Ken’The Hawk’ Harrelson’s MLB credits include being an All-Star Batter, a 33-year-old Chicago White Sox play broadcaster and club GM.
“The Hawk” has seen a lot of baseball during his time.
Baseball fans of a certain age recall signing the Boston Red Sox and Ken Harrelson at the end of August during the 1967 MLB season, running as if New England’s latest favorite son was still unfolding during the “impossible dream” American League pennant run.
His persona was even greater than his contributions during the 23 games, where Fenway Park loyalists recruited him as one of their own. His monster’s full follow-up season in 1968 solidified Harrelson with the same respect as Boston’s hockey Bobby O’ and basketball Bill Russell.
The suit-wearing season in Kansas City, Kansas City and Washington, DC was the act of opening and closing Harrelson. Being the Red Sox put a “hawk” on top of the American landscape. Radio and TV network approvals and appearances were on a stable stream. More than half a century later, Harrelson’s past is far ahead of him, along with those who witnessed what he saw as the “coolest cat” of the turbulent 1960s.
At 83, today’s “The Hawk” is a nickname he won among fellow players early in his career due to his obvious pointy, elongated nose. His love for golf is protected on the same level, if not slightly smudge before swinging the bat for nine MLB seasons.
“I haven’t played the round in five years,” Harrelson told the Epoch Times on Monday. “When I played the ball, I shook a heavy bat (40 ounces). I put on my wrists. I hit 10 balls yesterday, and one of them wasn’t strong. My wrist hurts today.”
Related Stories
Harrelson is probably equal to his exit from the 52-game game for his frequent running partner “Broadway” Joe Namas, the Cleveland Indians’ 1971, as the flash speed that was the appeal of not only the late 1960s baseball scene but also all professional sports. Not only 30, Harrelson filmed himself away from baseball and being a professional golfer. He was good and sometimes very good, but baseball never stopped calling.
With all his success in Boston, it’s on the South Side of Chicago, where Harrelson legend will water the rest of his career. The White Sox 2025 season is the 125th in the organization’s history.
Throwing for a year as the club’s general manager for 33 seasons, Harrelson was the club’s play broadcaster on both radio and television. Surprisingly, Harrelson doesn’t hesitate to point out his two favorite people who met the club, starting with Comiskey Park and ending when the rate field with guaranteed naming rights was guaranteed.
Former White Sox Frank Thomas Slug saw most of the South Side’s home runs for 16 seasons, and Harrelson crowned him by his nickname, a “big scar” that became synonymous with him until his Hall of Fame.
“He (Thomas) was the best batsman I’ve ever seen in the organization,” declares Harrelson. “We’ll keep in touch.”
Chicago White Sox broadcaster Ken “The Hawk” Harrelson speaks to the crowd on Hawk Day in honor of the White Sox before a match between the Chicago White Sox and the Boston Red Sox at security interest rates in Chicago, Illinois on September 2, 2018. David Banks/Getty Images
In a friendship that dates back to the mid-1980s, Harrelson, of other White Sox connections, tells us what he is most proud of. Don Dorisdale is still a name that brings a pause to Harrelson’s voice this spring morning, recalling that he first joined as a broadcasting companion from 1982 to 1987.
“He (Drysdale) respected me, and I respected him,” declares Harrelson, who came to the White Sox booth after seven seasons calling the Red Sox game. “I loved a guy like a brother.”
The inseparable duo remained close to Drysdale’s death in 1985, and was part of the Los Angeles Dodgers broadcast team at the time.
“I learned a lot about making announcements from him. Don knew the game and its nuances better than anyone I’ve ever met. When I pitched for the Dodgers, Don was two kinds of guys.” “If the other pitcher hits a Dodgers batsman, Don would hit two of them.”
During five seasons of working side-by-side in Chicago, Harrelson remembers learning about the death of his best friend. His voice becomes weaker when he remembers that life-changing message.
“One of the White Sox owners entered the broadcast booth during the innings and informed us that Don had been found dead in a hotel room in Montreal. I remember having a beer with him one day.
The Dodgers were on the road playing the Expo and the hotel checked Don’s room when he didn’t show him for a bus heading to the ballpark. He was 56 years old and had a fatal heart attack.
With the “hawk” legend, who lived in a quiet community far from South Carolina roots and “Beantown,” growing up to Heights at the time, Harrelson is just one of many residents enjoying a sunny retirement. At each stage of his business day, he accelerated to a level that his forecast said was not the case, to a level that led to baseball players, hitting golf balls and ultimately landing him in Cooperstown.
Without old friends, abandoning a handful of nicknames to players who are willing to embrace a new identity, not abassing “his” White Sox during the air, and eradicating decades of victory and loss to rewatch mentally, Harrelson has achieved the anonymity he is given today.
