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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33291-8.txt b/33291-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6e8af7b --- /dev/null +++ b/33291-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6739 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pitching in a Pinch, by Christy Mathewson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pitching in a Pinch + or, Baseball from the Inside + +Author: Christy Mathewson + +Commentator: John N. Wheeler + +Release Date: July 30, 2010 [EBook #33291] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +PITCHING IN A PINCH + + + + +[Illustration: Christy Mathewson + +Copyright by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio] + + + + + PITCHING IN A PINCH + + OR BASEBALL FROM THE INSIDE + + + BY CHRISTY MATHEWSON + + + WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY + JOHN N. WHEELER + + + ILLUSTRATED + + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Made in the United States of America + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1912 + BY CHRISTOPHER MATHEWSON + + This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK AND LONDON + + The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Introducing a reader to Christy Mathewson seems like a superfluous piece +of writing and a waste of white paper. Schoolboys of the last ten years +have been acquainted with the exact figures which have made up Matty's +pitching record before they had ever heard of George Washington, because +George didn't play in the same League. + +Perfectly good rational and normal citizens once deserted a reception to +the Governor of the State because Christy Mathewson was going to pitch +against the Chicago club. If the committee on arrangements wanted to make +the hour of the reception earlier, all right, but no one could be expected +to miss seeing Matty in the box against Chance and his Cubs for the sake +of greeting the Governor. + +Besides being a national hero, Matty is one of the closest students of +baseball that ever came into the Big League. By players, he has long been +recognized as the greatest pitcher the game has produced. He has been +pitching in the Big Leagues for eleven years and winning games right +along. + +His great pitching practically won the world's championship for the Giants +from the Philadelphia Athletics in 1905, and, six years later, he was +responsible for one of the two victories turned in by New York pitchers in +a world's series again with the Athletics. + +At certain periods in his baseball career, he has pitched almost every day +after the rest of the staff had fallen down. When the Giants were making +their determined fight for the championship in 1908, the season that the +race was finally decided by a single game with the Cubs, he worked in nine +out of the last fifteen games in an effort to save his club from defeat. +And he won most of them. That has always been the beauty of his +pitching--his ability to win. + +Matty was born in Factoryville, Pa., thirty-one years ago, and, after +going to Bucknell College, he began to play ball with the Norfolk club of +the Virginia League, but was soon bought by the New York Giants, where he +has remained ever since and is likely to stay for some time to come, if he +can continue to make himself as welcome as he has been so far. He was +only nineteen when he joined the club and was a headliner from the start. +Always he has been a student and something of a writer, having done +newspaper work from time to time during the big series. He has made a +careful study of the Big League batters. He has kept a sort of baseball +diary of his career, and, frequently, I have heard him relate unwritten +chapters of baseball history filled with the thrilling incidents of his +personal experience. + +"Why don't you write a real book of the Big Leaguers?" I asked him one +day. + +And he has done it. In this book he is telling the reader of the game as +it is played in the Big Leagues. As a college man, he is able to put his +impressions of the Big Leagues on paper graphically. It's as good as his +pitching and some exciting things have happened in the Big Leagues, +stories that never found their way into the newspapers. Matty has told +them. This is a true tale of Big Leaguers, their habits and their methods +of playing the game, written by one of them. + +JOHN N. WHEELER. + +NEW YORK, March, 1912. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I--THE MOST DANGEROUS BATTERS I HAVE MET 1 + + II--"TAKE HIM OUT!" 21 + + III--PITCHING IN A PINCH 54 + + IV--BIG LEAGUE PITCHERS AND THEIR PECULIARITIES 74 + + V--PLAYING THE GAME FROM THE BENCH 93 + + VI--COACHING--GOOD AND BAD 117 + + VII--HONEST AND DISHONEST SIGN STEALING 140 + + VIII--UMPIRES AND CLOSE DECISIONS 161 + + IX--THE GAME THAT COST A PENNANT 183 + + X--WHEN THE TEAMS ARE IN SPRING TRAINING 206 + + XI--JINXES AND WHAT THEY MEAN TO A BALL-PLAYER 230 + + XII--BASE RUNNERS AND HOW THEY HELP A PITCHER TO WIN 255 + + XIII--NOTABLE INSTANCES WHERE THE "INSIDE" GAME HAS FAILED 381 + + + + +Pitching in a Pinch + + + + +Pitching in a Pinch + + + + +I + +The Most Dangerous Batters I Have Met + + _How "Joe" Tinker Changed Overnight from a Weakling at the Plate to + the Worst Batter I Had to Face--"Fred" Clarke of Pittsburg cannot be + Fooled by a Change of Pace, and "Hans" Wagner's Only "Groove" Is a + Base on Balls--"Inside" Information on All the Great Batters._ + + +I have often been asked to which batters I have found it hardest to pitch. + +It is the general impression among baseball fans that Joseph Faversham +Tinker, the short-stop of the Chicago Cubs, is the worst man that I have +to face in the National League. Few realize that during his first two +years in the big show Joe Tinker looked like a cripple at the plate when I +was pitching. His "groove" was a slow curve over the outside corner, and I +fed him slow curves over that very outside corner with great regularity. +Then suddenly, overnight, he became from my point of view the most +dangerous batter in the League. + +Tinker is a clever ball-player, and one day I struck him out three times +in succession with low curves over the outside corner. Instead of getting +disgusted with himself, he began to think and reason. He knew that I was +feeding him that low curve over the outside corner, and he started to look +for an antidote. He had always taken a short, choppy swing at the ball. +When he went to the clubhouse after the game in which he struck out three +times, he was very quiet, so I have been told. He was just putting on his +last sock when he clapped his hand to his leg and exclaimed: + +"I've got it." + +"Got what?" asked Johnny Evers, who happened to be sitting next to Tinker. + +"Got the way to hit Matty, who had me looking as if I came from the home +for the blind out there to-day," answered Joe. + +"I should say he did," replied Evers. "But if you've found a way to hit +him, why, I'm from away out in Missouri near the Ozark Mountains." + +"Wait till he pitches again," said Tinker by way of conclusion, as he took +his diamond ring from the trainer and left the clubhouse. + +It was a four-game series in Chicago, and I had struck Tinker out three +times in the first contest. McGraw decided that I should pitch the last +game as well. Two men were on the bases and two were out when Tinker came +to the bat for the first time in this battle, and the outfielders moved in +closer for him, as he had always been what is known as a "chop" hitter. I +immediately noticed something different about his style as he set himself +at the plate, and then it struck me that he was standing back in the box +and had a long bat. Before this he had always choked his bat short and +stood up close. Now I observed that he had his stick way down by the +handle. + +Bresnahan was catching, and he signalled for the regular prescription for +Tinker. With a lot of confidence I handed him that old low curve. He +evidently expected it, for he stepped almost across the plate, and, with +that long bat, drove the ball to right field for two bases over the head +of George Browne, who was playing close up to the infield, scoring both +runs and eventually winning the game. + +"I've got your number now, Matty!" he shouted at me as he drew up at +second base. + +I admit that he has had it quite frequently since he switched his batting +style. Now the outfielders move back when Tinker comes to the plate, for, +if he connects, he hits "'em far" with that long bat. Ever since the day +he adopted the "pole" he has been a thorn in my side and has broken up +many a game. That old low curve is his favorite now, and he reaches for it +with the same cordiality as is displayed by an actor in reaching for his +pay envelope. The only thing to do is to keep them close and try to +outguess him, but Tinker is a hard man to beat at the game of wits. + +Many a heady hitter in the Big League could give the signs to the opposing +pitcher, for he realizes what his weakness is and knows that a twirler is +going to pitch at it. But, try as hard as he will, he cannot often cover +up his "groove," as Tinker did, and so he continues to be easy for the +twirler who can put the ball where he wants it. + +Fred Clarke, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me to fool on +account of his batting form. A hitter of his type cannot be deceived by a +change of pace, because he stands up close to the plate, chokes his bat +short, and swings left-handed. When a pitcher cannot deceive a man with a +change of pace, he has to depend on curves. Let me digress briefly to +explain why a change of pace will not make the ball miss Clarke's bat. He +is naturally a left-field hitter, and likes the ball on the outside corner +of the plate. That means he swings at the ball late and makes most of his +drives to left field. + +How is a batter fooled by a change of pace? A pitcher gives him a speedy +one and then piles a slow one right on top of it with the same motion. The +batter naturally thinks it is another fast ball and swings too soon--that +is, before the ball gets to him. But when a man like Clarke is at the bat +and a pitcher tries to work a change of pace, what is the result? He +naturally swings late and so hits a fast ball to left field. Then as the +slow one comes up to the plate, he strikes at it, granted he is deceived +by it, timing his swing as he would at a fast ball. If it had been a fast +ball, as he thought, he would have hit it to left field, being naturally a +late swinger. But on a slow one he swings clear around and pulls it to +right field twice as hard as he would have hit it to left field because +he has obtained that much more drive in the longer swing. Therefore, it is +a rule in the profession that no left-handed batter who hits late can be +deceived by a change of pace. + +"Rube" Ellis, a left-handed hitter of the St. Louis Club, entered the +League and heard complimentary stories about my pitching. Ellis came up to +bat the first day that I pitched against him wondering if he would get +even a foul. He was new to me and I was looking for his "groove." I gave +him one over the outside corner, and he jabbed it to left field. The next +time, I thought to work the change of pace, and, swinging late, he hauled +the ball around to right field, and it nearly tore Fred Tenny's head off +en route over first base. Five hits out of five times at bat he made off +me that day, and, when he went to the clubhouse, he remarked to his team +mates in this wise: + +"So that is the guy who has been burning up this League, huh? We've got +better 'n him in the coast circuit. He's just got the Indian sign on you. +That's all." + +I did a little thinking about Ellis's hitting. He used a long bat and held +it down near the end and "poled 'em." He was naturally a left-field +hitter and, therefore, swung late at the ball. I concluded that fast ones +inside would do for Mr. Ellis, and the next time we met he got just those. +He has been getting them ever since and now, when he makes a hit off me, +he holds a celebration. + +"Hans" Wagner, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me, but in +that I have had nothing on a lot of other pitchers. He takes a long bat, +stands well back from the plate, and steps into the ball, poling it. He is +what is known in baseball as a free swinger, and there are not many free +swingers these days. This is what ailed the Giants' batting during the +world's series in 1911. They all attempted to become free swingers +overnight and were trying to knock the ball out of the lot, instead of +chopping it. + +In the history of baseball there have not been more than fifteen or twenty +free swingers altogether, and they are the real natural hitters of the +game, the men with eyes nice enough and accurate enough to take a long +wallop at the ball. "Dan" Brouthers was one, and so was "Cap" Anson. +Sherwood Magee and "Hans" Wagner are contemporary free swingers. Men of +this type wield a heavy bat as if it were a toothpick and step back and +forth in the box, hitting the ball on any end of the plate. Sometimes it +is almost impossible to pass a man of this sort purposely, for a little +carelessness in getting the ball too close to the plate may result in his +stepping up and hitting it a mile. Pitchers have been searching for +Wagner's "groove" for years, and, if any one of them has located it, he +has his discovery copyrighted, for I never heard of it. + +Only one pitcher, that I can recall, always had it on Wagner, and that man +was Arthur Raymond, sometimes called "Bugs." He seemed to upset the German +by his careless manner in the box and by his "kidding" tactics. I have +seen him make Wagner go after bad balls, a thing that "Hans" seldom can be +induced to do by other twirlers. + +I remember well the first time I pitched against Wagner. Jack Warner was +catching, and I, young and new in the League, had spent a lot of time with +him, learning the weaknesses of the batters and being coached as to how to +treat them. Wagner loomed up at the bat in a pinch, and I could not +remember what Warner had said about his flaw. I walked out of the box to +confer with the catcher. + +"What's his 'groove,' Jack?" I asked him. + +"A base on balls," replied Warner, without cracking a smile. + +That's always been Wagner's "groove." + +There used to be a player on the Boston team named Claude Ritchey who "had +it on me" for some reason or other. He was a left-handed hitter and +naturally drove the ball to left field, so that I could not fool him with +a change of pace. He was always able to outguess me in a pinch and seemed +to know by intuition what was coming. + +There has been for a long time an ardent follower of the Giants named Mrs. +Wilson, who raves wildly at a game, and is broken-hearted when the team +loses. The Giants were playing in Boston one day, and needed the game very +badly. It was back in 1905, at the time the club could cinch the pennant +by winning one contest, and the flag-assuring game is the hardest one to +win. Two men got on the bases in the ninth inning with the score tied and +no one out. The crowd was stamping its feet and hooting madly, trying to +rattle me. I heard Mrs. Wilson shrill loudly above the noise: + +"Stick with them, Matty!" + +Ritchey came up to the bat, and I passed him purposely, trying to get him +to strike at a bad ball. I wouldn't take a chance on letting him hit at a +good one. Mrs. Wilson thought I was losing my control, and unable to stand +it any longer she got up and walked out of the grounds. Then I fanned the +next two batters, and the last man hit a roller to Devlin and was thrown +out at first base. I was told afterwards that Mrs. Wilson stood outside +the ground, waiting to hear the crowd cheer, which would have told her it +was all over. + +She lingered at the gate until the fourteenth inning, fearing to return +because she expected to see us routed. At last she heard a groan from the +home crowd when we won in the fourteenth. Still she would not believe that +I had weathered the storm and won the game that gave the Giants a pennant, +but waited to be assured by some of the spectators leaving the grounds +before she came around to congratulate us. + +All batters who are good waiters, and will not hit at bad balls, are hard +to deceive, because it means a twirler has to lay the ball over, and then +the hitter always has the better chance. A pitcher will try to get a man +to hit at a bad ball before he will put it near the plate. + +Many persons have asked me why I do not use my "fade-away" oftener when it +is so effective, and the only answer is that every time I throw the +"fade-away" it takes so much out of my arm. It is a very hard ball to +deliver. Pitching it ten or twelve times in a game kills my arm, so I save +it for the pinches. + +Many fans do not know what this ball really is. It is a slow curve pitched +with the motion of a fast ball. But most curve balls break away from a +right-handed batter a little. The fade-away breaks toward him. + +Baker, of the Athletics, is one of the most dangerous hitters I have ever +faced, and we were not warned to look out for him before the 1911 world's +series, either. Certain friends of the Giants gave us some "inside" +information on the Athletics' hitters. Among others, the Cubs supplied us +with good tips, but no one spread the Baker alarm. I was told to watch out +for Collins as a dangerous man, one who was likely to break up a game any +time with a long drive. + +I consider Baker one of the hardest, cleanest hitters I have ever faced, +and he drives the ball on a line to any field. The fielders cannot play +for him. He did not show up well in the first game of the world's series +because the Athletics thought they were getting our signs, and we crossed +Baker with two men on the bases in the third inning. He lost a chance to +be a hero right there. + +The roughest deal that I got from Baker in the 1911 series was in the +third game, which was the second in New York. We had made one run and the +ninth inning rolled around with the Giants still leading, 1 to 0. The +first man at the bat grounded out and then Baker came up. I realized by +this time that he was a hard proposition, but figured that he could not +hit a low curve over the outside corner, as he is naturally a right-field +hitter. I got one ball and one strike on him and then delivered a ball +that was aimed to be a low curve over the outside corner. Baker refused to +swing at it, and Brennan, the umpire, called it a ball. + +I thought that it caught the outside corner of the plate, and that Brennan +missed the strike. It put me in the hole with the count two balls and one +strike, and I had to lay the next one over very near the middle to keep +the count from being three and one. I pitched a curve ball that was meant +for the outside corner, but cut the plate better than I intended. Baker +stepped up into it and smashed it into the grand-stand in right field for +a home run, and there is the history of that famous wallop. This tied the +score. + +A pitcher has two types of batters to face. One is the man who is always +thinking and guessing and waiting, trying to get the pitcher in the hole. +Evers, of the Cubs, is that sort. They tell me that "Ty" Cobb of Detroit +is the most highly developed of this type of hitter. I have never seen him +play. Then the other kind is the natural slugger, who does not wait for +anything, and who could not outguess a pitcher if he did. The brainy man +is the harder for a pitcher to face because he is a constant source of +worry. + +There are two ways of fooling a batter. One is literally to "mix 'em up," +and the other is to keep feeding him the same sort of a ball, but to +induce him to think that something else is coming. When a brainy man is at +the bat, he is always trying to figure out what to expect. If he knows, +then his chances of getting a hit are greatly increased. For instance, if +a batter has two balls and two strikes on him, he naturally concludes that +the pitcher will throw him a curve ball, and prepares for it. Big League +ball-players recognize only two kinds of pitched balls--the curve and the +straight one. + +When a catcher in the Big League signals for a curved ball, he means a +drop, and, after handling a certain pitcher for a time, he gets to know +just how much the ball is going to curve. That is why the one catcher +receives for the same pitcher so regularly, because they get to work +together harmoniously. "Chief" Meyers, the big Indian catcher on the +Giants, understands my style so well that in some games he hardly has to +give a sign. But, oddly enough, he could never catch Raymond because he +did not like to handle the spit ball, a hard delivery to receive, and +Raymond and he could not get along together as a battery. They would cross +each other. But Arthur Wilson caught Raymond almost perfectly. This +explains the loss of effectiveness of many pitchers when a certain catcher +is laid up or out of the game. + +"Cy" Seymour, formerly the outfielder of the Giants, was one of the +hardest batters I ever had to pitch against when he was with the +Cincinnati club and going at the top of his stride. He liked a curved +ball, and could hit it hard and far, and was always waiting for it. He was +very clever at out-guessing a pitcher and being able to conclude what was +coming. For a long time whenever I pitched against him I had "mixed 'em +up" literally, handing him first a fast ball and then a slow curve and so +on, trying to fool him in this way. But one day we were playing in +Cincinnati, and I decided to keep delivering the same kind of a ball, that +old fast one around his neck, and to try to induce him to believe that a +curve was coming. I pitched him nothing but fast ones that day, and he was +always waiting for a curve. The result was that I had him in the hole all +the time, and I struck him out three times. He has never gotten over it. +Only recently I saw Seymour, and he said: + +"Matty, you are the only man that ever struck me out three times in the +same game." + +He soon guessed, however, that I was not really mixing them up, and then I +had to switch my style again for him. + +Some pitchers talk to batters a great deal, hoping to get their minds off +the game in this way, and thus be able to sneak strikes over. But I find +that talking to a batter disconcerts me almost as much as it does him, and +I seldom do it. Repartee is not my line anyway. + +Bender talked to the Giant players all through that first game in the 1911 +world's series, the one in which he wore the smile, probably because he +was a pitcher old in the game and several of the younger men on the New +York team acted as if they were nervous. Snodgrass and the Indian kept up +a running fire of small talk every time that the Giants' centre-fielder +came to the plate. + +Snodgrass got hit by pitched balls twice, and this seemed to worry Bender. +When the New York centre-fielder came to the bat in the eighth inning, the +Indian showed his even teeth in the chronic grin and greeted Snodgrass in +this way: + +"Look out, Freddie, you don't get hit this time." + +Then Bender wound up and with all his speed drove the ball straight at +Snodgrass's head, and Bender had more speed in that first game than I ever +saw him use before. Snodgrass dodged, and the ball drove into Thomas's +glove. This pitching the first ball at the head of a batter is an old +trick of pitchers when they think a player intends to get hit purposely or +that he is crowding the plate. + +"If you can't push 'em over better than that," retorted Snodgrass, "I +won't need to get hit. Let's see your fast one now." + +"Try this one," suggested Bender, as he pitched another fast one that cut +the heart of the plate. Snodgrass swung and hit nothing but the air. The +old atmosphere was very much mauled by bats in that game anyway. + +"You missed that one a mile, Freddie," chuckled the Indian, with his grin. + +Snodgrass eventually struck out and then Bender broke into a laugh. + +"You ain't a batter, Freddie," exclaimed the Indian, as he walked to the +bench. "You're a backstop. You can never get anywhere without being hit." + +If a pitcher is going to talk to a batter, he must size up his man. An +irritable, nervous young player often will fall for the conversation, but +most seasoned hitters will not answer back. The Athletics, other than +Bender, will not talk in a game. We tried to get after them in the first +contest in 1911, and we could not get a rise out of one of them, except +when Snodgrass spiked Baker, and I want to say right here that this much +discussed incident was accidental. Baker was blocking Snodgrass out, and +the New York player had a perfect right to the base line. + +Sherwood Magee of the Philadelphia National League team is one of the +hardest batters that I ever have had to face, because he has a great eye, +and is of the type of free swingers who take a mad wallop at the ball, and +are always liable to break up a game with a long drive. Just once I talked +to him when he was at the bat, more because we were both worked up than +for any other reason, and he came out second best. It was while the Giants +were playing at American League Park in 1911 after the old Polo Grounds +had burned. Welchonce, who was the centre-fielder for the Phillies at the +time, hit a slow one down the first base line, and I ran over to field the +ball. I picked it up as the runner arrived and had no time to straighten +up to dodge him. So I struck out my shoulder and he ran into it. There was +no other way to make the play, but I guess it looked bad from the stand, +because Welchonce fell down. + +Magee came up to bat next, threw his hat on the ground, and started to +call me names. He is bad when irritated--and tolerably easy to irritate, +as shown by the way in which he knocked down Finnegan, the umpire, last +season because their ideas on a strike differed slightly. I replied on +that occasion, but remembered to keep the ball away from the centre of the +plate. That is about all I did do, but he was more wrought up than I and +hit only a slow grounder to the infield. He was out by several feet. He +took a wild slide at the bag, however, feet first, in what looked like an +attempt to spike Merkle. We talked some more after that, but it has all +been forgotten now. + +To be a successful pitcher in the Big League, a man must have the head and +the arm. When I first joined the Giants, I had what is known as the "old +round-house curve," which is no more than a big, slow outdrop. I had been +fooling them in the minor leagues with it, and I was somewhat chagrined +when George Davis, then the manager of the club, came to me and told me to +forget the curve, as it would be of no use. It was then that I began to +develop my drop ball. + +A pitcher must watch all the time for any little unconscious motion before +he delivers the ball. If a base runner can guess just when he is going to +pitch, he can get a much better start. Drucke used to have a little motion +with his foot just before he pitched, of which he himself was entirely +unconscious, but the other clubs got on to it and stole bases on him +wildly. McGraw has since broken him of it. + +The Athletics say that I make a motion peculiar to the fade-away. Some +spit-ball pitchers announce when they are going to throw a moist one by +looking at the ball as they dampen it. At other times, when they "stall," +they do not look at the ball. The Big League batter is watching for all +these little things and, if a pitcher is not careful, he will find a lot +of men who are hard to pitch to. There are plenty anyway, and, as a man +grows older, this number increases season by season. + + + + +II + +"Take Him Out" + + _Many a Pitcher's Heart has been Broken by the Cry from the Stands, + "Take Him Out"--Russell Ford of the New York Yankees was Once Beaten + by a Few Foolish Words Whispered into the Batter's Ear at a Critical + Moment--Why "Rube" Marquard Failed for Two Years to be a Big + Leaguer--The Art of Breaking a Pitcher into Fast Company._ + + +A pitcher is in a tight game, and the batter makes a hit. Another follows +and some fan back in the stand cries in stentorian tones: + +"Take him out!" + +It is the dirge of baseball which has broken the hearts of pitchers ever +since the game began and will continue to do so as long as it lives. +Another fan takes up the shout, and another, and another, until it is a +chorus. + +"Take him out! Take him out! Take him out!" + +The pitcher has to grin, but that constant cry is wearing on nerves strung +to the breaking point. The crowd is against him, and the next batter hits, +and a run scores. The manager stops the game, beckons to the pitcher from +the bench, and he has to walk away from the box, facing the crowd--not the +team--which has beaten him. It is the psychology of baseball. + +Some foolish words once whispered into the ear of a batter by a clever +manager in the crisis of one of the closest games ever played in baseball +turned the tide and unbalanced a pitcher who had been working like a +perfectly adjusted machine through seven terrific innings. That is also +the "psychology of pitching." The man wasn't beaten because he weakened, +because he lost his grip, because of any physical deficiency, but because +some foolish words--words that meant nothing, had nothing to do with the +game--had upset his mental attitude. + +The game was the first one played between the Giants and the Yankees in +the post-season series of 1910, the batter was Bridwell, the manager was +John McGraw, and the pitcher, Russell Ford of the Yankees. The cast of +characters having been named, the story may now enter the block. + +Spectators who recall the game will remember that the two clubs had been +battling through the early innings with neither team able to gain an +advantage, and the Giants came to bat for the eighth inning with the score +a tie. Ford was pitching perfectly with all the art of a master craftsman. +Each team had made one run. I was the first man up and started the eighth +inning with a single because Ford slackened up a little against me, +thinking that I was not dangerous. Devore beat out an infield hit, and +Doyle bunted and was safe, filling the bases. Then Ford went to work. He +struck out Snodgrass, and Hemphill caught Murray's fly far too near the +infield to permit me to try to score. It looked as if Ford were going to +get out of the hole when "Al" Bridwell, the former Giant shortstop, came +to the bat. Ford threw him two bad balls, and then McGraw ran out from the +bench, and, with an autocratic finger, held up the game while he whispered +into Bridwell's ear. + +"Al" nodded knowingly, and the whole thing was a pantomime, a wordless +play, that made _Sumurun_ look like a bush-league production. Bridwell +stepped back into the batter's box, and McGraw returned to the bench. On +the next pitch, "Al" was hit in the leg and went to first base, forcing +the run that broke the tie across the plate. That run also broke Ford's +heart. And here is what McGraw whispered into the attentive ear of +Bridwell: + +"How many quail did you say you shot when you were hunting last fall, Al?" + +John McGraw, the psychologist, baseball general and manager, had heard +opportunity knock. With his fingers on the pulse of the game, he had felt +the tenseness of the situation, and realized, all in the flash of an eye, +that Ford was wabbling and that anything would push him over. He stopped +the game and whispered into Bridwell's ear while Ford was feeling more and +more the intensity of the crisis. He had an opportunity to observe the +three men on the bases. He wondered what McGraw was whispering, what trick +was to be expected. Was he telling the batter to get hit? Yes, he must be. +Then he did just that--hit the batter, and lost the game. + +Why can certain pitchers always beat certain clubs and why do they look +like bush leaguers against others? To be concrete, why can Brooklyn fight +Chicago so hard and look foolish playing against the Giants? Why can the +Yankees take game after game from Detroit and be easy picking for the +Cleveland club in most of their games? Why does Boston beat Marquard when +he can make the hard Philadelphia hitters look like blind men with bats in +their hands? Why could I beat Cincinnati game after game for two years +when the club was filled with hard hitters? It is the psychology of +baseball, the mental attitudes of the players, some intangible thing that +works on the mind. Managers are learning to use this subtle, indescribable +element which is such a factor. + +The great question which confronts every Big League manager is how to +break a valuable young pitcher into the game. "Rube" Marquard came to the +Giants in the fall of 1908 out of the American Association heralded as a +world-beater, with a reputation that shimmered and shone. The newspapers +were crowded with stories of the man for whom McGraw had paid $11,000, who +had been standing them on their heads in the West, who had curves that +couldn't be touched, and was a bargain at the unheard-of price paid for +him. + +"Rube" Marquard came to the Giants in a burst of glory and publicity when +the club was fighting for the pennant. McGraw was up against it for +pitchers at that time, and one win, turned in by a young pitcher, might +have resulted in the Giants winning the pennant as the season ended. + +"Don't you think Marquard would win? Can't you put him in?" Mr. Brush, the +owner of the club, asked McGraw one day when he was discussing the +pitching situation with the manager. + +"I don't know," answered McGraw. "If he wins his first time out in the Big +Leagues, he will be a world-beater, and, if he loses, it may cost us a +good pitcher." But Mr. Brush was insistent. Here a big price had been paid +for a pitcher with a record, and pitchers were what the club needed. The +newspapers declared that the fans should get a look at this "$11,000 +beauty" in action. A double header was scheduled to be played with the +Cincinnati club in the month of September, in 1908, and the pitching staff +was gone. McGraw glanced over his collection of crippled and worked-out +twirlers. Then he saw "Rube" Marquard, big and fresh. + +"Go in and pitch," he ordered after Marquard had warmed up. + +McGraw always does things that way, makes up his mind about the most +important matters in a minute and then stands by his judgment. Marquard +went into the box, but he didn't pitch much. He has told me about it +since. + +"When I saw that crowd, Matty," he said, "I didn't know where I was. It +looked so big to me, and they were all wondering what I was going to do, +and all thinking that McGraw had paid $11,000 for me, and now they were to +find out whether he had gotten stuck, whether he had picked up a gold +brick with the plating on it very thin. I was wondering, myself, whether I +would make good." + +What Marquard did that day is a matter of record, public property, like +marriage and death notices. Kane, the little rightfielder on the +Cincinnati club, was the first man up, and, although he was one of the +smallest targets in the league, Marquard hit him. He promptly stole +second, which worried "Rube" some more. Up came Lobert, the man who broke +Marquard's heart. + +"Now we'll see," said Lobert to "Rube," as he advanced to the plate, +"whether you're a busher." Then Lobert, the tantalizing Teuton with the +bow-legs, whacked out a triple to the far outfield and stopped at third +with a mocking smile on his face which would have gotten the late Job's +goat. + +"You're identified," said "Hans"; "you're a busher." + +Some fan shouted the fatal "Take him out." Marquard was gone. Bescher +followed with another triple, and, after that, the official scorer got +writer's cramp trying to keep track of the hits and runs. The number of +hits, I don't think, ever was computed with any great amount of +exactitude. Marquard was taken out of the box in the fifth inning, and he +was two years recovering from the shock of that beating. McGraw had put +him into the game against his better judgment, and he paid for it dearly. + +Marquard had to be nursed along on the bench finishing games, starting +only against easy clubs, and learning the ropes of the Big Leagues before +he was able to be a winning pitcher. McGraw was a long time realizing +on his investment. All Marquard needed was a victory, a decisive win, over +a strong club. + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Ty Cobb and Hans Wagner + +"An American and National League star of the first magnitude. Fans of the +rival leagues never tire of discussing the relative merits of these two +great players. Both are always willing to take a chance, and seem to do +their best work when pressed hardest."] + + +The Giants played a disastrous series with the Philadelphia club early in +July, 1911, and lost four games straight. All the pitchers were shot to +pieces, and the Quakers seemed to be unbeatable. McGraw was at a loss for +a man to use in the fifth game. The weather was steaming hot, and the +players were dragged out, while the pitching staff had lost all its +starch. As McGraw's eye scanned his bedraggled talent, Marquard, reading +his thoughts, walked up to him. + +"Give me a chance," he asked. + +"Go in," answered McGraw, again making up his mind on the spur of the +moment. Marquard went into the game and made the Philadelphia batters, +whose averages had been growing corpulent on the pitching of the rest of +the staff, look foolish. There on that sweltering July afternoon, when +everything steamed in the blistering heat, a pitcher was being born again. +Marquard had found himself, and, for the rest of the season, he was +strongest against the Philadelphia team, for it had been that club which +restored his confidence. + +There is a sequel to that old Lobert incident, too. In one of the last +series in Philadelphia, toward the end of the season, Marquard and Lobert +faced each other again. Said Marquard: + +"Remember the time, you bow-legged Dutchman, when you asked me whether I +was a busher? Here is where I pay you back. This is the place where you +get a bad showing up." + +And he fanned Lobert--whiff! whiff! whiff!--like that. He became the +greatest lefthander in the country, and would have been sooner, except for +the enormous price paid for him and the widespread publicity he received, +which caused him to be over-anxious to make good. It's the psychology of +the game. + +"You can't hit what you don't see," says "Joe" Tinker of Marquard's +pitching. "When he throws his fast one, the only way you know it's past +you is because you hear the ball hit the catcher's glove." + +Fred Clarke, of the Pittsburg club, was up against the same proposition +when he purchased "Marty" O'Toole for $22,500 in 1911. The newspapers of +the country were filled with figures and pictures of the real estate and +automobiles that could be bought with the same amount of money, lined up +alongside of pictures of O'Toole, as when the comparative strengths of the +navies of the world are shown by placing different sizes of battleships in +a row, or when the length of the _Lusitania_ is emphasized by printing a +picture of it balancing gracefully on its stern alongside the Singer +Building. + +Clarke realized that he had all this publicity with which to contend, and +that it would do his expensive new piece of pitching bric-à-brac no good. +O'Toole, jerked out of a minor league where he had been pitching quietly, +along with his name in ten or a dozen papers, was suddenly a national +figure, measuring up in newspaper space with Roosevelt and Taft and J. +Johnson. + +When O'Toole joined the Pirates near the end of the season, Clarke knew +down in his heart the club had no chance of winning the pennant with +Wagner hurt, although he still publicly declared he was in the race. He +did not risk jumping O'Toole right into the game as soon as he reported +and taking the chance of breaking his heart. Opposing players, if they +are up in the pennant hunt, are hard on a pitcher of this sort and would +lose no opportunity to mention the price paid for him and connect it +pointedly with his showing, if that showing was a little wobbly. Charity +begins at home, and stays there, in the Big Leagues. At least, I never saw +any of it on the ball fields, especially if the club is in the race, and +the only thing that stands between it and a victory is the ruining of a +$22,500 pitcher of a rival. + +Clarke nursed O'Toole along on the bench for a couple of weeks until he +got to be thoroughly acclimated, and then he started him in a game against +Boston, the weakest club in the league, after he had sent for Kelly, +O'Toole's regular catcher, to inspire more confidence. O'Toole had an easy +time of it at his Big League début, for the Boston players did not pick on +him any to speak of, as they were not a very hard bunch of pickers. The +Pittsburg team gave him a nice comfortable, cosy lead, and he was pitching +along ahead of the game all the way. In the fifth or sixth inning Clarke +slipped Gibson, the regular Pittsburg catcher, behind the bat, and O'Toole +had won his first game in the Big League before he knew it. He then +reasoned I have won here. I belong here. I can get along here. It isn't +much different from the crowd I came from, except for the name, and that's +nothing to get timid about if I can clean up as easily as I did to-day. + +Fred Clarke, also a psychologist and baseball manager, had worked a +valuable pitcher into the League, and he had won his first game. If he had +started him against some club like the Giants, for instance, where he +would have had to face a big crowd and the conversation and spirit of +players who were after a pennant and hot after it, he might have lost and +his heart would have been broken. Successfully breaking into the game an +expensive pitcher, who has cost a club a large price, is one of the +hardest problems which confronts a manager. Now O'Toole is all right if he +has the pitching goods. He has taken his initial plunge, and all he has to +do is to make good next year. The psychology element is eliminated from +now on. + +I have been told that Clarke was the most relieved man in seven counties +when O'Toole came through with that victory in Boston. + +"I had in mind all the time," said Fred, "what happened to McGraw when he +was trying to introduce Marquard into the smart set, and I was afraid the +same thing would happen to me. I had a lot of confidence in the nerve of +that young fellow though, because he stood up well under fire the first +day he got into Pittsburg. One of those lady reporters was down to the +club offices to meet him the morning he got into town, and they always +kind of have me, an old campaigner, stepping away from the plate. She +pulled her pad and pencil on Marty first thing, before he had had a chance +to knock the dirt out of his cleats, and said: + +"'Now tell me about yourself.' + +"He stepped right into that one, instead of backing away. + +"'What do you want me to tell?' he asks her. + +"Then I knew he was all right. He was there with the 'come-back.'" + +But the ideal way to break a star into the Big League is that which marked +the entrance of Grover Cleveland Alexander, of the Philadelphia club. The +Cincinnati club had had its eye on Alexander for some time, but "Tacks" +Ashenbach, the scout, now dead, had advised against him, declaring that he +would be no good against "regular batters." Philadelphia got him at the +waiver price and he was among the lot in the newspapers marked "Those who +also joined." He started out in 1911 and won two or three games before +anyone paid any attention to him. Then he kept on winning until one +manager was saying to another: + +"That guy, Alexander, is a hard one to beat." + +He had won ten or a dozen games before it was fully realized that he was a +star. Then he was so accustomed to the Big League he acted as if he had +been living in it all his life, and there was no getting on his nerves. +When he started, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. If he +didn't last, the newspapers wouldn't laugh at him, and the people wouldn't +say: + +"$11,000, or $22,500, for a lemon." That's the dread of all ball players. + +Such is the psychology of introducing promising pitchers into the Big +Leagues. The Alexander route is the ideal one, but it's hard to get stars +now without paying enormous prices for them. Philadelphia was lucky. + +There is another element which enters into all forms of athletics. Tennis +players call it nervousness, and ball players, in the frankness of the +game, call it a "yellow streak." It is the inability to stand the gaff, +the weakening in the pinches. It is something ingrained in a man that +can't be cured. It is the desire to quit when the situation is serious. It +is different from stage fright, because a man may get over that, but a +"yellow streak" is always with him. When a new player breaks into the +League, he is put to the most severe test by the other men to see if he is +"yellow." If he is found wanting, he is hopeless in the Big League, for +the news will spread, and he will receive no quarter. It is the cardinal +sin in a ball player. + +For some time after "Hans" Wagner's poor showing in the world's series of +1903, when the Pittsburg club was defeated for the World's Championship by +the Boston American League club, it was reported that he was "yellow." +This grieved the Dutchman deeply, for I don't know a ball player in either +league who would assay less quit to the ton than Wagner. He is always +there and always fighting. Wagner felt the inference which his team mates +drew very keenly. This was the real tragedy in Wagner's career. +Notwithstanding his stolid appearance, he is a sensitive player, and this +hurt him more than anything else in his life ever has. + +When the Pittsburg club played Detroit in 1909 for the championship of the +world, many, even of Wagner's admirers, said, "The Dutchman will quit." It +was in this series he vindicated himself. His batting scored the majority +of the Pittsburg runs, and his fielding was little short of wonderful. He +was demonstrating his gameness. Many men would have quit under the +reflection. They would have been unable to withstand the criticism, but +not Wagner. + +Many persons implied that John Murray, the rightfielder on the Giants, was +"yellow" at the conclusion of the 1911 world's series because, after +batting almost three hundred in the season, he did not get a hit in the +six games. But there isn't a man on the team gamer. He hasn't any nerves. +He's one of the sort of ball players who says: + +"Well, now I've got my chew of tobacco in my mouth. Let her go." + +There is an interesting bit of psychology connected with Wagner and the +spit-ball. It comes as near being Wagner's "groove" as any curve that has +found its way into the Big Leagues. This is explained by the fact that +the first time Wagner ever faced "Bugs" Raymond he didn't get a hit with +Arthur using the spitter. Consequently the report went around the circuit +that Wagner couldn't hit the spit-ball. He disproved this theory against +two or three spit-ball pitchers, but as long as Raymond remained in the +League he had it on the hard-hitting Dutchman. + +"Here comes a 'spitter,' Hans. Look out for it," Raymond would warn +Wagner, with a wide grin, and then he would pop up a wet one. + +"Guess I'll repeat on that dose, Hans; you didn't like that one." + +And Wagner would get so worked up that he frequently struck out against +"Bugs" when the rest of his club was hitting the eccentric pitcher hard. +It was because he achieved the idea on the first day he couldn't hit the +spit-ball, and he wasn't able to rid his mind of the impression. Many fans +often wondered why Raymond had it on Wagner, the man whose only "groove" +is a base on balls. "Bugs" had the edge after that first day when Wagner +lost confidence in his ability to hit the spit-ball as served by Raymond. + +In direct contrast to this loss of confidence on Wagner's part was the +incident attendant upon Arthur Devlin's début into the Big League. He had +joined the club a youngster, in the season of 1904, and McGraw had not +counted upon him to play third base, having planned to plant Bresnahan at +that corner. But Bresnahan developed sciatic rheumatism early in the +season, and Devlin was put on the bag in the emergency with a great deal +of misgiving. + +The first day he was in the game he came up to the bat with the bases +full. The Giants were playing Brooklyn at the Polo Grounds, and two men +had already struck out, with the team two runs behind. Devlin came out +from the bench. + +"Who is this youthful-looking party?" one fan asked another, as they +scanned their score cards. + +"Devlin, some busher, taking Bresnahan's place," another answered. + +"Well, it's all off now," was the general verdict. + +The crowd settled back, and one could feel the lassitude in the +atmosphere. But Devlin had his first chance to make good in a pinch. There +was no weariness in his manner. Poole, the Brooklyn pitcher, showing less +respect than he should have for the newcomer in baseball society, spilled +one over too near the middle, and Arthur drove out a home run, winning +the game. Those who had refused to place any confidence in him only a +moment before, were on their feet cheering wildly now. And Devlin played +third base for almost eight years after that, and none thought of +Bresnahan and his rheumatism until he began catching again. Devlin, after +that home run, was oozing confidence from every pore and burned up the +League with his batting for three years. He got the old confidence from +his start. The fans had expected nothing from him, and he had delivered. +He had gained everything. He had made the most dramatic play in baseball +on his first day, a home run with the bases full. + +When Fred Snodgrass first started playing as a regular with the Giants +about the middle of the season of 1910, he hit any ball pitched him hard +and had all the fans marvelling at his stick work. He believed that he +could hit anything and, as long as he retained that belief, he could. + +But the Chalmers Automobile Company had offered a prize of one nice, +mild-mannered motor car to the batter in either league who finished the +season with the biggest average. + +Snodgrass was batting over four hundred at one time and was ahead of them +all when suddenly the New York evening papers began to publish the daily +averages of the leaders for the automobile, boosting Snodgrass. It +suddenly struck Fred that he was a great batter and that to keep his place +in that daily standing he would have to make a hit every time he went to +the plate. These printed figures worried him. His batting fell off +miserably until, in the post season series with the Yankees, he gave one +of the worst exhibitions of any man on the team. The newspapers did it. + +"They got me worrying about myself," he told me once. "I began to think +how close I was to the car and had a moving picture of myself driving it. +That settled it." + +Many promising young players are broken in their first game in the Big +League by the ragging which they are forced to undergo at the hands of +veteran catchers. John Kling is a very bad man with youngsters, and +sometimes he can get on the nerves of older players in close games when +the nerves are strung tight. The purpose of a catcher in talking to a man +in this way is to distract his attention from batting, and once this is +accomplished he is gone. A favorite trick of a catcher is to say to a new +batter: + +"Look out for this fellow. He's got a mean 'bean' ball, and