from baseball and he homered in game #1 upon his return.

As the most famous Jewish ballplayer of his era, Greenberg faced a host of unique dilemmas.

He attracted national attention in 1934 when he refused to play on Yom Kippur, Judaism’s holiest, most sacred day — the Day of Atonement — even though he was not particularly observant religiously and the Tigers were in the heat of a pennant race.

They hadn’t won an AL pennant since 1909.

By doing so, he won the respect of the local community and the nation.

A syndicated poet, Edgar Guest, was inspired to write an ode to Greenberg which concluded this way:

“We shall miss him in the infield and shall miss him at the bat, But he’s true to his religion — and I honor him for that!”

It should be duly noted that after receiving the blessing of a local rabbi, Greenberg had decided to play on the High Holy Day preceding Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

He hit a pair of HRs that day leading the Tigers to a 2–1 victory.

And surely he got an earful regularly from ignorant fans and opposing dugout bigots alike (see 1935 World Series against the Chicago Cubs when the catcalling aimed at Greenberg from the Cubs dugout demanded umpire intervention) but the man who publicly welcomed Jackie Robinson to the MLB fraternity and encouraged him — and about whom Robinson once said, “Class tells. It sticks out all over Mr. Greenberg.” — turned a deaf ear and a blind eye.

Not easy to do.

Especially when this kind of ignorance and bigotry also surfaced in your own dugout or clubhouse.

Consider the saga of Jo-Jo White — Joyner Clifford White, a caucasian teammate from Georgia and road roomie of Greenberg’s for five years.

Greenberg said that although two people couldn’t be less alike, they had a great relationship but conceded, “we used to fight the Civil War every night.”

During one of their first encounters, White walked slowly around Greenberg, staring at him.

The 6’4” Jewish slugger asked White what he was looking at.

White said he was just looking, as he had never seen a Jew before.

“The way he said it,” noted Greenberg, “he might as well have said, ‘I’ve never seen a giraffe before.’

I let him keep looking for a while, and then I said, ‘See anything interesting?’”

White was flummoxed because he had heard that Jews had horns.

Looking for horns and finding none, White sagely remarked, [Aw] ‘You’re just like everyone else.’”

Greenberg transformed the way gentiles perceived Jews and the way American Jews saw themselves.

He was the ethnic standard-bearer for Jewish Americans all over the country; their fanatic appreciation for baseball was their ‘badge as Americans.’

The generations that followed idolized Greenberg as an American Jewish folk hero.

Transcendent.

Now Flip.

Who happened to show up as Hank Greenberg was exiting, stage right.

And the similarities between the two were apparent.

In fact, Greenberg along with Lou Gehrig were Flip’s favorite players when he was growing up.

Al Rosen was a Cleveland Indians slugging third baseman for ten seasons (1947–1956) enjoying a glorious playing career which yielded four All-Star selections; the 1953 AL MVP Award; and a special place on the Tribe’s last World Series championship team, in 1948.

[Actually, he played as a reserve behind starting third baseman Ken Keltner despite having only 5 regular season games under his belt. Rosen played most of 1948 in the minors with the Kansas City Blues before a September call-up to the Indians, who then requested his inclusion on the World Series roster].

He should be in Baseball’s Hall of Fame.

And he was a very tough guy.

Make no mistake.

Tough as nails, and only too willing to back it up, if provoked.

He was that…and he did that…

After serving four years in the U.S. Navy during WWII, Rosen played his entire ten-year career with Cleveland.

A stand-out with both the bat and the glove, he drove in 100 or more runs five years in a row and twice led the AL in HRs and RBI.

In his 1953 MVP season, he went wild to the tune of .336 BA; 43 HRs; 145 RBI; 201 H; 115 R; .613 SLG. %; 1.034 OPS; and 367 TB.

He tied for 8th in the AL with 8 stolen bases and had a 20-game hitting streak.

Defensively, he recorded the best range factor of all third basemen (3.32) and led the league in assists (338) and double plays (38).

He missed winning the Triple Crown on the last day of the season, his .336 batting average falling just over one percentage point short of Mickey Vernon’s .337.

Rosen was selected as the AL MVP in ’53 by a unanimous vote, the first to be so honored since the original “Hebrew Hammer,” his boyhood idol, Greenberg.

Al Rosen was a .285 career hitter, with 192 home runs and 717 RBI in 1,044 games and when he returned to baseball following his retirement and two decades as a successful stockbroker, he became a top front office executive in the late 1970s.

Serving the Yankees, Astros and Giants in various capacities — President; CEO and GM — he was the only former MVP to also earn baseball’s Executive of the Year Award.

Nicknamed “Flip,” a moniker he wore both due to his loose-wristed softball pitching technique and his ability to pass a basketball, Rosen was also an expert boxer.

As a youngster he attended Florida Military Academy in St. Petersburg on a boxing scholarship.

So it was of little surprise that defending his Jewish ancestry represented no problem for him.

He rather considered it as an opportunity.

When a White Sox opponent once called him a “Jew bastard” from the dugout, Sox pitcher Saul Rogovin — also Jewish — recalled an angry Rosen striding over with his blood boiling and challenging the “son of a bitch” to a fight.

No go.

The gutless tongue-flapper thought better of it and saved his own hide by summarily backing down.

Embarrassing.

