Willie Davis 'the coolest ballplayer I ever saw' *

Sportswriter Bruce Jenkins in, of all places, the San Francisco Chronicle, recalls the late Dodgers centerfielder as the coolest of them all. The UPI photo of Davis with Don Sutton is from 1966, presumably out of the Chronicle morgue based on the crop marks.

He exuded style, a sense of the pure aesthetic, and he could have excelled at any sport. His choice of baseball was a blessing to the game, and among those of us who watched him up close at Dodger Stadium in the early 1960s, there was no question he was the fastest man alive. In a race from first to third with a running start, I'm not sure even Bob Hayes could have caught him.

Davis was found dead Tuesday at the age of 69 (authorities believe there was no foul play), leaving behind a legacy of unique, unforgettable talent. He made two All-Star teams, racked up 2,561 hits, had a 31-game hitting streak, won three consecutive Gold Glove awards, but he wasn't an elite outfielder in the National League. With the likes of Willie Mays,Henry Aaron, Frank Robinson and Roberto Clemente in the mix, that just wasn't possible.

What none of those players had - few that I can recall in any era - was Davis' combination of urban cool and blazing speed. He addressed the world at a slow, measured pace, never in a rush. He basically let life come to him. Even as he approached home plate with a bat in his hands, he struck the impression of a man wearing shades at the far corner table of a jazz club.

Jenkins grew up rooting for the Dodgers and covered the team part-time for the Santa Monica Evening Outlook in 1972. Davis was found dead yesterday at his home in Burbank at 69.

Peter O'Malley remembers: "I can see him running," O’Malley told Steve Dilbeck. "See him running the bases, running in the field." O'Malley used to lend Davis his car in spring training days at Vero Beach.

* Add Jenkins: He grew up as a friend of columnist Jim Murray's family, and wrote a book about his father Gordon Jenkins, the major American arranger, composer and pianist who worked with Sinatra but never could fully live down the fame of writing the sappy lyrics for World War II Bing Crosby hit "San Fernando Valley."