he hasn't any +influence over it. There's a poor 'boob' in the hospital now that stopped +one with his head." + +Then the catcher signs for the pitcher to throw the next one at the young +batter's head. If he pulls away, an unpardonable sin in baseball, the dose +is repeated. + +"Yer almost had your foot in the water-pail over by the bench that time," +says the catcher. + +Bing! Up comes another "beaner." Then, after the catcher has sized the new +man up, he makes his report. + +"He won't do. He's yellow." + +And the players keep mercilessly after this shortcoming, this ingrained +fault which, unlike a mechanical error, cannot be corrected until the new +player is driven out of the League. Perhaps the catcher says: + +"He's game, that guy. No scare to him." + +After that he is let alone. It's the psychology of batting. + +Once, when I first broke into the League, Jack Chesbro, then with +Pittsburg, threw a fast one up, and it went behind my head, although I +tried to dodge back. He had lots of speed in those days, too. It set me +wondering what would have happened if the ball had hit me. The more I +thought, the more it struck me that it would have greatly altered my face +had it gotten into the course of the ball. Ever afterwards, he had it on +me, and, for months, a fast one at the head had me backing away from the +plate. + +In contrast to this experience of mine was the curing of "Josh" Devore, +the leftfielder of the Giants, of being bat shy against left-handers. +Devore has always been very weak at the bat with a southpaw in the box, +dragging his right foot away from the plate. This was particularly the +case against "Slim" Sallee, the tenuous southpaw of the St. Louis +Nationals. Finally McGraw, exasperated after "Josh" had struck out twice +in one day, said: + +"That fellow hasn't got speed enough to bend a pane of glass at the home +plate throwing from the box, and you're pullin' away as if he was shooting +them out of a gun. It's a crime to let him beat you. Go up there the next +time and get hit, and see if he can hurt you. If you don't get hit, +you're fined $10." + +Devore, who is as fond of $10 as the next one, went to the bat and took +one of Sallee's slants in a place where it would do the least damage. He +trotted to first base smiling. + +"What'd I tell you?" asked McGraw, coaching. "Could he hurt you?" + +"Say," replied "Josh," "I'd hire out to let them pitch baseballs at me if +none could throw harder than that guy." + +Devore was cured of being bat shy when Sallee was pitching, right then and +there, and he has improved greatly against all left-handers ever since, so +much so that McGraw leaves him in the game now when a southpaw pitches, +instead of placing Beals Becker in left field as he used to. All Devore +needed was the confidence to stand up to the plate against them, to rid +his mind of the idea that, if once he got hit, he would leave the field +feet first. That slam in the slats which Sallee handed him supplied the +confidence. + +When Devore was going to Philadelphia for the second game of the world's +series in the fall of 1911, the first one in the other town, he was +introduced to "Ty" Cobb, the Detroit out-fielder, by some newspaper man +on the train, and, as it was the first time Devore had ever met Cobb, he +sat down with him and they talked all the way over. + +"Gee," said "Josh" to me, as we were getting off the train, "that fellow +Cobb knows a lot about batting. He told me some things about the American +League pitchers just now, and he didn't know he was doing it. I never let +on. But I just hope that fellow Plank works to-day, if they think that I +am weak against left-handers. Say, Matty, I could write a book about that +guy and his 'grooves' now, after buzzing Cobb, and the funny thing is he +didn't know he was telling me." + +Plank pitched that day and fanned Devore four times out of a possible +four. "Josh" didn't even get a foul off him. + +"Thought you knew all about that fellow," I said to Devore after the game. + +"I've learned since that Cobb and he are pretty thick," replied "Josh," +"and I guess 'Ty' was giving me a bad steer." + +It was evident that Cobb had been filling "Josh" up with misinformation +that was working around in Devore's mind when he went to the plate to +face Plank, and, instead of being open to impressions, these wrong +opinions had already been planted and he was constantly trying to confirm +them. Plank was crossing him all the time, and, being naturally weak +against left-handers, this additional handicap made Devore look foolish. + +In the well-worn words of Mr. Dooley, it has been my experience "to trust +your friends, but cut the cards." By that, I mean one ball player will +often come to another with a tip that he really thinks worth while, but +that avails nothing in the end. A man has to be a pretty smart ball player +to dispense accurate information about others, because the Big Leaguers +know their own "grooves" and are naturally trying to cover them up. Then a +batter may be weak against one pitcher on a certain kind of a ball, and +may whale the same sort of delivery, with a different twist to it, out of +the lot against another. + +That was the experience I had with "Ed" Delehanty, the famous slugger of +the old Philadelphia National League team, who is now dead. During my +first year in the League several well-meaning advisers came to me and +said: + +"Don't give 'Del' any high fast ones because, if you do, you will just +wear your fielders out worse than a George M. Cohan show does the chorus. +They will think they are in a Marathon race instead of a ball game." + +Being young, I took this advice, and the first time I pitched against +Delehanty, I fed him curved balls. He hit these so far the first two times +he came to bat that one of the balls was never found, and everybody felt +like shaking hands with Van Haltren, the old Giant outfielder, when he +returned with the other, as if he had been away on a vacation some place. +In fact, I had been warned against giving any of this Philadelphia team of +sluggers high fast ones, and I had been delivering a diet of curves to all +of them which they were sending to the limits of the park and further, +with great regularity. At last, when Delehanty came to the bat for the +third time in the game, Van Haltren walked into the box from the outfield +and handed the ball to me, after he had just gone to the fence to get it. +Elmer Flick had hit it there. + +"Matty," he pleaded, "for the love of Mike, slip this fellow a base on +balls and let me get my wind." + +Instead I decided to switch my style, and I fed Delehanty high fast ones, +the dangerous dose, and he struck out then and later. He wasn't expecting +them and was so surprised that he couldn't hit the ball. Only two of the +six balls at which he struck were good ones. I found out afterwards that +the tradition about not delivering any high fast balls to the Philadelphia +hitters was the outgrowth of the old buzzer tipping service, established +in 1899, by which the batters were informed what to expect by Morgan +Murphy, located in the clubhouse with a pair of field-glasses and his +finger on a button which worked a buzzer under the third-base coaching +box. The coacher tipped the batter off what was coming and the +signal-stealing device had worked perfectly. The hitters had all waited +for the high fast ones in those days, as they can be hit easier if a man +knows that they are coming, and can also be hit farther. + +But, after the buzzer had been discovered and the delivery of pitchers +could not be accurately forecast, this ability to hit high fast ones +vanished, but not the tradition. The result was that this Philadelphia +club was getting a steady diet of curves and hitting them hard, not +expecting anything else. When I first pitched against Delehanty, his +reputation as a hitter gave him a big edge on me. Therefore I was willing +to take any kind of advice calculated to help me, but eventually I had to +find out for myself. If I had taken a chance on mixing them up the first +time he faced me, I still doubt if he would have made those two long hits, +but it was his reputation working in my mind and the idea that he ate up +high fast balls that prevented me from taking the risk. + +Each pitcher has to find out for himself what a man is going to hit. It's +all right to take advice at first, but, if this does not prove to be the +proper prescription, it's up to him to experiment and not continue to feed +him the sort of balls that he is hitting. + +Reputations count for a great deal in the Big Leagues. Cobb has a record +as being a great base runner, and I believe that he steals ten bases a +season on this reputation. The catcher knows he is on the bag, realizes +that he is going to steal, fears him, hurries his throw, and, in his +anxiety, it goes bad. Cobb is safe, whereas, if he had been an ordinary +runner with no reputation, he would probably have been thrown out. +Pitchers who have made names for themselves in the Big Leagues, have a +much easier time winning as a consequence. + +"All he's got to do is to throw his glove into the box to beat that club," +is an old expression in baseball, which means that the opposing batters +fear the pitcher and that his reputation will carry him through if he has +nothing whatever on the ball. + +Newspapers work on the mental attitude of Big League players. This has +been most marked in Cincinnati, and I believe that the local newspapers +have done as much as anything to keep a pennant away from that town. When +the team went south for the spring practice, the newspapers printed +glowing reports of the possibilities of the club winning the pennant, but, +when the club started to fall down in the race, they would knock the men, +and it would take the heart out of the players. Almost enough good players +have been let go by the Cincinnati team to make a world's championship +club. There are Donlin, Seymour, Steinfeldt, Lobert and many more. Ball +players inhale the accounts printed in the newspapers, and a correspondent +with a grouch has ruined the prospects of many a good player and club. The +New York newspapers, first by the great amount of publicity given to his +old record, and then by criticising him for not making a better showing, +had a great deal to do with Marquard failing to make good the first two +years he was in New York, as I have shown. + +A smart manager in the Big League is always working to keep his valuable +stars in the right frame of mind. On the last western trip the Giants made +in the season of 1911, when they won the pennant by taking eighteen games +out of twenty-two games, McGraw refused to permit any of the men to play +cards. He realized that often the stakes ran high and that the losers +brooded over the money which they lost and were thinking of this rather +than the game when on the ball field. It hurt their playing, so there were +no cards. He also carried "Charley" Faust, the Kansas Jinx killer, along +to keep the players amused and because it was thought that he was good +luck. It helped their mental attitude. + +The treatment of a new player when he first arrives is different now from +what it was in the old days. Once there was a time when the veteran looked +upon the recruit with suspicion and the feeling that he had come to take +his job and his bread and butter from him. If a young pitcher was put +into the box, the old catcher would do all that he could to irritate him, +and many times he would inform the batters of the other side what he was +going to throw. + +"He's tryin' to horn my friend Bill out of a job," I have heard catchers +charge against a youngster. + +This attitude drove many a star ball player back to the minors because he +couldn't make good under the adverse circumstances, but nothing of the +sort exists now. Each veteran does all that he can to help the youngster, +realizing that on the younger generation depends the success of the club, +and that no one makes any money by being on a loser. Travelling with a +tail-end ball club is the poorest pastime in the world. I would rather +ride in the first coach of a funeral procession. + +The youngster is treated more courteously now when he first arrives. In +the old days, the veterans of the club sized up the recruit and treated +him like a stranger for days, which made him feel as if he were among +enemies instead of friends, and, as a result, it was much harder for him +to make good. Now all hands make him a companion from the start, unless +he shows signs of being unusually fresh. + +There is a lot to baseball in the Big Leagues besides playing the game. No +man can have a "yellow streak" and last. He must not pay much attention to +his nerves or temperament. He must hide every flaw. It's all part of the +psychology of baseball. But the saddest words of all to a pitcher are +three--"Take Him Out." + + + + +III + +Pitching in a Pinch + + _Many Pitchers Are Effective in a Big League Ball Game until that + Heart-Breaking Moment Arrives Known as the "Pinch"--It Is then that + the Man in the Box is Put to the Severest Test by the Coachers and + the Players on the Bench--Victory or Defeat Hangs on his Work in that + Inning--Famous "Pinches."_ + + +In most Big League ball games, there comes an inning on which hangs +victory or defeat. Certain intellectual fans call it the crisis; college +professors, interested in the sport, have named it the psychological +moment; Big League managers mention it as the "break," and pitchers speak +of the "pinch." + +This is the time when each team is straining every nerve either to win or +to prevent defeat. The players and spectators realize that the outcome of +the inning is of vital importance. And in most of these pinches, the real +burden falls on the pitcher. It is at this moment that he is "putting all +he has" on the ball, and simultaneously his opponents are doing everything +they can to disconcert him. + +Managers wait for this break, and the shrewd league leader can often time +it. Frequently a certain style of play is adopted to lead up to the pinch, +then suddenly a slovenly mode of attack is changed, and the team comes on +with a rush in an effort to break up the game. That is the real test of a +pitcher. He must be able to live through these squalls. + +Two evenly matched clubs have been playing through six innings with +neither team gaining any advantage. Let us say that they are the Giants +and the Chicago Cubs. Suddenly the Chicago pitcher begins to weaken in the +seventh. Spectators cannot perceive this, but McGraw, the Giants' manager, +has detected some crack. All has been quiet on the bench up to this +moment. Now the men begin to fling about sweaters and move around, one +going to the water cooler to get a drink, another picking up a bat or two +and flinging them in the air, while four or five prospective hitters are +lined up, swinging several sticks apiece, as if absolutely confident that +each will get his turn at the plate. + +The two coachers on the side lines have become dancing dervishes, waving +sweaters and arms wildly, and shouting various words of discouragement to +the pitcher which are calculated to make his job as soft as a bed of +concrete. He has pitched three balls to the batter, and McGraw vehemently +protests to the umpire that the twirler is not keeping his foot on the +slab. The game is delayed while this is discussed at the pitcher's box and +the umpire brushes off the rubber strip with a whisk broom. + +There is a kick against these tactics from the other bench, but the damage +has been done. The pitcher passes the batter, forgets what he ought to +throw to the next man, and cannot get the ball where he wants it. A base +hit follows. Then he is gone. The following batter triples, and, before +another pitcher can be warmed up, three or four runs are across the plate, +and the game is won. That explains why so many wise managers keep a +pitcher warming up when the man in the box is going strong. + +It is in the pinch that the pitcher shows whether or not he is a Big +Leaguer. He must have something besides curves then. He needs a head, and +he has to use it. It is the acid test. That is the reason so many men, who +shine in the minor leagues, fail to make good in the majors. They cannot +stand the fire. + +A young pitcher came to the Giants a few years ago. I won't mention his +name because he has been pitching good minor-league ball since. He was a +wonder with the bases empty, but let a man or two get on the sacks, and he +wouldn't know whether he was in a pitcher's box or learning aviation in +the Wright school, and he acted a lot more like an aviator in the crisis. +McGraw looked him over twice. + +"He's got a spine like a charlotte russe," declared "Mac," after his +second peek, and he passed him back to the bushes. + +Several other Big League managers, tempted by this man's brilliant record +in the minors, have tried him out since, but he has always gone back. +McGraw's judgment of the man was correct. + +On the other hand, Otis Crandall came to the New York club a few years ago +a raw country boy from Indiana. I shall never forget how he looked the +first spring I saw him in Texas. The club had a large number of recruits +and was short of uniforms. He was among the last of the hopefuls to arrive +and there was no suit for him, so, in a pair of regular trousers with his +coat off, he began chasing flies in the outfield. His head hung down on +his chest, and, when not playing, a cigarette drooped out of the corner of +his mouth. But he turned out to be a very good fly chaser, and McGraw +admired his persistency. + +"What are you?" McGraw asked him one day. + +"A pitcher," replied Crandall. Two words constitute an oration for him. + +"Let's see what you've got," said McGraw. + +Crandall warmed up, and he didn't have much of anything besides a sweeping +outcurve and a good deal of speed. He looked less like a pitcher than any +of the spring crop, but McGraw saw something in him and kept him. The +result is he has turned out to be one of the most valuable men on the +club, because he is there in a pinch. He couldn't be disturbed if the +McNamaras tied a bomb to him, with a time fuse on it set for "at once." He +is the sort of pitcher who is best when things look darkest. I've heard +the crowd yelling, when he has been pitching on the enemy's ground, so +that a sixteen-inch gun couldn't have been heard if it had gone off in the +lot. + +"That crowd was making some noise," I've said to Crandall after the +inning. + +"Was it?" asked Otie. "I didn't notice it." + +One day in 1911, he started a game in Philadelphia and three men got on +the bases with no one out, along about the fourth or fifth inning. He shut +them out without a run. It was the first game he had started for a long +while, his specialty having been to enter a contest, after some other +pitcher had gotten into trouble, with two or three men on the bases and +scarcely any one out. After he came to the bench with the threatening +inning behind him, he said to me: + +"Matty, I didn't feel at home out there to-day until a lot of people got +on the bases. I'll be all right now." And he was. I believe that Crandall +is the best pitcher in a pinch in the National League and one of the most +valuable men to a team, for he can play any position and bats hard. +Besides being a great pinch pitcher, he can also hit in a crush, and won +many games for the Giants in 1911 that way. + +Very often spectators think that a pitcher has lost his grip in a pinch, +when really he is playing inside baseball. A game with Chicago in Chicago +back in 1908 (not the famous contest that cost the Giants a championship; +I did not have any grip at all that day; but one earlier in the season) +best illustrates the point I want to bring out. Mordecai Brown and I were +having a pitchers' duel, and the Giants were in the lead by the score of 1 +to 0 when the team took the field for the ninth inning. + +It was one of those fragile games in which one run makes a lot of +difference, the sort that has a fringe of nervous prostration for the +spectators. Chance was up first in the ninth and he pushed a base hit to +right field. Steinfeldt followed with a triple that brought Chance home +and left the run which would win the game for the Cubs on third base. The +crowd was shouting like mad, thinking I was done. I looked at the hitters, +waiting to come up, and saw Hofman and Tinker swinging their bats in +anticipation. Both are dangerous men, but the silver lining was my second +look, which revealed to me Kling and Brown following Hofman and Tinker. + +Without a second's hesitation, I decided to pass both Hofman and Tinker, +because the run on third base would win the game anyway if it scored, and +with three men on the bags instead of one, there would be a remote chance +for a triple play, besides making a force out at the plate possible. +Remember that no one was out at this time. Kling and Brown had always been +easy for me. + +When I got two balls on Hofman, trying to make him hit at a bad one, the +throng stood up in the stand and tore splinters out of the floor with its +feet. And then I passed Hofman. The spectators misunderstood my motive. + +"He's done. He's all in," shouted one man in a voice which was one of the +carrying, persistent, penetrating sort. The crowd took the cry up and +stamped its feet and cheered wildly. + +Then I passed Tinker, a man, as I have said before, who has had a habit of +making trouble for me. The crowd quieted down somewhat, perhaps because it +was not possible for it to cheer any louder, but probably because the +spectators thought that now it would be only a matter of how many the Cubs +would win by. The bases were full, and no one was out. + +But that wildly cheering crowd had worked me up to greater effort, and I +struck Kling out and then Brown followed him back to the bench for the +same reason. Just one batter stood between me and a tied score now. He was +John Evers, and the crowd having lost its chortle of victory, was begging +him to make the hit which would bring just one run over the plate. They +were surprised by my recuperation after having passed two men. Evers +lifted a gentle fly to left field and the three men were left on the +bases. The Giants eventually won that game in the eleventh inning by the +score of 4 to 1. + +But that system doesn't always work. Often I have passed a man to get a +supposedly poor batter up and then had him bang out a base hit. My first +successful year in the National League was 1901, although I joined the +Giants in the middle of the season of 1900. The Boston club at that time +had a pitcher named "Kid" Nichols who was a great twirler. The first two +games I pitched against the Boston club were against this man, and I won +the first in Boston and the second in New York, the latter by the score of +2 to 1. + +Both teams then went west for a three weeks' trip, and when the Giants +returned a series was scheduled with Boston at the Polo Grounds. There was +a good deal of speculation as to whether I would again beat the veteran +"Kid" Nichols, and the newspapers, discussing the promised pitching duel, +stirred up considerable enthusiasm over it. Of course, I, the youngster, +was eager to make it three straight over the veteran. Neither team had +scored at the beginning of the eighth inning. Boston runners got on second +and third bases with two out, and Fred Tenney, then playing first base on +the Boston club, was up at the bat. He had been hitting me hard that day, +and I decided to pass him and take a chance on "Dick" Cooley, the next +man, and a weak batter. So Tenney got his base on balls, and the sacks +were full. + +Two strikes were gathered on Cooley, one at which he swung and the other +called, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on my excellent +judgment, which was really counting my chickens while they were still in +the incubator. I attempted to slip a fast one over on Cooley and got the +ball a little too high. The result was that he stepped into it and made a +three base hit which eventually won the game by the score of 3 to 0. That +was once when passing a man to get a weak batter did not work. + +I have always been against a twirler pitching himself out, when there is +no necessity for it, as so many youngsters do. They burn them through for +eight innings and then, when the pinch comes, something is lacking. A +pitcher must remember that there are eight other men in the game, drawing +more or less salary to stop balls hit at them, and he must have confidence +in them. Some pitchers will put all that they have on each ball. This is +foolish for two reasons. + +In the first place, it exhausts the man physically and, when the pinch +comes, he has not the strength to last it out. But second and more +important, it shows the batters everything that he has, which is +senseless. A man should always hold something in reserve, a surprise to +spring when things get tight. If a pitcher has displayed his whole +assortment to the batters in the early part of the game and has used all +his speed and his fastest breaking curve, then, when the crisis comes, he +"hasn't anything" to fall back on. + +Like all youngsters, I was eager to make a record during my first year in +the Big League, and in one of the first games I pitched against Cincinnati +I made the mistake of putting all that I had on every ball. We were +playing at the Polo Grounds, and the Giants had the visitors beaten 2 to +0, going into the last inning. I had been popping them through, trying to +strike out every hitter and had not held anything in reserve. The first +man to the bat in the ninth got a single, the next a two bagger, and by +the time they had stopped hitting me, the scorer had credited the +Cincinnati club with four runs, and we lost the game, 4 to 2. + +I was very much down in the mouth over the defeat, after I had the game +apparently won, and George Davis, then the manager of the Giants, noticed +it in the clubhouse. + +"Never mind, Matty," he said, "it was worth it. The game ought to teach +you not to pitch your head off when you don't need to." + +It did. I have never forgotten that lesson. Many spectators wonder why a +pitcher does not work as hard as he can all through the game, instead of +just in the pinches. If he did, they argue, there would be no pinches. But +there would be, and, if the pitcher did not conserve his energy, the +pinches would usually go against him. + +Sometimes bawling at a man in a pinch has the opposite effect from that +desired. Clarke Griffith, recently of Cincinnati, has a reputation in the +Big Leagues for being a bad man to upset a pitcher from the coacher's box. +Off the field he is one of the decentest fellows in the game, but, when +talking to a pitcher, he is very irritating. I was working in a game +against the Reds in Cincinnati one day, just after he had been made +manager of the club, and Griffith spent the afternoon and a lot of breath +trying to get me going. The Giants were ahead, 5 to 1, at the beginning of +the seventh. In the Cincinnati half of that inning, "Mike" Mitchell +tripled with the bases full and later tallied on an outfield fly which +tied the score. The effect this had on Griffith was much the same as that +of a lighted match on gasolene. + +"Now, you big blond," he shouted at me, "we've got you at last." + +I expected McGraw to take me out, as it looked in that inning as if I was +not right, but he did not, and I pitched along up to the ninth with the +score still tied and with Griffith, the carping critic, on the side +lines. We failed to count in our half, but the first Cincinnati batter got +on the bases, stole second, and went to third on a sacrifice. He was there +with one out. + +"Here's where we get you," chortled Griffith. "This is the point at which +you receive a terrible showing up." + +I tried to get the next batter to hit at bad balls, and he refused, so +that I lost him. I was afraid to lay the ball over the plate in this +crisis, as a hit or an outfield fly meant the game. Hoblitzell and +Mitchell, two of Griffith's heaviest batters, were scheduled to arrive at +the plate next. + +"You ought to be up, Mike," yelled the Cincinnati manager at Mitchell, who +was swinging a couple of sticks preparatory to his turn at the bat. "Too +bad you won't get a lick, old man, because Hobby's going to break it up +right here." + +Something he said irritated me, but, instead of worrying me, it made me +feel more like pitching. I seldom talk to a coacher, but I turned to +Griffith and said: + +"I'll bring Mike up, and we'll see what he can do." + +I deliberately passed Hoblitzell without even giving him a chance to hit +at a single ball. It wasn't to make a grand stand play I did this, but +because it was baseball. One run would win the game anyway, and, with more +men on the bases, there were more plays possible. Besides Hoblitzell is a +nasty hitter, and I thought that I had a better chance of making Mitchell +hit the ball on the ground, a desirable thing under the conditions. + +"Now, Mike," urged Griffith, as Mitchell stepped up to the plate, "go as +far as you like. Blot up the bases, old boy. This blond is gone." + +That sort of talk never bothers me. I had better luck with Mitchell than I +had hoped. He struck out. The next batter was easy, and the Giants won the +game in the tenth inning. According to the newspaper reports, I won +twenty-one or twenty-two games before Cincinnati beat me again, so it can +be seen that joshing in pinches is not effective against all pitchers. A +manager must judge the temperament of his victim. But Griffith has never +stopped trying to rag me. In 1911, when the Giants were west on their +final trip, I was warming up in Cincinnati before a game, and he was +batting out flies near me. He would talk to me between each ball he hit +to the outfield. + +"Got anything to-day, Matty?" he asked. "Guess there ain't many games left +in you. You're getting old." + +When I broke into the National League, the Brooklyn club had as bad a +bunch of men to bother a pitcher as I ever faced. The team had won the +championship in 1900, and naturally they were all pretty chesty. When I +first began to play in 1901, this crowd--Kelly, Jennings, Keeler and +Hanlon--got after me pretty strong. But I seemed to get pitching +nourishment out of their line of conversation and won a lot of games. At +last, so I have been told, Hanlon, who was the manager, said to his +conversational ball players: + +"Lay off that Mathewson kid. Leave him alone. He likes the chatter you +fellows spill out there." + +They did not bother me after that, but this bunch spoiled many a promising +young pitcher. + +Speaking of sizing up the temperament of batters and pitchers in a pinch, +few persons realize that it was a little bit of carelessly placed +conversation belonging to "Chief" Bender, the Indian pitcher on the +Athletics, that did as much as anything to give the Giants the first game +in the 1911 world's series. + +"Josh" Devore, the left-fielder on the New York team, is an in-and-out +batter, but he is a bulldog in a pinch and is more apt to make a hit in a +tight place than when the bases are empty. And he is quite as likely to +strike out. He is the type of ball player who cannot be rattled. With +"Chief" Myers on second base, the score tied, and two out, Devore came to +the bat in the seventh inning of the first game. + +"Look at little 'Josh,'" said Bender, who had been talking to batters all +through the game. + +Devore promptly got himself into the hole with two strikes and two balls +on him, but a little drawback like that never worries "Josh." + +"I'm going to pitch you a curved ball over the outside corner," shouted +Bender as he wound up. + +"I know it, Chief," replied "Josh," and he set himself to receive just +that sort of delivery. + +Up came the predicted curve over the outside corner. "Josh" hit it to left +field for two bases, and brought home the winning run. Bender evidently +thought that, by telling Devore what he was actually going to pitch, he +would make him think he was going to cross him. + +"I knew it would be a curve ball," Devore told me after the game. "With +two and two, he would be crazy to hand me anything else. When he made that +crack, I guessed that he was trying to cross me by telling the truth. +Before he spoke, I wasn't sure which corner he was going to put it over, +but he tipped me." + +Some batters might have been fooled by those tactics. It was taking a +chance in a pinch, and Bender lost. + +Very few of the fans who saw this first game of the 1911 world's series +realize that the "break" in that contest came in the fifth inning. The +score was tied, with runners on second and third bases with two out, when +"Eddie" Collins, the fast second baseman of the Athletics, and a dangerous +hitter, came to the bat. I realized that I was skating on thin ice and was +putting everything I had on the ball. Collins hit a slow one down the +first base line, about six feet inside the bag. + +With the hit, I ran over to cover the base, and Merkle made for the ball, +but he had to get directly in my line of approach to field it. Collins, +steaming down the base line, realized that, if he could get the decision +at first on this hit, his team would probably win the game, as the two +other runners could score easily. In a flash, I was aware of this, too. + +"I'll take it," yelled Merkle, as he stopped to pick up the ball. + +Seeing Merkle and me in front of him, both heavy men, Collins knew that he +could not get past us standing up. When still ten or twelve feet from the +bag, he slid, hoping to take us unawares and thus avoid being touched. He +could then scramble to the bag. As soon as he jumped, I realized what he +hoped to do, and, fearing that Merkle would miss him, I grabbed the first +baseman and hurled him at Collins. It was an old-fashioned, football +shove, Merkle landing on Collins and touching him out. A great many of the +spectators believed that I had interfered with Merkle on the play. As a +matter of fact, I thought that it was the crisis of the game and knew +that, if Collins was not put out, we would probably lose. That football +shove was a brand new play to me in baseball, invented on the spur of the +second, but it worked. + +In minor leagues, there are fewer games in which a "break" comes. It does +not develop in all Big League contests by any means. Sometimes one team +starts to win in the first inning and simply runs away from the other club +all the way. But in all close games the pinch shows up. + +It happens in many contests in the major leagues because of the almost +perfect baseball played. Depending on his fielders, a manager can play for +this "break." And when the pinch comes, it is a case of the batter's nerve +against the pitcher's. + + + + +IV + +Big League Pitchers and Their Peculiarities. + + _Nearly Every Pitcher in the Big Leagues Has Some Temperamental or + Mechanical Flaw which he is Constantly Trying to Hide, and which + Opposing Batters are always Endeavoring to Uncover--The Giants Drove + Coveleski, the Man who Beat them out of a Pennant, Back to the Minor + Leagues by Taunting him on One Sore Point--Weaknesses of Other + Stars._ + + +Like great artists in other fields of endeavor, many Big League pitchers +are temperamental. "Bugs" Raymond, "Rube" Waddell, "Slim" Sallee, and +"Wild Bill" Donovan are ready examples of the temperamental type. The +first three are the sort of men of whom the manager is never sure. He does +not know, when they come into the ball park, whether or not they are in +condition to work. They always carry with them a delightful atmosphere of +uncertainty. + +In contrast to this eccentric group, there are those with certain +mechanical defects in their pitching of which opposing clubs take +advantage. Last comes the irritable, nervous box artist who must have +things just so, even down to the temperature, before he can work +satisfactorily. + +"As delicate as prima donnas," says John McGraw of this variety. + +He speaks of the man who loses his love for his art when his shirt is too +tight or a toe is sore. This style, perhaps, is the most difficult for a +manager to handle, unless it is the uncertain, eccentric sort. + +As soon as a new pitcher breaks into the Big Leagues, seven clubs are +studying him with microscopic care to discover some flaw in his physical +style or a temperamental weakness on which his opponents can play. +Naturally, if the man has such a "groove," his team mates are endeavoring +to hide it, but it soon leaks out and becomes general gossip around the +circuit. Then the seven clubs start aiming at this flaw, and oftentimes +the result is that a promising young pitcher, because he has some one +definite weakness, goes back to the minors. A crack in the temperament is +the worst. Mechanical defects can usually be remedied when discovered. + +Few baseball fans know that the Giants drove a man back to the minor +leagues who once pitched them out of a pennant. The club was tipped off to +a certain, unfortunate circumstance in the twirler's early life which left +a lasting impression on his mind. The players never let him forget this +when he was in a game, and it was like constantly hitting him on a boil. + +Coveleski won three games for the Philadelphia National League club from +the Giants back in 1908, when one of these contests would have meant a +pennant to the New York club and possibly a world's championship. That was +the season the fight was decided in a single game with the Chicago Cubs +after the regular schedule had been played out. Coveleski was hailed as a +wonder for his performance. + +Just after the season closed, "Tacks" Ashenbach, the scout for the +Cincinnati club, now dead, and formerly a manager in the league where +Coveleski got his start, came to McGraw and laughed behind his hand. + +"Mac," he said, "I'm surprised you let that big Pole beat you out of a +championship. I can give you the prescription to use every time that he +starts working. All you have to do is to imitate a snare drum." + +"What are you trying to do--kid me?" asked McGraw, for he was still +tolerably irritable over the outcome of the season. + +"Try it," was Ashenbach's laconic reply. + +The result was that the first game Coveleski started against the Giants +the next season, there was a chorus of "rat-a-tat-tats" from the bench, +with each of the coachers doing a "rat-a-tat-tat" solo, for we decided, +after due consideration, this was the way to imitate a snare drum. We +would have tried to imitate a calliope if we had thought that it would +have done any good against this pitcher. + +"I'll hire a fife and drum corps if the tip is worth anything," declared +McGraw. + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" came the chorus as Coveleski wound up to +pitch the first ball. It went wide of the plate. + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" it was repeated all through the inning. +When Coveleski walked to the Philadelphia bench at the end of the first +round, after the Giants had made three runs off him, he looked over at us +and shouted: + +"You think you're smart, don't you?" + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" was the only reply. But now we knew we had +him. When a pitcher starts to talk back, it is a cinch that he is +irritated. So the deadly chorus was kept up in volleys, until the umpire +stopped us, and then it had to be in a broken fire, but always there was +the "Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" When Coveleski looked at McGraw +coaching on third base, the manager made as if to beat a snare drum, and +as he glanced at Latham stationed at first, "Arlie" would reply with the +"rat-a-tat-tat." + +The team on the bench sounded like a fife and drum corps without the +fifes, and Coveleski got no peace. In the fourth inning, after the game +had been hopelessly lost by the Philadelphia club, Coveleski was taken +out. We did not understand the reason for it, but we all knew that we had +found Coveleski's "groove" with that "rat-a-tat-tat" chorus. The man who +had beaten the New York club out of a pennant never won another game +against the Giants. + +"Say," said McGraw to "Tacks" Ashenbach the next time the club was in +Cincinnati, "there are two things I want to ask you. First, why does that +'rat-a-tat-tat' thing get under Coveleski's skin so badly, and, second, +why didn't you mention it to us when he was beating the club out of a +championship last fall?" + +"Never thought of it," asserted Ashenbach. "Just chanced to be telling +stories one day last winter about the old times in the Tri-State, when +that weakness of Coveleski's happened to pop into my mind. Thought maybe +he was cured." + +"Cured!" echoed McGraw. "Only way he could be cured of that is to poison +him. But tip me. Why is it?" + +"Well, this is the way I heard it," answered Ashenbach. "When he was a +coal miner back in Shamokin, Pennsylvania, he got stuck on some Jane who +was very fond of music. Everybody who was any one played in the Silver +Cornet Band down in Melodeon Hall on Thursday nights. The girl told +Coveleski that she couldn't see him with an X-ray unless he broke into the +band. + +"'But I can't play any instrument,' said the Pole. + +"'Well, get busy and learn, and don't show around here until you have,' +answered the girl. + +"Now Coveleski had no talent for music, so he picked out the snare drum as +his victim and started practising regularly, getting some instruction from +the local bandmaster. After he had driven all the neighbors pretty nearly +crazy, the bandmaster said he would give him a show at the big annual +concert, when he tried to get all the pieces in his outfit that he could. +Things went all right until it was time for Coveleski to come along with a +little bit on the snare drum, and then he was nowhere in the neighborhood. +He didn't even swing at it. But later, when the leader waved for a solo +from the fiddle, Coveleski mistook it for his hit-and-run sign and came in +so strong on the snare drum that no one could identify the fiddle in the +mixup. + +"The result was that the leader asked for waivers on old Coveleski very +promptly, and the girl was not long in following suit. That snare drum +incident has been the sore point in his makeup ever since." + +"I wish I'd known it last fall about the first of September," declared +McGraw. + +But the real snapper came later when the Cincinnati club was whipsawed on +the information. In a trade with Philadelphia, Griffith got Coveleski for +Cincinnati along with several other players. Each game he started against +us he got the old "rat-a-tat-tat." Griffith protested to the umpires, but +it is impossible to stop a thing of that sort even though the judges of +play did try. + +The Pole did not finish another game against the Giants until his last in +the Big League. One day we were hitting him near and far, and the +"rat-a-tat-tat" chorus was only interrupted by the rattle of the bats +against the ball, when he looked in at the bench to see if Griffith wanted +to take him out, for it was about his usual leaving time. + +"Stay in there and get it," shouted back Griff. + +Coveleski did. He absorbed nineteen hits and seventeen runs at the hands +of the Giants, this man who had taken a championship of the National +League away from us. + +That night Griffith asked for waivers on him, and he left the Big Leagues +for good. He was a good twirler, except for that one flaw, which cost him +his place in the big show. There is little mercy among professional ball +players when a game is at stake, especially if the man has taken a +championship away from a team by insisting upon working out of his turn, +so he can win games that will benefit his club not a scintilla. + +Mordecai Brown, the great pitcher of the Chicago Cubs and the man who did +more than any other one player to bring four National League pennants and +two world's championships to that club, has a physical deformity which has +turned out to be an advantage. Many years ago, Brown lost most of the +first finger of his right hand in an argument with a feed cutter, said +finger being amputated at the second joint; while his third finger is +shorter than it should be, because a hot grounder carried part of it away +one day. In some strange way, Brown has achieved wonders with this +crippled hand. It is on account of the missing finger that he is called +"Three Fingered" Brown, and he is better known by that appellation than by +his real name. + +Brown beat the Giants a hard game one day in 1911, pitching against me. He +had a big curve, lots of speed, and absolute control. The Giants could +not touch him. Next day McGraw was out warming up with Arthur Wilson, the +young catcher on the club. + +"Wonder if he gets any new curve with that short first finger?" said +McGraw, and thereupon crooked his own initial digit and began trying to +throw the ball in different ways off it to see what the result would be. +Finally he decided: + +"No, I guess he doesn't get anything extra with the abbreviated finger, +but that's lucky for you fellows, because, if I thought he did, I'd have a +surgeon out here to-morrow operating on the first fingers of each of you +pitchers." + +Brown is my idea of the almost perfect pitcher He is always ready to work. +It is customary for most managers in the Big Leagues to say to a man on +the day he is slated to pitch: + +"Well, how do you feel to-day? Want to work?" + +Then if the twirler is not right, he has a chance to say so. But Brown +always replies: + +"Yes, I'm ready." + +He likes to pitch and is in chronic condition. It will usually be found at +the end of a season that he has taken part in more games than any other +pitcher in the country. He held the Chicago pitching staff together in +1911. + +"Three Fingered" Brown is a finished pitcher in all departments of the +game. Besides being a great worker, he is a wonderful fielder and sure +death on bunts. He spends weeks in the spring preparing himself to field +short hits in the infield, and it is fatal to try to bunt against him. He +has perfected and used successfully for three years a play invented by +"Joe" McGinnity, the former Giant pitcher. This play is with men on first +and second bases and no one out or one out. The batter tries to sacrifice, +but instead of fielding the ball to first base, which would advance the +two base runners as intended, Brown makes the play to third and thus +forces out the man nearest the plate. This is usually successful unless +the bunt is laid down perfectly along the first base line, so that the +ball cannot be thrown to third base. + +The Cubs have always claimed it was this play which broke the Detroit +club's heart in the world's series in 1908, and turned the tide so that +the Cubs took the championship. The American League team was leading in +the first game, and runners were on first and second bases, "Ty" Cobb +being on the middle sack. It was evident that the batter would try to +sacrifice. Brown walked over to Steinfeldt, playing third base, pulling +out a chew of tobacco as he went. + +"No matter what this guy does or where he hits it, stick to your bag," +ordered Brown. + +Then he put the chew of tobacco in his mouth, a sign which augurs ill for +his opponents, and pitched a low one to the batter, a perfect ball to +bunt. He followed the pitch through and was on top of the plate as the +batter laid it down. The ball rolled slowly down the third base line until +Brown pounced on it. He whirled and drove the ball at Steinfeldt, getting +Cobb by a foot. That play carried Detroit off its feet, as a sudden +reversal often will a ball club, when things are apparently breaking for +it. Cobb, the Tigers' speed flash, had been caught at third base on an +attempted sacrifice, an unheard of play, and, from that point on, the +American Leaguers wilted, according to the stories of Chance and his men. + +It is Brown's perfect control that has permitted catchers like Kling and +Archer to make such great records as throwers. This pitcher can afford to +waste a ball--that is, pitch out so the batter cannot hit it, but putting +the catcher in a perfect position to throw--and then he knows he can get +the next one over. A catcher's efficiency as a thrower depends largely on +the pitcher's ability to have good enough control of the ball to be able +to pitch out when it is necessary. Brown helps a catcher by the way in +which he watches the bases, not permitting the runners to take any lead on +him. All around, I think that he is one of the most finished pitchers of +the game. + +Russell Ford, of the New York American League club, has a hard pitching +motion because he seems to throw a spit ball with a jerk. He cannot pitch +more than one good game in four or five days. McGraw had detected this +weakness from watching the Highlanders play before the post-season series +in 1910, and took advantage of it. + +"If Ford pitches to-day," said McGraw to his team in the clubhouse before +the first game, "wait everything out to the last minute. Make him pitch +every ball you can." + +McGraw knew that the strain on Ford's arm would get him along toward the +end of the game. In the eighth inning the score was tied when Devore came +to the bat. No crack in Ford was perceptible to the rest of us, but McGraw +must have detected some slight sign of weakening. He stopped "Josh" on the +way to the plate and ordered: + +"Now go ahead and get him." + +By the time the inning was over, the Giants had made four runs, and +eventually won the game by the score of 5 to 1. McGraw just played for +this flaw in Ford's pitching, and hung his whole plan of battle on the +chance of it showing. + +"Old Cy" Young has the absolutely perfect pitching motion. When he jumped +from the National League to the Boston American League club some years +ago, during the war times, many National League players thought that he +was through. + +"What," said Fred Clarke, the manager of the Pittsburg club, "you American +Leaguers letting that old boy make good in your set? Why, he was done when +he jumped the National. He'd lost his speed." + +"But you ought to see his curve ball," answered "Bill" Dineen, then +pitching for the Boston Americans. + +"Curve ball," echoed Clarke. "He never had any curve that it didn't take a +microscope to find. He depended on his speed." + +"Well, he's got one now," replied Dineen. + +Clarke had a chance to look at the curve ball later, for, with Dineen, +Young did a lot toward winning the world's championship for Boston from +Pittsburg in 1903. The old pitcher was wise enough to realize, when he +began to lose his speed, that he would have to develop a curve ball or go +back to the minors, and he set to work and produced a peach. He is still +pitching--for the National League now--and he will win a lot of games yet. +When he came back in 1911, the American Leaguers said: + +"What, going to let that old man in your show again? He's done." + +Maybe he will yet figure in another world's championship. One never can +tell. Anyway, he has taken a couple of falls out of Pittsburg just for +good luck since he came back to the National League. + +Some pitchers depend largely on their motions to fool batters. "Motion +pitchers" they might be called. Such an elaborate wind-up is developed +that it is hard for a hitter to tell when and from where the ball is +coming. "Slim" Sallee of the St. Louis Nationals hasn't any curve to +mention and he lacks speed, but he wins a lot of ball games on his motion. + +"It's a crime," says McGraw, "to let a fellow like that beat you. Why, he +has so little on the ball that it looks like one of those Salome dancers +when