I never needed much of an excuse to visit Sid Hudson.

Whenever I wanted to write on baseball’s past, I just called Sid and he’d happily invite me to his Waco home. He was a font of baseball knowledge, and I felt privileged whenever I could be his audience.

Sid’s voice has been silenced now with his death Friday morning, but he packed a lot of life into 93 years. I never met a better storyteller, and nobody had a deeper chest of experiences to draw from.

When I went over to his house, he’d lead me to his baseball memorabilia room. He had a bucket of balls that were autographed by Hall of Fame players, but he acted like the priceless balls were no big deal.

“Here’s a Ted Williams ball,” Sid would say, tossing it to me like we were playing a game of catch.

I always prayed that I wouldn’t drop it.

Then he’d proudly show me his scrapbook of newspaper clippings that meticulously covered his major league playing career from 1940-54. He enlisted in the service at Waco Army Airfield following the 1942 season, and settled here with his wife, Marion, when his baseball career was over. Marion, who was married to Sid for 65 years, died in May.

Believe me when I say this city has never had a better ambassador for baseball.

Sid loved to talk about the glorious era when he played, long before greed, steroids and player strikes crept into the picture. It was a much more innocent time, and Sid was right at the heart of it.

As an All-Star pitcher for the Washington Senators, he faced both Joe DiMaggio and Williams during the historic 1941 season. Even though the United States was on the brink of plunging into World War II, Hudson told me how Joltin’ Joe’s 56-game hitting streak became a national obsession.

Hudson started twice against DiMaggio during the streak and held him to one hit in six at-bats. When he faced DiMaggio the second time, Hudson got him out twice before a Senators reliever gave up a late single to keep the streak alive at 42 games.

Not many pitchers shut down the Yankee Clipper like Hudson.

“After that season, Joe paid me a high compliment by saying I was tougher to face than any of the Brooklyn pitchers they faced in the World Series,” Hudson once told me.

As the 1941 season neared an end, Hudson gave up one hit in three at-bats during a late September appearance against Williams. Teddy Ballgame came through with a hot final day to finish at .406, marking the last time a major league hitter has cracked the .400 barrier.

“Williams was the best hitter,” Hudson said, “but DiMaggio was the best all-around player.”

After World War II, Hudson pitched on Babe Ruth Day at Yankee Stadium in 1947. The great Yankees slugger was dying of cancer, and 58,000 fans jammed into the stadium to see the Babe one last time a dozen years after his retirement.

“It was really sad to see Babe like that,” Hudson said. “He was just skin and bones and his voice cracked so much when he talked that you could hardly understand him.”

But Hudson pitched one of the best games of his career that day to lead the Senators to a 1-0 win. Hudson finished his 12-year career with a 104-152 record, but it probably would have been much better if he had pitched for upper division teams.

After he pitched his last game for the Boston Red Sox in 1954, Hudson stayed in pro baseball as a pitching coach and scout. Following a long tenure with the Texas Rangers, Hudson served as pitching coach from 1987-93 under former Baylor coach Mickey Sullivan.

Even as he reached his 90s and needed a walker to get around his house, his mind was as sharp as ever.

“Dad wouldn’t just tell you who was batting,” said his daughter, Nancy Fields, on Friday. “He could tell you who was on first and second. I was always amazed by the detail that he remembered.”

I interviewed him for the last time a couple of years ago when he told me in vivid detail of the memorable 1941 All-Star game when Williams gave the American League a 7-5 win with a walk-off three-run homer.

“Everyone knew it was out of the park as soon as he hit it,” Hudson said. “It was hard to believe, but Ted could do things like that.”

I just sat there and listened. Sid could always tell a great story.

jwerner@wacotrib.com

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