Rosen challenged another opposing player who had “slurred [his] religion” to fight him under the stands.

And during a game, when Red Sox bench player Matt Batts taunted Rosen with anti-Semitic names and diatribes, Rosen called time and left his third base position to confront Batts.

Again, nothing.

Greenberg himself had taken note, observing that Rosen “want[ed] to go into the stands and murder” fans who hurled anti-Semitic insults at him.

A 2010 documentary, Jews and Baseball: An American Love Story, highlighted Rosen, who cut right to the chase when discussing how he dealt with anti-Semitism:

“There’s a time that you let it be known that enough is enough…You flatten [them].”

Perhaps Bob Hope and Early Wynn — an unlikely pairing if there ever was one — put it best.

“Oh no, Al Rosen hits a home run and I gotta miss it!”

— Hope on “I Love Lucy,” which aired October 1, 1956

“People think Mickey Mantle is the toughest hitter in the league, but I can usually get him out if I don’t make a mistake. The real toughest clutch hitter is Berra. As you change speeds and move around, Berra moves right with you. Rosen does the same thing, but fortunately he’s playing third behind me so I don’t have to pitch to him. Believe me, the two best clutch hitters in the game are Berra and Rosen. Most of us pitchers wish to hell they’d switch to golf.”

— Early Wynn, speaking with Roger Kahn

For Rosen’s part, it was quite simple.

“The greatest thrill in the world is to end the game with a home run and watch everybody else walk off the field while you’re running the bases on air.”

And for the record, Al Rosen made it quite clear that he would never play the game he loved on Yom Kippur.

Sandy Koufax, born Sanford Braun and known as “The Man With the Golden Arm,” may well have been the best Jewish ballplayer of them all.

He was the greatest left-hander in history.

He had “The Left Arm of God.”

He pitched 12 seasons for the Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers from 1955 to 1966 and at age 36 in 1972, Sandy Koufax became — still is and will be — the youngest player ever elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Maybe a precursor to what was looming over the horizon was the fact that Koufax matriculated at the University of Cincinnati, where he was a walk-on, playing freshman basketball — a complete unknown to varsity assistant coach, Ed Jucker.

Boom.

Partial scholarship.

Bingo.

In the spring of 1954, he made the college varsity team — the baseball team — coached by Jucker.

In his only season, Koufax went 3–1 with a 2.81 ERA, 51 strikeouts and 30 walks in 32 innings pitched.

After trying out with the New York Giants at the Polo Grounds, he did the same for the Pittsburgh Pirates at Forbes Field.

During his Pirates tryout, Koufax’s fastball broke the thumb of Sam Narron, the club’s bullpen coach.

Branch Rickey, then the Pirates GM, told his scout Clyde Sukeforth that Koufax had the “greatest arm [he had] ever seen.”

For whatever reason, the Pirates failed to offer Koufax a contract until he was already committed to the Dodgers.

Dodgers scout Al Campanis heard about Koufax from Jimmy Murphy, a part-time scout and after watching him pitch for his Lafayette HS team, he invited him to an Ebbets Field tryout.

With Dodgers manager Walter Alston and scouting director Fresco Thompson in attendance, Campanis assumed the hitter’s stance and Koufax started pitching.

Campanis, never at a loss for words recalled, “There are two times in my life the hair on my arms has stood up: The first time I saw the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel and the second time, I saw Sandy Koufax throw a fastball.”

Case closed.

The Dodgers signed Koufax: a $6,000 salary ($57,000 today) and a $14,000 signing bonus ($133,000 today).

The lefty planned to use the money for tuition to finish his education, in the event he failed in his professional baseball pursuit.

His otherworldly mound successes are widely documented — the Koufax years of 1963–1966 were the finest four-year stretch of pitching that major league baseball has ever seen, or likely will see.

His seasonal W-L record during that period: 25–5; 19–5; 26–8; and 27–9.

His ERAs: 1.88; 1.74; 2.04; and 1.73.

His Strikeouts: 306; 223; 382; and 313.

He pitched 4 no-hitters and one perfect game in that time frame.

What is shunted aside is that although Koufax pitched for one team — the Dodgers — he had two distinctly different careers.

During his first three years (1955-’57) he was used spottily, pitching only 204 innings and compiling a 9–10 record.

The next three years (1958-’60) saw more innings and continued mediocrity (24–21 record).

He had a dominant fastball but his control was lacking. Hitters could wait him out.

Then in 1961 and through 1962 a different Koufax emerged. The new version led the NL in strikeouts in ’61 with 269 and his walks and earned run average began to shrink.

Those transitionary years signaled the arrival of baseball’s Leonardo da Vinci.

Retiring from the game following the 1966 season at age 30, due to an arthritic condition in his left elbow which was becoming more severe by the minute, did nothing to tarnish the shine on Koufax’s star.

To the contrary, he has been saluted — rightfully — by going out on top.

Declining to pitch the first game of the 1965 World Series because it fell on Yom Kippur, Sandy Koufax’s decision not only tied him to his fellow Jewish ballplayers, but had a powerful impact on American Jews then and 55 years later.

Says Hasidic Rabbi Moshe Feller, “It’s something that’s engraved on every Jew’s mind. More Jews know Sandy Koufax than Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.”

[Editor’s Note: This piece was written by Mr. Kaplan in December 2020.]