it comes up to the plate, and actually makes me blush." + +But Sallee will take a long wind-up and shoot one off his shoe tops and +another from his shoulder while he is facing second base. He has good +control, has catalogued the weaknesses of the batters, and can work the +corners. With this capital, he was winning ball games for the Cardinals in +1911 until he fell off the water wagon. He is different from Raymond in +that respect. When he is on the vehicle, he is on it, and, when he is off, +he is distinctly a pedestrian. + +The way the Giants try to beat Sallee is to get men on the bases, because +then he has to cut down his motion or they will run wild on him. As soon +as a runner gets on the bag with Sallee pitching, he tries to steal to +make "Slim" reduce that long winding motion which is his greatest asset. +But Sallee won several games from the Giants last season because we could +not get enough men on the bases to beat him. He only gave us four or five +hits per contest. + +For a long time, "Josh" Devore, the Giants' left-fielder, was "plate shy" +with left-handers--that is, he stepped away--and all the pitchers in the +League soon learned of this and started shooting the first ball, a fast +one, at his head to increase his natural timidity. Sallee, in particular, +had him scared. + +"Stand up there," said McGraw to "Josh" one day when Sallee was pitching, +"and let him hit you. He hasn't speed enough to hurt you." + +"Josh" did, got hit, and found out that what McGraw said was true. It +cured him of being afraid of Sallee. + +As getting men on the bases decreases Sallee's effectiveness, even if he +is a left-hander, so it increases the efficiency of "Lefty" Leifield of +Pittsburg. The Giants never regard Sallee as a left-hander with men on the +bases. Most southpaws can keep a runner close to the bag because they are +facing first base when in a position to pitch, but Sallee cannot. On the +other hand, Leifield uses almost exactly the same motion to throw to first +base as to pitch to the batter. These two are so nearly alike that he can +change his mind after he starts and throw to the other place. + +He keeps men hugging the bag, and it is next to impossible to steal bases +on him. If he gets his arm so far forward in pitching to the batter that +he cannot throw to the base, he can see a man start and pitch out so the +catcher has a fine chance to get the runner at second. If the signal is +for a curved ball, he can make it a high curve, and the catcher is in +position to throw. Leifield has been working this combination pitch either +to first base or the plate for years, and the motion for each is so +similar that even the umpires cannot detect it and never call a balk on +him. + +A busher broke into the League with the Giants one fall and was batting +against Pittsburg. There was a man on first base and Leifield started to +pitch to the plate, saw by a quick glance that the runner was taking too +large a lead, and threw to first. The youngster swung at the ball and +started to run it out. Every one laughed. + +"What were you trying to do?" asked McGraw. + +"I hit the ball," protested the bush leaguer. That is how perfect +Leifield's motion is with men on the bases. But most of his effectiveness +resides in that crafty motion. + +Many New York fans will remember "Dummy" Taylor, the deaf and dumb pitcher +of the Giants. He won ball games for the last two years he was with the +club on his peculiar, whirling motion, but as soon as men got on the bases +and he had to cut it down, McGraw would take him out. That swing and his +irresistible good nature are still winning games in the International +League, which used to be the Eastern. + +So if a pitcher expects to be a successful Big Leaguer, he must guard +against eccentricities of temperament and mechanical motion. As I have +said, Drucke of the Giants for a long time had a little movement with his +foot which indicated to the runner when he was going to pitch, and they +stole bases wildly on him. But McGraw soon discovered that something was +wrong and corrected it. The armor of a Big Leaguer must be impenetrable, +for there are seven clubs always looking for flaws in the manufacture, and +"every little movement has a meaning of its own." + + + + +V + +Playing the Game from the Bench + + _Behind Every Big League Ball Game there Is a Master Mind which + Directs the Moves of the Players--How McGraw Won Two Pennants for the + Giants from the "Bench" and Lost One by Giving the Players Too Much + Liberty--The Methods of "Connie" Mack and Other Great Leaders_ + + +The bench! To many fans who see a hundred Big League ball games each +season, this is a long, hooded structure from which the next batter +emerges and where the players sit while their club is at bat. It is also +the resort of the substitutes, manager, mascot and water cooler. + +But to the ball player it is the headquarters. It is the place from which +the orders come, and it is here that the battle is planned and from here +the moves are executed. The manager sits here and pulls the wires, and +his players obey him as if they were manikins. + +"The batteries for to-day's game," says the umpire, "will be Sallee and +Bresnahan for St. Louis; Wiltse and Meyers for New York." + +"Bunt," says McGraw as his players scatter to take their positions on the +field. He repeats the order when they come to the bat for the first +inning, because he knows that Sallee has two weaknesses, one being that he +cannot field bunts and the other that a great deal of activity in the box +tires him out so that he weakens. A bunting game hits at both these flaws. +As soon as Bresnahan observes the plan of battle, he arranges his players +to meet the attack; draws in his third baseman, shifts the shortstop more +down the line toward third base, and is on the alert himself to gather in +slow rollers just in front of the plate. The idea is to give Sallee the +minimum opportunity to get at the ball and reduce his fielding +responsibilities to nothing or less. There is one thing about Sallee's +style known to every Big League manager. He is not half as effective with +men on the bases, for he depends largely on his deceptive motion to fool +the batters, and when he has to cut this down because runners are on the +bases, his pitching ability evaporates. + +After the old Polo Grounds had been burned down in the spring of 1911, we +were playing St. Louis at American League Park one Saturday afternoon, and +the final returns of the game were about 19 to 5 in our favor, as near as +I can remember. We made thirteen runs in the first inning. Many spectators +went away from the park talking about a slaughter and a runaway score and +so on. That game was won in the very first inning when Sallee went into +the box to pitch, and McGraw had murmured that mystic word "Bunt!" + +The first batters bunted, bunted, bunted in monotonous succession. Sallee +not yet in very good physical condition because it was early in the +season, was stood upon his head by this form of attack. Bresnahan redraped +his infield to try to stop this onslaught, and then McGraw switched. + +"Hit it," he directed the next batter. + +A line drive whistled past Mowrey's ears, the man who plays third base on +the Cardinals. He was coming in to get a bunt. Another followed. The break +had come. Bresnahan removed Sallee and put another pitcher into the box, +but once a ball club starts to hit the ball, it is like a skidding +automobile. It can't be stopped. The Giants kept on and piled up a +ridiculous and laughable score, which McGraw had made possible in the +first inning by directing his men to bunt. + +The Giants won the championship of the National League in 1904 and the New +York fans gave the team credit for the victory. It was a club of young +players, and McGraw realized this fact when he started his campaign. Every +play that season was made from the bench, made by John McGraw through his +agents, his manikins, who moved according to the wires which he pulled. +And by the end of the summer his hands were badly calloused from pulling +wires, but the Giants had the pennant. + +When the batter was at the plate in a critical stage, he would stall and +look to the "bench" for orders to discover whether to hit the ball out or +lay it down, whether to try the hit and run, or wait for the base runner +to attempt to steal. By stalling, I mean that he would tie his shoe or fix +his belt, or find any little excuse to delay the game so that he could get +a flash at the "bench" for orders. A shoe lace has played an important +role in many a Big League battle, as I will try to show later on in this +story. If it ever became the custom to wear button shoes, the game would +have to be revised. + +As the batter looked toward the bench, McGraw might reach for his +handkerchief to blow his nose, and the batter knew it was up to him to hit +the ball out. Some days in that season of 1904 I saw McGraw blow his nose +during a game until it was red and sore on the end, and then another day, +when he had a cold in his head, he had to do without his handkerchief +because he wanted to play a bunting game. Until his cold got better, he +had to switch to another system of signs. + +During that season, each coacher would keep his eye on the bench for +orders. Around McGraw revolved the game of the Giants. He was the game. +And most of that summer he spent upon the bench, because from there he +could get the best look at the diamond, and his observations were not +confined to one place or to one base runner. He was able to discover +whether an out-fielder was playing too close for a batter, or too far +out, and rearrange the men. He could perhaps catch a sign from the +opposing catcher and pass it along to the batter. And he won the pennant +from the bench. He was seldom seen on the coaching lines that year. + +Many fans wonder why, when the Giants get behind in a game, McGraw takes +to the bench, after having been out on the coaching lines inning after +inning while the club was holding its own or winning. Time and again I +have heard him criticised for this by spectators and even by players on +other clubs. + +"McGraw is 'yellow,'" players have said to me. "Just as soon as his club +gets behind, he runs for cover." + +The crime of being "yellow" is the worst in the Big Leagues. It means that +a man is afraid, that he lacks the nerve to face the music. But McGraw and +"yellow" are as far apart as the poles, or Alpha and Omega, or Fifth +Avenue and the Bowery, or any two widely separated and distant things. I +have seen McGraw go on to ball fields where he is as welcome as a man with +the black smallpox and face the crowd alone that, in the heat of its +excitement, would like to tear him apart. I have seen him take all sorts +of personal chances. He doesn't know what fear is, and in his bright +lexicon of baseball there is no such word as "fear." His success is partly +due to his indomitable courage. + +There is a real reason for his going to the bench when the team gets +behind. It is because this increases the club's chances of winning. From +the bench he can see the whole field, can note where his fielders are +playing, can get a peek at the other bench, and perhaps pick up a tip as +to what to expect. He can watch his own pitcher, or observe whether the +opposing twirler drops his throwing arm as if weary. He is at the helm +when "on the bench," and, noting any flaw in the opposition, he is in a +position to take advantage of it at a moment's notice, or, catching some +sign of faltering among his own men, he is immediately there to strengthen +the weakness. Many a game he has pulled out of the fire by going back to +the bench and watching. So the idea obtained by many spectators that he is +quitting is the wrong one. He is only fighting harder. + +The Giants were playing Pittsburg one day in the season of 1909, and +Clarke and McGraw had been having a great guessing match. It was one of +those give-and-take games with plenty of batting, with one club forging +ahead and then the other. Clarke had saved the game for Pittsburg in the +sixth inning by a shoe-string. Leifield had been pitching up to this +point, and he wasn't there or even in the neighborhood. But still the +Pirates were leading by two runs, having previously knocked Ames out of +the box. Doyle and McCormick made hits with no one out in our half of the +sixth. + +It looked like the "break," and McGraw was urging his players on to even +up the score, when Clarke suddenly took off his sun glasses in left field +and stooped down to tie his shoe. When he removes his sun-glasses that is +a sign for a pitcher to warm up in a hurry, and "Babe" Adams sprinted to +the outfield with a catcher and began to heat up. Clarke took all of five +minutes to tie that shoe, McGraw violently protesting against the delay in +the meantime. Fred Clarke has been known to wear out a pair of shoe laces +in one game tying and untying them. After the shoe was fixed up, he jogged +slowly to the bench and took Leifield out of the box. In the interim, +Adams had had an opportunity to warm up, and Clarke raised his arm and +ordered him into the box. He fanned the next two men, and the last batter +hit an easy roller to Wagner. We were still two runs to the bad after that +promising start in the sixth, and Clarke, for the time being, had saved +the game by a shoe string. + +McGraw, who had been on the coaching lines up to this point, retired to +the bench after that, and I heard one of those wise spectators, sitting +just behind our coop, who could tell Mr. Rockefeller how to run his +business but who spends his life working as a clerk at $18 a week, remark +to a friend: + +"It's all off now. McGraw has laid down." + +Watching the game through eyes half shut and drawn to a focus, McGraw +waited. In the seventh inning Clarke came to bat with two men on the +bases. A hit would have won the game beyond any doubt. In a flash McGraw +was on his feet and ran out to Meyers, catching. He stopped the game, and, +with a wave of his arm, drew Harry McCormick, playing left field, in close +to third base. The game went on, and Wiltse twisted a slow curve over the +outside corner of the plate to Clarke, a left-handed hitter. He timed his +swing and sent a low hit singing over third base. McCormick dashed in and +caught the ball off his shoe tops. That made three outs. McGraw had saved +our chances of victory right there, for had McCormick been playing where +he originally intended before McGraw stopped the contest, the ball would +have landed in unguarded territory and two runs would have been scored. + +But McGraw had yet the game to win. As his team came to the bat for the +seventh, he said: + +"This fellow Adams is a youngster and liable to be nervous and wild. +Wait." + +The batters waited with the patience of Job. Each man let the first two +balls pass him and made Adams pitch himself to the limit to every batter. +It got on Adams's nerves. In the ninth he passed a couple of men, and a +hit tied the score. Clarke left him in the box, for he was short of +pitchers. On the game went to ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, innings. The +score was still tied and Wiltse was pitching like a machine. McGraw was on +the bench, leaving the coaching to his lieutenants. The club was still +waiting for the youngster to weaken. At last, in the thirteenth, after one +man had been put out, the eye of McGraw saw Adams drop his pitching arm to +his side as if tired. It was only a minute motion. None of the spectators +saw it, none of the players. + +"Now hit it, boys," came the order from the "bench." The style was +switched, and the game won when three hits were rattled out. McGraw alone +observed that sign of weakening and took advantage of it at the opportune +time. He won the game from the bench. That is what makes him a great +manager, observing the little things. Anyone can see the big ones. If he +had been on the coaching lines, he would not have had as good an +opportunity to study the young pitcher, for he would have had to devote +his attention to the base runners. He might have missed this sign of +wilting. + +McGraw is always studying a pitcher, particularly a new one in the League. +The St. Louis club had a young pitcher last fall, named Laudermilk, who +was being tried out. He had a brother on the team. In his first game +against the Giants, played in St. Louis, he held us to a few scattered +hits and gave us a terrific battle, only losing the game because one of +his fielders made a costly error behind him. The papers of St. Louis +boosted him as another "Rube" Waddell. He was left-handed. McGraw laughed. + +"All I want," he said, "is another crack at that Buttermilk after what I +learned about him this afternoon. He can't control his curve, and all you +fellows have got to do is wait for his fast one. He gave you that fight +to-day because he had you all swinging at bad curve balls." + +Laudermilk made another appearance against the Giants later, and he made +his disappearance in that game in the fourth inning, when only one was out +to be exact, after we had scored five runs off him by waiting for his fast +one, according to McGraw's orders. + +After winning the pennant in 1904 by sitting on the bench, keeping away +from the coaching lines, and making every play himself, McGraw decided +that his men were older and knew the game and that he would give them more +rein in 1905. He appeared oftener on the coaching lines and attended more +to the base runners than to the game as a whole. But in the crises he was +the man who decided what was to be done. The club won the pennant that +year and the world's championship. The players got very chesty immediately +thereafter, and the buttons on their vests had to be shifted back to make +room for the new measure. They knew the game and had won two pennants, +besides a championship of the world. + +So in the season of 1906 McGraw started with a team of veterans, and it +was predicted that he would repeat. But these men, who knew the game, were +making decisions for themselves because McGraw was giving them more +liberty. The runners went wild on the bases and tried things at the wrong +stages. They lost game after game. At last, after a particularly +disastrous defeat one day, McGraw called his men together in the clubhouse +and addressed them in this wise: + +"Because you fellows have won two championships and beaten the Athletics +is no reason for you all to believe that you are fit to write a book on +how to play baseball. You are just running wild on the bases. You might as +well not have a manager. Now don't any one try to pull anything without +orders. We will begin all over again." + +But it is hard to teach old ball-players new tricks, and several fines +had to be imposed before the orders were obeyed. The club did not win the +championship that year. + +When McGraw won the pennant in 1911, he did it with a club of youngsters, +many of them playing through their first whole season as regulars in the +company. There were Snodgrass and Devore and Fletcher and Marquard. Every +time a batter went to the plate, he had definite orders from the "bench" +as to what he was to attempt--whether to take two, or lay the ball down, +or swing, or work the hit and run. Each time that a man shot out from +first base like a catapulted figure and slid into second, he had been +ordered by McGraw to try to steal. If players protested against his +judgment, his invariable answer was: + +"Do what I tell you, and I'll take the blame for mistakes." + +One of McGraw's laments is, "I wish I could be in three places at once." + +I never heard him say it with such a ring to the words as after Snodgrass +was touched out in the third game of the 1911 world's series, in the tenth +inning, when his life might have meant victory in that game anyway. I +have frequently referred to the incident in these stories, so most of my +readers are familiar with the situation. Snodgrass was put out trying to +get to third base on a short passed ball, after he had started back for +second to recover some of the ground he had taken in too long a lead +before the ball got to Lapp. McGraw's face took on an expression of agony +as if he were watching his dearest friend die. + +"If I could only have been there!" he said. "I wish I could be in three +places at once." + +He meant the bench, the first base coaching line, and the third base line. +At this particular time he was giving the batters orders from the bench. +It was one of those incidents which come up in a ball game and have to be +decided in the drawing of a breath, so that a manager cannot give orders +unless he is right on the spot. + +It is my opinion that it is a big advantage to a team to have the manager +on the bench rather than in the game. Frank Chance of the Chicago Cubs is +a great leader, but I think he would be a greater one if he could find one +of his mechanical ability to play first base, and he could sit on the +bench as the director general. He is occupied with the duties of his +position and often little things get by him. I believe that we beat the +Cubs in two games in 1909 because Chance was playing first base instead of +directing the game from the bench. + +In the first contest Ames was pitching and Schlei catching. Now, Schlei +was no three hundred hitter, but he was a good man in a pinch and looked +like Wagner when compared to Ames as a swatter. Schlei came up to the bat +with men on second and third bases, two out, and a chance to win or put us +ahead if he could make a hit. The first time it happened, McGraw unfolded +his arms and relaxed, which is a sign that he is conceding something for +the time being. + +"No use," he said. "All those runners are going to waste. We'll have to +make another try in the next inning. They will surely pass Schlei to take +a chance on Ames." + +Then Overall, who was pitching, whistled a strike over the plate and +McGraw's body tightened and the old lines around the mouth appeared. Here +was a chance yet. + +"They're going to let him hit," he cried joyfully. + +Schlei made a base hit on the next pitch and scored both men. Almost the +same thing happened later on in the season with men on second and third +bases, and Raymond, another featherweight hitter, pitching. It struck me +as being an oversight on the part of Chance on both occasions, probably +because he was so busy with his own position and watching the players on +the field that he didn't notice the pitcher was the next batter. He let +Schlei hit each time, which probably cost him two games. + +The Giants were playing St. Louis at the Polo Grounds in 1910, and I was +pitching against Harmon. I held the Cardinals to one hit up to the ninth +inning, and we had the game won by the score of 1 to 0, when their first +batter in the ninth walked. Then, after two had been put out, another +scratched a hit. It looked as if we still had the game won, since only one +man was left to be put out and the runners were on first and second bases. +Mowrey, the red-headed third baseman, came to the bat. + +"Murray's playing too near centre field for this fellow," remarked McGraw +to some of the players on the bench. + +Hardly had he said it when Mowrey shoved a long fly to right field, which +soared away toward the stand. Murray started to run with the ball. For a +minute it looked as if he were going to get there, and then it just tipped +his outstretched hands as it fell to the ground. It amounted to a +three-base hit and won the game for the Cardinals by the score of 2 to 1. + +"I knew it," said McGraw, one of whose many rôles is as a prophet of evil. +"Didn't I call the turn? I ought to have gone out there and stopped the +game and moved Murray over. I blame myself for that hit." + +That was a game in which the St. Louis batters made three hits and won it. +It isn't the number of hits, so much as when they come, that wins ball +games. + +Frequently, McGraw will stop a game--bring it to a dead standstill--by +walking out from the bench as the pitcher is about to wind up. + +"Stop it a minute, Meyers," he will shout. "Pull Snodgrass in a little bit +for this fellow." + +The man interested in statistics would be surprised at how many times +little moves of this sort have saved games. But for the McGraw system to +be effective, he must have working for him a set of players who are +taking the old look around for orders all the time. He has a way of +inducing the men to keep their heads up which has worked very well. If a +player has been slow or has not taken all the distance McGraw believes is +possible on a hit, he often finds $10 less in his pay envelope at the end +of the month. And the conversation on the bench at times, when men have +made errors of omission, would not fit into any Sunday-school room. + +During a game for the most part, McGraw is silent, concentrating his +attention on the game, and the players talk in low tones, as if in church, +discussing the progress of the contest. But let a player make a bad break, +and McGraw delivers a talk to him that would have to be written on +asbestos paper. + +Arthur Wilson was coaching at third base in one of the games in a series +played in Philadelphia the first part of September, 1911. There were +barely enough pitchers to go around at the time, and McGraw was very +careful to take advantage of every little point, so that nothing would be +wasted. He feels that if a game is lost because the other side is better, +there is some excuse, but if it goes because some one's head should be +used for furniture instead of thinking baseball, it is like losing money +that might have been spent. Fletcher was on second base when Meyers came +to bat. The Indian pushed the ball to right field along the line. Fletcher +came steaming around third base and could have rolled home safely, but +Wilson, misjudging the hit, rushed out, tackled him, and threw him back on +the bag. Even the plodding Meyers reached second on the hit and McGraw was +boiling. He promptly sent a coacher out to relieve Wilson, and his oratory +to the young catcher would have made a Billingsgate fishwife sore. We +eventually won the game, but at this time there was only a difference of +something like one, and it would have been a big relief to have seen that +run which Wilson interrupted across the plate. + +McGraw is always on Devore's hip because he often feels that this +brilliant young player does not get as much out of his natural ability as +he might. He is frequently listless, and, often, after a good hit, he will +feel satisfied with himself and fan out a couple of times. So McGraw does +all that he can to discourage this self-satisfaction. "Josh" is a great +man in a pinch, for he hangs on like a bulldog, and instead of getting +nervous, works the harder. If the reader will consult past history, he +will note that it was a pinch hit by Devore which won the first +world-series game, and one of his wallops, combined with a timely bingle +by Crandall, was largely instrumental in bringing the second victory to +the Giants. McGraw has made Devore the ball-player that he is by skilful +handling. + +The Giants were having a nip and tuck game with the Cubs in the early part +of last summer, when Devore came to the bat in one of those pinches and +shot a three bagger over third base which won the game. As he slid into +third and picked himself up, feeling like more or less of a hero because +the crowd was announcing this fact to him by prolonged cheers, McGraw +said: + +"Gee, you're a lucky guy. I wish I had your luck. You were shot full of +horseshoes to get that one. When I saw you shut your eyes, I never thought +you would hit it." + +This was like pricking a bubble, and "Josh's" chest returned to its normal +measure. + +Marquard is another man whom McGraw constantly subjects to a +conversational massage. Devore and Marquard room together on the road, +and they got to talking about their suite at the hotel during a close game +in Philadelphia one day. It annoys McGraw to hear his men discussing +off-stage subjects during a critical contest, because it not only +distracts their attention, but his and that of the other players. + +"Ain't that room of ours a dandy, Rube?" asked Devore. + +"Best in the lot," replied Marquard. + +"It's got five windows and swell furniture," said Devore. + +"Solid mahogany," said McGraw, who apparently had been paying no attention +to the conversation. "That is, judging by some of the plays I have seen +you two pull. Now can the conversation." + +Devore went down into Cuba with the Giants, carrying quite a bank roll +from the world's series, and the idea that he was on a picnic. He started +a personally conducted tour of Havana on his first night there and we lost +the game the next day, "Josh" overlooking several swell opportunities to +make hits in pinches. In fact he didn't even get a foul. + +"You are fined $25," said McGraw to him after the game. + +"You can't fine me," said Devore. "I'm not under contract." + +"Then you take the next boat home," replied the manager. "I didn't come +down here to let a lot of coffee-colored Cubans show me up. You've got to +either play ball or go home." + +Devore made four hits the next day. + +In giving his signs from the bench to the players, McGraw depends on a +gesture or catch word. When "Dummy" Taylor, the deaf and dumb twirler, was +with the club, all the players learned the deaf and dumb language. This +medium was used for signing for a time, until smart ball players, like +Evers and Leach, took up the study of it and became so proficient they +could converse fluently on their fingers. But they were also great +"listeners," and we didn't discover for some time that this was how they +were getting our signs. Thereafter we only used the language for social +purposes. + +Evers and McGraw got into a conversation one day in the deaf and dumb +language at long range and "Johnny" Evers threw a finger out of joint +replying to McGraw in a brilliant flash of repartee. + +Every successful manager is a distinct type. Each plays the game from the +bench. "Connie" Mack gives his men more liberty than most. Chance rules +for the most part with an iron hand. Bresnahan is ever spurring his men +on. Chance changes his seat on the bench, and there is a double steal. +"Connie" Mack uncrosses his legs, and the hit and run is tried. + +Most managers transmit their signs by movements or words. Jennings is +supposed to have hidden in his jumble of jibes some catch words. + +The manager on the bench must know just when to change pitchers. He has to +decide the exact time to send in a substitute hitter, when to install +another base runner. All these decisions must be made in the "batting" of +an eye. It takes quick and accurate judgment, and the successful manager +must be right usually. That's playing the game from the bench. + + + + +VI + +Coaching Good and Bad + + _Coaching is Divided into Three Parts: Offensive, Defensive, and the + Use of Crowds to Rattle Players--Why McGraw Developed Scientific + Coaching--The Important Rôle a Coacher Plays in the Crisis of a Big + League Ball Game when, on his Orders, Hangs Victory or Defeat._ + + +Critical moments occur in every close ball game, when coaching may win or +lose it. "That wasn't the stage for you to try to score," yelled John +McGraw, the manager of the Giants, at "Josh" Devore, as the New York +left-fielder attempted to count from second base on a short hit to left +field, with no one out and the team one run behind in a game with the +Pirates one day in 1911, when every contest might mean the winning or +losing of the pennant. + +"First time in my life I was ever thrown out trying to score from second +on a base hit to the outfield," answered Devore, "and besides the coacher +sent me in." + +"I don't care," replied McGraw, "that was a two out play." + +As a matter of fact, one of the younger players on the team was coaching +at third base at the time and made an error of judgment in sending Devore +home, of which an older head would not have been guilty. And the Pirates +beat us by just that one run the coacher sacrificed. The next batter came +through with an outfield fly which would have scored Devore from third +base easily. + +Probably no more wily general ever crouched on the coaching line at third +base than John McGraw. His judgment in holding runners or urging them on +to score is almost uncanny. Governed by no set rules himself, he has +formulated a list of regulations for his players which might be called the +"McGraw Coaching Curriculum." He has favorite expressions, such as "there +are stages" and "that was a two out play," which mean certain chances are +to be taken by a coacher at one point in a contest, while to attempt such +a play under other circumstances would be nothing short of foolhardy. + +With the development of baseball, coaching has advanced until it is now an +exact science. For many years the two men who stood at first and third +bases were stationed there merely to bullyrag and abuse the pitchers, +often using language that was a disgrace to a ball field. When they were +not busy with this part of their art, they handed helpful hints to the +runners as to where the ball was and whether the second baseman was +concealing it under his shirt (a favorite trick of the old days), while +the pitcher pretended to prepare to deliver it. But as rules were made +which strictly forbade the use of indecent language to a pitcher, and as +the old school of clowns passed, coaching developed into a science, and +the sentries stationed at first and third bases found themselves occupying +important jobs. + +For some time McGraw frowned down upon scientific coaching, until its +value was forcibly brought home to him one day by an incident that +occurred at the Polo Grounds, and since then he has developed it until his +knowledge of advising base runners is the pinnacle of scientific +coaching. + +A few years ago, the Giants were having a nip and tuck struggle one day, +when Harry McCormick, then the left-fielder, came to the plate and knocked +the ball to the old centre-field ropes. He sped around the bases, and when +he reached third, it looked as if he could roll home ahead of the ball. +"Cy" Seymour was coaching and surprised everybody by rushing out and +tackling McCormick, throwing him down and trying to force him back to +third base. But big McCormick got the best of the struggle, scrambled to +his feet, and finally scored after overcoming the obstacle that Seymour +made. That run won the game. + +"What was the matter with you, Cy?" asked McGraw as Seymour came to the +bench after he had almost lost the game by his poor coaching. + +"The sun got in my eyes, and I couldn't see the ball," replied Seymour. + +"You'd better wear smoked glasses the next time you go out to coach," +replied the manager. The batter was hitting the ball due east, and the +game was being played in the afternoon, so Seymour had no alibi. From the +moment "Cy" made that mistake, McGraw realized the value of scientific +coaching, which means making the most of every hit in a game. + +I have always held that a good actor with a knowledge of baseball would +make a good coacher, because it is the acting that impresses a base +runner, not the talking. More often than not, the conversation of a +coacher, be it ever so brilliant, is not audible above the screeching of +the crowd at critical moments. And I believe that McGraw is a great actor, +at least of the baseball school. + +The cheering of the immense crowds which attend ball games, if it can be +organized, is a potent factor in winning or losing them. McGraw gets the +most out of a throng by his clever acting. Did any patron of the Polo +Grounds ever see him turn to the stands or make any pretence that he was +paying attention to the spectators? Does he ever play to the gallery? Yet +it is admitted that he can do more with a crowd, make it more malleable, +than any other man in baseball to-day. + +The attitude of the spectators makes a lot of difference to a ball club. A +lackadaisical, half-interested crowd often results in the team playing +slovenly ball, while a lively throng can inject ginger into the men and +put the whole club on its toes. McGraw is skilled in getting the most out +of the spectators without letting them know that he is doing it. + +Did you ever watch the little manager crouching, immovable, at third base +with a mitt on his hand, when the New York club goes to bat in the seventh +inning two runs behind? The first hitter gets a base on balls. McGraw +leaps into the air, kicks his heels together, claps his mitt, shouts at +the umpire, runs in and pats the next batter on the back, and says +something to the pitcher. The crowd gets it cue, wakes up and leaps into +the air, kicking its heels together. The whole atmosphere inside the park +is changed in a minute, and the air is bristling with enthusiasm. The +other coacher, at first base, is waving his hands and running up and down +the line, while the men on the bench have apparently gained new hope. They +are moving about restlessly, and the next two hitters are swinging their +bats in anticipation with a vigor which augurs ill for the pitcher. The +game has found Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth, and the little, silent +actor on the third base coaching line is the cause of the change. + +"Nick" Altrock, the old pitcher on the Chicago White Sox, was one of the +most skilful men at handling a crowd that the game has ever developed. As +a pitcher, Altrock was largely instrumental in bringing a world's +championship to the American League team in 1906, and, as a coacher, after +his Big League pitching days were nearly done, he won many a game by his +work on the lines in pinches. Baseball has produced several comedians, +some with questionable ratings as humorists. There is "Germany" Schaefer +of the Washington team, and there were "Rube" Waddell, "Bugs" Raymond and +others, but "Nick" Altrock could give the best that the game has brought +out in the way of comic-supplement players a terrible battle for the +honors. + +At the old south side park in Chicago, I have seen him go to the lines +with a catcher's mitt and a first-baseman's glove on his hands and lead +the untrained mob as skilfully as one of those pompadoured young men with +a megaphone does the undergraduates at a college football game. + +My experience as a pitcher has been that it is not the steady, unbroken +flood of howling and yelling, with the incessant pounding of feet, that +gets on the nerves of a ball-player, but the broken, rhythmical waves of +sound or the constant reiteration of one expression. A man gets accustomed +to the steady cheering. It becomes a part of the game and his +surroundings, as much as the stands and the crowd itself are, and he does +not know that it is there. Let the coacher be clever enough to induce a +crowd to repeat over and over just one sentence such as "Get a hit," "Get +a hit," and it wears on the steadiest nerves. Nick Altrock had his +baseball chorus trained so that, by a certain motion of the arm, he could +get the crowd to do this at the right moment. + +But the science of latter-day coaching means much more than using the +crowd. All coaching, like all Gaul and four or five other things, is +divided into three parts, defensive coaching, offensive coaching and the +use of the crowd. Offensive coaching means the handling of base runners, +and requires quick and accurate judgment. The defensive sort is the advice +that one player on the field gives another as to where to throw the ball, +who shall take a hit, and how the base runner is coming into the bag. +There is a sub-division of defensive coaching which might be called the +illegitimate brand. It is giving "phoney" advice to a base runner by the +fielders of the other side that may lead him, in the excitement of the +moment, to make a foolish play. This style has developed largely in the +Big Leagues in the last three or four years. + +Offensive coaching, in my opinion, is the most important. For a man to be +a good coacher he must be trained for the work. The best coachers are the +seasoned players, the veterans of the game. A man must know the throwing +ability of each outfielder on the opposing club, he must be familiar with +the speed of the base runner whom he is handling, and he must be so +closely acquainted with the game as a whole that he knows the stages at +which to try a certain play and the circumstances under which the same +attempt would be foolish. Above all things, he must be a quick thinker. + +Watch McGraw on the coaching lines some day. As he crouches, he picks up a +pebble and throws it out of his way, and two base runners start a double +steal. "Hughie" Jennings emits his famous "Ee-Yaah!" and the third +baseman creeps in, expecting Cobb to bunt with a man on first base and no +one out. The hitter pushes the ball on a line past the third baseman. The +next time Jennings shrieks his famous war-cry, it has a different +intonation, and the batter bunts. + +"Bill" Dahlen of the Brooklyn club shouts, "Watch his foot," and the base +runner starts while the batter smashes the ball on a hit and run play. +Again the pitcher hears that "Watch his foot." He "wastes one," so that +the batter will not get a chance at the ball and turns to first base. He +is surprised to find the runner anchored there. Nothing has happened. So +it will be seen that the offensive coacher controls the situation and +directs the plays, usually taking his orders from the manager, if the boss +himself is not on the lines. + +In 1911 the Giants led the National League by a good margin in stealing +bases, and to this speed many critics attributed the fact that the +championship was won by the club. I can safely say that every base which +was pilfered by a New York runner was stolen by the direct order of +McGraw, except in the few games from which he was absent. Then his +lieutenants followed his system as closely as any one can pursue the +involved and intricate style that he alone understands. If it was the base +running of the Giants that won the pennant for the club, then it was the +coaching of McGraw, employing the speed of his men and his opportunities, +which brought the championship to New York. + +The first thing that every manager teaches his players now is to obey +absolutely the orders of the coacher, and then he selects able men to give +the advice. The brain of McGraw is behind each game the Giants play, and +he plans every move, most of the hitters going to the plate with definite +instructions from him as to what to try to do. In order to make this +system efficient, absolute discipline must be assured. If a player has +other ideas than McGraw as to what should be done, "Mac's" invariable +answer to him is: + +"You do what I tell you, and I'll take the responsibility if we lose." + +For two months at the end of 1911, McGraw would not let either "Josh" +Devore or John Murray swing at a first ball pitched to them. Murray did +this one day, after he had been ordered not to, and he was promptly fined +$10 and sat down on the bench, while Becker played right field. Many fans +doubtless recall the substitution of Becker, but could not understand the +move. + +Murray and Devore are what are known in baseball as "first-ball hitters." +That is, they invariably hit at the first one delivered. They watch a +pitcher wind up and swing their bats involuntarily, as a man blinks his +eyes when he sees a blow started. It is probably due to slight +nervousness. The result was that the news of this weakness spread rapidly +around the circuit by the underground routes of baseball, and every +pitcher in the League was handing Devore and Murray a bad ball on the +first one. Of course, each would miss it or else make a dinky little hit. +They were always "in the hole," which means that the pitcher had the +advantage in the count. McGraw became exasperated after Devore had fanned +out three times one day by getting bad starts, hitting at the first ball. + +"After this," said McGraw to both Murray and Devore in the clubhouse, "if +either of you moves his bat off his shoulder at a first ball, even if it +cuts the plate, you will be fined $10 and sat down." + +Murray forgot the next day, saw the pitcher wind up, and swung his bat at +the first one. He spent the rest of the month on the bench. But Devore's +hitting improved at once because all the pitchers, expecting him to swing +at the first one, were surprised to find him "taking it" and, as it was +usually bad, he had the pitcher constantly "in the hole," instead of being +at a disadvantage himself. For this reason he was able to guess more +accurately what the pitcher was going to throw, and his hitting +consequently improved. So did Murray's after he had served his term on the +bench. The right-fielder hit well up to the world's series and then he +just struck a slump that any player is liable to encounter. But so +dependent is McGraw's system on absolute discipline for its success that +he dispensed with the services of a good player for a month to preserve +his style. + +In contrast, "Connie" Mack, the manager of the Athletics, and by many +declared to be the greatest leader in the country (although each private, +of course, is true to his own general), lets his players use their own +judgment largely. He seldom gives a batter a direct order unless the pinch +is very stringent. + +The most difficult position to fill as a coacher is at third base, the +critical corner. There a man's judgment must be lightning fast and always +accurate. He encourages runners with his voice, but his orders are given +primarily with his hands, because often the noise made by the crowd drowns +out the shouted instructions. Last, he must be prepared to handle all +sorts of base running. + +On nearly every ball club, there are some players who are known in the +frank parlance of the profession as "hog wild runners." + +The expression means that these players are bitten by a sort of "bug" +which causes them to lose their heads when once they get on the bases. +They cannot be stopped, oftentimes fighting with a coacher to go on to the +next base, when it is easy to see that if the attempt is made, the runner +is doomed. + +New York fans have often seen McGraw dash out into the line at third base, +tackle Murray, and throw him back on the bag. He is a "hog wild" runner, +and with him on the bases, the duties of a coacher become more arduous. He +will insist on scoring if he is not stopped or does not drop dead. + +Some youngster was coaching on third base in a game with Boston in the +summer of 1911 and the Giants had a comfortable lead of several runs. +Murray was on second when the batter hit clearly and sharply to left +field. Murray started, and, with his usual intensity of purpose, rounded +third base at top speed, bound to score. The ball was already on the way +home when Murray, about ten feet from the bag, tripped and fell. He +scrambled safely back to the cushion on all fours. There was nothing else +to do. + +"This is his third year with me," laughed McGraw on the bench, "and that's +the first time he has ever failed to try to score from second base on a +hit unless he was tackled." + +All ball clubs have certain "must" motions which are as strictly observed +as danger signals on a railroad. A coacher's hand upraised will stop a +base runner as abruptly as the uplifted white glove of a traffic policeman +halts a row of automobiles. A wave of the arm will start a runner going at +top speed again. + +Many times a quick-witted ball-player wins a game for his club by his snap +judgment. Again McGraw is the master of that. He took a game from the +Cubs in 1911, because, always alert for flaws in the opposition, he +noticed the centre-fielder drop his arm after getting set to throw the +ball home. Devore was on second base, and one run was needed to win the +game. Doyle hit sharply to centre field, and Devore, coming from second, +started to slow up as he rounded third. Hofman, the Chicago +centre-fielder, perceiving this slackening of pace, dropped his arm. +McGraw noticed this, and, with a wave of his arm, notified Devore to go +home. With two strides he was at top speed again, and Hofman, taken by +surprise, threw badly. + +The run scored which won the game. + +The pastime of bullyragging the pitcher by the coachers has lost its +popularity recently. The wily coacher must first judge the temperament of +a pitcher before he dares to undertake to get on his nerves. Clarke +Griffith, formerly the manager of Cincinnati, has a reputation for being +able to ruin young pitchers just attempting to establish themselves in the +Big League. Time and again he has forced youngsters back to the minors by +his constant cry of "Watch his foot" or "He's going to waste this one." + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Baker out at the plate trying to stretch a triple into a home run. This +picture shows Catcher Easterly of Cleveland waiting with the ball to touch +Baker. The home-run hero of the Athletics is shown in the picture starting +the fall-away slide in an effort to get away from Easterly. Harry Davis is +approaching the plate, and Jack Sheridan is awaiting the outcome at the +plate.] + + +The rules are very strict now about talking to pitchers, but, if a +complaint is made, Griffith declares that he was warning the batter that +it was to be a pitchout, which is perfectly legitimate. The rules permit +the coacher to talk to the batter and the base runners. + +Griffith caught a Tartar in Grover Cleveland Alexander, the sensational +pitcher of the Philadelphia club. It was at his first appearance in +Cincinnati that the young fellow got into the hole with several men on the +bases, and "Mike" Mitchell coming up to the bat. + +"Now here is where we get a look at the 'yellow,'" yelled Griffith at +Alexander. + +The young pitcher walked over toward third base. + +"I'm going to make that big boob up at the bat there show such a 'yellow +streak' that you won't be able to see any white," declared Alexander, and +then he struck Mitchell out. Griffith had tried the wrong tactics. + +A story is told of Fred Clarke and "Rube" Waddell, the eccentric twirler. +Waddell was once one of the best pitchers in the business when he could +concentrate his attention on his work, but his mind wandered easily. + +"Now pay no attention to Clarke," warned his manager before the game. + +Clarke tried everything from cajolery to abuse on Waddell with no effect, +because the eccentric "Rube" had been tipped to fight shy of the Pittsburg +manager. Suddenly Clarke became friendly and walked with Waddell between +innings, chatting on trivial matters. At last he said: + +"Why don't you come out on my ranch in Kansas and hunt after the season, +George? I've got a dog out there you might train." + +"What kind of a dog?" asked Waddell at once interested. + +"Just a pup," replied Clarke, "and you can have him if he takes a fancy to +you." + +"They all do," replied Waddell. "He's as good as mine." + +The next inning the big left-hander was still thinking of that dog, and +the Pirates made five runs. + +In many instances defensive coaching is as important as the offensive +brand, which simply indorses the old axiom that any chain is only as +strong as its weakest link or any ball club is only as efficient as its +most deficient department. When Roger Bresnahan was on the Giants, he was +one of those aggressive players who are always coaching the other fielders +and holding a team together, a type so much desired by a manager. If a +slow roller was hit between the pitcher's box and third base, I could +always hear "Rog" yelling, "You take