Yocum’s gift was one of selflessness
In sports medicine, renowned surgeon was second to none
The man was dying in front of friends and family, knowing he didn’t have long to live, but was perhaps more concerned about prolonging a player’s career than his own life. This is Lewis Yocum. This is what he was all about. Yocum, one of sports’ most renowned orthopedic surgeons, died late Saturday at 65 after battling liver cancer.
Ten days earlier, Philadelphia Phillies great Roy Halladay, 36, had shoulder surgery — on the advice of Yocum — in hopes of continuing his career.
It might have been Yocum’s final diagnosis.
“He lost a lot of weight and wasn’t feeling good, but he wasn’t telling anybody what was going on,” said Cincinnati Reds vice president of scouting and development Bill Bavasi, whose family was close to Yocum for nearly 35 years. “He was battling this for five months, but he didn’t stop working. He still wanted to help.
“His attention to detail and the players’ interest, understanding professional athletics and a player’s shelf life was second to none.
“I would put his significance to sports medicine with anybody. Anybody.”
This is why the word of Yocum’s death spread so quickly Tuesday, with players stopping what they were doing at ballparks and immediately sending their gratitude.
“He obviously saved my career,” said Washington Nationals pitcher Jordan Zimmermann, who had Tommy John elbow surgery performed by Yocum in August 2009.
Zimmermann’s reconstructed elbow is sound. He is 8-2 with a 1.71 ERA and could be on center stage in July at the All-Star Game.
“I wouldn’t be here without him,” Zimmermann says. “He’s saved a lot of guys’ careers. He’s fixed a lot of guys and did a lot for the game of baseball.”
Said New York Mets reliever LaTroy Hawkins, 40, who had shoulder surgery by Yocum three years ago: “When I found out, I shed a tear. He was one of the most down-to-earth doctors. He made everyone feel at ease about any type of ortho surgery. He made me feel so confident after being extremely nervous.”
Yocum never spent a day on a pitcher’s mound, put on a uniform or held a radar gun in the stands, but he has been an integral part to a whole lot of World Series parade routes.
“He changed the paradigm of baseball and those who played it,” said agent Scott Boras, who walked with Yocum down an Angel Stadium staircase three weeks ago. “In a business that nothing is exact, I can’t think of a diagnosis that wasn’t exact. He batted 1.000. We were all the ( beneficiaries) of his varying geniuses.
“He was all about the game and the players. To Lew, his practice was his life.
“The irony is that with his commitment to players and teams, he may have sacrificed his own health.”
Yocum, who spent 36 years with the Angels, had an amazing wit, delightful sense of humor and was more loyal than your Golden Retriever.
When you underwent agonizing, lonely months of rehab, away from your friends and teammates, those phone calls and text messages checking on you were from Yocum.
When you simply needed a laugh during a rough losing streak, a hug when you were going through bad times, Yocum was the one with his arm on your shoulder.
Garry Horowitz, owner of the Italian Grotto restaurant in Scottsdale, Ariz., credits Yocum for saving his life when he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer eight years ago. Ben McDonald, the No. 1 pick in the 1989 draft, pitched another five years without surgery, based on Yocum’s recommendation that he could handle the pain.
Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig called him “a giant in the field of medicine.” Angels starter C.J. Wilson, who had Tommy John surgery 10 years ago, tweeted Yocum “was the sole reason a lot of pitchers and I had a chance at a career in baseball.”
Said Angels vice president Tim Mead, “His notoriety for assistance with athletes paled in comparison to his contributions to others.”
There should be a place one day for Yocum in baseball’s Hall of Fame. There’s no game without the players. And there are no players without the doctors and trainers who pick up the pieces and put them all back together.
The names of orthopedic surgeons Lew Yocum, Frank Jobe and James Andrews never should be forgotten.
“Those three men will go down in sports,” Boras said, “as the Murderers’ Row of Medicine.”