Willard Hershberger Has Just Destroyed Himself

Content Warning: Theme of suicide.

In 1928, 18-year-old Willard Hershberger returned to his Fullerton home after a day of hunting and left the shotgun at the foot of the stairs.

That night he woke to the sound of a blast and found his father in the downstairs bathroom.

I recently learned of an old friend still living in my hometown of Fullerton, California.

He took his own life. He was 53.

We knew the same streets, attended the same schools, and faced each other on the ball field of Amerige Park.

I didn’t think there was anyone left in my hometown that I knew. I left long ago.

My current hometown some 8,000 miles and a lifetime away.

Willard Hershberger would have honed his skills on that field at Amerige Park, so many years before.

Having led the Fullerton Union High School baseball team to a state championship in 1926 and having played alongside Richard Nixon on the FUHS football team, Willard graduated in the months following his father’s death and signed a professional baseball contract.

He left his hometown and went on to great things.

But he always blamed himself for not putting away that shotgun.

In the early ’80s, my father went through his darkest period.

Often sitting alone in his den with the lights off. Financial and marital problems weighed him down. Probably more problems than I knew.

While I was trying to become a teenager, his inability to be a normal father frustrated me. Angry he couldn’t pull himself together.

Fearing one day I’d hear the pop of the pistol he stored in that den.

The black clouds continued to affect our home life. Months of constant tension became years of household depression and anxiety.

The relentless stress took me past a fear of hearing that gunshot to praying for it. I thought him weak for not pulling the trigger.

Willard became the backup catcher for the Cincinnati Reds in 1938 and batted .316 during his major league career.

He was living his dream, yet his teammates often found him sitting alone in a darkened hotel room or staring out a train window. Alone.

In August of 1940, the Reds were leading the league and Willard was in the lineup every day, replacing an injured Ernie Lombardi, but a batting slump had left him despondent.

In a long conversation with Bill McKechnie, the team manager, Herschberger blamed himself for the team’s recent losses and told his manager, “My father killed himself, and I’m gonna do it too.” ('The Razor’s Edge’ — Sports Illustrated Vault — May 6, 1991)

That old friend who recently took his own life back in Fullerton, it must be nearly 35 years since I last saw him or even thought of him. But the news brings a sadness.

I know nothing about his last days or even his last decades; maybe I don’t want or need to know.

If any of the old trash talk from our hometown schoolyards held water, the black cloud hovered over his home and family too.

The day after Willard Hershberger’s conversation with his manager, Willard failed to show up for the team’s game in Boston. He had taken his own life in his hotel room.

Cincinnati Reds coach Hank Gowdy sat the team down and told them the news.

“Willard Hershberger has just destroyed himself.”

McKechnie later said his last conversation with Willard had covered “many personal issues” but felt Willard had left in better spirits after their hours of talk.

To reporters after Willard’s death, McKechnie said, “He told me in confidence, and I will not utter it to anyone.” Bill McKechnie held true to his word and never again spoke of his last conversation with Willard.

Willard Hershberger remains the only active major league baseball player to have committed suicide during the season.

The team dedicated the 1940 season “for Hersch” and won the World Series.

In his honour, the team gave his share of the winnings to his mom still living in Fullerton, California.

My dad somehow found his way back, making peace with himself, and lived a full life. His last years spent happy and content — surrounded by mom, family, and friends. That is a credit to him.

As a teenager, and on into my twenty-somethings, I judged him.

As an ageing man and a father myself, I now look back with respect and appreciation.

Anyone who makes it through this life deserves some applause.

Ghosts haunt many of us, and those ghosts often seem to get passed on to others.

In 1953, Ernie Lombardi, Willard’s mentor and fellow catcher, attempted suicide in the same manner — a razor to the throat. He survived and was ultimately voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

The friend who found Willard on that fateful day in 1940 committed suicide in 1961.

To my childhood friend in Fullerton, my best wishes for his family and friends. Rest in peace.

In the unlikely event that anyone, family or friend, of the Hershberger family is reading this — my condolences and best wishes and I apologise for any pain caused.

In the even less likely event that someone from Fullerton, California, is reading this — please leave a comment.

I’d love to connect.

And dad, love you and always think of you.