it, Matty," or, "Artie, Artie," +meaning Devlin, the third baseman. He was in a position to see which man +would be better able to make the play, and he gave this helpful advice. +His coaching saved many a game for the Giants in the old days. "Al" +Bridwell, the former shortstop, was of the same type, and, if you have +ever attended a ball game at the Polo Grounds, you have doubtless heard +him in his shrill, piercing voice, shouting: + +"I've got it! I've got it!" or, "You take it!" + +This style of coaching saves ball-players from accidents, and accidents +have lost many a pennant. I have always held that it was a lack of the +proper coaching that sent "Cy" Seymour, formerly the Giant centre-fielder, +out of the Big Leagues and back to the minors. Both Murray and he +attempted to catch the same fly in the season of 1909 and came into +collision. Seymour went down on the field, but later got up and played +the game out. However, he hurt his leg so badly that it never regained its +strength. + +Then there is that other style of defensive coaching which is the shouting +of misleading advice by the fielders to the base runners. Collins and +Barry, the second baseman and shortstop on the Athletics, worked a clever +trick in one of the games of the 1911 world's series which illustrates my +point. The play is as old as the one in which the second baseman hides the +ball under his shirt so as to catch a man asleep off first base, but often +the old ones are the more effective. + +Doyle was on first base in one of the contests played in Philadelphia, and +the batter lifted a short foul fly to Baker, playing third base. The crowd +roared and the coacher's voice was drowned by the volume of sound. "Eddie" +Collins ran to cover second base, and Barry scrabbled his hand along the +dirt as if preparing to field a ground ball. + +"Throw it here! Throw it here!" yelled Collins, and Doyle, thinking that +they were trying for a force play, increased his efforts to reach second. +Baker caught the fly, and Larry was doubled up at first base so far that +he looked foolish. Yet it really was not his fault. The safest thing for a +base runner to do under those circumstances is to get one glimpse of the +coacher's motions and then he can tell whether to go back or to go on. + +"Johnnie" Kling, the old catcher of the Chicago Cubs, used to work a +clever piece of defensive coaching with John Evers, the second baseman. +This was tried on young players and usually was successful. The victim was +picked out before the game, and the play depended upon him arriving at +second base. Once there the schemers worked it as follows: + +When the "busher" was found taking a large lead, Evers would dash to the +bag and Kling would make a bluff to throw the ball, but hold it. The +runner naturally scampered for the base. Then, seeing that Kling had not +thrown, he would start to walk away from it again. + +"If the Jew had thrown that time, he would have had you," Evers would +carelessly hurl over his shoulder at the intended victim. The man usually +turned for a fatal second to reply. Tinker, who was playing shortstop, +rushed in from behind, Kling whipped the ball to the bag, and the man, +caught off his guard, was tagged out. The play was really made before the +game, when the victim was selected. + +It was this same Evers-Kling combination that turned the tide in the first +inning of the most famous game ever played in baseball, the extra one +between the Giants and the Cubs in the season of 1908. The Chicago club +was nervous in the first inning. Tenney was hit by a pitched ball, and +Herzog walked. It looked as if Pfeister, the Chicago pitcher, was losing +his grip. Bresnahan struck out, and Kling, always alert, dropped the third +strike, but conveniently at his feet. Thinking that here was an +opportunity the crowd roared. Evers, playing deep, almost behind Herzog, +shouted, "Go on!" + +Herzog took the bait in the excitement of the moment and ran--and was +nipped many yards from first base. + +There are many tricks to the coacher's trade, both offensive and +defensive, and it is the quickest-witted man who is the best coacher. The +sentry at first yells as the pitcher winds up, "There he goes!" imitating +the first baseman as nearly as possible, in the hope that the twirler +will waste one by pitching out and thus give the batter an advantage. The +coacher on third base will shout at the runner on a short hit to the +outfield, "Take your turn!" in the dim hope that the fielder, seeing the +man rounding third, will throw the ball home, and the hitter can thus make +an extra base. And the job of coaching is no sinecure. McGraw has told me +after directing a hard game that he is as tired as if he had played. + + + + +VII + +Honest and Dishonest Sign Stealing + + _Everything Fair in Baseball except the Dishonest Stealing of + Signals--The National Game More a Contest of the Wits than Most + Onlookers Imagine._ + + +When the Philadelphia Athletics unexpectedly defeated the Chicago Cubs in +the world's series of 1910, the National League players cried that their +signals had been stolen by the American League team, and that, because +Connie Mack's batters knew what to expect, they had won the championship. + +But were the owners or any member of the Philadelphia club arrested +charged with grand larceny in stealing the baseball championship of the +world? No. Was there any murmur against the methods of Connie Mack's men? +No, again. By a strange kink in the ethics of baseball John Kling, the +Chicago catcher, was blamed by the other players on the defeated team for +the signs being stolen. They charged that he had been careless in covering +his signals and that the enemy's coachers, particularly Topsy Hartsell, a +clever man at it, had seen them from the lines. This was really the cause +of Kling leaving the Cubs and going to Boston in 1911. + +After the games were over and the series was lost, many of the players, +and especially the pitchers, would hardly speak to Kling, the man who had +as much as any one else to do with the Cubs winning four championships, +and the man who by his great throwing had made the reputations of a lot of +their pitchers. But the players were sore because they had lost the series +and lost the extra money which many of them had counted as their own +before the games started, and they looked around for some one to blame and +found Kling. One of the pitchers complained after he had lost a game: + +"Can't expect a guy to win with his catcher giving the signs so the +coachers can read 'em and tip the batters." + +"And you can't expect a catcher to win a game for you if you haven't got +anything on the ball," replied Kling, for he is quick tempered and cannot +stand reflections on his ability. But the pitcher's chance remark had +given the other players an excuse for fixing the blame, and it was put on +Kling. + +I honestly do not believe that Kling was in any way responsible for the +rout of the proud Cubs. The Chicago pitchers were away off form in the +series and could not control the ball, thus getting themselves "into the +hole" all the time. Shrewd Connie Mack soon realized this and ordered his +batters to wait everything out, to make the twirlers throw every ball +possible. The result was that, with the pitcher continually in the hole, +the batters were guessing what was coming and frequently guessing right, +as any smart hitter could under the circumstances. This made it look as if +the Athletics were getting the Cubs' signals. + +"Why, I changed signs every three innings, Matty," Kling told me +afterwards in discussing the charge. "Some of the boys said that I gave +the old bended-knee sign for a curve ball. Well, did you ever find +anything to improve on the old ones? That's why they are old." + +But the Cubs still point the finger of scorn at Kling, for it hurts to +lose. I know it, I have lost myself. Even though the Athletics are charged +with stealing the signs whether they did or not, it is no smirch on the +character of the club, for they stole honestly--which sounds like a +paradox. + +"You have such jolly funny morals in this bally country," declared an +Englishman I once met. "You steal and rob in baseball and yet you call it +fair. Now in cricket we give our opponents every advantage, don't cher +know, and after the game we are all jolly good fellows at tea together." + +This brings us down to the ethics of signal stealing. Each game has its +own recognized standards of fairness. For instance, no tricks are +tolerated in tennis, yet the baseball manager who can devise some scheme +by which he disconcerts his opponents is considered a great leader. I was +about to say that all is fair in love, war, and baseball, but will modify +that too comprehensive statement by saying all is fair in love, war, and +baseball except stealing signals dishonestly, which listens like another +paradox. Therefore, I shall divide the subject of signal stealing into +half portions, the honest and the dishonest halves, and, since we are +dealing in paradoxes, take up the latter first. + +Dishonest signal stealing might be defined as obtaining information by +artificial aids. The honest methods are those requiring cleverness of eye, +mind, and hand without outside assistance. One of the most flagrant and +for a time successful pieces of signal stealing occurred in Philadelphia +several years ago. + +Opposing players can usually tell when the batsman is getting the signs, +because he steps up and sets himself for a curve with so much confidence. +During the season of 1899 the report went around the circuit that the +Philadelphia club was stealing signals, because the batters were popping +them all on the nose, but no one was able to discover the transmitter. The +coachers were closely watched and it was evident that these sentinels were +not getting the signs. + +It was while the Washington club, then in the National League, was playing +Philadelphia that there came a rainy morning which made the field very +wet, and for a long time it was doubtful whether a game could be played +in the afternoon, but the Washington club insisted on it and overruled the +protests of the Phillies. Arlie Latham, now the coacher on the Giants', +was playing third base for the Senators at the time. He has told me often +since how he discovered the device by which the signs were being stolen. +He repeated the story to me recently when I asked him for the facts to use +in this book. + +"There was a big puddle in the third base coaching box that day," said +Latham. "And it was in the third inning that I noticed Cupid Childs, the +Philadelphia second baseman, coaching. He stood with one foot in the +puddle and never budged it, although the water came up to his shoe-laces. +He usually jumped around when on the lines, and this stillness surprised +me. + +"'Better go get your rubbers if you are goin' to keep that trilby there,' +I said to him. 'Charley horse and the rheumatism have no terrors for you.' + +"But he kept his foot planted in the puddle just the same, and first thing +the batter cracked out a base hit. + +"'So that's where you're gettin' the signs?' I said to him, not guessing +that it really was. Then he started to jump around and we got the next +two batters out right quick, there being a big slump in the Philadelphia +hitting as soon as he took his foot out of that puddle. + +"When the Washington club went to bat I hiked out to the third base line +and started to coach, putting my foot into the puddle as near the place +where Childs had had his as I could. + +"'Here's where we get a few signs,' I yelled, 'and I ain't afraid of +Charley horse, either.' + +"I looked over at the Philadelphia bench, and there were all the extra +players sitting with their caps pulled down over their eyes, so that I +couldn't see their faces. The fielders all looked the other way. Then I +knew I was on a warm scent. + +"When the Washington players started back for the field I told Tommy +Corcoran that I thought they must be getting the signs from the third base +coaching box, although I hadn't been able to feel anything there. He went +over and started pawing around in the dirt and water with his spikes and +fingers. Pretty soon he dug up a square chunk of wood with a buzzer on the +under side of it. + +"'That ought to help their hitting a little,' he remarked as he kept on +pulling. Up came a wire, and when he started to pull on it he found that +it was buried about an inch under the soil and ran across the outfield. He +kept right on coiling it up and following it, like a hound on a scent, the +Philadelphia players being very busy all this time and nervous like a +busher at his début into Big League society. One of the substitutes +started to run for the clubhouse, but I stopped him. + +"Tommy was galloping by this time across the outfield and all the time +pulling up this wire. It led straight to the clubhouse, and there sitting +where he could get a good view of the catcher's signs with a pair of +field-glasses was Morgan Murphy. The wire led right to him. + +"'What cher doin'?' asked Tommy. + +"'Watchin' the game,' replied Murphy. + +"'Couldn't you see it easier from the bench than lookin' through those +peepers from here? And why are you connected up with this machine?' +inquired Tommy, showin' him the chunk of wood with the buzzer attached. + +"'I guess you've got the goods,' Murphy answered with a laugh, and all the +newspapers laughed at it then, too. But the batting averages of the +Philadelphia players took an awful slump after that. + +"'Why didn't they tip me?' asked Murphy as he put aside his field-glasses +and went to the bench and watched the rest of the game from there. And we +later won that contest, our first victory of the series, which was no +discredit to us, since it was like gamblin' against loaded dice," +concluded "Arlie." + +The newspapers may have laughed at the incident in those days, but since +that time the National Commission has intimated that if there was ever a +recurrence of such tactics, the club caught using them would be subjected +to a heavy fine and possibly expulsion from the League. So much have +baseball standards improved. + +The incident is a great illustration of the unfair method of obtaining +signs. Since then, there have come from time to time reports of teams +taking signals by mechanical devices. The Athletics once declared that the +American League team in New York had a man stationed behind the fence in +centre field with a pair of glasses and that he shifted a line in the +score board slightly, so as to tip off the batters, but this charge was +never confirmed. It was said a short time ago that the Athletics +themselves had a spy located in a house outside their grounds and that he +tipped the batters by raising and lowering an awning a trifle. When the +Giants went to Philadelphia in 1911 for the first game of the world's +series in the enemy's camp, I kept watching the windows of the houses just +outside of the park for suspicious movements, but could discover none. +Once in Pittsburg I thought that the Pirates were getting the Giants' +signals and I kept my eyes glued to the score board in centre field, +throughout one whole series, to see if any of the figures moved or changed +positions, as that seemed to be the only place from which a batter could +be tipped. But I never discovered anything wrong. + +There are many fair ways to steal the signs of the enemy, so many that the +smart ball-player is always kept on the alert by them. Baseball geniuses, +some almost magicians, are constantly looking for new schemes to find out +what the catcher is telling the pitcher, what the batter is tipping the +base runner to, or what the coacher's instructions are. The Athletics have +a great reputation as being a club able to get the other team's signs if +they are obtainable. This is their record all around the American League +circuit. + +Personally I do not believe that Connie Mack's players steal as much +information as they get the credit for, but the reputation itself, if they +never get a sign, is valuable. If a prizefighter is supposed to have a +haymaking punch in his left hand, the other fellow is going to be +constantly looking out for that left. If the players on a club have great +reputations as signal stealers, their opponents are going to be on their +guard all the time, which gives the team with the reputation just that +much advantage. If a pitcher has a reputation, he has the percentage on +the batter. Therefore, this gossip about the signal-stealing ability of +the Athletics has added to their natural strength. + +"Bill," I said to Dahlen, the Brooklyn manager, one day toward the end of +the season of 1911, when the Giants were playing their schedule out after +the pennant was sure, "see if you can get the Chief's signs." + +Dahlen coached on first base and then went to third, always looking for +Meyers's signals. Pretty soon he came to me. + +"I can see them a little bit, Matty," he reported. + +"Chief," I said to Meyers that night as I buttonholed him in the +clubhouse, "you've got to be careful to cover up your signs in the Big +Series. The Athletics have a reputation of being pretty slick at getting +them. And to make sure we will arrange a set of signs that I can give if +we think they are 'hep' to yours." + +So right there Meyers and I fixed up a code of signals that I could give +to him, the Chief always to use some himself which would be "phoney" of +course, and might have the desirable effect of "crossing them." + +In the first championship game at the Polo Grounds, Topsy Hartsell was out +on the coaching lines looking for signals, and the Chief started giving +the real ones until Davis stepped into a curve ball and cracked it to left +field for a single, scoring the only run made by the Athletics. Right here +Meyers stopped, and I began transmitting the private information, although +the Chief continued to pass out signals that meant nothing. The Athletics +were getting the Indian's and could not understand why the answers seemed +invariably to be wrong, for a couple of them struck out swinging at bad +balls, and one batter narrowly avoided being hit by a fast one when +apparently he had been tipped off to a curve and was set ready to swing at +it. They did not discover that I was behind the signals, although to make +this method successful the catcher must be a clever man. If he makes it +too obvious that his signals are "phoney" and are meant to be seen, then +the other club will look around for the source of the real ones. Meyers +carefully concealed his misleading wig-wags beneath his chest protector, +under his glove and behind his knee, as any good catcher does his real +signs, so they would not look at my head. + +Many persons argue: if a man sees the signs, what good does it do him if +he does not know what they mean? It is easy for a smart ball-player to +deduce the answers, because there are only three real signs passed between +a pitcher and catcher, the sign for the fast one, for the curve ball and +for the pitchout. If a coacher sees a catcher open his hand behind his +glove and then watches the pitcher throw a fast one, he is likely to guess +that the open palm says "Fast one." + +After a coacher has stolen the desired information, he must be clever to +pass it along to the batter without the other club being aware that he is +doing it. He may straighten up to tell the batter a curve ball is coming, +and bend over to forecast a fast one, and turn his back as a neutral +signal, meaning that he does not know what is coming. If a coacher is +smart enough to pass the meanings to the batter without the other team +getting on, he may go through the entire season as a transmitter of +information. To steal signs fairly requires quickness of mind, eye and +action. Few players can do it successfully. Perhaps that is why it is +considered fair. + +If a team is going to make a success of signal stealing it must get every +sign that is given, for an occasional crumb of information picked up at +random is worse than none at all. First, it is dangerous. A batter, tipped +off that a curved ball is coming, steps up to the plate and is surprised +to meet a fast one, which often he has not time to dodge. Many a good +ball-player has been injured in this way, and an accident to a star has +cost more than one pennant. + +"Joe" Kelley, formerly manager of the Reds, was coaching in Cincinnati one +day several years ago, and "Eagle Eye Jake" Beckley, the old first +baseman and a chronic three hundred hitter, was at the bat. I had been +feeding him low drops and Kelley, on the third base line, thought he was +getting the signals that Jack Warner, the Giant catcher in a former cast +of characters, was giving. I saw Kelley apparently pass some information +to Beckley, and the latter stepped almost across the plate ready for a +curve. He encountered a high, fast one, close in, and he encountered it +with that part of him between his neck and hat band. "Eagle Eye" was +unconscious for two days after that and in the hospital several weeks. +When he got back into the game he said to me one day: + +"Why didn't you throw me that curve, Matty, that 'Joe' tipped me to?" + +"Were you tipped off?" I asked. "Then it was 'Joe's' error, not mine." + +"Say," he answered, "if I ever take another sign from a coacher I hope the +ball kills me." + +"It probably will," I replied. "That one nearly did." + +It is one of the risks of signal stealing. Beckley had received the wrong +information and I felt no qualms at hitting him, for it was not a wild +pitch but a misinterpreted signal which had put him out of the game. His +manager, not I, was to blame. For this reason many nervous players refuse +to accept any information from a coacher, even if the coacher thinks he +knows what is going to be pitched, because they do not dare take the risk +of getting hit by a fast one, against which they have little protection if +set for a curve. On this account few National League clubs attempt to +steal signs as a part of the regular team work, but many individuals make +a practice of it for their own benefit and for the benefit of the batter, +if he is not of the timid type. + +As soon as a runner gets on second base he is in an excellent position to +see the hands of the catcher, and it is then that the man behind the bat +is doing all that he can cover up. Jack Warner, the old Giant, used +sometimes to give his signals with his mouth in this emergency, because +they were visible from the pitcher's box, but not from second base. The +thieves were looking at his hands for them. In the National League, Leach, +Clarke, Wagner, Bresnahan, Evers, Tinker and a few more of the sort are +dangerous to have on second. Wagner will get on the middle sack and watch +the catcher until he thinks that he has discovered the pitchout sign, +which means a ball is to be wasted in the hope that a base runner can be +caught. Wagner takes a big lead, and the catcher, tempted, gives the +"office" to waste one, thinking to nail "Hans" off second. The Dutchman +sees it, and instead of running back to second dashes for third. He starts +as the catcher lets go of the ball to throw to second and can usually make +the extra base. + +Many coachers, who do not attempt to get the signs for fast and curved +balls, study the catcher to get his pitchout sign, because once this is +recognized it gives the team at the bat a great advantage. If a coacher +sees the catcher give the pitchout signal he can stop the runner from +trying to steal and the pitcher has wasted a ball and is "in the hole." +Then if his control is uncertain the result is likely to be disastrous. + +Several players in the National League are always trying to get the +batter's signs. Bresnahan, the manager and catcher of the St. Louis club, +devotes half his time and energy to looking for the wireless code employed +by batter and base runner. If he can discover the hit and run sign, then +he is able to order a pitchout and catch the man who has started to run in +response to it several feet at second base. He is a genius at getting this +information. + +Once late in 1911, when the New York club was in St. Louis on the last +trip West, I came up to the bat with Fletcher on first base. I rubbed the +end of my stick with my hand and Roger exclaimed: + +"Why, that's your old hit and run, Matty! What are you trying to do, kid +me?" + +"I forgot you knew it, Rog," I answered, "but it goes." + +He thought I was attempting to cross him and did not order a pitchout. The +sign had been given intentionally. I hit the ball and had the laugh on +him. If a catcher can get a pitchout on a hit and run sign he upsets the +other team greatly. Take a fast man on first base and the batter signs him +that he is going to hit the next ball. The runner gets his start and the +ball comes up so wide that the batter could not half reach it with a +ten-foot bat. The runner is caught easily at second base and it makes him +look foolish. That is why so many catchers devote time to looking for +this signal. It is a great fruit bearer. + +Many of the extra players on the bench are always on the alert for the hit +and run sign. This is a typical situation: + +The Giants were playing the Pittsburg club one day in 1911. Byrne was on +first base. Fred Clarke was at bat and Byrne started for second while +Clarke hit the ball to right field, Byrne reaching third base on the play. + +"What did he do?" asked Ames. + +"Did you get it, Matty?" inquired Wiltse. + +"No," I answered. "Did you?" + +"I think he tapped his bat on the plate," replied Wiltse. The next time +Clarke came up we were all looking to see if he tapped his bat on the +plate. Byrne was again on first base. The Pirates' manager fixed his cap, +he stepped back out of the box and knocked the dirt out of his cleats, and +he did two or three other natural things before the pitch, but nothing +happened. Then he tapped his bat on the plate. + +"Make him put them over, Chief," yelled Wiltse which, translated, meant, +"Order a pitch-out, Chief. He just gave Byrne the hit and run sign." + +Meyers signed for a pitchout, and Byrne was caught ten feet from second. +Wiltse on the bench had really nailed the base runner. As soon as a sign +is discovered it is communicated to the other players, and they are always +watching for it, but try to conceal the fact that they recognize it, +because, as soon as a batter discovers that his messages are being read, +he changes his code. + +From these few facts about signals and sign stealing some idea of the +battle of wits that is going on between two ball clubs in a game may be +obtained. That is why so few men without brains last in the Big Leagues +nowadays. A young fellow broke in with the Giants a few years ago and was +very anxious to make good. He was playing shortstop. + +"Watch for the catcher's signs and then shift," McGraw told him one day. +It is well known in baseball that a right-handed hitter will naturally +push a curve over the outside corner of the plate toward right field and +over the inside he will pull it around toward third base. But this +youngster was overanxious and would shift before the pitcher started to +deliver the ball. Some smart player on another club noticed this and +tipped the batters off to watch the youngster for the signs. When he +shifted toward second base the batter set himself for a ball over the +outside corner. For a long time McGraw could not understand how the other +teams were getting the Giants' signs, especially as it was on our home +grounds. At last he saw the new infielder shift one day and the batter +prepare for an inside ball. + +"Say," he said to the player, rushing on the field after he had stopped +the pitcher, "do you know you are telegraphing the signs to the batters by +moving around before the pitcher throws the ball?" + +Bill Dahlen, formerly a shortstop on the Giants, used to shift, but he was +clever enough to wait until the pitcher had started his motion, when it +was too late for the batter to look at him. + +Ball-players are always looking to steal some sign so that they may +"cross" the enemy. In the language of the Big Leagues it is "signs," never +"signals." And in conclusion I reiterate my former sentiments that all is +fair in love, war and baseball except stealing signs dishonestly. + + + + +VIII + +Umpires and Close Decisions + + _Ball-players and Umpires are Regarded by the Fans as Natural + Enemies, and the Fans Are about Right--Types of Arbiters and how the + Players Treat them--"Silk" O'Loughlin, "Hank" O'Day, "Tim" Hurst, + "Bob" Emslie, and Others, and Close Ones they have Called--Also Some + Narrow Escapes which have Followed._ + + +When the Giants were swinging through the West in 1911 on the final trip, +the club played three games in Pittsburg, with the pennant at that time +only a possibility more or less remote. The Pirates still had a chance, +and they were fighting hard for every game, especially as they were +playing on their home grounds. + +The first contest of the series was on Saturday afternoon before a crowd +that packed the gigantic stands which surrounded Forbes Field. The throng +wanted to see the Pirates win because they were the Pirates, and the +Giants beaten because they were the Giants, and were sticking their heads +up above the other clubs in the race. I always think of the horse show +when I play in Pittsburg, for they have the diamond horse-shoe of boxes +there, you know. No; I'm wrong--it's at the Metropolitan Opera House they +have the diamond horse-shoe. Any way, the diamond horse-shoe of boxes was +doing business at Forbes Field that Saturday afternoon. + +This story is going to be about umpires, but the reader who has never seen +the Forbes Field folks must get the atmosphere before I let the yarn into +the block. Once, on a bright, sunny day there, I muffed fly after fly +because the glint of Sol's rays on the diamonds blinded me. Always now I +wear smoked glasses. "Josh" Devore is so afraid that he will lose social +caste when he goes to Pittsburg that he gets his finger-nails manicured +before he will appear on the field. And the lady who treated him one day +polished them to such an ultimate glossiness that the sun flashed on them, +and he dropped two flies in left field. + +"Look here, Josh," warned McGraw after the game, "I hire you to play ball +and not to lead cotillions. Get some pumice stone and rub it on your +finger-nails and cut out those John Drew manicures after this." + +This crowd is worse after umpires than the residents of the bleachers. The +game on that Saturday worked out into a pitchers' battle between Marty +O'Toole, the expensive exponent of the spit ball, and "Rube" Marquard, the +great left-hander. Half of "Who's Who in Pittsburg" had already split +white gloves applauding when, along about the fourth or fifth inning, Fred +Clarke got as far as third base with one out. The score was nothing for +either side as yet, and of such a delicate nature was the contest that one +run was likely to decide it. + +"Hans" Wagner, the peerless, and the pride of Pittsburg, was at the bat. +He pushed a long fly to Murray in right field, and John caught it and +threw the ball home. Clarke and the ball arrived almost simultaneously. +There was a slide, a jumble of players, and a small cloud of dust blew +away from the home plate. + +"Ye're out!" bawled Mr. Brennan, the umpire, jerking his thumb over his +shoulder with a conclusiveness that forbade argument. Clarke jumped up and +stretched his hands four feet apart, for he recognizes no conclusiveness +when "one is called against him." + +"Safe! that much!" he shouted in Brennan's ear, showing him the four-foot +margin with his hands. + +There was a roar from the diamond horse-shoe that, if it could have been +canned and put on a phonograph, would have made any one his fortune +because it could have been turned on to accompany moving pictures of lions +and other wild beasts to make them realistic. + +"Say," said Clarke to Brennan, "I know a pickpocket who looks honest +compared to you, and I'd rather trust my watch to a second-story worker." + +Brennan was dusting off the plate and paid no attention to him. But Clarke +continued to snap and bark at the umpire as he brushed himself off, +referring with feeling to Mr. Brennan's immediate family, and weaving into +his talk a sketch of the umpire's ancestors, for Clarke is a great master +of the English language as fed to umpires. + +"Mr. Clarke," said Brennan, turning at last, "you were out. Now beat it to +the bench before you beat it to the clubhouse." + +Clarke went grumbling and all the afternoon was after Brennan for the +decision, his wrath increasing because the Pirates lost the game finally, +although they would not have won it had they been given that decision. And +the crowd was roaring at Brennan, too, throughout the remainder of the +contest, asking him pointed questions about his habits and what his +regular business was. + +It takes a man with nerve to make a decision like that--one that could be +called either way because it was so close--and to make it as he sees it, +which happened in this particular case to be against the home team. + +Many times have I, in the excitement of the moment, protested against the +decision of an umpire, but fundamentally I know that the umpires are +honest and are doing their best, as all ball-players are. The umpires make +mistakes and the players make errors. Many arbiters have told me that when +they are working they seldom know what inning it is or how many are out, +and sometimes, in their efforts to concentrate their minds on their +decisions, they say they even forget what clubs are playing and which is +the home team. + +The future of the game depends on the umpire, for his honesty must not be +questioned. If there is a breath of suspicion against a man, he is +immediately let go, because constant repetition of such a charge would +result in baseball going the way of horse racing and some other sports. No +scandal can creep in where the umpire is concerned, for the very +popularity of baseball depends on its honesty. + +"The only good umpire is a dead umpire," McGraw has declared many times +when he has been disgruntled over some decision. + +"I think they're all dead ones in this League," replied Devore one day, +"considering the decisions that they are handing me down there at second +base. Why, I had that bag by three feet and he called me out." + +Many baseball fans look upon an umpire as a sort of necessary evil to the +luxury of baseball, like the odor that follows an automobile. + +"Kill him! He hasn't got any friends!" is an expression shouted from the +stands time and again during a game. + +But I know differently. I have seen umpires with friends. It is true that +most ball-players regard umpires as their natural enemies, as a boy does a +school teacher. But "Bill" Klem has friends because I have seen him with +them, and besides he has a constant companion, which is a calabash pipe. +And "Billy" Evans of the American League has lots of friends. And most all +of the umpires have some one who will speak to them when they are off the +field. + +These men in blue travel by themselves, live at obscure hotels apart from +those at which the teams stop, and slip into the ball parks unobtrusively +just before game time. They never make friends with ball-players off the +field for fear that there might be a hint of scandal. Seldom do they take +the same train with a club unless it cannot be avoided. "Hank" O'Day, the +veteran of the National League staff, and Brennan took the same train out +of Chicago with the Giants in the fall of 1911 because we stopped in +Pittsburg for one game, and they had to be there to umpire. It was the +only available means of transportation. But they stayed by themselves in +another Pullman until some one told them "Charley" Faust, the official +jinx-killer of the Giants, was doing his stunt. Then they both came back +into the Giants' car and for the first time in my life I saw "Hank" O'Day +laugh. His face acted as if it wasn't accustomed to the exercise and broke +all in funny new wrinkles, like a glove when you put it on for the first +time. + +There are several types of umpires, and ball-players are always studying +the species to find out the best way to treat each man to get the most out +of him. There are autocrats and stubborn ones and good fellows and +weak-kneed ones, almost as many kinds as there are human beings. The +autocrat of the umpire world is "Silk" O'Loughlin, now appearing with a +rival show. + +"There are no close plays," says "Silk." "A man is always out or safe, or +it is a ball or a strike, and the umpire, if he is a good man and knows +his business, is always right. For instance, I am always right." + +He refuses to let the players discuss a decision with him, maintaining +that there is never any room for argument. If a man makes any talk with +him, it is quick to the shower bath. "Silk" has a voice of which he is +proud and declares that he shares the honors with Caruso and that it is +only his profession as an umpire that keeps him off the grand-opera +circuit. I have heard a lot of American League ball-players say at various +times that they wished he was on the grand-opera circuit or some more +calorific circuit, but they were mostly prejudiced at those moments by +some sentiments which "Silk" had just voiced in an official capacity. + +As is well known in baseball, "Silk" is the inventor of "Strike Tuh!" and +the creased trousers for umpires. I have heard American League players +declare that they are afraid to slide when "Silk" is close down over a +play for fear they will bump up against his trousers and cut themselves. +He is one of the kind of umpires who can go through a game on the hottest +summer day, running about the bases, and still keep his collar unwilted. +At the end he will look as if he were dressed for an afternoon tea. + +Always he wears on his right hand, which is his salary or decision wing, a +large diamond that sparkles in the sunlight every time he calls a man +out. Many American League players assert that he would rather call a man +out than safe, so that he can shimmer his "cracked ice," but again they +are usually influenced by circumstances. Such is "Silk," well named. + +Corresponding to him in the National League is "Billy" Klem. He always +wears a Norfolk jacket because he thinks it more stylish, and perhaps it +is, and he refuses to don a wind pad. Ever notice him working behind the +bat? But I am going to let you in on a secret. That chest is not all his +own. Beneath his jacket he carries his armor, a protector, and under his +trousers' legs are shin guards. He insists that all players call him "Mr." +He says that he thinks maybe soon his name will be in the social register. + +"Larry" Doyle thought that he had received the raw end of a decision at +second base one day. He ran down to first, where Klem had retreated after +he passed his judgment. + +"Say, 'Bill,'" exploded "Larry," "that man didn't touch the bag--didn't +come within six feet of it." + +"Say, Doyle," replied Klem, "when you talk to me call me 'Mr. Klem.'" + +"But, Mr. Klem--" amended "Larry." + +Klem hurriedly drew a line with his foot as Doyle approached him +menacingly. + +"But if you come over that line, you're out of the game, Mr. Doyle," he +threatened. + +"All right," answered "Larry," letting his pugilistic attitude evaporate +before the abruptness of Klem as the mist does before the classic noonday +sun, "but, Mr. Klem, I only wanted to ask you if that clock in centre +field is right by your watch, because I know everything about you is +right." + +"Larry" went back, grinning and considering that he had put one over on +Klem--Mr. Klem. + +For a long time "Johnny" Evers of the Chicago club declared that Klem owed +him $5 on a bet he had lost to the second baseman and had neglected to +pay. Now John, when he was right, could make almost any umpirical goat +leap from crag to crag and do somersaults en route. He kept pestering Klem +about that measly $5 bet, not in an obtrusive way, you understand, but by +such delicate methods as holding up five fingers when Klem glanced down on +the coaching lines where he was stationed, or by writing a large "5" in +the dirt at the home plate with the butt of his bat as he came up when +Klem was umpiring on balls and strikes, or by counting slowly and casually +up to five and stopping with an abruptness that could not be misconstrued. + +One day John let his temper get away from him and bawled Klem out in his +most approved fashion. + +"Here's your five, Mr. Evers," said Klem, handing him a five dollar bill, +"and now you are fined $25." + +"And it was worth it," answered Evers, "to bawl you out." + +Next comes the O'Day type, and there is only one of them, "Hank." He is +the stubborn kind--or perhaps _was_ the stubborn kind, would be better, as +he is now a manager. He is bull-headed. If a manager gets after him for a +decision, he is likely to go up in the air and, not meaning to do it, call +close ones against the club that has made the kick, for it must be +remembered that umpires are only "poor weak mortals after all." O'Day has +to be handled with shock absorbers. McGraw tries to do it, but shock +absorbers do not fit him well, and the first thing that usually occurs is +a row. + +"Let me do the kicking, boys," McGraw always warns his players before a +contest that O'Day is going to umpire. He does not want to see any of his +men put out of the game. + +"Bill" Dahlen always got on O'Day's nerves by calling him "Henry." For +some reason, O'Day does not like the name, and "Bill" Dahlen discovered +long ago the most irritating inflection to give it so that it would rasp +on O'Day's ears. He does not mind "Hank" and is not a "Mister" umpire. But +every time Dahlen would call O'Day "Henry" it was the cold shower and the +civilian's clothes for his. + +Dahlen was playing in St. Louis many years ago when the race track was +right opposite the ball park. "Bill" had a preference in one of the later +races one day and was anxious to get across the street and make a little +bet. He had obtained a leave of absence on two preceding days by calling +O'Day "Henry" and had lost money on the horses he had selected as fleet of +foot. But this last time he had a "sure thing" and was banking on some +positive information which had been slipped to him by a friend of the +friend of the man who owned the winner, and "Bill" wanted to be there. +Along about the fifth inning, "Bill" figured that it was time for him to +get a start, so he walked up to O'Day and said: + +"Henry, do you know who won the first race?" + +"No, and you won't either, Mr. Dahlen," answered "Hank." "You are fined +$25, and you stay here and play the game out." + +Some one had tipped "Hank" off. And the saddest part of the story is that +"Bill's" horse walked home, and he could not get a bet down on him. + +"First time it ever failed to work," groaned "Bill" in the hotel that +night, "and I said 'Henry' in my meanest way, too." + +Most clubs try to keep an umpire from feeling hostile toward the team +because, even if he means to see a play right, he is likely to call a +close one against his enemies, not intending to be dishonest. It would +simply mean that you would not get any close ones from him, and the close +ones count. Some umpires can be reasoned with, and a good fair protest +will often make a man think perhaps he has called it wrong, and he will +give you the edge on the next decision. A player must understand an umpire +to know how to approach him to the best advantage. O'Day cannot be +reasoned with. It is as dangerous to argue with him as it is to try to +ascertain how much gasoline is in the tank of an automobile by sticking +down the lighted end of a cigar or a cigarette. + +Emslie will listen to a reasonable argument. He is one of the finest +umpires that ever broke into the League, I think. He is a good fellow. Far +be it from me to be disloyal to my manager, for I think that he is the +greatest that ever won a pennant, but Emslie put one over on McGraw in +1911 when it was being said that Emslie was getting so old he could not +see a play. + +"I'll bet," said McGraw to him one day after he had called one against the +Giants, "that I can put a baseball and an orange on second base, and you +can't tell the difference standing at the home plate, Bob." + +Emslie made no reply right then, but when the eye test for umpires was +established by Mr. Lynch, the president of the League, "Bob" passed it at +the head of the list and then turned around and went up to Chatham in +Ontario, Canada, and made a high score with the rifle in a shooting match +up there. After he had done that, he was umpiring at the Polo Grounds one +day. + +"Want to take me on for a shooting go, John?" he asked McGraw as he passed +him. + +"No, Bob, you're all right. I give it to you," answered McGraw, who had +long forgotten his slur on Emslie's eyesight. + +Emslie is the sort of umpire who rules by the bond of good fellowship +rather than by the voice of authority. "Old Bob" has one "groove" and it +is a personal matter about which he is very sensitive. He is under cover. +It is no secret, or I would not give way on him. But that luxuriant growth +of hair, apparent, comes off at night like his collar and necktie. It used +to be quite the fad in the League to "josh" "Bob" about his wig, but that +pastime has sort of died out now because he has proven himself to be such +a good fellow. + +I had to laugh to myself, and not boisterously, in the season of 1911 when +Mr. Lynch appointed "Jack" Doyle, formerly a first baseman and a +hot-headed player, an umpire and scheduled him to work with Emslie. I +remembered the time several seasons ago when Doyle took offence at one of +"Bob's" decisions and wrestled him all over the infield trying to get his +wig off and show him up before the crowd. And then Emslie and he worked +together like Damon and Pythias. This business makes strange bed-fellows. + +Emslie was umpiring in New York one day in the season of 1909, when the +Giants were playing St. Louis. A wild pitch hit Emslie over the heart and +he wilted down, unconscious. The players gathered around him, and +Bresnahan, who was catching for St. Louis at the time, started to help +"Bob." Suddenly the old umpire came to and began to fight off his +first-aid-to-the-injured corps. No one could understand his attitude as he +struggled to his feet and strolled away by himself, staggering a little +and apparently dizzy. At last he came back and gamely finished the +business of the day. I never knew why he fought with the men who were +trying to help him until several weeks later, when we were playing in +Pittsburg. As I came out from under the stand on my way to the bench, +Emslie happened to be making his entrance at the same time. + +"Say, Matty," he asked me, "that time in New York did my wig come off? Did +Bresnahan take my wig off?" + +"No, Bob," I replied, "he was only trying to help you." + +"I thought maybe he took it off while I was down and out and showed me up +before the crowd," he apologized. + +"Listen, Bob," I said. "I don't believe there is a player in either League +who would do that, and, if any youngster tried it now, he would probably +be licked." + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Matty," answered the old man, as he picked +up his wind pad and prepared to go to work. And he called more bad ones on +me that day than he ever had in his life before, but I never mentioned the +wig to him. + +Most umpires declare they have off days just like players, when they know +that they are making mistakes and cannot help it. If a pitcher of Mordecai +Brown's kind, who depends largely on his control for his effectiveness, +happens to run up against an umpire with a bad day, he might just as well +go back to the bench. Brown is a great man to work the corners of the +plate, and if the umpire is missing strikes, he is forced to lay the ball +over and then the batters whang it out. Johnstone had an off day in +Chicago in 1911, when Brown was working. + +"What's the use of my tryin' to pitch, Jim," said Brown, throwing down his +glove and walking to the bench disgusted, "if you don't know a strike when +you see one?" + +Sometimes an umpire who has been good will go into a long slump when he +cannot call things right and knows it. Men like that get as discouraged as +a pitcher who goes bad. There used to be one in the National League who +was a pretty fair umpire when he started and seemed to be getting along +fine until he hit one of those slumps. Then he began calling everything +wrong and knew it. At last he quit, and the next time I saw him was in +Philadelphia in the 1911 world's series. He was a policeman. + +"Hello, Matty," he shouted at me as we were going into Shibe Park for the +first game there. "I can call you by your first name now," and he waved +his hand real friendly. The last conversation I had with that fellow, +unless my recollection fails me entirely, was anything but friendly. + +Umpires have told me that sometimes they see a play one way and call it +another, and, as soon as the decision is announced, they realize that +they have called it wrong. This malady has put more than one umpire out. A +man on the National League staff has informed me since, that he called a +hit fair that was palpably two feet foul in one of the most important +games ever played in baseball, when he saw the ball strike on foul ground. + +"I couldn't help saying 'Fair ball,'" declared this man, and he is one of +the best in the National League. "Luckily," he added, "the team against +which the decision went won the game." + +Many players assert that arbiters hold a personal grudge against certain +men who have put up too strenuous kicks, and for that reason the wise ones +are careful how they talk to umpires of this sort. Fred Tenney has said +for a long time that Mr. Klem gives him a shade the worst of it on all +close ones because he had a run in with that umpire one day when they came +to blows. Tenney is a great man to pick out the good ones when at the bat, +and Fred says that if he is up with a three and two count on him now, Klem +is likely to call the next one a strike if it is close, not because he is +dishonest, but because he has a certain personal prejudice which he +cannot overcome. And the funny part about it is that Tenney does not hold +this up against Klem. + +Humorous incidents are always occurring in connection with umpires. We +were playing in Boston one day a few years ago, and the score was 3 to 0 +against the Giants in the ninth inning. Becker knocked a home run with two +men on the bases, and it tied the count. With men on first and third bases +and one out in the last half of the ninth, a Boston batter tapped one to +Merkle which I thought he trapped, but Johnstone, the umpire, said he +caught it on the fly. It was simplicity itself to double the runner up off +first base who also thought Merkle had trapped the ball and had started +for second. That retired the side, and we won the game in the twelfth +inning, whereas Boston would have taken it in the ninth if Johnstone had +said the ball was trapped instead of caught on the fly. + +It was a very hot day, and those extra three innings in the box knocked me +out. I was sick for a week with stomach trouble afterwards and could not +pitch in Chicago, where we made our next stop. That was a case of where a +decision in my favor "made me sick." + +"Tim" Hurst, the old American League umpire, was one of the most +picturesque judges that ever spun an indicator. He was the sort who would +take a player at his word and fight him blow for blow. "Tim" was