
Ken Johnson kept Cincinnati hitless for nine innings. Houston lost anyway.
On April 23, 1964, at Colt Stadium, the Houston Colt .45s fell 1–0 to the Reds despite Johnson’s complete-game no-hitter. His final pitching line contained nine strikeouts, two walks, no hits and one unearned run.
It sounds like a contradiction. It was a lesson in how baseball works.
Johnson could prevent hits. He could not manufacture runs for Houston, and he could not erase two ninth-inning errors—including his own—that gave Cincinnati the only run it needed.
A no-hitter records the absence of hits. It does not require the absence of baserunners or runs.
Batters can reach through walks or errors, and a team can move those runners around without collecting a hit. Johnson’s game demonstrated that distinction in devastating fashion.
His two walks had not produced a run. Through eight innings, Cincinnati remained hitless and the score remained 0–0.
Across the field, Joe Nuxhall was producing a different kind of masterpiece. The Reds’ left-hander would finish with a five-hit shutout, one walk and six strikeouts.
Johnson had allowed fewer hits. Nuxhall’s team would score more runs. Only the second comparison determined the winner.
The Colt .45s did not spend the entire evening without opportunities.
In the seventh, Houston put its first two batters aboard. Johnny Weekly’s ground ball became a double play that erased both baserunners, and the inning ended without a run.
In the eighth, Jimmy Wynn led off with a double. Houston again failed to score.
Those missed chances are essential to understanding the defeat. The ninth-inning errors decided where Cincinnati’s run came from, but Houston’s offense explains why that single run was enough.
One timely hit might have changed the evening. Instead, Johnson entered the ninth without any cushion.
He was pitching for history while still trying to give Houston a chance to win.
Nuxhall opened the top of the ninth by grounding out to third baseman Bob Aspromonte.
Then Pete Rose bunted.
Johnson fielded the ball but threw wildly toward first baseman Pete Runnels. Rose reached second on the throwing error.
The official scoring mattered: Rose had reached through an error, so the no-hitter remained intact. The score also remained tied.
But Johnson’s mistake had placed the potential winning run in scoring position with one out.
Rose’s bunt was a practical attempt to reach base in a scoreless game. Cincinnati needed a run, and it had found an opening without a hit.
Chico Ruiz’s next batted ball struck Johnson’s shin and caromed to Aspromonte. The third baseman threw Ruiz out at first while Rose advanced to third.
Johnson had recorded the second out, but he had also suffered a painful injury.
He now needed one more out to finish nine hitless, scoreless innings. Rose stood 90 feet from home.
That is what makes the next play so cruel. Cincinnati did not require a spectacular swing or an extra-base hit. A routine ball in play became enough.
Vada Pinson grounded to second baseman Nellie Fox.
Fox mishandled the ball. Pinson reached first, and Rose scored.
Two errors had transformed a bunt into the game’s only run: Johnson’s throw allowed Rose to reach second, and Fox’s mistake allowed him to cross the plate after Ruiz’s out moved him to third.
Johnson then retired Frank Robinson on a fly ball to left fielder Wynn.
The no-hitter was complete. The game was not.
Houston still had the bottom of the ninth to save its pitcher from an extraordinary defeat.
The Colt .45s received one final opening when Runnels reached on Cincinnati first baseman Deron Johnson’s error with two outs.
Bob Lillis entered as a pinch-runner.
Weekly struck out looking, ending the game.
Cincinnati finished with one run and no hits. Houston finished with five hits and no runs.
Nuxhall received the victory. Ken Johnson received the loss.
The difference was not a scoring technicality. The Reds had legally scored a run; Houston had not. Johnson’s remarkable pitching achievement and his defeat could coexist because they measured different things.
The aftermath gives this story something beyond its statistical oddity.
According to SABR’s reconstruction, which cites contemporary newspaper reporting, Fox apologized to Johnson after the game. Johnson reminded him that his own throwing error had put Rose aboard.
“I put the guy on myself,” Johnson said.
That response recognized the whole sequence. Fox’s error was the final defensive mistake, but it was not the only one.
Contemporary Houston Chronicle reporting also recorded Johnson’s pride in his performance: “I just pitched the best game of baseball I ever pitched in my whole life.”
He could acknowledge the loss without pretending the achievement had disappeared.
Johnson became the first major-league pitcher to lose a completed nine-inning game in which he personally allowed no hits.
The precise wording matters. His outing was a complete-game no-hitter, not a perfect game. Cincinnati had baserunners, and one scored.
It also deserves to be remembered as more than Nellie Fox’s error. Johnson contributed a costly mistake. Houston failed to capitalize on its opportunities. Nuxhall pitched well enough to make one run decisive.
That combination produced one of baseball’s most astonishing box scores.
Ken Johnson gave Cincinnati no hits.
Houston gave him no runs.
And an exceptional night on the mound became a defeat.

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