The Last Game

Saturday, August 8, 1959

Today's obituary says it all. West Covina basically let the championship game get away from them in the 2nd inning, and despite solid pitching from that point on, our boys never recovered.

La Puente National.......050 000–5 4 3
West Covina American.....100 010–2 5 2

An interesting footnote that didn't make it into the paper. Evidently, the reporter (and others, including the WC coaches) noticed that La Puente batted out of order at some point during the game, perhaps in that crucial 2nd inning. As Manager, Ed Shannon had the prerogative to challenge the game based on that infraction, but chose not to.

I rather suspect this would not have been mentioned if it clearly would not have made a difference in the outcome. At this point, though, who's to know? In any case, what's done was done. 1959 was over for West Covina.

Wrapping up the rest of the this year's Little League post-season, La Puente went on to the Divisional tournament where they lost to La Jolla 3-0 in the final. At the Regionals, Auburn defeated La Jolla 10-4 for bragging rights as California's top team, then bested Vancouver, Washington, to win the West title 11-3. At the World Series, Auburn continued their string of victories until they were shut out in the championship game by Hamtramck, Michigan, 12-0.

My mother took this home movie of my father umpiring and 7-Up playing at Cortez Park, and at 1:25, the trophy presentation at the Sectional tourney in San Bernardino. This is the only footage I've yet discovered from Dad's time coaching Little League. (Your Humble Narrator makes a brief appearance at 0:15.)

Finally, a personal anecdote from this day, 60 years ago. After this last game, I was riding alone in the back seat of our car as we drove home west on the San Bernardino Freeway near Colton. I was wearing my dad's baseball cap. I rolled down the window on the driver's side, stuck my head out, and OFF flew Dad's hat! Shocked and dismayed, I looked back and watched as it settled on the ground near the center divider. I cried out in distress about what had just happened, but Dad didn't say a word, and he didn't slow down or turn around, either. He just kept driving in silence. I was afraid I was in big trouble. I'd lost Dad's All-Star hat! I couldn't believe it. I felt incredibly stupid failing this early lesson in the physics of wind.

Of course, I was expecting to be punished when we got home, but nothing happened. Neither of my parents seemed to care about the hat, but I sure did. I must have said I'm sorry a million times. Anyway, probably a couple days later, Dad came home wearing the hat! Or at least I thought it was the same hat. How did he find it?, I wondered. I was so surprised! When I got a little older, I figured out that Dad must simply have gotten another hat from the League, but at the time I thought it was a real miracle. God had answered my prayers and Dad got his hat back!

But he never wore it again after that. I don't think I knew it at the time, but Ed Shannon had coached his last-ever Little League game.