umpiring +in Baltimore in the old days when there was a runner on first base. + +"The man started to steal," says "Tim." He was telling the story only the +other day in McGraw's billiard room in New York, and it is better every +time he does it. "As he left the bag he spiked the first baseman and that +player attempted to trip him. The second baseman blocked the runner and, +in sliding into the bag, the latter tried to spike 'Hugh' Jennings, who +was playing shortstop and covering, while Jennings sat on him to knock the +wind out. The batter hit Robinson, who was catching, on the hands with his +bat so that he couldn't throw, and 'Robbie' trod on my toes with his +spikes and shoved his glove into my face so that I couldn't see to give +the decision. It was one of the hardest that I have ever been called upon +to make." + +"What did you do?" I asked him. + +"I punched 'Robbie' in the ribs, called it a foul and sent the runner +back," replied "Tim." + + + + +IX + +The Game that Cost a Pennant + + _The Championship of the National League was Decided in 1908 in One + Game between the Giants and Cubs--Few Fans Know that it Was Mr. Brush + who Induced the Disgruntled New York Players to Meet Chicago--This is + the "Inside" Story of the Famous Game, Including "Fred" Merkle's Part + in the Series of Events which Led up to it._ + + +The New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs played a game at the Polo Grounds +on October 8, 1908, which decided the championship of the National League +in one afternoon, which was responsible for the deaths of two spectators, +who fell from the elevated railroad structure overlooking the grounds, +which made Fred Merkle famous for not touching second, which caused +lifelong friends to become bitter enemies, and which, altogether, was the +most dramatic and important contest in the history of baseball. It stands +out from every-day events like the battle of Waterloo and the +assassination of President Lincoln. It was a baseball tragedy from a New +York point of view. The Cubs won by the score of 4 to 2. + +Behind this game is some "inside" history that has never been written. Few +persons, outside of the members of the New York club, know that it was +only after a great deal of consultation the game was finally played, only +after the urging of John T. Brush, the president of the club. The Giants +were risking, in one afternoon, their chances of winning the pennant and +the world's series--the concentration of their hopes of a season--because +the Cubs claimed the right on a technicality to play this one game for the +championship. Many members of the New York club felt that it would be +fighting for what they had already won, as did their supporters. This made +bad feeling between the teams and between the spectators, until the whole +dramatic situation leading up to the famous game culminated in the climax +of that afternoon. The nerves of the players were rasped raw with the +strain, and the town wore a fringe of nervous prostration. It all burst +forth in the game. + +Among other things, Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, had a cartilage +in his neck broken when some rooter hit him with a handy pop bottle, +several spectators hurt one another when they switched from conversational +to fistic arguments, large portions of the fence at the Polo Grounds were +broken down by patrons who insisted on gaining entrance, and most of the +police of New York were present to keep order. They had their clubs +unlimbered, too, acting more as if on strike duty than restraining the +spectators at a pleasure park. Last of all, that night, after we had lost +the game, the report filtered through New York that Fred Merkle, then a +youngster and around whom the whole situation revolved, had committed +suicide. Of course it was not true, for Merkle is one of the gamest +ball-players that ever lived. + +My part in the game was small. I started to pitch and I didn't finish. The +Cubs beat me because I never had less on the ball in my life. What I can't +understand to this day is why it took them so long to hit me. Frequently +it has been said that "Cy" Seymour started the Cubs on their victorious +way and lost the game, because he misjudged a long hit jostled to centre +field by "Joe" Tinker at the beginning of the third inning, in which +chapter they made four runs. The hit went for three bases. + +Seymour, playing centre field, had a bad background against which to judge +fly balls that afternoon, facing the shadows of the towering stand, with +the uncertain horizon formed by persons perched on the roof. A baseball +writer has said that, when Tinker came to the bat in that fatal inning, I +turned in the box and motioned Seymour back, and instead of obeying +instructions he crept a few steps closer to the infield. I don't recall +giving any advice to "Cy," as he knew the Chicago batters as well as I did +and how to play for them. + +Tinker, with his long bat, swung on a ball intended to be a low curve over +the outside corner of the plate, but it failed to break well. He pushed +out a high fly to centre field, and I turned with the ball to see Seymour +take a couple of steps toward the diamond, evidently thinking it would +drop somewhere behind second base. He appeared to be uncertain in his +judgment of the hit until he suddenly turned and started to run back. That +must have been when the ball cleared the roof of the stand and was visible +above the sky line. He ran wildly. Once he turned, and then ran on again, +at last sticking up his hands and having the ball fall just beyond them. +He chased it and picked it up, but Tinker had reached third base by that +time. If he had let the ball roll into the crowd in centre field, the Cub +could have made only two bases on the hit, according to the ground rules. +That was a mistake, but it made little difference in the end. + +All the players, both the Cubs and the Giants, were under a terrific +strain that day, and Seymour, in his anxiety to be sure to catch the ball, +misjudged it. Did you ever stand out in the field at a ball park with +thirty thousand crazy, shouting fans looking at you and watch a ball climb +and climb into the air and have to make up your mind exactly where it is +going to land and then have to be there, when it arrived, to greet it, +realizing all the time that if you are not there you are going to be +everlastingly roasted? It is no cure for nervous diseases, that +situation. Probably forty-nine times out of fifty Seymour would have +caught the fly. + +"I misjudged that ball," said "Cy" to me in the clubhouse after the game. +"I'll take the blame for it." + +He accepted all the abuse the newspapers handed him without a murmur and I +don't think myself that it was more than an incident in the game. I'll try +to show later in this story where the real "break" came. + +Just one mistake, made by "Fred" Merkle, resulted in this play-off game. +Several newspaper men have called September 23, 1908, "Merkle Day," +because it was on that day he ran to the clubhouse from first base instead +of by way of second, when "Al" Bridwell whacked out the hit that +apparently won the game from the Cubs. Any other player on the team would +have undoubtedly done the same thing under the circumstances, as the +custom had been in vogue all around the circuit during the season. It was +simply Fred Merkle's misfortune to have been on first base at the critical +moment. The situation which gave rise to the incident is well known to +every follower of baseball. Merkle, as a pinch hitter, had singled with +two out in the ninth inning and the score tied, sending McCormick from +first base to third. "Al" Bridwell came up to the bat and smashed a single +to centre field. McCormick crossed the plate, and that, according to the +customs of the League, ended the game, so Merkle dug for the clubhouse. +Evers and Tinker ran through the crowd which had flocked on the field and +got the ball, touching second and claiming that Merkle had been forced out +there. + +Most of the spectators did not understand the play, as Merkle was under +the shower bath when the alleged put-out was made, but they started after +"Hank" O'Day, the umpire, to be on the safe side. He made a speedy +departure under the grand-stand and the crowd got the put-out unassisted. +Finally, while somewhere near Coogan's Bluff, he called Merkle out and the +score a tie. When the boys heard this in the clubhouse, they laughed, for +it didn't seem like a situation to be taken seriously. But it turned out +to be one of those things that the farther it goes the more serious it +becomes. + +"Connie" Mack, the manager of the Athletics, says: + +"There is no luck in Big League baseball. In a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-four games, the lucky and unlucky plays break about even, except in +the matter of injuries." + +But Mack's theory does not include a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-five games, with the result depending on the one hundred and +fifty-fifth. Chicago had a lot of injured athletes early in the season of +1908, and the Giants had shot out ahead in the race in grand style. In the +meantime the Cubs' cripples began to recuperate, and that lamentable event +on September 23 seemed to be the turning-point in the Giants' fortunes. + +Almost within a week afterwards, Bresnahan had an attack of sciatic +rheumatism and "Mike" Donlin was limping about the outfield, leading a +great case of "Charley horse." Tenney was bandaged from his waist down and +should have been wearing crutches instead of playing first base on a Big +League club. Doyle was badly spiked and in the hospital. McGraw's daily +greeting to his athletes when he came to the park was: + +"How are the cripples? Any more to add to the list of identified dead +to-day?" + +Merkle moped. He lost flesh, and time after time begged McGraw to send him +to a minor league or to turn him loose altogether. + +"It wasn't your fault," was the regular response of the manager who makes +it a habit to stand by his men. + +We played on with the cripples, many double-headers costing the pitchers +extra effort, and McGraw not daring to take a chance on losing a game if +there were any opportunity to win it. He could not rest any of his men. +Merkle lost weight and seldom spoke to the other players as the Cubs crept +up on us day after day and more men were hurt. He felt that he was +responsible for this change in the luck of the club. None of the players +felt this way toward him, and many tried to cheer him up, but he was +inconsolable. The team went over to Philadelphia, and Coveleski, the +pitcher we later drove out of the League, beat us three times, winning the +last game by the scantiest of margins. The result of that series left us +three to play with Boston to tie the Cubs if they won from Pittsburg the +next day, Sunday. If the Pirates had taken that Sunday game, it would +have given them the pennant. We returned to New York on Saturday night +very much downhearted. + +"Lose me. I'm the jinx," Merkle begged McGraw that night. + +"You stick," replied the manager. + +While we had been losing, the Cubs had been coming fast. It seemed as if +they could not drop a game. At last Cincinnati beat them one, which was +the only thing that made the famous season tie possible. There is an +interesting anecdote connected with that Cincinnati contest which goes to +prove the honesty of baseball. Two of the closest friends in the game are +"Hans" Lobert, then with the Reds, and Overall, the former Chicago +pitcher. It looked as if Chicago had the important game won up to the +ninth inning when Lobert came to the bat with two men out and two on the +bases. Here he had a chance to overcome the lead of one run which the Cubs +had gained, and win the contest for the home club, but he would beat his +best friend and maybe put the Cubs out of the running for the pennant. + +Lobert had two balls and two strikes when he smashed the next pitch to +center field, scoring both the base runners. The hit came near beating the +Cubs out of the championship. It would have if we had taken one of those +close games against Philadelphia. Lobert was broken-hearted over his hit, +for he wanted the Cubs to win. On his way to the clubhouse, he walked with +Overall, the two striding side by side like a couple of mourners. + +"I'm sorry, 'Orvie,'" said Lobert. "I would not have made that hit for my +year's salary if I could have helped it." + +"That's all right, 'Hans,'" returned Overall. "It's all part of the +game." + +Next came the famous game in Chicago on Sunday between the Cubs and the +Pittsburg Pirates, when a victory for the latter club would have meant the +pennant and the big game would never have been played. Ten thousand +persons crowded into the Polo Grounds that Sunday afternoon and watched a +little electric score board which showed the plays as made in Chicago. For +the first time in my life I heard a New York crowd cheering the Cubs with +great fervor, for on their victory hung our only chances of ultimate +success. The same man who was shouting himself hoarse for the Cubs that +afternoon was for taking a vote on the desirability of poisoning the whole +Chicago team on the following Thursday. Even the New York players were +rooting for the Cubs. + +The Chicago team at last won the game when Clarke was called out at third +base on a close play, late in the contest. With the decision, the Pirates' +last chance went glimmering. The Giants now had three games to win from +Boston on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, to make the deciding game on +Thursday necessary. We won those, and the stage was cleared for the big +number. + +The National Commission gave the New York club the option of playing three +games out of five for the championship or risking it all on one contest. +As more than half of the club was tottering on the brink of the hospital, +it was decided that all hope should be hung on one game. By this time, +Merkle had lost twenty pounds, and his eyes were hollow and his cheeks +sunken. The newspapers showed him no mercy, and the fans never failed to +criticise and hiss him when he appeared on the field. He stuck to it and +showed up in the ball park every day, putting on his uniform and +practising. It was a game thing to do. A lot of men, under the same fire, +would have quit cold. McGraw was with him all the way. + +But it was not until after considerable discussion that it was decided to +play that game. All the men felt disgruntled because they believed they +would be playing for something they had already won. Even McGraw was so +wrought up, he said in the clubhouse the night before the game: + +"I don't care whether you fellows play this game or not. You can take a +vote." + +A vote was taken, and the players were not unanimous, some protesting it +ought to be put up to the League directors so that, if they wanted to rob +the team of a pennant, they would have to take the blame. Others insisted +it would look like quitting, and it was finally decided to appoint a +committee to call upon Mr. Brush, the president of the club, who was ill +in bed in the Lambs club at the time. Devlin, Bresnahan, Donlin, Tenney, +and I were on that committee. + +"Mr. Brush," I said to my employer, having been appointed the spokesman, +"McGraw has left it up to us to decide whether we shall meet the Chicago +team for the championship of the National League to-morrow. A lot of the +boys do not believe we ought to be forced to play over again for something +we have already won, so the players have appointed this committee of five +to consult with you and get your opinion on the subject. What we decide +goes with them." + +Mr. Brush looked surprised. I was nervous, more so than when I am in the +box with three on the bases and "Joe" Tinker at the bat. Bresnahan fumbled +with his hat, and Devlin coughed. Tenney leaned more heavily on his cane, +and Donlin blew his nose. We five big athletes were embarrassed in the +presence of this sick man. Suddenly it struck us all at the same time that +the game would have to be played to keep ourselves square with our own +ideas of courage. Even if the Cubs had claimed it on a technicality, even +if we had really won the pennant once, that game had to be played now. We +all saw that, and it was this thin, ill man in bed who made us see it even +before he had said a word. It was the expression on his face. It seemed to +say, "And I had confidence in you, boys, to do the right thing." + +"I'm going to leave it to you," he answered "You boys can play the game +or put it up to the directors of the League to decide as you want. But I +shouldn't think you would stop now after making all this fight." + +The committee called an executive session, and we all thought of the crowd +of fans looking forward to the game and of what the newspapers would say +if we refused to play it and of Mr. Brush lying there, the man who wanted +us to play, and it was rapidly and unanimously decided to imitate "Steve" +Brodie and take a chance. + +"We'll play," I said to Mr. Brush. + +"I'm glad," he answered. "And, say, boys," he added, as we started to file +out, "I want to tell you something. Win or lose, I'm going to give the +players a bonus of $10,000." + +That night was a wild one in New York. The air crackled with excitement +and baseball. I went home, but couldn't sleep for I live near the Polo +Grounds, and the crowd began to gather there early in the evening of the +day before the game to be ready for the opening of the gates the next +morning. They tooted horns all night, and were never still. When I +reported at the ball park, the gates had been closed by order of the +National Commission, but the streets for blocks around the Polo Grounds +were jammed with persons fighting to get to the entrances. + +The players in the clubhouse had little to say to one another, but, after +the bandages were adjusted, McGraw called his men around him and said: + +"Chance will probably pitch Pfiester or Brown. If Pfiester works there is +no use trying to steal. He won't give you any lead. The right-handed +batters ought to wait him out and the left-handers hit him when he gets in +a hole. Matty is going to pitch for us." + +Pfiester is a left-hand pitcher who watches the bases closely. + +Merkle had reported at the clubhouse as usual and had put on his uniform. +He hung on the edge of the group as McGraw spoke, and then we all went to +the field. It was hard for us to play that game with the crowd which was +there, but harder for the Cubs. In one place, the fence was broken down, +and some employees were playing a stream of water from a fire hose on the +cavity to keep the crowd back. Many preferred a ducking to missing the +game and ran through the stream to the lines around the field. A string +of fans recklessly straddled the roof of the old grand-stand. + +Every once in a while some group would break through the restraining ropes +and scurry across the diamond to what appeared to be a better point of +vantage. This would let a throng loose which hurried one way and another +and mixed in with the players. More police had to be summoned. As I +watched that half-wild multitude before the contest, I could think of +three or four things I would rather do than umpire the game. + +I had rested my arm four days, not having pitched in the Boston series, +and I felt that it should be in pretty good condition. Before that +respite, I had been in nine out of fifteen games. But as I started to warm +up, the ball refused to break. I couldn't get anything on it. + +"What's the matter, Rog?" I asked Bresnahan. "They won't break for me." + +"It'll come as you start to work," he replied, although I could see that +he, too, was worried. + +John M. Ward, the old ball-player and now one of the owners of the Boston +National League club, has told me since that, after working almost every +day as I had been doing, it does a pitcher's arm no good to lay off for +three or four days. Only a week or ten days will accomplish any results. +It would have been better for me to continue to work as often as I had +been doing, for the short rest only seemed to deaden my arm. + +The crowd that day was inflammable. The players caught this incendiary +spirit. McGinnity, batting out to our infield in practice, insisted on +driving Chance away from the plate before the Cubs' leader thought his +team had had its full share of the batting rehearsal. "Joe" shoved him a +little, and in a minute fists were flying, although Chance and McGinnity +are very good friends off the field. + +Fights immediately started all around in the stands. I remember seeing two +men roll from the top to the bottom of the right-field bleachers, over the +heads of the rest of the spectators. And they were yanked to their feet +and run out of the park by the police. + +"Too bad," I said to Bresnahan, nodding my head toward the departing +belligerents, "they couldn't have waited until they saw the game, anyway. +I'll bet they stood outside the park all night to get in, only to be run +out before it started." + +I forgot the crowd, forgot the fights, and didn't hear the howling after +the game started. I knew only one thing, and that was my curved ball +wouldn't break for me. It surprised me that the Cubs didn't hit it far, +right away, but two of them fanned in the first inning and Herzog threw +out Evers. Then came our first time at bat. Pfiester was plainly nervous +and hit Tenney. Herzog walked and Bresnahan fanned out, Herzog being +doubled up at second because he tried to advance on a short passed ball. +"Mike" Donlin whisked a double to right field and Tenney counted. + +For the first time in almost a month, Merkle smiled. He was drawn up in +the corner of the bench, pulling away from the rest of us as if he had +some contagious disease and was quarantined. For a minute it looked as if +we had them going. Chance yanked Pfiester out of the box with him +protesting that he had been robbed on the decisions on balls and strikes. +Brown was brought into the game and fanned Devlin. That ended the inning. + +We never had a chance against Brown. His curve was breaking sharply, and +his control was microscopic. We went back to the field in the second with +that one run lead. Chance made the first hit of the game off me in the +second, but I caught him sleeping at first base, according to Klem's +decision. There was a kick, and Hofman, joining in the chorus of protests, +was sent to the clubhouse. + +Tinker started the third with that memorable triple which gave the Cubs +their chance. I couldn't make my curve break. I didn't have anything on +the ball. + +"Rog," I said to Bresnahan, "I haven't got anything to-day." + +"Keep at it, Matty," he replied. "We'll get them all right." + +I looked in at the bench, and McGraw signalled me to go on pitching. Kling +singled and scored Tinker. Brown sacrificed, sending Kling to second, and +Sheckard flied out to Seymour, Kling being held on second base. I lost +Evers, because I was afraid to put the ball over the plate for him, and he +walked. Two were out now, and we had yet a chance to win the game as the +score was only tied. But Schulte doubled, and Kling scored, leaving men +on second and third bases. Still we had a Mongolian's chance with them +only one run ahead of us. Frank Chance, with his under jaw set like the +fender on a trolley car, caught a curved ball over the inside corner of +the plate and pushed it to right field for two bases. That was the most +remarkable batting performance I have ever witnessed since I have been in +the Big Leagues. A right-handed hitter naturally slaps a ball over the +outside edge of the plate to right field, but Chance pushed this one, on +the inside, with the handle of his bat, just over Tenney's hands and on +into the crowd. The hit scored Evers and Schulte and dissolved the game +right there. It was the "break." Steinfeldt fanned. + +None of the players spoke to one another as they went to the bench. Even +McGraw was silent. We knew it was gone. Merkle was drawn up behind the +water cooler. Once he said: + +"It was my fault, boys." + +No one answered him. Inning after inning, our batters were mowed down by +the great pitching of Brown, who was never better. His control of his +curved ball was marvellous, and he had all his speed. As the innings +dragged by, the spectators lost heart, and the cowbells ceased to jingle, +and the cheering lost its resonant ring. It was now a surly growl. + +Then the seventh! We had our one glimmer of sunshine. Devlin started with +a single to centre, and McCormick shoved a drive to right field. Recalling +that Bridwell was more or less of a pinch hitter, Brown passed him +purposely and Doyle was sent to the bat in my place. As he hobbled to the +plate on his weak foot, said McGraw: + +"Hit one, Larry." + +The crowd broke into cheers again and was stamping its feet. The bases +were full, and no one was out. Then Doyle popped up a weak foul behind the +catcher. His batting eye was dim and rusty through long disuse. Kling went +back for it, and some one threw a pop bottle which narrowly missed him, +and another scaled a cushion. But Kling kept on and got what he went +after, which was the ball. He has a habit of doing that. Tenney flied to +Schulte, counting Devlin on the catch, and Tinker threw out Herzog. The +game was gone. Never again did we have a chance. + +It was a glum lot of players in the clubhouse. Merkle came up to McGraw +and said: + +"Mac, I've lost you one pennant. Fire me before I can do any more harm." + +"Fire you?" replied McGraw. "We ran the wrong way of the track to-day. +That's all. Next year is another season, and do you think I'm going to let +you go after the gameness you've shown through all this abuse? Why you're +the kind of a guy I've been lookin' for many years. I could use a carload +like you. Forget this season and come around next spring. The newspapers +will have forgotten it all then. Good-by, boys." And he slipped out of the +clubhouse. + +"He's a regular guy," said Merkle. + +Merkle has lived down that failure to touch second and proved himself to +be one of the gamest players that ever stood in a diamond. Many times +since has he vindicated himself. He is a great first baseman now, and +McGraw and he are close friends. That is the "inside" story of the most +important game ever played in baseball and Merkle's connection with it. + + + + +X + +When the Teams Are in Spring Training + + _The Hardships of the Preliminary Practice in Limbering up Muscles + and Reducing Weight for the Big Campaign--How a Ball Club is Whipped + into Playing Shape--Trips to the South Not the Picnics they Seem to + Be--The Battle of the Bushers to Stay in the Big Show--Making a + Pitcher--Some Fun on the Side, including the Adventure of the Turkish + Bath._ + + +Spring training! The words probably remind the reader of the sunny South +and light exercise and good food and rubs and other luxuries, but the +reader perhaps has never been with a Big League ball club when it is +getting ready to go into a six months' campaign. + +All I can ever remember after a training trip is taking off and putting on +a uniform, and running around the ball park under the inspiration of John +McGraw, and he is some inspirer. + +The heavier a man gets through the winter, the harder the routine work is +for him, and a few years ago I almost broke down and cried out of sympathy +for Otis Crandall, who arrived in camp very corpulent. + +"What have you been doing this winter, Otie?" McGraw asked him after +shaking hands in greeting, "appearing with a show as the stout lady? +You'll have to take a lot of that off." + +"Taking it off" meant running several miles every day so bundled up that +the Indiana agriculturist looked like the pictures published of "Old Doc" +Cook which showed him discovering the north pole. Ever since, Crandall's +spring training, like charity, has begun at home, and he takes exercise +night and morning throughout the winter, so that when he comes into camp +his weight will be somewhere near normal. In 1911 he had the best year of +his career. He is the type of man who cannot afford to carry too much +weight. He is stronger when he is slimmer. + +In contrast to him is George Wiltse, who maps out a training course with +the idea of adding several pounds, as he is better with all the real +weight he can put on. By that I do not mean any fat. + +George came whirling and spinning and waltzing and turkey-trotting and +pirouetting across the field at Marlin Springs, Texas, the Giants' spring +training headquarters, one day in the spring of 1911, developing steps +that would have ruled him off any cotillion floor in New York in the days +of the ban on the grizzly bear and kindred dances. Suddenly he dove down +with his left hand and reached as far as he could. + +"What's that one, George?" I yelled as he passed me. + +"Getting ready to cover first base on a slow hit, Matty," he replied, and +was off on another series of hand springs that made him look more like a +contortionist rehearsing for an act which he was going to take out for the +"big time" than a ball-player getting ready for the season. + +But perhaps some close followers of baseball statistics will recall a game +that Wiltse took from the Cubs in 1911 by a wonderful one-hand reaching +catch of a low throw to first base. Two Chicago runners were on the bags +at the time and the loss of that throw would have meant that they both +scored. Wiltse caught the ball, and it made the third out, and the Giants +won the game. Thousands of fans applauded the catch, but the play was not +the result of the exigencies of the moment. It was the outcome of +forethought used months before. + +Spectators at ball games who wonder at the marvellous fielding of Wiltse +should watch him getting ready during the spring season at Marlin. He is a +tireless worker, and when he is not pitching he is doing hand springs and +other acrobatic acts to limber up all his muscles. It is torture then, but +it pays in the end. + +When I was a young fellow and read about the Big League clubs going South, +I used to think what a grand life that must be. Riding in Pullmans, some +pleasant exercise which did not entail the responsibility of a ball game, +and plenty of food, with a little social recreation, were all parts of my +dream. A young ball-player looks on his first spring training trip as a +stage-struck young woman regards the theatre. She cannot wait for her +first rehearsal, and she thinks only of the lobster suppers and the +applause and the lights and the life, but nowhere in her dream is there a +place for the raucous voice of the stage manager and the long jumps of +"one night stands" with the loss of sleep and the poor meals and the cold +dressing rooms. As actors begin to dread the drudgery of rehearsing, so do +baseball men detest the drill of the spring training. The only thing that +I can think of right away which is more tiresome and less interesting is +signal practice with a college football team. + +About the time that the sap starts up in the trees and the young man's +fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love and baseball, the big trek starts. +Five hundred ball-players, attached more or less firmly to sixteen major +league clubs, spread themselves out over the southern part of the United +States, from Florida to California, and begin to prepare for the campaign +that is to furnish the answer to that annual question, "Which is the best +baseball club in the world?" + +In the case of the Giants, McGraw, with a flock of youngsters, has already +arrived when the older men begin to drift into camp. The youngsters, who +have come from the bushes and realize that this is their one big chance to +make good, to be a success or a failure in their chosen profession--in +short, to become a Big Leaguer or go back to the bushes for good--have +already been working for ten days and are in fair shape. They stare at +the regulars as the veterans straggle in by twos and threes, and McGraw +has a brief greeting for each. He could use a rubber stamp. + +"How are you, Matty? What kind of shape are you in? Let's see you in a +uniform at nine o'clock to-morrow morning." + +When I first start South, for the spring trip, after shivering through a +New York winter, I arouse myself to some enthusiasm over the prospect, but +all this has evaporated after listening to that terse speech from McGraw, +for I know what it means. Nothing looms on the horizon but the hardest +five weeks' grind in the world. + +The next day the practice begins, and for the first time in five months, a +uniform is donned. I usually start my work by limbering up slowly, and on +the first day I do not pitch at all. With several other players, I help to +form a large circle and the time is spent in throwing the ball at +impossible and unreachable points in the anatomy. The man next to you +shoots one away up over your head and the next one at your feet and off to +the side while he is looking at the third man from you. This is great for +limbering up, but the loosening is torture. After about fifteen minutes +of that, the winter-logged player goes over on the bench and drops down +exhausted. But does he stay there? Not if McGraw sees him, and he is one +of the busiest watchers I have ever met. + +"Here, Matty," he will shout, "lead this squad three times around the park +and be careful not to cut the corners." + +By the time that little formality is finished, a man's tongue is hanging +out and he goes to get a drink of water. The spring training is just one +darned drink after another and still the player is always thirsty. + +After three hours of practice, McGraw may say: + +"All right, Matty. Go back to the hotel and get a bath and a rub and cut +it out for to-day." + +Or he may remark: + +"You're looking heavy this year. Better take another little workout this +afternoon." + +And so ends the first day. That night I flex the muscles in my salary wing +and wonder to myself if it is going to be _very_ sore. I get the answer +next day. And what always makes me maddest is that the fans up North +imagine that we are having some kind of a picnic in Marlin Springs, +Texas. My idea of no setting for a pleasure party is Marlin Springs, +Texas. + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Close Play at the Plate + +This picture illustrates how easily the base runner, with his deceptive +slide, can get away from the catcher, who has the ball waiting for him. It +is always a hard decision for the umpire. Shown in the picture are, left +to right, Conroy of Washington, Umpire Evans, and Catcher Land of +Cleveland.] + + +The morning of the second day is always a pleasant occasion. The muscles +which have remained idle so long begin to rebel at the unaccustomed +exercise, and the players are as pleasant as a flock of full-grown grizzly +bears. I would not be a waiter for a ball club on a spring tour if they +offered me a contract with a salary as large as J. P. Morgan's income. + +Each year the winter kinks seem to have settled into the muscles more +permanently and are harder to iron out. Of course, there comes a last time +for each one of us to go South, and every season I think, on the morning +of the second day, when I try to work my muscles, that this one is my +last. + +The bushers lend variety to the life in a spring camp. Many of them try +hard to "horn in" with the men who have made good as Big Leaguers. When a +young player really seems to want to know something, any of the older men +will gladly help him, but the trouble with most of them is that they think +they are wonders when they arrive. + +"How do you hold a curve?" a young fellow asked me last spring. + +I showed him. + +"Do you think Hans Wagner is as good as Ty Cobb?" he asked me next. + +"Listen!" I answered. "Did you come down here to learn to play ball or +with the idea that you are attending some sort of a conversational +soiree?" + +Many recruits think that, if they can get friendly with the veterans, they +will be retained on account of their social standing, and I cannot "go" +young ball-players who attempt to become the bootblacks for the old ones. + +I have seen many a youngster ruin himself, even for playing in the minors, +through his too vigorous efforts to make good under the large tent. He +will come into camp, and the first day out put everything he has on the +ball to show the manager "he's got something." The Giants had a young +pitcher with them in 1911, named Nagle, who tried to pick up the pace, on +the first day in camp, at which he had left off on the closing day of the +previous year. He started to shoot the ball over to the batters with big, +sharp breaking curves on it. He had not been South three days before he +developed a sore arm that required a sling to help him carry it around, +and he never was able to twirl again before he was shunted back into the +lesser leagues. + +But hope springs eternal in the breast of the bush leaguer in the spring, +and many a young fellow, when he gets his send-off from the little, old +home town, with the local band playing at the station, knows that the next +time the populace of that place hears of him, it will be through seeing +his name in the headlines of the New York papers. And then along about the +middle of April, he comes sneaking back into the old burg, crestfallen and +disappointed. There are a lot of humor and some pathos in a spring +training trip. Many a busher I have seen go back who has tried hard to +make good and just could not, and I have felt sorry for him. It is just +like a man in any other business getting a chance at a better job than the +one he is holding and not being big enough to fit it. It is the one time +that opportunity has knocked, and most of the bush leaguers do not know +the combination to open the door, and, as has been pointed out, +opportunity was never charged with picking locks. Many are called in the +spring, but few get past. Most of them are sincere young fellows, too, +trying to make good, and I have seen them work until their tongues were +hanging out and the perspiration was starting all over them, only to hear +McGraw say: + +"I'm sorry, but you will have to go back again. I've let you out to +Kankakee." + +"Steve Evans", who now plays right field on the St. Louis club, was South +with the Giants one season and worked hard to stick. But McGraw had a lot +of young out-fielders, and some minor league magnate from Montreal came +into camp one day who liked "Steve's" action. McGraw started for the +outfield where Evans was chasing flies and tried to get to "Steve," but +every time the manager approached him with the minor league man, Evans +would rush for a ball on another corner of the field, and he became +suddenly hard of hearing. Finally McGraw abandoned the chase and let +another out-fielder go to Montreal, retaining Evans. + +"Say, 'Steve,'" said "Mac," that night, "why didn't you come, when I +called you out on the field there this afternoon?" + +"Because I could hear the rattle of the tin can you wanted to tie to me, +all over the lot," replied Evans. And eventually, by that subtle dodging, +he landed in the Big League under Bresnahan and has made good out there. + +I believe that a pitcher by profession has the hardest time of any of the +specialists who go into a spring camp. His work is of a more routine +nature than that which attaches to any of the other branches of the +baseball art. It is nothing but a steady grind. + +The pitcher goes out each morning and gets a catcher with a big mitt and a +loud voice and, with a couple of his fellow artists, starts to warm up +with this slave-driver. The right sort of a catcher for spring rehearsing +is never satisfied with anything you do. I never try to throw a curve for +ten days at least after I get South, for a misplaced curve early in the +season may give a man a sore arm for the greater part of the summer, and +Big League clubs are not paying pitchers for wearing crippled whips. + +After warming up for an hour or so, three or four pitchers throw slow ones +to a batter and try to get the ball on the half bounce and compete as to +the number of fumbles. This is great for limbering up. + +Then comes the only real enjoyment of the day. It is quick in passing, +like a piece of great scenery viewed out of the window of a railroad coach +going sixty miles an hour. Each afternoon the regulars play the Yannigans +(the spring name of the second team) a game of six innings, and each +pitcher has a chance to work about one inning. The batters are away off +form and are missing the old round-house curve by two feet that they would +hit out of the lot in mid-season. This makes you think for a few minutes +that you are a good pitcher. But there is even a drawback to this brief +bit of enjoyment, for the diamond at Marlin is skinned--that is, made of +dirt, although it is billed as a grass infield, and the ball gets "wingy." +Little pieces of the cover are torn loose by contact with the rough dirt, +and it is not at all like the hard, smooth, grass-stained ball that is +prevalent around the circuit in mid-season. Grass seed has been planted on +this infield, but so far, like a lot of bushers, it has failed to make +good its promises. + +After that game comes the inevitable run around the park which has been a +headliner in spring training ever since the institution was discovered. A +story is told of "Cap" Anson and his famous old White Stockings. +According to the reports I have heard, training with the "Cap" when he was +right was no bed of roses. After hours of practice, he would lead the men +in long runs, and the better he felt, the longer the runs. One hot day, so +the story goes, Anson was toiling around the park, with his usual +determination, at the head of a string of steaming, sweating players, when +"Bill" Dahlen, a clever man at finding an opening, discovered a loose +board in the fence on the back stretch, pulled it off, and dived through +the hole. On the next lap two more tired athletes followed him, and at +last the whole squad was on the other side of the fence, watching their +leader run on tirelessly. But "Cap" must have missed the "plunk, plunk" of +the footsteps behind him, for he looked around and saw that his players +were gone. He kept grimly on, alone, until he had finished, and then he +pushed his red face through the hole in the fence and saw his men. + +"Your turn now, boys," he said, and while he sat in the grand-stand as the +sole spectator, he made that crowd of unfortunate athletes run around the +track twice as many times as he himself had done. + +"Guess I won't have to nail up that hole in the fence, boys," "Cap" +remarked when it was all over. + +Speaking of the influence of catchers on pitchers during the training +trip, there is the well-known case of Wilbert Robinson, the old catcher, +and "Rube" Marquard, the great left-handed pitcher of the Giants. "Robbie" +devoted himself almost entirely in the spring of 1911 to the training of +the then erratic "Rube," and he handed back to McGraw at the end of the +rehearsal the man who turned out to be the premier pitcher of his League, +according to the official figures, and figures are not in the habit of +lying. + +"Robbie" used to take Marquard off into some corner every day and talk to +him for hours. Draw up close, for I am going to tell you the secret of how +Marquard became a great pitcher and that, too, at just about the time the +papers were mentioning him as the "$11,000 lemon," and imploring McGraw to +let him go to some club in exchange for a good capable bat boy. + +"Now 'Rube,'" would be "Robbie's" first line in the daily lecture, "you've +got to start on the first ball to get the batter. Always have something +on him and never let him have anything on you. This is the prescription +for a great pitcher." + +One of the worst habits of Marquard's early days was to get a couple of +strikes on a batter and then let up until he got himself "into a hole" and +could not put the ball over. Robinson by his coaching gave him the +confidence he lacked. + +"'Rube,' you've got a lot of stuff to-day," "Robbie" would advise, "but +don't try to get it all on the ball. Mix it with a little control, and it +will make a great blend. Now, this guy is a high ball hitter. Let's see +you keep it low for him. He waits, so you will have to get it over." + +And out there in the hot Texas sun, with much advice and lots of patience, +Wilbert Robinson was manufacturing a great pitcher out of the raw +material. One of Marquard's worst faults, when he first broke into the +League, was that he did not know the batters and their grooves, and these +weaknesses Robinson drilled into his head--not that a drill was required +to insert the information. Robinson was the coacher, umpire, catcher and +batter rolled into one, and as a result look at the "Rube." + +When Marquard began to wabble a little toward the end of 1911 and to show +some of his old shyness while the club was on its last trip West, Robinson +hurried on to Chicago and worked with him for two days. The "Rube" had +lost the first game of the series to the Cubs, but he turned around after +Robinson joined us and beat them to death in the last contest. + +Pitchers, old and young, are always trying for new curves in the spring +practice, and out of the South, wafted over the wires by the fertile +imaginations of the flotilla of correspondents, drift tales each spring of +the "fish" ball and the new "hook" jump and the "stop" ball and many more +eccentric curves which usually boil down to modifications of the old ones. +I worked for two weeks once on a new, slow, spit ball that would wabble, +but the trouble was that I could never tell just when or where it was +going to wabble, and so at last I had to abandon it because I could not +control it. + +After sending out fake stories of new and wonderful curves for several +years, at last the correspondents got a new one when the spit ball was +first discovered by Stricklett, a Brooklyn pitcher, several seasons ago. +One Chicago correspondent sent back to his paper a glowing tale of the +wonderful new curve called the "spit ball," which was obtained by the use +of saliva, only to get a wire from his office which read: + +"It's all right to 'fake' about new curves, but when it comes to being +vulgar about it, that's going too far. Either drop that spit ball or mail +us your resignation." + +The paper refused to print the story and a real new curve was born without +its notice. As a matter of fact, Bowerman, the old Giant catcher, was +throwing the spit ball for two or three years before it was discovered to +be a pitching asset. He used to wet his fingers when catching, and as he +threw to second base the ball would take all sorts of eccentric breaks +which fooled the baseman, and none could explain why it did it until +Stricklett came through with the spit ball. + +Many good pitchers, who feel their arms begin to weaken, work on certain +freak motions or forms of delivery to make themselves more effective or +draw out their baseball life in the Big Leagues for a year or two. A story +is told of "Matty" Kilroy, a left-hander, who lived for two years through +the development of what he called the "Bazzazaz" balk, and it had the +same effect on his pitching as administering oxygen often has on a patient +who is almost dead. + +"My old soup bone," says Kilroy, "was so weak that I couldn't break a pane +of glass at fifty feet. So one winter I spent some time every day out in +the back yard getting that balk motion down. I had a pretty fair balk +motion when my arm was good, but I saw that it had to be better, so I put +one stone in the yard for a home plate and another up against the fence +for first base. Then I practised looking at the home plate stone and +throwing at first base with a snap of the wrist and without moving my +feet. It was stare steady at the batter, then the arm up to about my ear, +and zip, with a twist of the wrist at first base, and you've got him! + +"I got so I could throw 'em harder to the bag with that wrist wriggle than +I could to the batter, and I had them stickin' closer to the base for two +years than a sixteen-year-old fellow does to his gal when they've just +decided they would do for each other." + +As a rule McGraw takes charge of the batters and general team work at +spring practice, and he is one of the busiest little persons in seven +counties, for he says a lot depends on the start a club gets in a league +race. He always wants the first jump because it is lots easier falling +back than catching up. + +After a week or so of practice, the team is divided up into two squads, +and one goes to San Antonio and the other to Houston each Saturday and +Sunday to play games. One of the older men takes charge of the younger +players, and there is a lot of rivalry between the two teams to see which +one will make the better record, I remember one year I was handling the +youngsters, and we went to Houston to play the team there and just managed +to nose out a victory. McGraw thought that for the next Saturday he had +better strengthen the Yannigans up a bit, so he sent Roger Bresnahan along +to play third base instead of Henderson, the young fellow we had the week +before. Playing third base could not exactly have been called a habit with +"Rog" at that time. He was still pretty fat, and bending over quick after +grounders was not his regular line. He booted two or three and finally +managed to lose the game for us. We sent McGraw the following telegram +that night: + +"John McGraw, manager of the Giants, San Antonio, Texas: + +"Will trade Bresnahan for Henderson. Rush answer." + +McGraw does not like to have any of his clubs beaten by the minor +leaguers, because the bushers are inclined to imitate pouter pigeons right +away after beating the Big Leaguers. + +The social side of a training trip consists of kicking about the grub, +singing songs at night, and listening to the same old stories that creep +out of the bushes on crutches year after year. Last spring the food got so +bad that some of the newspaper men fixed up a fake story they said they +were going to send to New York, displayed it to the proprietor, and he +came through with beefsteak for three nights in succession, thus +establishing a record and proving the power of the press. The trouble with +the diet schedule on a spring trip is that almost invariably those hotels +on the bush-league circuits serve dinner in the middle of the day, just +when a ball-player does not feel like eating anything much. Then at night +they have a pick-up supper when one's stomach feels as if it thought a +fellow's throat had been cut. + +The Giants had an umpire with them in the spring of 1911, named Hansell, +who enlivened the long, weary, training season some. Like a lot of the +recruits who thought that they were great ball-players, this Hansell +firmly believed he was a great umpire. He used to try to put players who +did not agree with his decisions out of the game and, of course, they +would not go. + +"Why don't you have them arrested if they won't leave?" McGraw asked him +one day. "I would." + +So the next afternoon Hansell had a couple of the local constables out at +the grounds and tried to have Devore pinched for kicking on a decision. +"Josh" got sore and framed it up to have a camera man at the park the next +day to take a moving picture of a mob scene, Hansell, the umpire, to be +the hero and mobbed. Hansell fell for it until he saw all the boys picking +up real clods and digging the dirt out of their spikes, and then he made a +run for it and never came back. That is how we lost a great umpire. + +"You boys made it look