Jim Lonborg pitched superb in "summer of love"

The year 1967 was troubling in many ways. So, what stands out most in my mind about the year? It's not the tumult with our culture or the Vietnam war. These things were in our face daily if we just consumed news. There was nothing that I as a 12-year-old boy could do about them. So I did what so many boys found enjoyable: follow baseball.
Jim Lonborg is frozen in my mind with the year 1967. It is the only year for which I have any specific recollection of the man. That's odd because he stuck around in the bigs for a long time. But in 1967 he was a big part of the Boston Red Sox mythic journey. The Sox's campaign came to be called "the impossible dream." The franchise had been through substantial futility. They truly found spark in 1967 to get New Englanders transfixed.
At the time, their success came as a profound dagger for yours truly, a Minnesota Twins fan. As a 12-year-old I had an emotional bond with my team. It was the age of the "Big 3" TV networks, far more limited media than today. Big league sports seemed to bring more of an emotional or sentimental connection between the teams and their fans. OK we were more provincial.
The 1967 Boston Red Sox did something that was commonplace in sports: they had a number of key players come together at the right time, the combination of talent and chemistry blessed with a little luck. The Red Sox won the pennant despite losing Tony Conigliaro to his horrific beaning incident. Lonborg was an essential ingredient. I remember Lonborg's image in a TV commercial soon after the season, typical fare for the time in which the product might be shaving cream.
"Jim Lonborg is one of the new stars, strictly up to date."
The commercial had quite the shelf life. For Mr. Lonborg got hurt in a skiing accident and was derailed from what otherwise might have been a Hall of Fame course. He ceased being a marquee player. A little research today shows that he carried his weight adequately after 1967. I just didn't notice it much, so my memories today have "Gentleman Jim" frozen with 1967.
It's a benign and fun memory that counters the troubling stuff of the late 1960s: the race riots, the wayward "hippie" movement, and most of all the hell-on-Earth Vietnam war. As stated previously I was merely a 12-year-old boy who barely had the capacity to make his voice heard. But I got keenly interested in baseball.
 
It took time, but. . .
The year 1967 is so long ago, I now feel the scars are healed from my Twins being denied at the end. I no longer grimace at the thought of the 1967 Red Sox. They brought unbridled joy for their success-deprived fans. It was the age of Carl Yastrzemski. He and Lonborg were like the straws stirring the drink for that team.
Lonborg led American League pitchers in wins with 22. He also topped the league in strikeouts with 246. He was on the hill as starter for 39 games. Boston prevailed in an incredible A.L. race to the finish, a race that had my Twins, the Tigers and White Sox involved. The White Sox got pushed out when losing a doubleheader to the lowly Kansas City Athletics. Twins fans watched desperately at the end as we tried to overcome the Red Sox in a season-ending series. I think the failure was more heartbreaking for me, even, than our Game 7 loss in the 1965 World Series.
We entered the final game with the Red Sox in a tie for first! Our ultimate failure left us pondering might-have-beens, like if we had given up on shortstop Zoilo Versalles sooner. He was in steady decline after his MVP 1965 season, and partly it was his own fault, according to legend. The legend has to do with inability to manage painkillers. We didn't remedy our shortstop situation until 1969 when we acquired Leo Cardenas. By then, our one-time ace pitcher Dean Chance finally succumbed to the wear and tear of the job.
Lonborg out-dueled Chance in the 1967 regular season finale. Chance had a chance, as it were, to go down in Twins annals as an iconic player. We needed to win the pennant in 1967 with our truly outstanding team. But it was the "impossible dream" year for the Red Sox, alas. Once the Yankees dynasty collapsed after '64, four different teams won the flag in the next four years. In sequence: the Twins, Orioles, Red Sox and Tigers. It was nice to see each team take a turn in the spotlight, each with an interesting batch of players.
The Red Sox went on to face the Cardinals in the '67 World Series. Lonborg pitched what was only the fourth one-hitter in Series history. Such is the magical stature of the '67 Red Sox in our memory, we might forget they lost the World Series. It was a full seven-game affair. Remember Orlando Cepeda's heroics with the Cardinals? Or Lou Brock?
We can see why Boston's Lonborg was touted as "one of the new stars, strictly up to date," whether he was selling shaving cream or whatever. He won the Cy Young Award for '67. He pitched in the All-Star game. He was sixth in MVP voting with his teammate "Yaz" taking the award. Yes, my memories of "Gentleman Jim" seem confined to 1967. Perhaps that confirms just how dramatic was the Red Sox's rise to the top, after considerable struggling earlier in the decade.
But Jim Lonborg did not fade from view. He overcame a horrible snow skiing accident to stay in reasonable big league form. It's a real testament to his dedication. He ended up with a 15-year career. He compiled a 157-137 record with 1,475 strikeouts, a 3.86 ERA, 24 complete games and 15 shutouts. He left the Red Sox after 1971. He went from Milwaukee to Philadelphia. He was released in mid-1979.
 

Jose Feliciano

"Summer of love," 1967
I followed baseball with relish at the same time I soaked in news on the cultural front with the hippies, the "summer of love," Haight-Ashbury and this new musical group on TV known as the Monkees. Is it just stereotype that the older folks gravitated to Lawrence Welk? Perhaps not.
There was a definite schism in our society represented by Lawrence Welk and John Wayne on one side, and rock music on the other. Lest you doubt that, consider how in 1968 Jose Feliciano caused shock waves with his quite reasonable, personalized interpretation of the Star Spangled Banner for a World Series game. No one would think anything of it today.
While Jim Lonborg seems apt for a 1967 time capsule in my mind, we should commend the guy for actually having quite fine staying power. I just didn't realize at the time. We should commend Lonborg also for showing the commitment to becoming a dentist post-baseball.
If only all our memories of 1967 could be so innocent as the Red Sox "impossible dream." We take our lumps in life. Baseball up until the 1994 players strike was a constant that always gave reassurance (that life would go on just fine). Nothing lasts forever.
- Brian Williams - morris mn minnesota - bwilly73@yahoo.com