The Caring Lives On : Drysdale Gone, but Meyers Still Has His Work to Do

Oversized black-and-white glimpses of yesteryear hung from the wall, providing a backdrop for the news conference. Duke Snider. Willie Mays. Bobby Hull. And, leaning on an easel off to the side, Don Drysdale--beaming beneath the bill of his Dodger cap, no older than 25 then, flashing the roguish grin that launched a thousand brushback pitches.

As Ann Meyers rose from her seat on the dais to take the microphone, her shoulder accidentally grazed the easel.

“Sorry, babe,” she said, looking up and smiling.

Barely a week since her husband’s funeral, Meyers would have rather been anywhere else Tuesday than the first floor of the Irvine Hyatt Regency, facing bright lights and minicams and a brigade of tape recorders.

But there was work to be done, Don’s work, so Meyers took her place behind the lectern to talk about Drysdale’s pet charity project, his 7-year-old Hall of Fame Golf Tournament, which will continue in November at Pelican Hill Golf Club in Newport Beach. It benefits the Los Angeles Unified School District and Desert Hospital of Palm Springs.

“Because this tournament meant so much to Don and the legacy that he left, we thought it was important to continue,” Meyers said. “A lot of people understand it will go on because of who Don was and is--the importance of kids in Don’s life and helping others.

“Anyone who ever met him, just to spend five minutes with him, was a big help. Instantly, you felt like he was your best friend.”

Drysdale’s gift of gab was legendary, judging from the names of the former athletes who have already committed to the event. Snider, Mays and Hull will be there. So will Yogi Berra, Al Kaline, Deacon Jones, Gale Sayers, Elvin Hayes, Stan Mikita--58 Hall of Fame inductees in all.

The response is part of what has been a tremendous national outpouring of emotion and affection for Drysdale, who died July 3 at 56. Meyers never saw Drysdale pitch--they met in 1979, when Meyers “didn’t have a clue of who he was”--but she is surprised by none of the sentiment.

“It speaks for the man himself,” she said. “A lot of it is connected with Don being in the Hall of Fame and what he achieved on the field. Many people know him for being an ‘intimidator’ or whatever during his playing days.

“But he also really cared about people. He’d pat you on the back, hold your hand. He cared about what you said. He was one of the guys.”

Meyers recalled the day they met--she a professional basketball player participating in the women’s “Superstars” competition in the Bahamas, he a broadcaster covering the event.

Meyers and her mother passed Drysdale walking in a hotel hallway. Mom immediately recognized the famed Dodger pitcher. Meyers?

“I knew he was a good-looking man,” she said, laughing. “But beyond that? I mean, I knew he was somebody. Just the way he carried himself. You know when you’re around a certain person, you can feel a presence. He had it.”

Drysdale quickly struck up a conversation with Meyers’ mother. Meyers didn’t say anything.

“I was hiding in the closet,” she said. “What did I know then? I was just playing ball in New Jersey, sporting a fine indoor tan.”

Drysdale eventually made the first move. And the second.

“He was the one who did the pursuing,” she said with a smile. “I can say that now because he’s not around to deny it. . . .

“One of the first times we had dinner together, he asked me, ‘What would you say if I asked you to marry me?’ I just looked at him. ‘What are you talking about? I don’t even know this guy.’ But obviously, he sensed something then. Anybody who knew Don knows he never said anything loosely.”

Meyers shook her head.

“He must have been smitten with me. All I know is that I was going back to New Jersey to play ball and he continued to call me. I was flattered. Not because of who he was, but because a guy was calling me. I didn’t get that too often.”

Seven years later, in 1986, they were married, destined to become the first Mr. and Mrs. Hall of Fame. Drysdale made it to Cooperstown in 1984 and Meyers was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame this year.

“For the first time, I can play without paying,” quipped Meyers, whose Hall of Fame status grants her a fee exemption in this fall’s Drysdale tournament.

“Don and I used to play a lot,” she said. “I probably had a little lower handicap, but when it came down to playing for 25 cents a putt, he could knock it. He was always good on the greens and always good under pressure. But that was him as a player. Always a pressure guy.”

It was a good time to reminisce. Meyers especially enjoyed recounting how Drysdale would work the phones every year, rounding up old colleagues to play in his tournament.

“Living with this man, I won’t say he was obsessed with the telephone,” Meyers said. “But it just meant so much to him. It was such a great joy to him. Anything that he really got his teeth into, he went right after it.

“He’d pick up the phone, any time of the day, and he’d spend 15, 20 minutes talking about the tournament. He really loved the camaraderie.”

As if on cue, a telephone rang from across the hallway.

Meyers smiled.

“That’s probably him calling right now.”