WPCNR'S VIEW FROM THE UPPER DECK. By Baseball Bailey. February 7, 2007: The Milwaukee Braves workhorse righthander, Lew Burdette died at age 80 yesterday. The alleged master of the spitball, the slider, and incomparable pitch selection and impeccable control won three games in the 1957 series to lead the Milwaukee Braves to their only World Series win over the New York Yankees.
No. 33 00 Selva Lewis Burdette of the Milwaukee Braves early 1950s
He and Warren Spahn were the most feared National League 1-2 pitching duo who kept the Braves contending for eight years from 1955 through 1963. I saw Lew Burdette pitch in the 1957 Series and his offspeed pitches and control kept the Yankee free-swingers off-balance. Lew pitched a perfect game against the Phillies. He won 203 games in the bigs with 144 losses, a winning percentage of .585. He won twenty games twice and completed 158 of his 373 starts (more than half). I loved his snakey, smooth leisurely pitching motion. Lew Burdette was a "money pitcher." Here is an ode to Lew and his buddy, Warren Spahn.
Spahn and Burdette and Forget
By Baseball Bailey
Over sixteen years the Bravos Duo discoursed,
Throwing off the high red mounds of rolling greenswards
In friendly confines of ball’s legendary yards
Baseball Sidekicks, Spahnie the Southpaw and Lou the workhorse.
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Lou the kid righty, joined the wily lefty
Took their starts in front of the jurybox faithful
Off the windy Charles in empty stands
Then going west, grew and gave joy to Milwaukee fans.
The mighty Brooklyns: Duke Jackie and Gil
The Redlegs’ Big Klu, Frank,Wally and Bell
Flailed at Spahnie’s hooks with flair
Beat into dirt Lou’s dropping doozies
Belt to knee out of midair.
Warren the Elegant and Burdette the Fidget,
Pranksters of clubhouse and fast friend
Swashbuckled the distance, disdaining gadget
No pitch counts for them, always there at game's end.
Inseparable slayers of Bronx Bombers
Bringing joy to burghers on Wisconsin Avenue
In Yankee Stadium’s grandstand shadow those faithful Octobers
The wily Burdette, taking Spahn’s turn, New Yorkers would not forget
After Covington’s miracle backhand catch in foul line sun
Of Little Bobby Shantz’s shot, Lou’s lanky, herky jerky finesse
Quieted Bomber bats in blue haze shadow foretelling the Yanks were done
Lou’s snake arm, slow stretch, induced grounder & pop and Casey was helpless.
The Burdette fadeway delivery.
Into Game 5 before County Stadium faithful’s enthrall
Into the breech Burdette the Magician cast his spell
On Enos, Gil, Moose andYogi. Adcock’s 6th frame single beat Ford’s best
1-0 in the Wisconsin sun. Bombers beat into dirt, Lou’s pitches blessed.
With his pitching mate felled by flu and fate
Once more in Game 7, the redheaded workhorse kept his date with fate.
Taking Stadium mound in the House that Ruth Built on 2 days rest
Once more improbably, no Bomber touched plate, he shut out the best.
Burdette, Yankee Killer, of lazy stretch and leisurely leg kick
Had matched Brecheen of Cardinal lore and Coveleskie the Indian
Winning three games in the Fall Classic
Bringing joy to Milwaukee hearts and Yankee dynasty to oblivion.
Looking down through the blue cigar haze in the upper deck of memory,
I see his broad-stooped shoulders still -- red bill on blue cap
His Calvary Captain eyes squint into the shadows of the plate, leaning for Del’s sign
His giant figure unwinding in the dazzle of the autumn rays of history
In hue of blue smoke, bending in sweeping stretch and snakearm snap.
Returning to mound he fidgets, licks fingertips, adjusts cap and bends again to toil
Slider, spitter, sinker catching corner or knee yelled by Conlon or Shylak
Bombers beating grounders to Johnny, Eddie and Red,
Pops to Wes, Hank and Andy.
White zeros sliding in place on scoreboard black.
Innings dwindling down as the great Burdette bows his back.
Then to another night in the distance in Milwaukee when
The Workhorse and hapless Haddix matched 13 straight Innings
Of scoreless ball. Til Adcock’s homer broke up The Kitten’s 36-in-a-row gem.
Described by some as the greatest game ever pitched of the Millenium.
Ye throwers of today: look back to the Diamonds Gone By
Days when the offerings of Spahn, Burdette and forget
Haunted the sluggers of the golden 50s with guile, guts and style
When Spahnie and Lou stalked from the mound without regret.
The wily Burdette has left the mound for the last time in this mortal dance
Joining Spahnie on the Lord’s Staff, with Carl and Walter, Early and Matty
We keepers of the game watching in the stadium of remembrance yet
See him pitching still in the shadows of autumn when
It was Spahn and Burdette and Forget.
