[Eric72]

Don Liddle.

Know the name? I imagine many of you do. For those who don’t, let me paint a quick picture.

The date was September 29, 1954. The Indians and Giants were facing off in game 1 of the Fall Classic. In the eighth inning, with the score tied 2-2, Cleveland’s Vic Wertz launched a ball into the cavernous expanse of center field at the Polo Grounds. New York’s immensely talented outfielder, Willie Mays, gave chase and miraculously caught the fly ball before it dropped for extra bases.

“The Catch” endures to this very day as one of baseball’s most recognizable plays. Even the most casual fan has seen replays of this clip and remembers it well. Mays racing towards the wall, tracking down the baseball, pounding a fist into his glove, and making an over-the-shoulder catch. The man whose bat launched this deep fly ball has also been remembered by the majority of fans of that era.

But what about the pitcher? Far fewer people know his name. As you may have guessed, it’s Don Liddle.

I first discovered this name back in 1994. That year was notable, of course, because of the baseball strike. However, something equally significant happened for me back then. Perhaps because the sport was on hold, I began to look back and discover the history of the game. This journey of discovery was aided greatly by the release of “Baseball: A Film by Ken Burns.” Of the many memorable scenes which appeared in that series was a clip of Bob Costas discussing “The Catch.” He mentioned that Liddle had been brought into the game to face one hitter. After Mays’ spectacular play, Liddle’s deadpan remark was, “Well, I got my guy.”

Now, to me, that’s funny. I can appreciate dry humor.

In this 1956 Topps offering, card number 325, Donald Eugene Liddle exhibits a bit of that humorous streak. His lips are curled into an ever-so-slight smile, his head is cocked slightly to the side, and his eyes reveal practically nothing. Liddle looks like he’s up to something; I can imagine his gears turning beneath that classic New York Giants cap. Perhaps the cameraman made a remark about Liddle’s ears (they’re hard not to notice) and Don was planning his revenge.

To the left of Liddle’s portrait is an action shot. The southpaw is delivering (or simulating the delivery of) a pitched ball. His left arm, at the tail end of its follow-through, seems ready to jump off the edge of the card. Interestingly, the lower half of that arm almost seems a shade too long. Trick of perspective or just my perception; I can't tell which. Anyway, Liddle's other arm and glove are tucked tightly against his slender body. Perhaps this is to make room for the pitching arm whipping around his torso like a slingshot. In the background, there is an empty but beautiful expanse of green. The grass, the stands, even the wall visible in the distance are all drenched with an emerald hue. There’s a stillness to the scene, a calm and peaceful backdrop contrasting Liddle in motion.

When flipping the card over, I am greeted by the usual array of words and numbers. Liddle seemed to be on the right track, having won more games than he lost, including the World Series clincher in 1954. Poring over these numbers, I take notice to yet another incorrect birthday. This seems to be fairly common with 1956 Topps. Despite the card's biographical information, Liddle was born in 1925. May 25th, as a matter of fact. He’ll be 96 years old next week. Treasure these ballplayers from the game’s bygone eras. Let us not take them for granted. Their numbers are ever shrinking.

So, I spent some time looking at a baseball card today…a long, detailed look. What I found was a reminder of a few passions burning brightly within me: a willingness and desire to be part of the Net54 community; the enjoyment I derive from collecting this set; and the life-long love I have for this game.

Baseball truly is a glorious thing.