The View From Here . . .
By Bob Morgan, Jr.

Over this very warm post-holiday weekend, I have been reading Mike Vaccarro's new book, 1941 The Greatest Year in Sports (Doubleday 2007). The book has been very hard to put down.

As Vaccarro compellingly demonstrates throughout his narrative, 1941 was a momentous year, and not just in sports. Hitler had extended his domination throughout Europe and was regularly bombing London. In June, Germany invaded the Soviet Union, ending its nonaggression pact with Stalin. America was sharply divided on whether to enter the war. And then, of course, the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7 ended the division and the country united behind President Roosevelt.

World events quickly trickled into the realm of sports. Ballplayers were required to register for the selective service draft and receive a number in the draft lottery. One of the leading players of the era, Detroit Tigers slugger Hank Greenburg, had to serve rather than play in 1941 and many other players knew that military service was in their near future. The news of the Pearl Harbor attack spread through the crowd at a Giants football game.

But even absent the memorable context the sporting events of 1941 were truly significant. In horse racing, Whirlaway, a thoroughbred with a tendency to veer in strange directions on the race-track, finally got straightened out by a new jockey, Eddie Arcaro, and went on to win the Triple Crown. Whirlaway's connections got a scare when the horse walked out of the starting gate in the Preakness, spotting the field at least ten lengths, but the colt was good enough to come from behind.

An epic boxing match also occurred in 1941 at the Polo Grounds in New York, pitting world heavyweight champion Joe Louis against a determined challenger, Billy Conn, a light heavyweight. Conn actually was ahead on points into the thirteenth round when he unwisely attempted to punch with the champ.

But the baseball stories are the most riveting part of the book. The 1941 season was notable for two great feats Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak record and Ted Williams' .406 batting average, the last .400-plus mark ever.

The nation was captivated by DiMaggio's daily pursuit of the streak. Some days the suspense would end early when DiMaggio would hit in the first inning, but other times the suspense would mount until the later part of the games. Every newspaper had a DiMaggio Watch box tracking the streak. A pop hit was written about it: Who started baseball's famous streak/ And got us all aglow/ He's just a man and not a freak/ Joltin' Joe DiMaggio. Eventually, of course the streak was stopped, but only after two great plays by Cleveland's Ken Keltner. And then DiMaggio went on another 16 game streak.

Ted Williams .406 feat was no less difficult. Of course, to keep an average above .400, many multihit games are needed (Even 1 for 3 lowers such a high average.) Williams stayed above .400 for most of September, but he went into a slight downtick. Before the last day of season, a doubleheader against the Philadelphia A's, Williams had an average of .39955, which would have been rounded up to .400. Williams spurned his manager's offer to sit out the last two games, went on a tear and got his final average up to .406.

The author quotes Phil Rizzuto as saying "you read the sports section a lot because you were afraid of what was in the rest of the paper." This was very understandable in 1941, a memorable but portentious year.