Sport: Another Shadow

No one ever accused Jerome Herman Dean of hiding a superbrain under his baseball cap. He was just a fun-loving country boy who could throw a baseball past the best batsmen in the National League. Pitching for the Gas House Gang—the St. Louis Cardinals of the 1930s—Dizzy won 134 games while losing only 75. In 1934, he ran up an incredible 30-7 record; in 1953, he was elected to the Hall of Fame.

Last week Dizzy Dean, now 59, was named as co-conspirator in a federal indictment charging ten other men with violation of federal gambling statutes. Dean is accused of placing bets with three of them starting in April of last year. He was not named as a defendant, but will probably be called to testify at any trials arising from the indictment. Said a U.S. attorney: "Mr. Dean has been very cooperative. We need witnesses."

"I won't say I haven't done some foolish things in my life," said Diz tearfully at a Phoenix press conference, "but I'll assure you of one thing: I have nothing to do with big-time gambling—never did and never will. I want to tell you exactly how I became involved in this thing. It was through a friend who asked me to make wagers for him, and I did. I was told there was no harm in it. Later on I was told it was the wrong thing to do, and I stopped it."

Dizzy's remarks were sadly akin to those of baseball's most recent 30-game winner and reigning righthander, Detroit's Denny McLain, presently under indefinite suspension for investing in a bookmaking operation. "My biggest crime is stupidity," said McLain. No doubt. But the sorry truth remains that in less than two weeks, two of baseball's greatest players cast black shadows on the national game—and on all professional athletics.