too realistic for him," declared McGraw. + +Hansell had a notion that he was a runner and offered to bet Robinson, +who is rather corpulent now, that he could beat him running across the +field. Robinson took him, and walked home ahead of the umpire in the race. + +"I don't see where I get off on this deal," complained McGraw when it was +over. "I framed up this race for you two fellows, and then Hansell comes +to me and borrows the ten to pay 'Robbie.'" + +Somebody fixed up a Turkish bath in the hotel one day by stuffing up the +cracks in one of the bathrooms and turning the hot water into the tub and +the steam into the radiator full blast. + +Several towels were piled on the radiator and the players sat upon this +swathed in blankets to take off weight. They entered the impromptu Turkish +bath, wearing only the well-known smile. McGraw still maintains that it +was "Bugs" Raymond who pulled out the towels when it came the manager's +turn to sit on the radiator, and, if he could have proved his case, +Raymond would not have needed a doctor. It would have been time for the +undertaker. + +Finally comes the long wending of the way up North. "Bugs" Raymond always +depends on his friends for his refreshments, and as he had few friends in +Marlin in 1911, he got few drinks. But when we got to Dallas cocktails +were served with the dinner and all the ball-players left them untouched, +McGraw enforcing the old rule that lips that touch "licker" shall never +moisten a spit ball for him. "Bugs" was missed after supper and some one +found him out in the kitchen licking up all the discarded Martinis. That +was the occasion of his first fine of the season, and after that, as +"Bugs" himself admitted, "life for him was just one fine after another." + +At last, after the long junket through the South, on which all managers +are Simon Legrees, is ended, comes a welcome day, when the new uniforms +are donned and the band plays and "them woids" which constitute the +sweetest music to the ears of a ball-player, roll off the tongue of the +umpire: + +"The batteries for to-day are Rucker and Bergen for Brooklyn, Marquard and +Meyers for New York. Play ball!" + +The season is on. + + + + +XI + +Jinxes and What They Mean to a Ball-Player + + _A Load of Empty Barrels, Hired by John McGraw, once Pulled the + Giants out of a Losing Streak--The Child of Superstition Appears to + the Ball-Player in Many Forms--Various Ways in which the Influence of + the Jinx can be Overcome--The True Story of "Charley" Faust--The + Necktie that Helped Win a Pennant._ + + +A friend of mine, who took a different fork in the road when we left +college from the one that I have followed, was walking down Broadway in +New York with me one morning after I had joined the Giants, and we passed +a cross-eyed man. I grabbed off my hat and spat in it. It was a new hat, +too. "What's the matter with you, Matty?" he asked, surprised. + +"Spit in your hat quick and kill that jinx," I answered, not thinking for +the minute, and he followed my example. + +I forgot to mention, when I said he took another fork in the road, that he +had become a pitcher, too, but of a different kind. He had turned out to +be sort of a conversational pitcher, for he was a minister, and, as luck +would have it, on the morning we met that cross-eyed man he was wearing a +silk hat. I was shocked, pained, and mortified when I saw what I had made +him do. But he was the right sort, and wanted to go through with the thing +according to the standards of the professional man with whom he happened +to be at the time. + +"What's the idea?" he asked as he replaced his hat. + +"Worst jinx in the world to see a cross-eyed man," I replied. "But I hope +I didn't hurt your silk hat," I quickly apologized. + +"Not at all. But how about these ball-players who masticate the weed? Do +they kill jinxes, too?" he wanted to know. And I had to admit that they +were the main exterminators of the jinx. + +"Then," he went on, "I'm glad that the percentage of wearers of cross eyes +is small." + +I have just looked into one of my favorite works for that word "jinx," and +found it not. My search was in Webster's dictionary. But any ball-player +can give a definition of it with his hands tied behind him--that is, any +one except "Arlie" Latham, and, with his hands bound, he is deaf and dumb. +A jinx is something which brings bad luck to a ball-player, and the +members of the profession have built up a series of lucky and unlucky +omens that should be catalogued. And besides the common or garden variety +of jinxes, many stars have a series of private or pet and trained ones +that are more malignant in their forms than those which come out in the +open. + +A jinx is the child of superstition, and ball-players are among the most +superstitious persons in the world, notwithstanding all this conversation +lately about educated men breaking into the game and paying no attention +whatever to the good and bad omens. College men are coming into both the +leagues, more of them each year, and they are doing their share to make +the game better and the class of men higher, but they fall the hardest for +the jinxes. And I don't know as it is anything to be ashamed of at that. + +A really true, on-the-level, honest-to-jiminy jinx can do all sorts of +mean things to a professional ball-player. I have seen it make a bad +pitcher out of a good one, and a blind batter out of a three-hundred +hitter, and I have seen it make a ball club, composed of educated men, +carry a Kansas farmer, with two or three screws rattling loose in his +dome, around the circuit because he came as a prophet and said that he was +accompanied by Miss Fickle Fortune. And that is almost a jinx record. + +Jinx and Miss Fickle Fortune never go around together. And ball-players +are always trying to kill this jinx, for, once he joins the club, all hope +is gone. He dies hard, and many a good hat has been ruined in an effort to +destroy him, as I have said before, because the wearer happened to be +chewing tobacco when the jinx dropped around. But what's a new hat against +a losing streak or a batting slump? + +Luck is a combination of confidence and getting the breaks. Ball-players +get no breaks without confidence in themselves, and lucky omens inspire +this confidence. On the other hand, unlucky signs take it away. The lucky +man is the one who hits the nail on the head and not his fingers, and the +ability to swat the nail on its receptive end is a combination of +self-confidence and an aptitude for hammering. Good ball-playing is the +combination of self-confidence and the ability to play. + +The next is "Red" Ames, although designated as "Leon" by his family when a +very small boy before he began to play ball. (He is still called "Leon" in +the winter.) Ames is of Warren, Ohio, and the Giants, and he is said to +hold the Marathon record for being the most unlucky pitcher that ever +lived, and I agree with the sayers. For several seasons, Ames couldn't +seem to win a ball game, no matter how well he pitched. In 1909, "Red" +twirled a game on the opening day of the season against Brooklyn that was +the work of a master. For nine innings he held his opponents hitless, only +to have them win in the thirteenth. Time and again Ames has pitched +brilliantly, to be finally beaten by a small score, because one of the men +behind him made an error at a critical moment, or because the team could +not give him any runs by which to win. No wonder the newspapers began to +speak of Ames as the "hoodoo" pitcher and the man "who couldn't win." + +There was a cross-eyed fellow who lived between Ames and the Polo Grounds, +and "Red" used to make a detour of several blocks en route to the park to +be sure to miss him in case he should be out walking. But one day in 1911, +when it was his turn to pitch, he bumped into that cross-eyed man and, in +spite of the fact that he did his duty by his hat and got three or four +small boys to help him out, he failed to last two innings. When it came +time to go West on the final trip of the 1911 season, Ames was badly +discouraged. + +"I don't see any use in taking me along, Mac," he said to McGraw a few +days before we left. "The club can't win with me pitching if the other +guys don't even get a foul." + +The first stop was in Boston, and on the day we arrived it rained. In the +mail that day, addressed to Leon Ames, came a necktie and a four-leaf +clover from a prominent actress, wishing Ames good luck. The directions +were inside the envelope. The four-leaf clover, if the charm were to work, +must be worn on both the uniform and street clothes, and the necktie was +to be worn with the street clothes and concealed in the uniform, if that +necktie could be concealed anywhere. It would have done for a headlight +and made Joseph's coat of many colors look like a mourning garment. + +"Might as well wish good luck to a guy on the way to the morgue," murmured +Ames as he surveyed the layout, but he manfully put on the necktie, taking +his first dose of the prescription, as directed, at once, and he tucked +the four-leaf clover away carefully in his wallet. + +"You've got your work cut out for you, old boy," he remarked to the charm +as he put it away, "but I'd wear you if you were a horseshoe." + +The first day that Ames pitched in Boston he won, and won in a stroll. + +"The necktie," he explained that night at dinner, and pointed to the +three-sheet, colored-supplement affair he was wearing around his collar, +"I don't change her until I lose." + +_And he didn't lose a game on that trip._ Once he almost did, when he was +taken out in the sixth inning, and a batter put in for him, but the Giants +finally pulled out the victory and he got the credit for it. He swept +through the West unbeatable, letting down Pittsburg with two or three +hits, cleaning up in St. Louis, and finally breaking our losing streak in +Chicago after two games had gone against us. And all the time he wore that +spectrum around his collar for a necktie. As it frayed with the wear and +tear, more colors began to show, although I didn't think it possible. If +he had had occasion to put on his evening clothes, I believe that tie +would have gone with it. + +For my part, I would almost rather have lost a game and changed the +necktie, since it gave one the feeling all the time that he was carrying +it around with him because he had had the wrong end of an election bet, or +something of the sort. But not Ames! He was a game guy. He stuck with the +necktie, and it stuck with him, and the combination kept right on winning +ball games. Maybe he didn't mind it because he could not see it himself, +unless he looked in a mirror, but it was rough on the rest of the team, +except that we needed the games the necktie won, to take the pennant. + +Columns were printed in the newspapers about that necktie, and it became +the most famous scarf in the world. Ames used to sleep with it under his +pillow alongside of his bank roll, and he didn't lose another game until +the very end of the season, when he dropped one against Brooklyn. + +"I don't hardly lay that up against the tie," he said afterwards. "You +see, Mac put all those youngsters into it, and I didn't get any support." + +Analyzing is a distasteful pastime to me, but let's see what it was that +made Ames win. Was it the necktie? Perhaps not. But some sliver of +confidence, which resulted from that first game when he was dressed up in +the scarf and the four-leaf clover, got stuck in his mind. And after that +the rest was easy. + +Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, has a funny superstition which is +of the personal sort. Most ball-players have a natural prejudice against +the number "13" in any form, but particularly when attached to a Pullman +berth. But Chance always insists, whenever possible, that he have "lower +13." He says that if he can just crawl in under that number he is sure of +a good night's rest, a safe journey, and a victory the next day. He has +been in two or three minor railroad accidents, and he declares that all +these occurred when he was sleeping on some other shelf besides "lower +13." He can usually satisfy his hobby, too, for most travellers steer +clear of the berth. + +McGraw believes a stateroom brings him good luck, or at least he always +insists on having one when he can get it. + +"Chance can have 'lower 13,'" says "Mac," "but give me a stateroom for +luck." + +Most ball-players nowadays treat the superstitions of the game as jokes, +probably because they are a little ashamed to acknowledge their +weaknesses, but away down underneath they observe the proprieties of the +ritual. Why, even I won't warm up with the third baseman while I am +waiting for the catcher to get on his mask and the rest of his +paraphernalia. Once, when I first broke in with the Giants, I warmed up +with the third baseman between innings and in the next round they hit me +hard and knocked me out of the box. Since then I have had an uncommon +prejudice against the practice, and I hate to hear a man even mention it. +Devlin knows of my weakness and never suggests it when he is playing the +bag, but occasionally a new performer will drill into the box score at +third base and yell: + +"Come on, Matty! Warm up here while you're waiting." + +It gets me. I'll pitch to the first baseman or a substitute catcher to +keep warm, but I would rather freeze to death than heat up with the third +baseman. That is one of my pet jinxes. + +And speaking of Arthur Devlin, he has a few hand-raised jinxes of his own, +too. For instance, he never likes to hear a player hum a tune on the +bench, because he thinks it will keep him from getting a base hit. He +nearly beat a youngster to death one day when he kept on humming after +Devlin had told him to stop. + +"Cut that out, Caruso," yelled Arthur, as the recruit started his melody. +"You are killing base hits." + +The busher continued with his air until Devlin tried another form of +persuasion. + +Arthur also has a favorite seat on the bench which he believes is luckier +than the rest, and he insists on sitting in just that one place. + +But the worst blow Devlin ever had was when some young lady admirer of his +in his palmy days, who unfortunately wore her eyes crossed, insisted on +sitting behind third base for each game, so as to be near him. Arthur +noticed her one day and, after that, it was all off. He hit the worst +slump of his career. For a while no one could understand it, but at last +he confessed to McGraw. + +"Mac," he said one night in the club-house, "it's that jinx. Have you +noticed her? She sits behind the bag every day, and she has got me going. +She has sure slid the casters under me. I wish we could bar her out, or +poison her, or shoot her, or chloroform her, or kill her in some nice, +mild way because, if it isn't done, this League is going to lose a +ball-player. How can you expect a guy to play with that overlooking him +every afternoon?" + +McGraw took Devlin out of the game for a time after that, and the +newspapers printed several yards about the cross-eyed jinx who had ruined +the Giants' third baseman. + +With the infield weakened by the loss of Devlin, the club began to lose +with great regularity. But one day the jinxess was missing and she never +came back. She must have read in the newspapers what she was doing to +Devlin, her hero, and quit the national pastime or moved to another part +of the stand. With this weight off his shoulders, Arthur went back into +the game and played like mad. + +"If she'd stuck much longer," declared McGraw, joyous in his rejuvenated +third baseman, "I would have had her eyes operated on and straightened. +This club couldn't afford to keep on losing ball games because you are +such a Romeo, Arthur, that even the cross-eyed ones fall for you." + +Ball-players are very superstitious about the bats. Did you ever notice +how the clubs are all laid out in a neat, even row before the bench and +are scrupulously kept that way by the bat boy? If one of the sticks by any +chance gets crossed, all the players will shout: + +"Uncross the bats! Uncross the bats!" + +It's as bad as discovering a three-alarm fire in an excelsior factory. +Don't believe it? Then listen to what happened to the Giants once because +a careless bat boy neglected his duty. The team was playing in Cincinnati +in the season of 1906 when one of the bats got crossed through the +carelessness of the boy. What was the result? "Mike" Donlin, the star +slugger of the team, slid into third base and came up with a broken +ankle. + +Ever since that time we have carried our own boy with us, because a club +with championship aspirations cannot afford to take a chance with those +foreign artists handling the bats. They are likely to throw you down at +any time. + +The Athletics have a funny superstition which is private or confined to +their team as far as I know. When luck seems to be breaking against them +in a game, they will take the bats and throw them wildly into the air and +let them lie around in front of their bench, topsy-turvy. They call this +changing the luck, but any other club would consider that it was the worst +kind of a jinx. It is the same theory that card-players have about +shuffling the deck vigorously to bring a different run of fortune. Then, +if the luck changes, the Athletics throw the bats around some more to keep +it. This act nearly cost them one of their best ball-players in the third +game of the 1911 world's series. + +The Philadelphia players had tossed their bats to break their run of luck, +for the score was 1 to 0 against them, when Baker came up in the ninth +inning. He cracked his now famous home run into the right-field bleachers, +and the men on the bench hurled the bats wildly into the air. In jumping +up and reaching for a bat to throw, Jack Barry, the shortstop, hit his +head on the concrete roof of the structure and was stunned for a minute. +He said that little black specks were floating in front of his eyes, but +he gamely insisted on playing the contest out. "Connie" Mack was so +worried over his condition that he sent Ira Thomas out on the field to +inquire if he were all right, and this interrupted the game in the ninth +inning. A lot of the spectators thought that Thomas was out there, bearing +some secret message from "Connie" Mack. None knew that he was ascertaining +the health of a player who had almost killed himself while killing a jinx. + +The Athletics, for two seasons, have carried with them on all their trips +a combination bat boy and mascot who is a hunchback, and he outjinxed our +champion jinx killer, Charley Faust, in the 1911 world's series. A +hunchback is regarded by ball-players as the best luck in the world. If a +man can just touch that hump on the way to the plate, he is sure to get a +hit, and any observant spectator will notice the Athletics' hitters +rubbing the hunchback boy before leaving the bench. So attached to this +boy have the players become that they voted him half a share of the prize +money last year after the world's series. Lots of ball-players would tell +you that he deserved it because he has won two world's pennants for them. + +Another great piece of luck is for a ball-player to rub a colored kid's +head. I've walked along the street with ball-players and seen them stop a +young negro and take off his hat and run their hands through his kinky +hair. Then I've seen the same ball-player go out and get two or three hits +that afternoon and play the game of his life. Again, it is the confidence +inspired, coupled with the ability. + +Another old superstition among ball-players is that a load of empty +barrels means base hits. If an athlete can just pass a flock of them on +the way to the park, he is sure to step right along stride for stride with +the three-hundred hitters that afternoon. + +McGraw once broke up a batting slump of the Giants with a load of empty +barrels. That is why I maintain he is the greatest manager of them all. He +takes advantage of the little things, even the superstitions of his men, +and turns them to his account. He played this trick in one of the first +years that he managed the New York club. The batting of all the players +had slumped at the same time. None could hit, and the club was losing game +after game as a result, because the easiest pitchers were making the best +batters look foolish. One day Bowerman came into the clubhouse with a +smile on his face for the first time in a week. + +"Saw a big load of empty barrels this afternoon, boys," he announced, "and +just watch me pickle the pill out there to-day." + +Right at that point McGraw got an idea, as he frequently does. Bowerman +went out that afternoon and made four hits out of a possible five. The +next day three or four more of the players came into the park, carrying +smiles and the announcement that fortunately they, too, had met a load of +empty barrels. They, then, all went out and regained their old batting +strides, and we won that afternoon for the first time in a week. More saw +a load of barrels the next day and started to bat. At last all the members +of the team had met the barrels, and men with averages of .119 were +threatening to chisel into the three-hundred set. With remarkable +regularity the players were meeting loads of empty barrels on their way to +the park, and, with remarkable regularity and a great deal of expedition, +the pitchers of opposing clubs were being driven to the shower bath. + +"Say," asked "Billy" Gilbert, the old second baseman, of "Bill" Lauder, +formerly the protector of the third corner, one day, "is one of that team +of horses sorrel and the other white?" + +"Sure," answered "Bill." + +"Sure," echoed McGraw. "I hired that load of empty barrels by the week to +drive around and meet you fellows on the way to the park, and you don't +think I can afford to have them change horses every day, do you?" + +Everybody had a good laugh and kept on swatting. McGraw asked for waivers +on the load of empty barrels soon afterwards, but his scheme had stopped a +batting slump and put the club's hitters on their feet again. He plays to +the little personal qualities and superstitions in the men to get the most +out of them. And just seeing those barrels gave them the idea that they +were bound to get the base hits, and they got them. Once more, the old +confidence, hitched up with ability. + +What manager would have carried a Kansas farmer around the circuit with +him besides McGraw? I refer to Charles Victor Faust of Marion, Kansas, the +most famous jinx killer of them all. Faust first met the Giants in St. +Louis on the next to the last trip the club made West in the season of +1911, when he wandered into the Planter's Hotel one day, asked for McGraw +and announced that a fortune teller of Marion had informed him he would be +a great pitcher and that for $5 he could have a full reading. This +pitching announcement piqued Charles, and he reached down into his jeans, +dug out his last five, and passed it over. The fortune teller informed +Faust that all he had to do to get into the headlines of the newspapers +and to be a great pitcher was to join the New York Giants. He joined, and, +after he once joined, it would have taken the McNamaras in their best form +to separate him from the said Giants. + +"Charley" came out to the ball park and amused himself warming up. +Incidentally, the Giants did not lose a game while he was in the +neighborhood. The night the club left for Chicago on that trip, he was +down at the Union Station ready to go along. + +"Did you get your contract and transportation?" asked McGraw, as the lanky +Kansan appeared. + +"No," answered "Charley." + +"Pshaw," replied McGraw. "I left it for you with the clerk at the hotel. +The train leaves in two minutes," he continued, glancing at his watch. "If +you can run the way you say you can, you can make it and be back in time +to catch it." + +It was the last we saw of "Charley" Faust for a time--galloping up the +platform in his angular way with that contract and transportation in +sight. + +"I'm almost sorry we left him," remarked McGraw as "Charley" disappeared +in the crowd. We played on around the circuit with indifferent luck and +got back to New York with the pennant no more than a possibility, and +rather a remote one at that. The first day we were in New York "Charley" +Faust entered the clubhouse with several inches of dust and mud caked on +him, for he had come all the way either by side-door special or blind +baggage. + +"I'm here, all right," he announced quietly, and started to climb into a +uniform. + +"I see you are," answered McGraw. + +"Charley" stuck around for two or three days, and we won. Then McGraw +decided he would have to be dropped and ordered the man on the door of the +clubhouse to bar this Kansas kid out. Faust broke down and cried that day, +and we lost. After that he became a member of the club, and we won game +after game until some busy newspaper man obtained a vaudeville engagement +for him at a salary of $100 a week. We lost three games the week he was +absent from the grounds, and Faust saw at once he was not doing the right +thing by the club, so, with a wave of his hand that would have gone with +J. P. Morgan's income, he passed up some lucrative vaudeville contracts, +much to the disgust of the newspaper man, who was cutting the remuneration +with him, and settled down to business. The club did not lose a game after +that, and it was decided to take Faust West with us on the last and famous +trip in 1911. Daily he had been bothering McGraw and Mr. Brush for his +contract, for he wanted to pitch. The club paid him some money from time +to time to meet his personal expenses. + +The Sunday night the club left for Boston, a vaudeville agent was at the +Grand Central Station with a contract offering Faust $100 a week for five +weeks, which "Charley" refused in order to stick with the club. It was the +greatest trip away from home in the history of baseball. Starting with the +pennant almost out of reach, the Giants won eighteen and lost four games. +One contest that we dropped in St. Louis was when some of the newspaper +correspondents on the trip kidnapped Faust and sat him on the St. Louis +bench. + +Another day in St. Louis the game had gone eleven innings, and the +Cardinals needed one run to win. They had several incipient scores on the +bases and "Rube" Marquard, in the box, was apparently going up in the air. +Only one was out. Faust was warming up far in the suburbs when, under +orders from McGraw, I ran out and sent him to the bench, for that was the +place from which his charm seemed to be the most potent. "Charley" came +loping to the bench as fast as his long legs would transport him and St. +Louis didn't score and we won the game. It was as nice a piece of pinch +mascoting as I ever saw. + +The first two games that "Charley" really lost were in Chicago. And all +through the trip, he reiterated his weird prophecies that "the Giants +with Manager McGraw were goin' ta win." The players believed in him, and +none would have let him go if it had been necessary to support him out of +their own pockets. And we did win. + +"Charley," with his monologue and great good humor, kept the players in +high spirits throughout the journey, and the feeling prevailed that we +couldn't lose with him along. He was advertised all over the circuit, and +spectators were going to the ball park to see Faust and Wagner. "Charley" +admitted that he could fan out Hans because he had learned how to pitch +out there in Kansas by correspondence school and had read of "Hans's" +weakness in a book. His one "groove" was massages and manicures. He would +go into the barber shop with any member of the team who happened to be +getting shaved and take a massage and manicure for the purposes of +sociability, as a man takes a drink. He easily was the record holder for +the manicure Marathon, hanging up the figures of five in one day in St. +Louis. He also liked pie for breakfast, dinner and supper, and a small +half before retiring. + +But, alas! "Charley" lost in the world's series. He couldn't make good. +And a jinx killer never comes back. He is gone. And his expansive smile +and bump-the-bumps slide are gone with him. That is, McGraw hopes he is +gone. But he was a wonder while he had it. And he did a great deal toward +giving the players confidence. With him on the bench, they thought they +couldn't lose, and they couldn't. It has long been a superstition among +ball-players that when a "bug" joins a club, it will win a championship, +and the Giants believed it when "Charley" Faust arrived. Did "Charley" +Faust win the championship for the Giants? + + * * * * * + +Another time-honored superstition among ball-players is that no one must +say to a pitcher as he goes to the box for the eighth inning: + +"Come on, now. Only six more men." + +Or for the ninth: + +"Pitch hard, now. Only three left." + +Ames says that he lost a game in St. Louis once because McGraw forgot +himself and urged him to pitch hard because only three remained to be put +out. Those three batters raised the mischief with Ames's prospects; he was +knocked out of the box in that last inning, and we lost the game. That +was before the days of the wonder necktie. + +Ames won the third game played in Chicago on the last trip West. Coming +into the ninth inning, he had the Cubs beaten, when McGraw began: + +"Come on, 'Red,' only----" + +"Nix, Mac," cut in Ames, "for the love of Mike, be reasonable." + +And then he won the game. But the chances are that if McGraw had got that +"only three more" out, he would have lost, because it would have been +working on his strained nerves. + + + + +XII + +Base Runners and How They Help a Pitcher to Win + + _The Secret of Successful Base Running is Getting the Start--A Club + Composed of Good Base Runners Is Likely to do More to Help a Pitcher + Win Games than a Batting Order of Hard Hitters--Stealing Second Is an + Art in Taking Chances--The Giants Stole their Way to a Pennant, but + "Connie" Mack Stopped the Grand Larceny when it Came to a World's + Championship._ + + +Many times have the crowds at the Polo Grounds seen a man get on first +base in a close game, and, with the pitcher's motion, start to steal +second, only to have the catcher throw him out. The spectators groan and +criticise the manager. + +"Why didn't he wait for the hitters to bat him around?" is the cry. + +Then, again, a man starts for the base, times his get-away just right, and +slides into the bag in a cloud of dust while the umpire spreads out his +hands indicating that he is safe. The crowd cheers and proclaims McGraw a +great manager and the stealer a great base runner. Maybe the next batter +comes along with a hit, and the runner scores. It wins the game, and +mention is made in the newspapers the next morning of the fast base +running of the club. A man has covered ninety feet of ground while the +ball is travelling from the pitcher to the catcher and back to the fielder +who is guarding second base. It is the most important ninety feet in +baseball. From second base just one hit scores the runner. Stealing +second, one of the most picturesque plays of the game, is the gentle art +of taking a chance. + +In 1911, the Giants stole more bases than any other Big League club has +had to its credit since the Pirates established the record in 1903. +Devore, Snodgrass, Murray, Merkle and Doyle, once they got on the bases +were like loose mercury. They couldn't be caught. And McGraw stole his way +to a pennant with this quintet of runners, not alone because of the number +of bases they pilfered, but because of the edge it gave the Giants on the +rest of the clubs, with the men with base-stealing reputations on the +team. I should say that holding these runners up on the bases and worrying +about what they were going to do reduced the efficiency of opposing +pitchers one-third. + +It wasn't the speed of the men that accounted for the record. A sprinter +may get into the Big League and never steal a base. But it was the McGraw +system combined with their natural ability. + +"Get the start," reiterates McGraw. "Half of base stealing is leaving the +bag at the right time. Know when you have a good lead and then never stop +until you have hit the dirt." + +It is up to the pitcher as much as the catcher to stop base stealing, for +once a club begins running wild on another, the bats might as well be +packed up and the game conceded. Pitchers make a study of the individual +runners and their styles of getting starts. In my mind, I know just how +much of a lead every base runner in the National League can take on me +with impunity. + +"Bob" Bescher of the Cincinnati club was the leading, bright, particular +base-stealing star of the National League in the season of 1911, and the +secret of his success was in his start. He tries to get as big a lead as +possible with each pitch, and then, when he intends to leave, edges a +couple of feet farther than usual, catching the pitcher unawares. With the +two extra feet, Bescher is bound to get to second base at the same time as +the ball, and no catcher in the world can stop him. Therefore, it is up to +the pitcher to keep him from getting this start--the two more feet he +seeks. I know that Bescher can take ten feet from the bag when I am +pitching and get back safely. But, I am equally sure that, if he makes his +lead twelve feet and I notice it, I can probably catch him. As a good +ribbon salesman constantly has in his mind's eye the answer to the +question, "How far is a yard?" so I know at a glance exactly how far +Bescher can lead and get back safely, when he is on first base. If I +glance over and see him twelve feet away from the bag and about to start, +I turn and throw and catch him flat-footed. The crowd laughs at him and +says: + +"Bescher asleep at the switch again!" + +The real truth is that Bescher was not asleep, but trying to get that old +jump which would have meant the stolen base. Again, he takes the twelve +feet, and I don't perceive it. He gets started with my arm and goes into +the bag ahead of the ball. + +"Great base runner," comments the fickle crowd. + +Bescher has only accomplished what he was trying to do before, but he has +gotten away with it this time. Being a great ball-player is the gentle art +of getting away with it. + +Spectators often wonder why a pitcher wearies them with throwing over to +the first base many times, when it is plain to see that he has no chance +of catching his quarry. "Bill" Dahlen used to be one of the best men in +the game for getting back in some way when on base, employing a straddle +slide and just hooking the bag with his toe, leaving "a shoe-string to +touch." The result was that he was always handing the pitcher the laugh as +he brushed himself off, for none can say Dahlen was not an immaculate +ball-player. + +But the pitchers found out that they could tire Dahlen out by repeatedly +throwing over to the bag, and that, after five throws, which required +five dashes and slides back to the base, he was all in and could not steal +because he didn't have the physical strength left. Thus, as soon as Dahlen +got on, a pitcher began throwing over until he had him tired out, and then +he pitched to the batter. So "Bill" crossed them by living on the bag +until he thought he saw his opportunity to get the jump, and then he would +try to steal. + +Few good base runners watch the ball after they have once left the bag. +They look at the baseman to see how he is playing and make the slide +accordingly. If Devore sees Huggins of St. Louis behind the base, he +slides in front and pulls his body away from the bag, so that he leaves +the smallest possible area to touch. If he observes the baseman cutting +inside to block him off, he goes behind and hooks it with just one toe, +again presenting the minimum touching surface. If the ball is hit while +the runner is en route, he takes one quick glance at the coacher on the +third base line and can tell by his motions whether to turn back or to +continue. + +McGraw devotes half his time and energy in the spring to teaching his men +base running and the art of sliding, which, when highly cultivated, means +being there with one toe and somewhere else with the rest of the body. But +most of all he impresses on the athletes the necessity of getting the +start before making the attempt to steal. As long as I live I shall +believe that if Snodgrass had known he had the jump in the third game of +the world's series in 1911, when he really had it, and if he had taken +advantage of it, we would have won the game and possibly the championship. +It was in the contest that Baker balanced by banging the home run into the +right field bleachers in the ninth inning, when I was pitching. That tied +the score, 1 to 1. + +For nine innings I had been pitching myself out, putting everything that I +had on every ball, because the team gave me no lead to rest on. When Baker +pushed that ball into the bleachers with only two more men to get out to +win the game, I was all in. But I managed to live through the tenth with +very little on the ball, and we came to the bat. Snodgrass got a base on +balls and journeyed to second on a sacrifice. He was taking a big lead off +the middle base with the pitcher's motion, and running back before the +catcher got the ball, because a quick throw would have caught him. It was +bad baseball, but he was nervous with the intense strain and over-eager to +score. + +Then came the time when he took a longer lead than any other, and Lapp, +the Athletics' catcher, seeing him, was sure he was going to steal, and in +his hurry to get the ball away and save the game, let it past him. +Snodgrass had the jump, and probably would have made the base had he kept +on going, but he had no orders to steal and had turned and taken a step or +two back toward second when he saw Lapp lose the ball. Again he turned and +retraced his steps, and I never saw a man turn so slowly, simply because I +realized how important a turn that was going to be. Next I looked at Lapp +and saw him picking up the ball, which had rolled only about three feet +behind him. He snapped it to third and had Snodgrass by several feet. +Snodgrass realized this as he plunged down the base line, but he could not +stop and permit himself to be tagged and he could not go back, so he made +that historic slide which was heard almost around the world, cut off +several yards of Frank Baker's trousers, and more important than the +damage to the uniform, lost us the game. + +Snodgrass had the jump in his first start, and if he had kept right on +going he would have made the bag without the aid of the passed ball, in my +opinion. But he did not know that he had this advantage and was on his way +back, when it looked for a minute as if the Athletics' catcher had made a +mistake. This really turned out to be the "break" in the game, for it was +on that passed ball that Snodgrass was put out. He would probably have +scored the run which would have won the game had he lived either on second +or third base, for a hit followed. + +After losing the contest after watching the opportunity thrown away, some +fan called me on the telephone that night, when I was feeling in anything +but a conversational mood, and asked me: + +"Was that passed ball this afternoon part of the Athletics' inside game? +Did Lapp do it on purpose?" + +In passing I want to put in a word for Snodgrass, not because he is a +team-mate of mine, but on account of the criticism which he received for +spiking Baker, and which was not deserved. And in that word I do not want +to detract from Baker's reputation a scintilla, if I could, for he is a +great ball-player. But I want to say that if John Murray had ever been +called upon to slide into that bag with Baker playing it as he did, Baker +would probably have been found cut in halves, and only Murray's own style +of coasting would have been responsible for it. If Fred Clarke of +Pittsburg had been the man coming in, Baker would probably have been +neatly cut into thirds, one third with each foot. + +Clarke is known as one of the most wicked sliders in the National League. +He jumps into the air and spreads his feet apart, showing his spikes as he +comes in. The Giants were playing in Pittsburg several years ago, before I +was married, and there was a friend of mine at the ball park with whom I +was particularly eager to make a hit. The game was close, as are all +contests which lend themselves readily to an anecdote, and Clarke got as +far as third base in the eighth inning, with the score tied and two out. +Warner, the Giants' catcher, let one get past him and I ran in to cover +the plate. Clarke came digging for home and, as I turned to touch him, he +slid and cut my trousers off, never touching my legs. It was small +consolation to me that my stems were still whole and that the umpire had +called Clarke out and that the game was yet saved. My love for my art is +keen, but it stops at a certain point, and that point is where I have to +send a hurry call for a barrel and the team's tailor. The players made a +sort of group around me while I did my Lady Godiva act from the plate to +the bench. + +Murray has the ideal slide for a base gatherer, but one which commands the +respect of all the guardians of the sacks in the National League. When +about eight feet from the bag, he jumps into the air, giving the fielder a +vision of two sets of nicely honed spikes aimed for the base. As Murray +hits the bag, he comes up on his feet and is in a position to start for +the next station in case of any fumble or slip. He is a great man to use +this slide to advantage against young players, who are inclined to be +timid when they see those spikes. It's all part of the game as it is +played in the large leagues. + +The Boston team was trying out a young player two years ago. Murray +remarked to McGraw before the game: + +"The first time I get on, I bet I can make that fellow fumble and pick up +an extra base." + +"Theatre tickets for the crowd on Saturday night?" inquired McGraw. + +"You've said it," answered Murray. + +Along about the second or third inning John walked, and started for second +on the first ball pitched. The busher came in to cover the base, and +Murray leaped clear of the ground and yelled: + +"Look out!" + +The newcomer evidently thought that Murray had lost control of his legs, +got one look at those spikes, and bent all his energies toward dodging +them, paying no attention whatever to the ball, which continued its +unmolested journey to centre field. The new man proved to be one of the +best little dodgers I ever saw. John was in a perfect position to start +and went along to third at his leisure. + +"Didn't I call the turn?" Murray yelled at McGraw as he came to the bench. + +"What show do you want to see?" asked McGraw. + +But on an old campaigner this show of spikes has no effect whatever. The +capable basemen in the League know how to cover the bag so as to get the +runner out and still give him room to come in without hurting any one. In +spite of an impression that prevails to the contrary, ball-players never +spike a man on purpose. At present, I don't believe there is a runner in +the National League who would cut down another man if he had the +opportunity. If one man does spike another accidentally, he is heartily +sorry, and often such an event affects his own playing and his base +running ability. + +The feet-first slide is now more in vogue in the Big Leagues than the old +head-first coast, and I attribute this to two causes. One is that the show +of the spikes is a sort of assurance the base runner is going to have room +to come into the bag, and the second is that the great amount of armor +which a catcher wears in these latter days makes some such formidable +slide necessary when coming into the plate. + +If a base runner hits a catcher squarely with his shin guards on, he is +likely to be badly injured, and he must be sure that the catcher is going +to give him a clear path. Some catchers block off the plate so that a man +has got to shoot his spikes at them to get through, and I'm not saying +that it's bad catching, because that is the way to keep a man from +scoring. Make him go around if possible. + +But the game has changed in the last few years as far as intentional +spiking goes. Many a time, when I first started with the Giants, I heard a +base runner shout at a fielder: + +"Get out of the way there or I'll cut you in two!" + +And he would not have hesitated to do it, either. That was part of the +game. But nowadays, if a player got the reputation of cutting men down and +putting star players out of the game intentionally, he would soon be +driven out of the League, probably on a stretcher. + +When John Hummel of the Brooklyn club spiked Doyle in 1908, and greatly +lessened the Giants' chances of winning the pennant, which the club +ultimately lost, he came around to our clubhouse after the game and +inquired for Larry. When he found how badly Doyle was cut, he was as +broken up as any member of our team. + +"If I'd known I was goin' to cut you, Larry, I wouldn't have slid," he +said. + +"That's all right," answered Doyle. "I guess I was blockin' you." + +Ball-players don't say much in a situation of that kind. But each one who +witnessed the incident knew that when Doyle doubled down, spiked, most of +our chances of the pennant went down with him, for it broke up the infield +of the team at a most important moment. It takes some time for a new part +to work into a clock so that it keeps perfect time again, no matter how +delicate is the workmanship of the new part. So the best infielder takes +time to fit into the infield of a Big League club and have it hit on all +four cylinders again. + +Fred Merkle is one of the few ball-players who still prefers the +head-first slide, and he sticks to it only on certain occasions. He is the +best man to steal third base playing ball to-day. He declares that, when +he is going into the bag, he can see better by shooting his head first and +that he can swing his body away from the base and just hook it with one +finger nail, leaving just that to touch. And he keeps his nails clipped +short in the season, so that there is very little exposed to which the +ball can be applied. If he sees that the third baseman is playing inside +the bag, he goes behind it and hooks it with his finger, and if the man is +playing back, he cuts through in front, pulling his body away from the +play. But the common or garden variety of player will take the hook slide, +feet first, because he can catch the bag with one leg, and the feet aren't +as tender a portion of the anatomy to be roughly touched as the head and +shoulders. + +A club of base runners will do more to help a pitcher win than a batting +order of hard hitters, I believe. Speed is the great thing in the baseball +of to-day. By speed I do not mean that good men must be sprinters alone. +They must be fast starters, fast runners and fast thinkers. Remember that +last one--fast thinkers. + +Harry McCormick, formerly the left-fielder on the Giants, when he joined +the club before his legs began to go bad, was a sprinter, one of the +fastest men who ever broke into the League. Before he took up baseball as +a profession, he had been a runner in college. But McCormick was never a +brilliant base stealer because he could not get the start. + +When a man is pitching for a club of base runners he knows that every +time a player with a stealing reputation gets on and there is an outside +chance of his scoring, the run is going to be hung up. The tallies give a +pitcher confidence to proceed. Then, when the club has the reputation of +possessing a great bunch of base runners, the other pitcher is worried all +the time and has to devote about half his energies to watching the bases. +This makes him easier to hit. + +But put a hard hitter who is a slow base runner on the club, and he does +little good. There used to be a man on the Giants, named "Charley" +Hickman, who played third base and then the outfield. He was one of the +best natural hitters who ever wormed his way into baseball, but when he +got on, the bases were blocked. He could not run, and it took a hit to +advance him a base. Get a fast man on behind him and, because the rules of +the game do not permit one runner to pass another, it was like having a +freight train preceding the Twentieth Century Limited on a single track +road. Hickman was not so slow when he first started, but after a while his +legs went bad and his weight increased, so that he was built like a box +car, to carry out the railroad figure. + +Hickman finally dropped back into the minor leagues and continued to bat +three hundred, but he had to lose the ball to make the journey clear +around the bases on one wallop. Once he hit the old flag pole in centre +field at the Polo Grounds on the fly, and just did nose the ball out at +the plate. It was a record hit for distance. At last, while still +maintaining the three-hundred pace, Hickman was dropped by the Toledo club +of the American Association. + +"Why did you let Charley Hickman go?" I asked the manager one day. + +"Because he was tyin' up traffic on the bases," he replied. + +Merkle is not a particularly fast runner, but he is a great base stealer +because he has acquired the knack of "getting away." He never tries to +steal until he has his start. He is also a good arriver, as I have pointed +out. It was like getting a steamroller in motion to start Hickman. + +Clever ball-players and managers are always trying to evolve new +base-running tactics that will puzzle the other team, but "there ain't no +new stuff." It is a case of digging up the old ones. Pitchers are also +earnest in their endeavors to discover improved ways to stop base +running. Merkle and I worked out a play during the spring training season +in 1911 which caught perhaps a dozen men off first base before the other +teams began to watch for the trick. And it was not original with me. I got +the idea from "Patsy" Flaherty, a Boston pitcher who has his salary wing +fastened to his left side. + +Flaherty would pitch over to first base quickly, and the fielder would +shoot the ball back. Then Flaherty would pop one through to the batter, +often catching him off his guard, and sneaking a strike over besides +leaving the runner flat on the ground in the position in which he had been +when he slid back to the bag. If the batter hit the ball, the runner was +in no attitude to get a start, and, on an infield tap, it was easy to make +a double play. + +The next time that the man got on base, Flaherty would shoot the ball over +to first as before, and the runner would be up on his feet and away from +the bag, expecting him to throw it to the plate. But as the first baseman +whipped it back quickly Flaherty returned the ball and the runner was +caught flat footed and made to look foolish. Ball-players do certainly +hate to appear ridiculous, and the laugh from the crowd upsets a Big +Leaguer more than anything else, even a call from McGraw, because the +crowd cannot hear that and does not know the man is looking foolish. + +It was almost impossible to steal bases on "Patsy" Flaherty because he +had the men hugging the bag all the time, and if he had had other +essentials of a pitcher, he would have been a great one. He even lived in +the Big League for some time with this quick throw as his only asset. I +adopted the Flaherty movement, but it is harder for a right-hander to use, +as he is not in such a good position to whip the ball to the bag. Merkle +and I rehearsed it in spring practice. As soon as a man got on first base, +I popped the