Immediately after Bunning's perfect game against the Mets in the opener of a Shea Stadium doubleheader on Father's Day, June 21, 1964, the pitcher appeared on national TV. His recognizability quotient shot through the dugout roof. He got commercials, endorsements, countless interview requests.

Bunning stayed in baseball in the years after his 1971 retirement, as a minor-league manager and a player agent. But in 1977, he was elected to the City Council in Fort Thomas, Ky. Then came the state Senate, the U.S. House, and, in 1998, his U.S. Senate seat. A Republican, he will step down when his term expires after this year.

In 1996, he was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. And in the lead of nearly every story reporting on that honor was a mention of his perfect game.

In a 1989 interview with The Inquirer, Bunning acknowledged that much of his reputation was built on that sultry afternoon in New York.

Within hours of the final out, he was negotiating to appear on that night's Ed Sullivan Show. He agreed to $1,000.

"We added a pool and bathhouse to our house in Kentucky," Bunning said in that interview.

He estimated that additional commercial opportunities generated by the perfect game added $15,000 to his $30,000 salary in 1964.

Bunning's perfecto - the first in the National League since 1890 - came when baseball was still the king of sports. On the Sullivan show, his bow from the audience overshadowed one by Ken Venturi, who that day had won the U.S. Open.

"He shook my hand," Bunning said, "and said, 'I finally do something to get my picture on the front page of sports sections everywhere, and you have to come along and knock me off.' "

While it appeared that neither Halladay nor his teammates openly discussed the opportunity for perfection as it unfolded in Miami, Bunning did so as early as the sixth inning.

After he retired the first 15 Mets, Bunning decided the time was right to shatter the silence - and baseball tradition.

"C'mon," he shouted from the bench, "let's get that perfect game."

"In a game like that, the pressure not only builds on the pitcher but on the fielders as well," Bunning explained. "I was just trying to relieve it by talking."

Unlike Halladay, Bunning had previously thrown a no-hitter - an experience, he said, that helped him that Sunday in New York.

On July 20, 1958, then with the Detroit Tigers, he no-hit the Boston Red Sox, getting slugger Ted Williams for the final out.

When he got into the clubhouse after the game, "I nearly fell over," he said. "I was drained, totally exhausted from the effort. But my awareness against the Mets was just so great. I knew exactly what was happening, and I was in complete control out there."

Actually, Bunning was in control for most of that '64 season. Like Halladay, he was in his first year with the Phils, and pitched in oppressive heat and humidity.