ball over to Merkle, and without even making a stab at the +runner, he shot it to me. Then back again, just as the runner had let go +of the bag and was getting up. The theoretical result: He was caught +flat-footed. Sometimes it worked. Then they began to play for me. + +Another play on which the changes have often been rung is the double steal +with men on first and third bases. That is McGraw's favorite situation in +a crisis. + +"Somebody's got to look foolish on the play," says "Mac," "and I don't +want to furnish any laughs." + +The old way to work it was to have the man on first start for second, as +if he were going to make a straight steal. Then as soon as the catcher +drew his arm back to throw, the runner on third started home. No Big +League club can have a look into the pennant set without trying to +interrupt the journey of that man going to second in a tight place, +because if no play is made for him and a hit follows, it nets the club two +runs instead of one. + +Most teams try to stop this play by having the shortstop or second baseman +come in and take a short throw, and if the man on third breaks for home, +the receiver of the ball whips it back. If both throws are perfect, the +runner is caught at the plate. + +But the catchers found that certain clubs were making this play in routine +fashion, the runner on first starting with the pitch, and the one on third +making his break just as soon as the catcher drew back his arm. Then the +backstops began making a bluff throw to second and whipping the ball to +third, often getting the runner by several feet, as he had already +definitely started for the plate. + +"Tommy" Leach of the Pittsburg club was probably caught oftener on this +bluff throw than any other man in baseball. For some time he had been +making the play against clubs which used the short throw, and starting as +the catcher drew back his arm, as that was the only chance he had to +score. One day in the season of 1908, when the Pirates were playing +against the Giants, Clarke was on first and Leach on third, with one run +required to balance the game. McGraw knew the double steal was to be +expected, as two were out. Bresnahan was aware of this, too. + +McGinnity was pitching, and with his motion, Clarke got his start. +Bresnahan drew back his arm as if to throw to second, and true to form, +Leach was on his way to the plate. But Bresnahan had not let go of the +ball, and he shot it to Devlin, Leach being run down in the base line and +the Pittsburg club eventually losing the game. + +Again and again Leach fell for this bluff throw, until the news spread +around the circuit that once a catcher drew back his arm with a man on +first base and "Tommy" Leach on third, there would be no holding him on +the bag. He was caught time and again--indeed as frequently as the play +came up. It was his "groove." He could not be stopped from making his +break. At last Clarke had to order him to abandon the play until he could +cure himself of this self-starting habit. + +"What you want to do on that play is cross 'em," is McGraw's theory, and +he proceeded to develop the delayed steal with this intent. + +Put the men back on first and third bases. Thank you. The pitcher has the +ball. The runner on first intentionally takes too large a lead. The +pitcher throws over, and he moves a few steps toward second. Then a few +more. All that time the man on third is edging off an inch, two inches, a +foot. The first baseman turns to throw to second to stop that man. The +runner on third plunges for the plate, and usually gets there. It's a hard +one to stop, but that's its purpose. + +Then, again, it can be worked after the catcher gets the ball. The runner +starts from first slowly and the catcher hesitates, not knowing whether to +throw to first or second. Since the runner did not start with the pitch, +theoretically no one has come in to take a short throw, and the play +cannot be made back to the plate if the ball is thrown to second. This +form of the play is usually successful. Miller Huggins is one of the +hardest second basemen in the League to work it against successfully. With +men on first and third, he always comes in for the short throw on the +chance, and covers himself up. + +After we had stolen our way to a pennant in the National League in the +season of 1911, and after our five leading base runners had been "mugged" +by the police in St. Louis so that the catchers would know them, many fans +expected to see us steal a world's championship, and we half expected it +ourselves. + +But so did "Connie" Mack, and there lies the answer. He knew our strong +point, and his players had discussed and rehearsed ways and means to break +up our game. Mack had been watching the Giants for weeks previous to the +series and had had his spies taking notes. + +"We've got to stop them running bases," he told his men before the first +game, I have learned since. And they did. Guess the St. Louis police must +have sent Thomas and Lapp copies of those pictures. + +Mack's pitchers cut their motions down to nothing with men on the bases, +microscopic motions, and they watched the runners like hawks. Thomas had +been practising to get the men. The first time that Devore made a break to +steal, he was caught several feet from the bag. + +"And you call yourself fast!" commented Collins as he threw the ball back +to the pitcher and jogged to his job. "You remind me of a cop on a fixed +post," he flung over his shoulder. + +Pitchers have a great deal to do with the defensive efficiency of the +club. If they do not hold the runners up, the best catcher in the world +cannot stop them at their destination. That is the reason why so many +high-class catchers have been developed by the Chicago Cubs. The team has +always had a good pitching staff, and men like Overall, Brown and Reulbach +force the runners to stick to the oases of safety. + +The Giants stole their way to a pennant in 1911, and it wasn't on account +of the speedy material, but because McGraw had spent days teaching his men +to slide and emphasizing the necessity of getting the jump. Then he picked +the stages of the game when the attempts to steal were to be made. But +McGraw, with his all-star cast of thieves, was stopped in the world's +series by one Cornelius McGillicuddy. + + + + +XIII + +Notable Instances Where the "Inside" Game Has Failed + + _The "Inside" Game is of Little Avail when a Batter Knocks a Home Run + with the Bases Full--Many Times the Strategies of Managers have + Failed because Opposing Clubs "Doctored" their Grounds--"Rube" + Waddell Once Cost the Athletics a Game by Failing to Show up after + the Pitcher's Box had been Fixed for Him--But, although the "Inside" + Game Sometimes Fails, no Manager Wants a Player who will Steal Second + with the Bases Full._ + + +There is an old story about an altercation which took place during a +wedding ceremony in the backwoods of the Virginia mountains. The +discussion started over the propriety of the best man holding the ring, +and by the time that it had been finally settled the bride gazed around on +a dead bridegroom, a dead father, and a dead best man, not to mention +three or four very dead ushers and a clergyman. + +"Them new fangled self-cockin' automatic guns has sure raised hell with my +prospects," she sighed. + +That's the way I felt when John Franklin Baker popped that home run into +the right-field stand in the ninth inning of the third game of the 1911 +world's series with one man already out. For eight and one-third innings +the Giants had played "inside" ball, and I had carefully nursed along +every batter who came to the plate, studying his weakness and pitching at +it. It looked as if we were going to win the game, and then zing! And also +zowie! The ball went into the stand on a line and I looked around at my +fielders who had had the game almost within their grasp a minute before. +Instantly, I realized that I had been pitching myself out, expecting the +end to come in nine innings. My arm felt like so much lead hanging to my +side after that hit. I wanted to go and get some crape and hang it on my +salary whip. Then that old story about the wedding popped into my head, +and I said to myself: + +"He has sure raised hell with your prospects." + +"Sam" Strang, the official pinch hitter of the Giants a few seasons ago, +was one of the best in the business. McGraw sent him to the bat in the +ninth inning of a game the Giants were playing in Brooklyn. We were two +runs behind and two were already out, with one runner on the bases, and he +was only as far as second. "Doc" Scanlon was pitching for Brooklyn, and, +evidently intimidated by Sam's pinch-hitting reputation or something, +suddenly became wild and gave the Giant batter three balls. With the count +three and nothing, McGraw shouted from the bench: + +"Wait it out, Sam!" + +But Sam did not hear him, and he took a nice masculine, virile, full-armed +swing at the ball and fouled it out of the reach of all the local +guardians of the soil. + +"Are you deaf?" barked McGraw. "Wait it out, I tell you." + +As a matter of fact, Strang was a little deaf and did not hear the shouted +instructions the second time. But "Doc" Scanlon was sensitive as to +hearing and, feeling sure Strang would obey the orders of McGraw, thought +he would be taking no chances in putting the next ball over the centre of +the plate. It came up the "groove," and Strang admired it as it +approached. Then he took his swing, and the next place the ball touched +was in the Italian district just over the right field fence. The hit tied +the score. + +McGraw met Strang at the plate, and instead of greeting him with shouts of +approbation, exclaimed: + +"I ought to fine you $25, and would, except for those two runs and the few +points' difference the game will make in the percentage. Come on now, +boys. Let's win this one." And we did in the eleventh inning. + +That was a case of the "inside" game failing. Any Big League pitcher with +brains would have laid the ball over after hearing McGraw shout earnest +and direct orders at the batter to "wait it out." Scanlon was playing the +game and Strang was not, but it broke for Sam. It was the first time in +his life that he ever hit the ball over the right field fence in Brooklyn, +and he has never done it since. If he had not been lucky in connecting +with that ball and lifting it where it did the most good, his pay envelope +would have been lighter by $25 at the end of the month, and he would have +obtained an accurate idea of McGraw's opinion of his intellectuality. + +In the clubhouse after the victory, McGraw said: + +"Honest, Sam, why did you swing at that ball after I had told you not to?" + +"I didn't hear you," replied Strang. + +"Well, it's lucky you hit it where they weren't," answered McGraw, +"because if any fielder had connected with the ball, there would have been +a rough greeting waiting for you on the bench. And as a tip, Sam, direct +from me: You got away with it once, but don't try it again. It was bad +baseball." + +"But that straight one looked awful good to me coming up the 'groove,'" +argued Sam. + +"Don't fall for all the good lookers, Sam," suggested McGraw, the +philosopher. + +Strang is now abroad having his voice cultivated and he intends to enter +the grand-opera field as soon as he can finish the spring training in +Paris and get his throat into shape for the big league music circuit. But +I will give any orchestra leader who faces Sam a tip. If he doesn't want +him to come in strong where the music is marked "rest," don't put one in +the "groove," because Strang just naturally can't help swinging at it. He +is a poor waiter. + +The Boston club lost eighteen straight games in the season of 1910, and as +the team was leaving the Polo Grounds after having dropped four in a row, +making the eighteen, I said to Tenney: + +"How does it seem, Fred, to be on a club that has lost eighteen straight?" + +"It's what General Sherman said war is," replied Tenney, who seldom +swears. "But for all-around entertainment I would like to see John McGraw +on a team which had dropped fifteen or sixteen in a row." + +As if Tenney had put the curse on us, the Giants hit a losing streak the +next day that totalled six games straight. Everything that we tried broke +against us. McGraw would attempt the double steal, and both throws would +be accurate, and the runner caught at the plate. A hit and a run sign +would be given, and the batter would run up against a pitch-out. + +McGraw was slowly going crazy. All his pet "inside" tricks were worthless. +He, the king of baseball clairvoyants, could not guess right. It began to +look to me as if Tenney would get his entertainment. After the sixth one +had gone against us and McGraw had not spoken a friendly word to any one +for a week, he called the players around him in the clubhouse. + +"I ought to let you all out and get a gang of high-school boys in here to +defend the civic honor of this great and growing city whose municipal +pride rests on your shoulders," he said. "But I'm not going to do it. +Hereafter we will cut out all 'inside' stuff and play straight baseball. +Every man will go up there and hit the ball just as you see it done on the +lots." + +Into this oration was mixed a judicious amount of sulphur. The Cubs had +just taken the first three of a four-game series from us without any +trouble at all. The next day we went out and resorted to the wallop, +plain, untrimmed slugging tactics, and beat Chicago 17 to 1. Later we +returned to the hand-raised, cultivated hot-house form of baseball, but +for a week we played the old-fashioned game with a great deal of success. +It changed our luck. + +Another method which has upset the "inside" game of many visiting teams +is "doping" the grounds. + +The first time in my baseball career that I ever encountered this was in +Brooklyn when Hanlon was the manager. Every time he thought I was going to +pitch there, he would have the diamond doctored for me in the morning. The +ground-keeper sank the pitcher's box down so that it was below the level +of all the bases instead of slightly elevated as it should be. + +Hanlon knew that I used a lot of speed when I first broke into the League, +getting some of it from my elevation on the diamond. He had a team of fast +men who depended largely on a bunting game and their speed in getting to +first base to win. With me fielding bunts out of the hollow, they had a +better chance of making their goal. Then pitching from the lower level +would naturally result in the batters getting low balls, because I would +be more apt to misjudge the elevation of the plate. Low ones were made to +bunt. Finally, Hanlon always put into the box to work against me a little +pitcher who was not affected as much as I by the topographical changes. + +"Why," I said to George Davis, the Giants' manager, the first time I +pitched out of the cellar which in Brooklyn was regarded as the pitcher's +box, "I'm throwing from a hollow instead of off a mound." + +"Sure," replied Davis. "They 'doped' the grounds for you. But never mind. +When we are entertaining, the box at the Polo Grounds will be built up the +days you are going to pitch against Brooklyn, and you can burn them over +and at their heads if you like." + +The thing that worried the Athletics most before the last world's series +was the reputation of the Giants as base stealers. When we went to +Philadelphia for the first game, I was surprised at the heavy condition of +the base lines. + +"Did it rain here last night?" I inquired from a native. + +"No," he answered. + +Then I knew that the lines had been wet down to slow up our fast runners +and make it harder for them to steal. As things developed, this precaution +was unnecessary, but it was an effort to break up what was known to be our +strongest "inside" play. + +Baseball men maintain that the acme of doctoring grounds was the work of +the old Baltimore Orioles. The team was composed of fast men who were +brilliant bunters and hard base runners. The soil of the infield was mixed +with a form of clay which, when wet and then rolled, was almost as hard as +concrete. The ground outside the first and third base lines was built up +slightly to keep well placed bunts from rolling foul, while toward first +base there was a distinct down grade to aid the runner in reaching that +station with all possible expedition. Toward second there was a gentle +slope, and it was down hill to third. But coming home from third was +up-hill work. A player had to be a mountain climber to make it. This all +benefited fast men like Keeler, McGraw, Kelley and Jennings whose most +dangerous form of attack was the bunt. + +The Orioles did not stop at doctoring the infield. The grass in the +outfield was permitted to grow long and was unkempt. Centre and left +fields were kept level, but in right field there was a sharp down grade to +aid the fast Keeler. He had made an exhaustive study of all the possible +angles at which the ball might bound and had certain paths that he +followed, but which were not marked out by sign posts for visiting +right-fielders. He was sure death on hits to his territory, while usually +wallops got past visiting right-fielders. And so great was the grade that +"Wee Willie" was barely visible from the batter's box. A hitting team +coming to Baltimore would be forced to fall into the bunting game or be +entirely outclassed. And the Orioles did not furnish their guests with +topographical maps of the grounds either. + +The habit of doctoring grounds is not so much in vogue now as it once was. +For a long time it was considered fair to arrange the home field to the +best advantage of the team which owned it, for otherwise what was the use +in being home? It was on the same principle that a general builds his +breastworks to best suit the fighting style of his army, for they are his +breastworks. + +But lately among the profession, sentiment and baseball legislation have +prevailed against the doctoring of grounds, and it is done very little. +Occasionally a pitching box is raised or lowered to meet the requirements +of a certain man, but they are not altered every day to fit the pitcher, +as they once were. Such tactics often hopelessly upset the plan of battle +of the visiting club unless this exactly coincided with the habits of the +home team. Many strategic plans have been wasted on carefully arranged +grounds, and many "inside" plays have gone by the boards when the field +was fixed so that a bunt was bound to roll foul if the ball followed the +laws of gravitation, as it usually does, because the visiting team was +known to have the bunting habit. + +A good story of doctored grounds gone wrong is told of the Philadelphia +Athletics. The eccentric "Rube" Waddell had bundles of speed in his early +days, and from a slightly elevated pitcher's box the batter could scarcely +identify "Rube's" delivery from that of a cannon. He was scheduled to +pitch one day and showed around at morning practice looking unusually fit +for George. + +"How are you feeling to-day, George?" asked "Connie" Mack, his boss. + +"Never better," replied the light-hearted "Rube." + +"Well, you work this afternoon." + +"All right," answered Waddell. + +Then the ground-keeper got busy and built the pitcher's box up about two +feet, so that Waddell would have a splendid opportunity to cut loose all +his speed. At that time he happened to be the only tall man on the +pitching staff of the Philadelphia club, and, as a rule, the box was kept +very low. The scheme would probably have worked out as planned, if it had +not been that Waddell, in the course of his noon-day wanderings, met +several friends in whose society he became so deeply absorbed that he +neglected to report at the ball park at all. He also forgot to send word, +and here was the pitcher's box standing up out of the infield like one of +the peaks of the Alps. + +As the players gathered, and Waddell failed to show up, the manager +nervously looked at his watch. At last he sent out scouts to the "Rube's" +known haunts, but no trace of the temperamental artist could be found. The +visitors were already on the field, and it was too late to lower the box. +A short pitcher had to work in the game from this peak of progress, while +the opposing team installed a skyscraper on the mound. The Philadelphia +club was badly beaten and Waddell heavily fined for his carelessness in +disrupting the "inside" play of his team. + +An old and favorite trick used to be to soap the soil around the pitcher's +box, so that when a man was searching for some place to dry his +perspiring hands and grabbed up this soaped earth, it made his palm +slippery and he was unable to control the ball. + +Of course, the home talent knew where the good ground lay and used it or +else carried some unadulterated earth in their trousers' pockets, as a +sort of private stock. But our old friend "Bugs" Raymond hit on a scheme +to spoil this idea and make the trick useless. Arthur always perspired +profusely when he pitched, and several managers, perceiving this, had made +it a habit to soap the dirt liberally whenever it was his turn to work. +While he was pitching for St. Louis, he went into the box against the +Pirates one day in Pittsburg. His hands were naturally slippery, and +several times he had complained that he could not dry them in the dirt, +especially in Pittsburg soil. + +As Raymond worked in the game in question, he was noticed, particularly by +the Pittsburg batters and spectators, to get better as he went along. +Frequently, his hand slipped into his back pocket, and then his control +was wonderful. Sometimes, he would reach down and apparently pick up a +handful of earth, but it did no damage. After the game, he walked over to +Fred Clarke, and reached into his back pocket. His face broke into a grin. + +"Ever see any of that stuff, Fred?" he asked innocently, showing the +Pittsburg manager a handful of a dark brown substance. "That's rosin. It's +great--lots better than soaped ground. Wish you'd keep a supply out there +in the box for me when I'm going to work instead of that slippery stuff +you've got out there now. Will you, as a favor to me?" + +Thereafter, all the pitchers got to carrying rosin or pumice stone in +their pockets, for the story quickly went round the circuit, and it is +useless to soap the soil in the box any more. There are many tricks by +which the grounds or ball are "fixed," but for nearly all an antidote has +been discovered, and these questionable forms of the "inside" game have +failed so often that they have largely been abandoned. + +One Big League manager used always to give his men licorice or some other +dark and adhesive and juicy substance to chew on a dingy day. The purpose +was to dirty the ball so that it was harder for the batters to see when +the pitcher used his fast one. As soon as a new ball was thrown into the +game, it was quickly passed around among the fielders, and instead of +being the lily-white thing that left the umpire's hands, when it finally +got to the pitcher's box it was a very pronounced brunette. But some +eagle-eyed arbiter detected this, and kept pouring new balls into the game +when the non-licorice chewers were at the bat, while he saved the +discolored ones for the consumption of the masticators. It was another +trick that failed. + +Frequently, backgrounds are tampered with if the home club is notably weak +at the bat. The best background for a batter is a dull, solid green. Many +clubs have painted backgrounds in several contrasting, broken colors so +that the sunlight, shining on them, blinds the batter. The Chicago White +Sox are said to have done this, and for many years the figures showed that +the batting of both the Chicago players and the visitors at their park was +very light. The White Sox's hitting was weak anywhere, so that the poor +background was an advantage to them. + +Injuries have often upset the "inside" play of a club. Usually a team's +style revolves around one or two men, and the taking of them out of the +game destroys the whole machine. The substitute does not think as quickly; +neither does he see and grasp the opportunities as readily. This was true +of the Cubs last season. Chance and Evers used to be the "inside" game of +the team. Evers was out of the game most of the summer and Chance was +struck in the head with a pitched ball and had to quit. The playing of the +Chicago team fell down greatly as a result. + +Chance is the sort of athlete who is likely to get injured. When he was a +catcher he was always banged up because he never got out of the way of +anything. He is that kind of player. If he has to choose between accepting +a pair of spikes in a vital part of his anatomy and getting a put-out, or +dodging the spikes and losing the put-out, he always takes the put-out and +usually the spikes. He never dodges away from a ball when at bat that may +possibly break over the plate and cost him a strike. That is why he was +hit in the head. He lingered too long to ascertain whether the ball was +going to curve and found out that it was not, which put him out of the +game, the Cubs practically out of the pennant race, and broke up their +"inside" play. + +Roger Bresnahan is the same kind of a man. He thinks quickly, and is a +brilliant player, but he never dodges anything. He is often hurt as a +result. Once, when he was with the Giants, he was hit in the face with a +pitched ball, and McGraw worried while he was laid up, for fear that it +would make him bat shy. After he came back, he was just as friendly with +the plate as ever. The injury of men like Chance and Bresnahan, whose +services are of such vital importance to the "inside" play of a team, +destroys the effectiveness of the club. + +Once, in 1908, when we were fighting the Cubs for the pennant at every +step, McGraw planned a bunting game against Overall, who is big and not +very fast in covering the little rollers. Bresnahan and O'Day had been +having a serial argument through two games, and Roger, whose nerves were +worn to a frazzle, like those of the rest of us at that time, thought +"Hank" had been shading his judgment slightly toward the Cubs. In another +story I have pointed out that O'Day, the umpire, was stubborn and that +nothing could be gained by continually picking on him. When the batteries +were announced for that game, McGraw said as the team went to the field: + +"We can beat this guy Overall by bunting." + +Bresnahan went out to put on his chest protector and shin guards. O'Day +happened to be adjusting his makeup near him. Roger could not resist the +temptation. + +"Why don't you put on a Chicago uniform, 'Hank', instead of those duds?" +he asked. "Is it true, if the Cubs win the pennant, they've promised to +elect you alderman in Chicago?" + +"Get out of the game and off the field," said O'Day. + +Bresnahan had to obey the injunction and Needham, the only other available +catcher, went behind the mat. "Tom" Needham never beat out a bunt in his +life, and he destroyed all McGraw's plans because, with him in the game +instead of Bresnahan, the style had to be switched. We lost. Bresnahan, a +fast man and a good bunter batted third and would have been valuable in +the attack best adapted to beat Overall. But his sudden demise and the +enforced substitution of the plodding Needham ruined the whole plan of +campaign. Therefore, frequently umpires upset a team's "inside" game. + +One of McGraw's schemes back-fired on him when Luderus, the hard-hitting +Philadelphia first baseman, broke into the League. Some one had tipped +"Mac" off, and tipped him wrong, that this youngster could be disconcerted +in a pinch by the catcher discussing signs and what-not with him, thus +distracting his attention. + +"Chief," said McGraw before the game, "if this Luderus gets up in a tight +place, slip him a little talk." + +The situation came, and Meyers obeyed instructions. The game was in +Philadelphia, and three men were on the bases with two out. Ames was +pitching. + +"What are you bringing the bat up with you for?" asked the "Chief" as +Luderus arranged himself at the plate. + +No answer. + +Then Meyers gave Ames his sign. Next he fixed his fingers in a fake signal +and addressed the young batter. + +"The best hitters steal signs," said the "Chief." "Just look down in my +glove and see the signals." + +But Luderus was not caught and kept his eyes glued on Ames. He hit the +next ball over the right field wall and won the game. As he crossed the +plate, he said to the "Chief": + +"It's too easy. I don't need your signs. They pulled that one on me in the +bushes long ago." + +"After this, when that fellow bats," said McGraw to Meyers later, "do as +exact an imitation of the sphinx as you know how. The tip was no good." + +The trick of talking to the hitter is an old one. The idea is for the +catcher to give a wrong sign, for his benefit, after having flashed the +right one, induce the batter, usually a youngster, to look down at it, and +then have the pitcher shoot one over the plate while he is staring in the +glove. + +"Steve" Evans, the St. Louis right-fielder, tells a story of a fan who sat +in the same box at the Cardinals' park every day and devoted most of his +time to roasting him (S. Evans). His favorite expressions in connection +with Evans were "bone dead," "wooden head," and so on. He loudly claimed +that "Steve" had no knowledge of the game and spoiled every play that +Bresnahan tried to put through. One day, when the Giants were playing in +St. Louis, some one knocked up a high foul which landed in this orator's +box. He saw it coming, tried to dodge, used poor judgment, and, realizing +that the ball was going to strike him, snatched his hat off, and took it +full on an immodestly bald head. "Steve" Evans was waiting to go to the +bat. He shifted his chew to his other cheek and exclaimed in a voice that +could not have been heard more than two miles away: + +"That's the 'gink' who has been calling me a 'bone head.'" + +"Steve" got a great laugh from the crowd, but right there the St. Louis +club lost a patron, for the bald-headed one has never been seen at the +grounds since, according to Evans, and his obituary has not been printed +yet, either. + +"Al" Bridwell, formerly the Giants' shortstop, was one of the cleverest +men at the "inside" game that ever broke into the Big Leagues, and it was +this that made him valuable. Then suddenly his legs went bad, and he +slowed up. It was his speed and his ability to bunt and his tireless +waiting at the plate to make all toilers in the box pitch that had made +him a great player. He seldom swung at a bad ball. As soon as he slowed +up, McGraw knew he would have to go if the Giants were to win the pennant. +He deeply regretted letting the gritty, little shortstop, whose legs had +grown stiff in his service, leave the club, but sentiment never won any +pennants. + +"Al," he said to Bridwell, "I'm going to let you go to Boston. Your legs +will be all right eventually, but I've got to have a fast man now while +you are getting back your old speed." + +"That's all right, 'Mac,'" replied Bridwell. "It's all part of the game." + +He did not rave and swear that he had been double-crossed, as many players +do under the same circumstances. I never heard Bridwell swear, and I never +found any one else who did. He had been playing for weeks, when every time +he moved it pained him, because he thought he might have a share of the +money that winning a pennant would mean. It was a staggering blow to him, +this sending him from a pennant possibility to a hopeless tail-ender, but +he took it gamely. + +"I guess I was 'gumming' the inside stuff," he said. + +And he did get some of the prize money. The boys voted him a share. + +It will be seen that the "inside" game sometimes fails. Many a time I have +passed a catcher or good batter to take a chance on a pitcher, and then +have had him make a hit just when hits were not at all welcome. I walked a +catcher once and had the pitcher shove the ball over first base for a +single, when he closed his eyes and dodged back in an effort to get his +head out of the line he thought it was pursuing before it curved. In +ducking, he got his bat in front of the ball, a result he had never +obtained with his eyes open. + +Once I started to pass "Hans" Wagner in a pinch to take a chance on the +next batter, and was a little careless in throwing the ball too close to +the plate. He reached out and slapped it for a single. Again the "inside" +game had failed. + +Speaking pretty generally, most managers prefer to use this "inside" game, +though, and there are few vacancies in the Big Leagues right now for the +man who is liable to steal second with the bases full. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. + +Punctuation has been corrected without note. + +The following misprints have been corrected: + "Crounds" corrected to "Grounds" (page 65) + "temperameut" corrected to "temperament" (page 69) + "penant" corrected to "pennant" (page 205) + "te ephone" corrected to "telephone" (page 263) + "innnings" corrected to "innings" (page 282) + +Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in hyphenation +have been retained from the original. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Pitching in a Pinch, by Christy Mathewson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + +***** This file should be named 33291-8.txt or 33291-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/9/33291/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pitching in a Pinch + or, Baseball from the Inside + +Author: Christy Mathewson + +Commentator: John N. Wheeler + +Release Date: July 30, 2010 [EBook #33291] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i002.jpg" alt="" /><br /><img src="images/i002sig.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center"><small>Copyright by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio</small></p> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<div class="border"><p> </p> +<h1>PITCHING<br />IN A PINCH</h1> +<p> </p> +<h3>OR<br />BASEBALL FROM THE INSIDE</h3> +<p> </p> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h3>CHRISTY MATHEWSON</h3> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY<br />JOHN N. WHEELER</h4> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center"><strong>ILLUSTRATED</strong></p> +<p> </p><div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i003.jpg" alt="" /></div><p> </p> +<p class="center">GROSSET & DUNLAP<br />PUBLISHERS<span class="spacer"> </span>NEW YORK</p> +<p> </p></div> +<p class="center"><small>Made in the United States of America</small></p> +<p> </p><p> </p><p> </p> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1912<br /><small>BY</small><br />CHRISTOPHER MATHEWSON<br /> +<br /> +This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers<br /> +<span class="smcap">G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York and London</span><br /><br /> +The Knickerbocker Press, New York</p> + + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Introducing</span> a reader to Christy Mathewson seems like a superfluous piece +of writing and a waste of white paper. Schoolboys of the last ten years +have been acquainted with the exact figures which have made up Matty’s +pitching record before they had ever heard of George Washington, because +George didn’t play in the same League.</p> + +<p>Perfectly good rational and normal citizens once deserted a reception to +the Governor of the State because Christy Mathewson was going to pitch +against the Chicago club. If the committee on arrangements wanted to make +the hour of the reception earlier, all right, but no one could be expected +to miss seeing Matty in the box against Chance and his Cubs for the sake +of greeting the Governor.</p> + +<p>Besides being a national hero, Matty is one of the closest students of +baseball that ever came into the Big League. By players, he has long been +recognized as the greatest pitcher the game has produced. He has been +pitching in the Big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span> Leagues for eleven years and winning games right +along.</p> + +<p>His great pitching practically won the world’s championship for the Giants +from the Philadelphia Athletics in 1905, and, six years later, he was +responsible for one of the two victories turned in by New York pitchers in +a world’s series again with the Athletics.</p> + +<p>At certain periods in his baseball career, he has pitched almost every day +after the rest of the staff had fallen down. When the Giants were making +their determined fight for the championship in 1908, the season that the +race was finally decided by a single game with the Cubs, he worked in nine +out of the last fifteen games in an effort to save his club from defeat. +And he won most of them. That has always been the beauty of his +pitching—his ability to win.</p> + +<p>Matty was born in Factoryville, Pa., thirty-one years ago, and, after +going to Bucknell College, he began to play ball with the Norfolk club of +the Virginia League, but was soon bought by the New York Giants, where he +has remained ever since and is likely to stay for some time to come, if he +can continue to make himself as welcome as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span> has been so far. He was +only nineteen when he joined the club and was a headliner from the start. +Always he has been a student and something of a writer, having done +newspaper work from time to time during the big series. He has made a +careful study of the Big League batters. He has kept a sort of baseball +diary of his career, and, frequently, I have heard him relate unwritten +chapters of baseball history filled with the thrilling incidents of his +personal experience.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you write a real book of the Big Leaguers?” I asked him one +day.</p> + +<p>And he has done it. In this book he is telling the reader of the game as +it is played in the Big Leagues. As a college man, he is able to put his +impressions of the Big Leagues on paper graphically. It’s as good as his +pitching and some exciting things have happened in the Big Leagues, +stories that never found their way into the newspapers. Matty has told +them. This is a true tale of Big Leaguers, their habits and their methods +of playing the game, written by one of them.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">John N. Wheeler.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">March, 1912.</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span></p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="5" summary="contents"> +<tr><td> </td><td><span class="spacer"> </span></td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#I">I</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Most Dangerous Batters I have Met</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#II">II</a>—</td><td>“<span class="smcap">Take Him Out!</span>”</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#III">III</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Pitching in a Pinch</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#IV">IV</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Big League Pitchers and their Peculiarities</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#V">V</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Playing the Game from the Bench</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VI">VI</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Coaching—Good and Bad</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VII">VII</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Honest and Dishonest Sign Stealing</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#VIII">VIII</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Umpires and Close Decisions</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#IX">IX</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">The Game that Cost a Pennant</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#X">X</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">When the Teams Are in Spring Training</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span><a href="#XI">XI</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Jinxes and what they Mean to a Ball-Player</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XII">XII</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Base Runners and how they Help a Pitcher to Win</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#XIII">XIII</a>—</td><td><span class="smcap">Notable Instances where the “Inside” Game has Failed</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>Pitching in a Pinch</h2> +<p> </p><p> </p> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> +<h3>The Most Dangerous Batters I Have Met</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>How “Joe” Tinker Changed Overnight from a Weakling at the Plate to +the Worst Batter I Had to Face—“Fred” Clarke of Pittsburg cannot be +Fooled by a Change of Pace, and “Hans” Wagner’s Only “Groove” Is a +Base on Balls—“Inside” Information on All the Great Batters.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">I have</span> often been asked to which batters I have found it hardest to pitch.</p> + +<p>It is the general impression among baseball fans that Joseph Faversham +Tinker, the short-stop of the Chicago Cubs, is the worst man that I have +to face in the National League. Few realize that during his first two +years in the big show Joe Tinker looked like a cripple at the plate when I +was pitching. His “groove” was a slow curve over the outside corner, and I +fed him slow curves over that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> very outside corner with great regularity. +Then suddenly, overnight, he became from my point of view the most +dangerous batter in the League.</p> + +<p>Tinker is a clever ball-player, and one day I struck him out three times +in succession with low curves over the outside corner. Instead of getting +disgusted with himself, he began to think and reason. He knew that I was +feeding him that low curve over the outside corner, and he started to look +for an antidote. He had always taken a short, choppy swing at the ball. +When he went to the clubhouse after the game in which he struck out three +times, he was very quiet, so I have been told. He was just putting on his +last sock when he clapped his hand to his leg and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it.”</p> + +<p>“Got what?” asked Johnny Evers, who happened to be sitting next to Tinker.</p> + +<p>“Got the way to hit Matty, who had me looking as if I came from the home +for the blind out there to-day,” answered Joe.</p> + +<p>“I should say he did,” replied Evers. “But if you’ve found a way to hit +him, why, I’m from away out in Missouri near the Ozark Mountains.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>“Wait till he pitches again,” said Tinker by way of conclusion, as he took +his diamond ring from the trainer and left the clubhouse.</p> + +<p>It was a four-game series in Chicago, and I had struck Tinker out three +times in the first contest. McGraw decided that I should pitch the last +game as well. Two men were on the bases and two were out when Tinker came +to the bat for the first time in this battle, and the outfielders moved in +closer for him, as he had always been what is known as a “chop” hitter. I +immediately noticed something different about his style as he set himself +at the plate, and then it struck me that he was standing back in the box +and had a long bat. Before this he had always choked his bat short and +stood up close. Now I observed that he had his stick way down by the +handle.</p> + +<p>Bresnahan was catching, and he signalled for the regular prescription for +Tinker. With a lot of confidence I handed him that old low curve. He +evidently expected it, for he stepped almost across the plate, and, with +that long bat, drove the ball to right field for two bases over the head +of George Browne, who was playing close up to the infield, scoring both +runs and eventually winning the game.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>“I’ve got your number now, Matty!” he shouted at me as he drew up at +second base.</p> + +<p>I admit that he has had it quite frequently since he switched his batting +style. Now the outfielders move back when Tinker comes to the plate, for, +if he connects, he hits “’em far” with that long bat. Ever since the day +he adopted the “pole” he has been a thorn in my side and has broken up +many a game. That old low curve is his favorite now, and he reaches for it +with the same cordiality as is displayed by an actor in reaching for his +pay envelope. The only thing to do is to keep them close and try to +outguess him, but Tinker is a hard man to beat at the game of wits.</p> + +<p>Many a heady hitter in the Big League could give the signs to the opposing +pitcher, for he realizes what his weakness is and knows that a twirler is +going to pitch at it. But, try as hard as he will, he cannot often cover +up his “groove,” as Tinker did, and so he continues to be easy for the +twirler who can put the ball where he wants it.</p> + +<p>Fred Clarke, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me to fool on +account of his batting form. A hitter of his type cannot be deceived by a +change of pace, because he stands up close to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> the plate, chokes his bat +short, and swings left-handed. When a pitcher cannot deceive a man with a +change of pace, he has to depend on curves. Let me digress briefly to +explain why a change of pace will not make the ball miss Clarke’s bat. He +is naturally a left-field hitter, and likes the ball on the outside corner +of the plate. That means he swings at the ball late and makes most of his +drives to left field.</p> + +<p>How is a batter fooled by a change of pace? A pitcher gives him a speedy +one and then piles a slow one right on top of it with the same motion. The +batter naturally thinks it is another fast ball and swings too soon—that +is, before the ball gets to him. But when a man like Clarke is at the bat +and a pitcher tries to work a change of pace, what is the result? He +naturally swings late and so hits a fast ball to left field. Then as the +slow one comes up to the plate, he strikes at it, granted he is deceived +by it, timing his swing as he would at a fast ball. If it had been a fast +ball, as he thought, he would have hit it to left field, being naturally a +late swinger. But on a slow one he swings clear around and pulls it to +right field twice as hard as he would have hit it to left field because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +he has obtained that much more drive in the longer swing. Therefore, it is +a rule in the profession that no left-handed batter who hits late can be +deceived by a change of pace.</p> + +<p>“Rube” Ellis, a left-handed hitter of the St. Louis Club, entered the +League and heard complimentary stories about my pitching. Ellis came up to +bat the first day that I pitched against him wondering if he would get +even a foul. He was new to me and I was looking for his “groove.” I gave +him one over the outside corner, and he jabbed it to left field. The next +time, I thought to work the change of pace, and, swinging late, he hauled +the ball around to right field, and it nearly tore Fred Tenny’s head off +en route over first base. Five hits out of five times at bat he made off +me that day, and, when he went to the clubhouse, he remarked to his team +mates in this wise:</p> + +<p>“So that is the guy who has been burning up this League, huh? We’ve got +better ’n him in the coast circuit. He’s just got the Indian sign on you. +That’s all.”</p> + +<p>I did a little thinking about Ellis’s hitting. He used a long bat and held +it down near the end and “poled ’em.” He was naturally a left-field +hitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> and, therefore, swung late at the ball. I concluded that fast ones +inside would do for Mr. Ellis, and the next time we met he got just those. +He has been getting them ever since and now, when he makes a hit off me, +he holds a celebration.</p> + +<p>“Hans” Wagner, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me, but in +that I have had nothing on a lot of other pitchers. He takes a long bat, +stands well back from the plate, and steps into the ball, poling it. He is +what is known in baseball as a free swinger, and there are not many free +swingers these days. This is what ailed the Giants’ batting during the +world’s series in 1911. They all attempted to become free swingers +overnight and were trying to knock the ball out of the lot, instead of +chopping it.</p> + +<p>In the history of baseball there have not been more than fifteen or twenty +free swingers altogether, and they are the real natural hitters of the +game, the men with eyes nice enough and accurate enough to take a long +wallop at the ball. “Dan” Brouthers was one, and so was “Cap” Anson. +Sherwood Magee and “Hans” Wagner are contemporary free swingers. Men of +this type wield a heavy bat as if it were a toothpick and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> step back and +forth in the box, hitting the ball on any end of the plate. Sometimes it +is almost impossible to pass a man of this sort purposely, for a little +carelessness in getting the ball too close to the plate may result in his +stepping up and hitting it a mile. Pitchers have been searching for +Wagner’s “groove” for years, and, if any one of them has located it, he +has his discovery copyrighted, for I never heard of it.</p> + +<p>Only one pitcher, that I can recall, always had it on Wagner, and that man +was Arthur Raymond, sometimes called “Bugs.” He seemed to upset the German +by his careless manner in the box and by his “kidding” tactics. I have +seen him make Wagner go after bad balls, a thing that “Hans” seldom can be +induced to do by other twirlers.</p> + +<p>I remember well the first time I pitched against Wagner. Jack Warner was +catching, and I, young and new in the League, had spent a lot of time with +him, learning the weaknesses of the batters and being coached as to how to +treat them. Wagner loomed up at the bat in a pinch, and I could not +remember what Warner had said about his flaw. I walked out of the box to +confer with the catcher.</p> + +<p>“What’s his ‘groove,’ Jack?” I asked him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>“A base on balls,” replied Warner, without cracking a smile.</p> + +<p>That’s always been Wagner’s “groove.”</p> + +<p>There used to be a player on the Boston team named Claude Ritchey who “had +it on me” for some reason or other. He was a left-handed hitter and +naturally drove the ball to left field, so that I could not fool him with +a change of pace. He was always able to outguess me in a pinch and seemed +to know by intuition what was coming.</p> + +<p>There has been for a long time an ardent follower of the Giants named Mrs. +Wilson, who raves wildly at a game, and is broken-hearted when the team +loses. The Giants were playing in Boston one day, and needed the game very +badly. It was back in 1905, at the time the club could cinch the pennant +by winning one contest, and the flag-assuring game is the hardest one to +win. Two men got on the bases in the ninth inning with the score tied and +no one out. The crowd was stamping its feet and hooting madly, trying to +rattle me. I heard Mrs. Wilson shrill loudly above the noise:</p> + +<p>“Stick with them, Matty!”</p> + +<p>Ritchey came up to the bat, and I passed him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> purposely, trying to get him +to strike at a bad ball. I wouldn’t take a chance on letting him hit at a +good one. Mrs. Wilson thought I was losing my control, and unable to stand +it any longer she got up and walked out of the grounds. Then I fanned the +next two batters, and the last man hit a roller to Devlin and was thrown +out at first base. I was told afterwards that Mrs. Wilson stood outside +the ground, waiting to hear the crowd cheer, which would have told her it +was all over.</p> + +<p>She lingered at the gate until the fourteenth inning, fearing to return +because she expected to see us routed. At last she heard a groan from the +home crowd when we won in the fourteenth. Still she would not believe that +I had weathered the storm and won the game that gave the Giants a pennant, +but waited to be assured by some of the spectators leaving the grounds +before she came around to congratulate us.</p> + +<p>All batters who are good waiters, and will not hit at bad balls, are hard +to deceive, because it means a twirler has to lay the ball over, and then +the hitter always has the better chance. A pitcher will try to get a man +to hit at a bad ball before he will put it near the plate.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>Many persons have asked me why I do not use my “fade-away” oftener when it +is so effective, and the only answer is that every time I throw the +“fade-away” it takes so much out of my arm. It is a very hard ball to +deliver. Pitching it ten or twelve times in a game kills my arm, so I save +it for the pinches.</p> + +<p>Many fans do not know what this ball really is. It is a slow curve pitched +with the motion of a fast ball. But most curve balls break away from a +right-handed batter a little. The fade-away breaks toward him.</p> + +<p>Baker, of the Athletics, is one of the most dangerous hitters I have ever +faced, and we were not warned to look out for him before the 1911 world’s +series, either. Certain friends of the Giants gave us some “inside” +information on the Athletics’ hitters. Among others, the Cubs supplied us +with good tips, but no one spread the Baker alarm. I was told to watch out +for Collins as a dangerous man, one who was likely to break up a game any +time with a long drive.</p> + +<p>I consider Baker one of the hardest, cleanest hitters I have ever faced, +and he drives the ball on a line to any field. The fielders cannot play +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> him. He did not show up well in the first game of the world’s series +because the Athletics thought they were getting our signs, and we crossed +Baker with two men on the bases in the third inning. He lost a chance to +be a hero right there.</p> + +<p>The roughest deal that I got from Baker in the 1911 series was in the +third game, which was the second in New York. We had made one run and the +ninth inning rolled around with the Giants still leading, 1 to 0. The +first man at the bat grounded out and then Baker came up. I realized by +this time that he was a hard proposition, but figured that he could not +hit a low curve over the outside corner, as he is naturally a right-field +hitter. I got one ball and one strike on him and then delivered a ball +that was aimed to be a low curve over the outside corner. Baker refused to +swing at it, and Brennan, the umpire, called it a ball.</p> + +<p>I thought that it caught the outside corner of the plate, and that Brennan +missed the strike. It put me in the hole with the count two balls and one +strike, and I had to lay the next one over very near the middle to keep +the count from being three and one. I pitched a curve ball that was meant +for the outside corner, but cut the plate better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> than I intended. Baker +stepped up into it and smashed it into the grand-stand in right field for +a home run, and there is the history of that famous wallop. This tied the +score.</p> + +<p>A pitcher has two types of batters to face. One is the man who is always +thinking and guessing and waiting, trying to get the pitcher in the hole. +Evers, of the Cubs, is that sort. They tell me that “Ty” Cobb of Detroit +is the most highly developed of this type of hitter. I have never seen him +play. Then the other kind is the natural slugger, who does not wait for +anything, and who could not outguess a pitcher if he did. The brainy man +is the harder for a pitcher to face because he is a constant source of +worry.</p> + +<p>There are two ways of fooling a batter. One is literally to “mix ’em up,” +and the other is to keep feeding him the same sort of a ball, but to +induce him to think that something else is coming. When a brainy man is at +the bat, he is always trying to figure out what to expect. If he knows, +then his chances of getting a hit are greatly increased. For instance, if +a batter has two balls and two strikes on him, he naturally concludes that +the pitcher will throw him a curve ball, and prepares for it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> Big League +ball-players recognize only two kinds of pitched balls—the curve and the +straight one.</p> + +<p>When a catcher in the Big League signals for a curved ball, he means a +drop, and, after handling a certain pitcher for a time, he gets to know +just how much the ball is going to curve. That is why the one catcher +receives for the same pitcher so regularly, because they get to work +together harmoniously. “Chief” Meyers, the big Indian catcher on the +Giants, understands my style so well that in some games he hardly has to +give a sign. But, oddly enough, he could never catch Raymond because he +did not like to handle the spit ball, a hard delivery to receive, and +Raymond and he could not get along together as a battery. They would cross +each other. But Arthur Wilson caught Raymond almost perfectly. This +explains the loss of effectiveness of many pitchers when a certain catcher +is laid up or out of the game.</p> + +<p>“Cy” Seymour, formerly the outfielder of the Giants, was one of the +hardest batters I ever had to pitch against when he was with the +Cincinnati club and going at the top of his stride. He liked a curved +ball, and could hit it hard and far, and was always waiting for it. He was +very clever at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>out-guessing a pitcher and being able to conclude what was +coming. For a long time whenever I pitched against him I had “mixed ’em +up” literally, handing him first a fast ball and then a slow curve and so +on, trying to fool him in this way. But one day we were playing in +Cincinnati, and I decided to keep delivering the same kind of a ball, that +old fast one around his neck, and to try to induce him to believe that a +curve was coming. I pitched him nothing but fast ones that day, and he was +always waiting for a curve. The result was that I had him in the hole all +the time, and I struck him out three times. He has never gotten over it. +Only recently I saw Seymour, and he said:</p> + +<p>“Matty, you are the only man that ever struck me out three times in the +same game.”</p> + +<p>He soon guessed, however, that I was not really mixing them up, and then I +had to switch my style again for him.</p> + +<p>Some pitchers talk to batters a great deal, hoping to get their minds off +the game in this way, and thus be able to sneak strikes over. But I find +that talking to a batter disconcerts me almost as much as it does him, and +I seldom do it. Repartee is not my line anyway.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>Bender talked to the Giant players all through that first game in the 1911 +world’s series, the one in which he wore the smile, probably because he +was a pitcher old in the game and several of the younger men on the New +York team acted as if they were nervous. Snodgrass and the Indian kept up +a running fire of small talk every time that the Giants’ centre-fielder +came to the plate.</p> + +<p>Snodgrass got hit by pitched balls twice, and this seemed to worry Bender. +When the New York centre-fielder came to the bat in the eighth inning, the +Indian showed his even teeth in the chronic grin and greeted Snodgrass in +this way:</p> + +<p>“Look out, Freddie, you don’t get hit this time.”</p> + +<p>Then Bender wound up and with all his speed drove the ball straight at +Snodgrass’s head, and Bender had more speed in that first game than I ever +saw him use before. Snodgrass dodged, and the ball drove into Thomas’s +glove. This pitching the first ball at the head of a batter is an old +trick of pitchers when they think a player intends to get hit purposely or +that he is crowding the plate.</p> + +<p>“If you can’t push ’em over better than that,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> retorted Snodgrass, “I +won’t need to get hit. Let’s see your fast one now.”</p> + +<p>“Try this one,” suggested Bender, as he pitched another fast one that cut +the heart of the plate. Snodgrass swung and hit nothing but the air. The +old atmosphere was very much mauled by bats in that game anyway.</p> + +<p>“You missed that one a mile, Freddie,” chuckled the Indian, with his grin.</p> + +<p>Snodgrass eventually struck out and then Bender broke into a laugh.</p> + +<p>“You ain’t a batter, Freddie,” exclaimed the Indian, as he walked to the +bench. “You’re a backstop. You can never get anywhere without being hit.”</p> + +<p>If a pitcher is going to talk to a batter, he must size up his man. An +irritable, nervous young player often will fall for the conversation, but +most seasoned hitters will not answer back. The Athletics, other than +Bender, will not talk in a game. We tried to get after them in the first +contest in 1911, and we could not get a rise out of one of them, except +when Snodgrass spiked Baker, and I want to say right here that this much +discussed incident was accidental. Baker was blocking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Snodgrass out, and +the New York player had a perfect right to the base line.</p> + +<p>Sherwood Magee of the Philadelphia National League team is one of the +hardest batters that I ever have had to face, because he has a great eye, +and is of the type of free swingers who take a mad wallop at the ball, and +are always liable to break up a game with a long drive. Just once I talked +to him when he was at the bat, more because we were both worked up than +for any other reason, and he came out second best. It was while the Giants +were playing at American League Park in 1911 after the old Polo Grounds +had burned. Welchonce, who was the centre-fielder for the Phillies at the +time, hit a slow one down the first base line, and I ran over to field the +ball. I picked it up as the runner arrived and had no time to straighten +up to dodge him. So I struck out my shoulder and he ran into it. There was +no other way to make the play, but I guess it looked bad from the stand, +because Welchonce fell down.</p> + +<p>Magee came up to bat next, threw his hat on the ground, and started to +call me names. He is bad when irritated—and tolerably easy to irritate, +as shown by the way in which he knocked down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> Finnegan, the umpire, last +season because their ideas on a strike differed slightly. I replied on +that occasion, but remembered to keep the ball away from the centre of the +plate. That is about all I did do, but he was more wrought up than I and +hit only a slow grounder to the infield. He was out by several feet. He +took a wild slide at the bag, however, feet first, in what looked like an +attempt to spike Merkle. We talked some more after that, but it has all +been forgotten now.</p> + +<p>To be a successful pitcher in the Big League, a man must have the head and +the arm. When I first joined the Giants, I had what is known as the “old +round-house curve,” which is no more than a big, slow outdrop. I had been +fooling them in the minor leagues with it, and I was somewhat chagrined +when George Davis, then the manager of the club, came to me and told me to +forget the curve, as it would be of no use. It was then that I began to +develop my drop ball.</p> + +<p>A pitcher must watch all the time for any little unconscious motion before +he delivers the ball. If a base runner can guess just when he is going to +pitch, he can get a much better start. Drucke used to have a little motion +with his foot just <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>before he pitched, of which he himself was entirely +unconscious, but the other clubs got on to it and stole bases on him +wildly. McGraw has since broken him of it.</p> + +<p>The Athletics say that I make a motion peculiar to the fade-away. Some +spit-ball pitchers announce when they are going to throw a moist one by +looking at the ball as they dampen it. At other times, when they “stall,” +they do not look at the ball. The Big League batter is watching for all +these little things and, if a pitcher is not careful, he will find a lot +of men who are hard to pitch to. There are plenty anyway, and, as a man +grows older, this number increases season by season.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> +<h3>“Take Him Out”</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Many a Pitcher’s Heart has been Broken by the Cry from the Stands, +“Take Him Out”—Russell Ford of the New York Yankees was Once Beaten +by a Few Foolish Words Whispered into the Batter’s Ear at a Critical +Moment—Why “Rube” Marquard Failed for Two Years to be a Big +Leaguer—The Art of Breaking a Pitcher into Fast Company.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">A pitcher</span> is in a tight game, and the batter makes a hit. Another follows +and some fan back in the stand cries in stentorian tones:</p> + +<p>“Take him out!”</p> + +<p>It is the dirge of baseball which has broken the hearts of pitchers ever +since the game began and will continue to do so as long as it lives. +Another fan takes up the shout, and another, and another, until it is a +chorus.</p> + +<p>“Take him out! Take him out! Take him out!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>The pitcher has to grin, but that constant cry is wearing on nerves strung +to the breaking point. The crowd is against him, and the next batter hits, +and a run scores. The manager stops the game, beckons to the pitcher from +the bench, and he has to walk away from the box, facing the crowd—not the +team—which has beaten him. It is the psychology of baseball.</p> + +<p>Some foolish words once whispered into the ear of a batter by a clever +manager in the crisis of one of the closest games ever played in baseball +turned the tide and unbalanced a pitcher who had been working like a +perfectly adjusted machine through seven terrific innings. That is also +the “psychology of pitching.” The man wasn’t beaten because he weakened, +because he lost his grip, because of any physical deficiency, but because +some foolish words—words that meant nothing, had nothing to do with the +game—had upset his mental attitude.</p> + +<p>The game was the first one played between the Giants and the Yankees in +the post-season series of 1910, the batter was Bridwell, the manager was +John McGraw, and the pitcher, Russell Ford of the Yankees. The cast of +characters having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> been named, the story may now enter the block.</p> + +<p>Spectators who recall the game will remember that the two clubs had been +battling through the early innings with neither team able to gain an +advantage, and the Giants came to bat for the eighth inning with the score +a tie. Ford was pitching perfectly with all the art of a master craftsman. +Each team had made one run. I was the first man up and started the eighth +inning with a single because Ford slackened up a little against me, +thinking that I was not dangerous. Devore beat out an infield hit, and +Doyle bunted and was safe, filling the bases. Then Ford went to work. He +struck out Snodgrass, and Hemphill caught Murray’s fly far too near the +infield to permit me to try to score. It looked as if Ford were going to +get out of the hole when “Al” Bridwell, the former Giant shortstop, came +to the bat. Ford threw him two bad balls, and then McGraw ran out from the +bench, and, with an autocratic finger, held up the game while he whispered +into Bridwell’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Al” nodded knowingly, and the whole thing was a pantomime, a wordless +play, that made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> <i>Sumurun</i> look like a bush-league production. Bridwell +stepped back into the batter’s box, and McGraw returned to the bench. On +the next pitch, “Al” was hit in the leg and went to first base, forcing +the run that broke the tie across the plate. That run also broke Ford’s +heart. And here is what McGraw whispered into the attentive ear of +Bridwell:</p> + +<p>“How many quail did you say you shot when you were hunting last fall, Al?”</p> + +<p>John McGraw, the psychologist, baseball general and manager, had heard +opportunity knock. With his fingers on the pulse of the game, he had felt +the tenseness of the situation, and realized, all in the flash of an eye, +that Ford was wabbling and that anything would push him over. He stopped +the game and whispered into Bridwell’s ear while Ford was feeling more and +more the intensity of the crisis. He had an opportunity to observe the +three men on the bases. He wondered what McGraw was whispering, what trick +was to be expected. Was he telling the batter to get hit? Yes, he must be. +Then he did just that—hit the batter, and lost the game.</p> + +<p>Why can certain pitchers always beat certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> clubs and why do they look +like bush leaguers against others? To be concrete, why can Brooklyn fight +Chicago so hard and look foolish playing against the Giants? Why can the +Yankees take game after game from Detroit and be easy picking for the +Cleveland club in most of their games? Why does Boston beat Marquard when +he can make the hard Philadelphia hitters look like blind men with bats in +their hands? Why could I beat Cincinnati game after game for two years +when the club was filled with hard hitters? It is the psychology of +baseball, the mental attitudes of the players, some intangible thing that +works on the mind. Managers are learning to use this subtle, indescribable +element which is such a factor.</p> + +<p>The great question which confronts every Big League manager is how to +break a valuable young pitcher into the game. “Rube” Marquard came to the +Giants in the fall of 1908 out of the American Association heralded as a +world-beater, with a reputation that shimmered and shone. The newspapers +were crowded with stories of the man for whom McGraw had paid $11,000, who +had been standing them on their heads in the West, who had curves that +couldn’t be touched, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> was a bargain at the unheard-of price paid for +him.</p> + +<p>“Rube” Marquard came to the Giants in a burst of glory and publicity when +the club was fighting for the pennant. McGraw was up against it for +pitchers at that time, and one win, turned in by a young pitcher, might +have resulted in the Giants winning the pennant as the season ended.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think Marquard would win? Can’t you put him in?” Mr. Brush, the +owner of the club, asked McGraw one day when he was discussing the +pitching situation with the manager.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” answered McGraw. “If he wins his first time out in the Big +Leagues, he will be a world-beater, and, if he loses, it may cost us a +good pitcher.” But Mr. Brush was insistent. Here a big price had been paid +for a pitcher with a record, and pitchers were what the club needed. The +newspapers declared that the fans should get a look at this “$11,000 +beauty” in action. A double header was scheduled to be played with the +Cincinnati club in the month of September, in 1908, and the pitching staff +was gone. McGraw glanced over his collection of crippled and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> worked-out +twirlers. Then he saw “Rube” Marquard, big and fresh.</p> + +<p>“Go in and pitch,” he ordered after Marquard had warmed up.</p> + +<p>McGraw always does things that way, makes up his mind about the most +important matters in a minute and then stands by his judgment. Marquard +went into the box, but he didn’t pitch much. He has told me about it +since.</p> + +<p>“When I saw that crowd, Matty,” he said, “I didn’t know where I was. It +looked so big to me, and they were all wondering what I was going to do, +and all thinking that McGraw had paid $11,000 for me, and now they were to +find out whether he had gotten stuck, whether he had picked up a gold +brick with the plating on it very thin. I was wondering, myself, whether I +would make good.”</p> + +<p>What Marquard did that day is a matter of record, public property, like +marriage and death notices. Kane, the little rightfielder on the +Cincinnati club, was the first man up, and, although he was one of the +smallest targets in the league, Marquard hit him. He promptly stole +second, which worried “Rube” some more. Up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> came Lobert, the man who broke +Marquard’s heart.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll see,” said Lobert to “Rube,” as he advanced to the plate, +“whether you’re a busher.” Then Lobert, the tantalizing Teuton with the +bow-legs, whacked out a triple to the far outfield and stopped at third +with a mocking smile on his face which would have gotten the late Job’s +goat.</p> + +<p>“You’re identified,” said “Hans”; “you’re a busher.”</p> + +<p>Some fan shouted the fatal “Take him out.” Marquard was gone. Bescher +followed with another triple, and, after that, the official scorer got +writer’s cramp trying to keep track of the hits and runs. The number of +hits, I don’t think, ever was computed with any great amount of +exactitude. Marquard was taken out of the box in the fifth inning, and he +was two years recovering from the shock of that beating. McGraw had put +him into the game against his better judgment, and he paid for it dearly.</p> + +<p>Marquard had to be nursed along on the bench finishing games, starting +only against easy clubs, and learning the ropes of the Big Leagues before +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>he was able to be a winning pitcher. McGraw was a long time realizing +on his investment. All Marquard needed was a victory, a decisive win, over +a strong club.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i041.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center"><small>Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio</small></p> +<p class="center"><strong>Ty Cobb and Hans Wagner</strong></p> +<p class="note">“An American and National League star of the first magnitude. Fans of the +rival leagues never tire of discussing the relative merits of these two +great players. Both are always willing to take a chance, and seem to do +their best work when pressed hardest.”</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>The Giants played a disastrous series with the Philadelphia club early in +July, 1911, and lost four games straight. All the pitchers were shot to +pieces, and the Quakers seemed to be unbeatable. McGraw was at a loss for +a man to use in the fifth game. The weather was steaming hot, and the +players were dragged out, while the pitching staff had lost all its +starch. As McGraw’s eye scanned his bedraggled talent, Marquard, reading +his thoughts, walked up to him.</p> + +<p>“Give me a chance,” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Go in,” answered McGraw, again making up his mind on the spur of the +moment. Marquard went into the game and made the Philadelphia batters, +whose averages had been growing corpulent on the pitching of the rest of +the staff, look foolish. There on that sweltering July afternoon, when +everything steamed in the blistering heat, a pitcher was being born again. +Marquard had found himself, and, for the rest of the season, he was +strongest against the Philadelphia team,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> for it had been that club which +restored his confidence.</p> + +<p>There is a sequel to that old Lobert incident, too. In one of the last +series in Philadelphia, toward the end of the season, Marquard and Lobert +faced each other again. Said Marquard:</p> + +<p>“Remember the time, you bow-legged Dutchman, when you asked me whether I +was a busher? Here is where I pay you back. This is the place where you +get a bad showing up.”</p> + +<p>And he fanned Lobert—whiff! whiff! whiff!—like that. He became the +greatest lefthander in the country, and would have been sooner, except for +the enormous price paid for him and the widespread publicity he received, +which caused him to be over-anxious to make good. It’s the psychology of +the game.</p> + +<p>“You can’t hit what you don’t see,” says “Joe” Tinker of Marquard’s +pitching. “When he throws his fast one, the only way you know it’s past +you is because you hear the ball hit the catcher’s glove.”</p> + +<p>Fred Clarke, of the Pittsburg club, was up against the same proposition +when he purchased “Marty” O’Toole for $22,500 in 1911. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> newspapers of +the country were filled with figures and pictures of the real estate and +automobiles that could be bought with the same amount of money, lined up +alongside of pictures of O’Toole, as when the comparative strengths of the +navies of the world are shown by placing different sizes of battleships in +a row, or when the length of the <i>Lusitania</i> is emphasized by printing a +picture of it balancing gracefully on its stern alongside the Singer +Building.</p> + +<p>Clarke realized that he had all this publicity with which to contend, and +that it would do his expensive new piece of pitching bric-à-brac no good. +O’Toole, jerked out of a minor league where he had been pitching quietly, +along with his name in ten or a dozen papers, was suddenly a national +figure, measuring up in newspaper space with Roosevelt and Taft and J. +Johnson.</p> + +<p>When O’Toole joined the Pirates near the end of the season, Clarke knew +down in his heart the club had no chance of winning the pennant with +Wagner hurt, although he still publicly declared he was in the race. He +did not risk jumping O’Toole right into the game as soon as he reported +and taking the chance of breaking his heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> Opposing players, if they +are up in the pennant hunt, are hard on a pitcher of this sort and would +lose no opportunity to mention the price paid for him and connect it +pointedly with his showing, if that showing was a little wobbly. Charity +begins at home, and stays there, in the Big Leagues. At least, I never saw +any of it on the ball fields, especially if the club is in the race, and +the only thing that stands between it and a victory is the ruining of a +$22,500 pitcher of a rival.</p> + +<p>Clarke nursed O’Toole along on the bench for a couple of weeks until he +got to be thoroughly acclimated, and then he started him in a game against +Boston, the weakest club in the league, after he had sent for Kelly, +O’Toole’s regular catcher, to inspire more confidence. O’Toole had an easy +time of it at his Big League début, for the Boston players did not pick on +him any to speak of, as they were not a very hard bunch of pickers. The +Pittsburg team gave him a nice comfortable, cosy lead, and he was pitching +along ahead of the game all the way. In the fifth or sixth inning Clarke +slipped Gibson, the regular Pittsburg catcher, behind the bat, and O’Toole +had won his first game in the Big League before he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> knew it. He then +reasoned I have won here. I belong here. I can get along here. It isn’t +much different from the crowd I came from, except for the name, and that’s +nothing to get timid about if I can clean up as easily as I did to-day.</p> + +<p>Fred Clarke, also a psychologist and baseball manager, had worked a +valuable pitcher into the League, and he had won his first game. If he had +started him against some club like the Giants, for instance, where he +would have had to face a big crowd and the conversation and spirit of +players who were after a pennant and hot after it, he might have lost and +his heart would have been broken. Successfully breaking into the game an +expensive pitcher, who has cost a club a large price, is one of the +hardest problems which confronts a manager. Now O’Toole is all right if he +has the pitching goods. He has taken his initial plunge, and all he has to +do is to make good next year. The psychology element is eliminated from +now on.</p> + +<p>I have been told that Clarke was the most relieved man in seven counties +when O’Toole came through with that victory in Boston.</p> + +<p>“I had in mind all the time,” said Fred, “what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> happened to McGraw when he +was trying to introduce Marquard into the smart set, and I was afraid the +same thing would happen to me. I had a lot of confidence in the nerve of +that young fellow though, because he stood up well under fire the first +day he got into Pittsburg. One of those lady reporters was down to the +club offices to meet him the morning he got into town, and they always +kind of have me, an old campaigner, stepping away from the plate. She +pulled her pad and pencil on Marty first thing, before he had had a chance +to knock the dirt out of his cleats, and said:</p> + +<p>“‘Now tell me about yourself.’</p> + +<p>“He stepped right into that one, instead of backing away.</p> + +<p>“‘What do you want me to tell?’ he asks her.</p> + +<p>“Then I knew he was all right. He was there with the ‘come-back.’”</p> + +<p>But the ideal way to break a star into the Big League is that which marked +the entrance of Grover Cleveland Alexander, of the Philadelphia club. The +Cincinnati club had had its eye on Alexander for some time, but “Tacks” +Ashenbach, the scout, now dead, had advised against him, declaring that he +would be no good against “regular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> batters.” Philadelphia got him at the +waiver price and he was among the lot in the newspapers marked “Those who +also joined.” He started out in 1911 and won two or three games before +anyone paid any attention to him. Then he kept on winning until one +manager was saying to another:</p> + +<p>“That guy, Alexander, is a hard one to beat.”</p> + +<p>He had won ten or a dozen games before it was fully realized that he was a +star. Then he was so accustomed to the Big League he acted as if he had +been living in it all his life, and there was no getting on his nerves. +When he started, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. If he +didn’t last, the newspapers wouldn’t laugh at him, and the people wouldn’t +say:</p> + +<p>“$11,000, or $22,500, for a lemon.” That’s the dread of all ball players.</p> + +<p>Such is the psychology of introducing promising pitchers into the Big +Leagues. The Alexander route is the ideal one, but it’s hard to get stars +now without paying enormous prices for them. Philadelphia was lucky.</p> + +<p>There is another element which enters into all forms of athletics. Tennis +players call it nervousness, and ball players, in the frankness of the +game,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> call it a “yellow streak.” It is the inability to stand the gaff, +the weakening in the pinches. It is something ingrained in a man that +can’t be cured. It is the desire to quit when the situation is serious. It +is different from stage fright, because a man may get over that, but a +“yellow streak” is always with him. When a new player breaks into the +League, he is put to the most severe test by the other men to see if he is +“yellow.” If he is found wanting, he is hopeless in the Big League, for +the news will spread, and he will receive no quarter. It is the cardinal +sin in a ball player.</p> + +<p>For some time after “Hans” Wagner’s poor showing in the world’s series of +1903, when the Pittsburg club was defeated for the World’s Championship by +the Boston American League club, it was reported that he was “yellow.” +This grieved the Dutchman deeply, for I don’t know a ball player in either +league who would assay less quit to the ton than Wagner. He is always +there and always fighting. Wagner felt the inference which his team mates +drew very keenly. This was the real tragedy in Wagner’s career. +Notwithstanding his stolid appearance, he is a sensitive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> player, and this +hurt him more than anything else in his life ever has.</p> + +<p>When the Pittsburg club played Detroit in 1909 for the championship of the +world, many, even of Wagner’s admirers, said, “The Dutchman will quit.” It +was in this series he vindicated himself. His batting scored the majority +of the Pittsburg runs, and his fielding was little short of wonderful. He +was demonstrating his gameness. Many men would have quit under the +reflection. They would have been unable to withstand the criticism, but +not Wagner.</p> + +<p>Many persons implied that John Murray, the rightfielder on the Giants, was +“yellow” at the conclusion of the 1911 world’s series because, after +batting almost three hundred in the season, he did not get a hit in the +six games. But there isn’t a man on the team gamer. He hasn’t any nerves. +He’s one of the sort of ball players who says:</p> + +<p>“Well, now I’ve got my chew of tobacco in my mouth. Let her go.”</p> + +<p>There is an interesting bit of psychology connected with Wagner and the +spit-ball. It comes as near being Wagner’s “groove” as any curve that has +found its way into the Big Leagues. This<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> is explained by the fact that +the first time Wagner ever faced “Bugs” Raymond he didn’t get a hit with +Arthur using the spitter. Consequently the report went around the circuit +that Wagner couldn’t hit the spit-ball. He disproved this theory against +two or three spit-ball pitchers, but as long as Raymond remained in the +League he had it on the hard-hitting Dutchman.</p> + +<p>“Here comes a ‘spitter,’ Hans. Look out for it,” Raymond would warn +Wagner, with a wide grin, and then he would pop up a wet one.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll repeat on that dose, Hans; you didn’t like that one.”</p> + +<p>And Wagner would get so worked up that he frequently struck out against +“Bugs” when the rest of his club was hitting the eccentric pitcher hard. +It was because he achieved the idea on the first day he couldn’t hit the +spit-ball, and he wasn’t able to rid his mind of the impression. Many fans +often wondered why Raymond had it on Wagner, the man whose only “groove” +is a base on balls. “Bugs” had the edge after that first day when Wagner +lost confidence in his ability to hit the spit-ball as served by Raymond.</p> + +<p>In direct contrast to this loss of confidence on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> Wagner’s part was the +incident attendant upon Arthur Devlin’s début into the Big League. He had +joined the club a youngster, in the season of 1904, and McGraw had not +counted upon him to play third base, having planned to plant Bresnahan at +that corner. But Bresnahan developed sciatic rheumatism early in the +season, and Devlin was put on the bag in the emergency with a great deal +of misgiving.</p> + +<p>The first day he was in the game he came up to the bat with the bases +full. The Giants were playing Brooklyn at the Polo Grounds, and two men +had already struck out, with the team two runs behind. Devlin came out +from the bench.</p> + +<p>“Who is this youthful-looking party?” one fan asked another, as they +scanned their score cards.</p> + +<p>“Devlin, some busher, taking Bresnahan’s place,” another answered.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s all off now,” was the general verdict.</p> + +<p>The crowd settled back, and one could feel the lassitude in the +atmosphere. But Devlin had his first chance to make good in a pinch. There +was no weariness in his manner. Poole, the Brooklyn pitcher, showing less +respect than he should have for the newcomer in baseball society, spilled +one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> over too near the middle, and Arthur drove out a home run, winning +the game. Those who had refused to place any confidence in him only a +moment before, were on their feet cheering wildly now. And Devlin played +third base for almost eight years after that, and none thought of +Bresnahan and his rheumatism until he began catching again. Devlin, after +that home run, was oozing confidence from every pore and burned up the +League with his batting for three years. He got the old confidence from +his start. The fans had expected nothing from him, and he had delivered. +He had gained everything. He had made the most dramatic play in baseball +on his first day, a home run with the bases full.</p> + +<p>When Fred Snodgrass first started playing as a regular with the Giants +about the middle of the season of 1910, he hit any ball pitched him hard +and had all the fans marvelling at his stick work. He believed that he +could hit anything and, as long as he retained that belief, he could.</p> + +<p>But the Chalmers Automobile Company had offered a prize of one nice, +mild-mannered motor car to the batter in either league who finished the +season with the biggest average.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>Snodgrass was batting over four hundred at one time and was ahead of them +all when suddenly the New York evening papers began to publish the daily +averages of the leaders for the automobile, boosting Snodgrass. It +suddenly struck Fred that he was a great batter and that to keep his place +in that daily standing he would have to make a hit every time he went to +the plate. These printed figures worried him. His batting fell off +miserably until, in the post season series with the Yankees, he gave one +of the worst exhibitions of any man on the team. The newspapers did it.</p> + +<p>“They got me worrying about myself,” he told me once. “I began to think +how close I was to the car and had a moving picture of myself driving it. +That settled it.”</p> + +<p>Many promising young players are broken in their first game in the Big +League by the ragging which they are forced to undergo at the hands of +veteran catchers. John Kling is a very bad man with youngsters, and +sometimes he can get on the nerves of older players in close games when +the nerves are strung tight. The purpose of a catcher in talking to a man +in this way is to distract his attention from batting, and once this is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>accomplished he is gone. A favorite trick of a catcher is to say to a new +batter:</p> + +<p>“Look out for this fellow. He’s got a mean ‘bean’ ball, and he hasn’t any +influence over it. There’s a poor ‘boob’ in the hospital now that stopped +one with his head.”</p> + +<p>Then the catcher signs for the pitcher to throw the next one at the young +batter’s head. If he pulls away, an unpardonable sin in baseball, the dose +is repeated.</p> + +<p>“Yer almost had your foot in the water-pail over by the bench that time,” +says the catcher.</p> + +<p>Bing! Up comes another “beaner.” Then, after the catcher has sized the new +man up, he makes his report.</p> + +<p>“He won’t do. He’s yellow.”</p> + +<p>And the players keep mercilessly after this shortcoming, this ingrained +fault which, unlike a mechanical error, cannot be corrected until the new +player is driven out of the League. Perhaps the catcher says:</p> + +<p>“He’s game, that guy. No scare to him.”</p> + +<p>After that he is let alone. It’s the psychology of batting.</p> + +<p>Once, when I first broke into the League, Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> Chesbro, then with +Pittsburg, threw a fast one up, and it went behind my head, although I +tried to dodge back. He had lots of speed in those days, too. It set me +wondering what would have happened if the ball had hit me. The more I +thought, the more it struck me that it would have greatly altered my face +had it gotten into the course of the ball. Ever afterwards, he had it on +me, and, for months, a fast one at the head had me backing away from the +plate.</p> + +<p>In contrast to this experience of mine was the curing of “Josh” Devore, +the leftfielder of the Giants, of being bat shy against left-handers. +Devore has always been very weak at the bat with a southpaw in the box, +dragging his right foot away from the plate. This was particularly the +case against “Slim” Sallee, the tenuous southpaw of the St. Louis +Nationals. Finally McGraw, exasperated after “Josh” had struck out twice +in one day, said:</p> + +<p>“That fellow hasn’t got speed enough to bend a pane of glass at the home +plate throwing from the box, and you’re pullin’ away as if he was shooting +them out of a gun. It’s a crime to let him beat you. Go up there the next +time and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> get hit, and see if he can hurt you. If you don’t get hit, +you’re fined $10.”</p> + +<p>Devore, who is as fond of $10 as the next one, went to the bat and took +one of Sallee’s slants in a place where it would do the least damage. He +trotted to first base smiling.</p> + +<p>“What’d I tell you?” asked McGraw, coaching. “Could he hurt you?”</p> + +<p>“Say,” replied “Josh,” “I’d hire out to let them pitch baseballs at me if +none could throw harder than that guy.”</p> + +<p>Devore was cured of being bat shy when Sallee was pitching, right then and +there, and he has improved greatly against all left-handers ever since, so +much so that McGraw leaves him in the game now when a southpaw pitches, +instead of placing Beals Becker in left field as he used to. All Devore +needed was the confidence to stand up to the plate against them, to rid +his mind of the idea that, if once he got hit, he would leave the field +feet first. That slam in the slats which Sallee handed him supplied the +confidence.</p> + +<p>When Devore was going to Philadelphia for the second game of the world’s +series in the fall of 1911, the first one in the other town, he was +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>introduced to “Ty” Cobb, the Detroit out-fielder, by some newspaper man +on the train, and, as it was the first time Devore had ever met Cobb, he +sat down with him and they talked all the way over.</p> + +<p>“Gee,” said “Josh” to me, as we were getting off the train, “that fellow +Cobb knows a lot about batting. He told me some things about the American +League pitchers just now, and he didn’t know he was doing it. I never let +on. But I just hope that fellow Plank works to-day, if they think that I +am weak against left-handers. Say, Matty, I could write a book about that +guy and his ‘grooves’ now, after buzzing Cobb, and the funny thing is he +didn’t know he was telling me.”</p> + +<p>Plank pitched that day and fanned Devore four times out of a possible +four. “Josh” didn’t even get a foul off him.</p> + +<p>“Thought you knew all about that fellow,” I said to Devore after the game.</p> + +<p>“I’ve learned since that Cobb and he are pretty thick,” replied “Josh,” +“and I guess ‘Ty’ was giving me a bad steer.”</p> + +<p>It was evident that Cobb had been filling “Josh” up with misinformation +that was working around in Devore’s mind when he went to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> plate to +face Plank, and, instead of being open to impressions, these wrong +opinions had already been planted and he was constantly trying to confirm +them. Plank was crossing him all the time, and, being naturally weak +against left-handers, this additional handicap made Devore look foolish.</p> + +<p>In the well-worn words of Mr. Dooley, it has been my experience “to trust +your friends, but cut the cards.” By that, I mean one ball player will +often come to another with a tip that he really thinks worth while, but +that avails nothing in the end. A man has to be a pretty smart ball player +to dispense accurate information about others, because the Big Leaguers +know their own “grooves” and are naturally trying to cover them up. Then a +batter may be weak against one pitcher on a certain kind of a ball, and +may whale the same sort of delivery, with a different twist to it, out of +the lot against another.</p> + +<p>That was the experience I had with “Ed” Delehanty, the famous slugger of +the old Philadelphia National League team, who is now dead. During my +first year in the League several well-meaning advisers came to me and +said:</p> + +<p>“Don’t give ‘Del’ any high fast ones because,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> if you do, you will just +wear your fielders out worse than a George M. Cohan show does the chorus. +They will think they are in a Marathon race instead of a ball game.”</p> + +<p>Being young, I took this advice, and the first time I pitched against +Delehanty, I fed him curved balls. He hit these so far the first two times +he came to bat that one of the balls was never found, and everybody felt +like shaking hands with Van Haltren, the old Giant outfielder, when he +returned with the other, as if he had been away on a vacation some place. +In fact, I had been warned against giving any of this Philadelphia team of +sluggers high fast ones, and I had been delivering a diet of curves to all +of them which they were sending to the limits of the park and further, +with great regularity. At last, when Delehanty came to the bat for the +third time in the game, Van Haltren walked into the box from the outfield +and handed the ball to me, after he had just gone to the fence to get it. +Elmer Flick had hit it there.</p> + +<p>“Matty,” he pleaded, “for the love of Mike, slip this fellow a base on +balls and let me get my wind.”</p> + +<p>Instead I decided to switch my style, and I fed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> Delehanty high fast ones, +the dangerous dose, and he struck out then and later. He wasn’t expecting +them and was so surprised that he couldn’t hit the ball. Only two of the +six balls at which he struck were good ones. I found out afterwards that +the tradition about not delivering any high fast balls to the Philadelphia +hitters was the outgrowth of the old buzzer tipping service, established +in 1899, by which the batters were informed what to expect by Morgan +Murphy, located in the clubhouse with a pair of field-glasses and his +finger on a button which worked a buzzer under the third-base coaching +box. The coacher tipped the batter off what was coming and the +signal-stealing device had worked perfectly. The hitters had all waited +for the high fast ones in those days, as they can be hit easier if a man +knows that they are coming, and can also be hit farther.</p> + +<p>But, after the buzzer had been discovered and the delivery of pitchers +could not be accurately forecast, this ability to hit high fast ones +vanished, but not the tradition. The result was that this Philadelphia +club was getting a steady diet of curves and hitting them hard, not +expecting anything else. When I first pitched against <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>Delehanty, his +reputation as a hitter gave him a big edge on me. Therefore I was willing +to take any kind of advice calculated to help me, but eventually I had to +find out for myself. If I had taken a chance on mixing them up the first +time he faced me, I still doubt if he would have made those two long hits, +but it was his reputation working in my mind and the idea that he ate up +high fast balls that prevented me from taking the risk.</p> + +<p>Each pitcher has to find out for himself what a man is going to hit. It’s +all right to take advice at first, but, if this does not prove to be the +proper prescription, it’s up to him to experiment and not continue to feed +him the sort of balls that he is hitting.</p> + +<p>Reputations count for a great deal in the Big Leagues. Cobb has a record +as being a great base runner, and I believe that he steals ten bases a +season on this reputation. The catcher knows he is on the bag, realizes +that he is going to steal, fears him, hurries his throw, and, in his +anxiety, it goes bad. Cobb is safe, whereas, if he had been an ordinary +runner with no reputation, he would probably have been thrown out. +Pitchers who have made names for themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> in the Big Leagues, have a +much easier time winning as a consequence.</p> + +<p>“All he’s got to do is to throw his glove into the box to beat that club,” +is an old expression in baseball, which means that the opposing batters +fear the pitcher and that his reputation will carry him through if he has +nothing whatever on the ball.</p> + +<p>Newspapers work on the mental attitude of Big League players. This has +been most marked in Cincinnati, and I believe that the local newspapers +have done as much as anything to keep a pennant away from that town. When +the team went south for the spring practice, the newspapers printed +glowing reports of the possibilities of the club winning the pennant, but, +when the club started to fall down in the race, they would knock the men, +and it would take the heart out of the players. Almost enough good players +have been let go by the Cincinnati team to make a world’s championship +club. There are Donlin, Seymour, Steinfeldt, Lobert and many more. Ball +players inhale the accounts printed in the newspapers, and a correspondent +with a grouch has ruined the prospects of many a good player and club. The +New York newspapers, first by the great amount<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> of publicity given to his +old record, and then by criticising him for not making a better showing, +had a great deal to do with Marquard failing to make good the first two +years he was in New York, as I have shown.</p> + +<p>A smart manager in the Big League is always working to keep his valuable +stars in the right frame of mind. On the last western trip the Giants made +in the season of 1911, when they won the pennant by taking eighteen games +out of twenty-two games, McGraw refused to permit any of the men to play +cards. He realized that often the stakes ran high and that the losers +brooded over the money which they lost and were thinking of this rather +than the game when on the ball field. It hurt their playing, so there were +no cards. He also carried “Charley” Faust, the Kansas Jinx killer, along +to keep the players amused and because it was thought that he was good +luck. It helped their mental attitude.</p> + +<p>The treatment of a new player when he first arrives is different now from +what it was in the old days. Once there was a time when the veteran looked +upon the recruit with suspicion and the feeling that he had come to take +his job and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> bread and butter from him. If a young pitcher was put +into the box, the old catcher would do all that he could to irritate him, +and many times he would inform the batters of the other side what he was +going to throw.</p> + +<p>“He’s tryin’ to horn my friend Bill out of a job,” I have heard catchers charge against a youngster.</p> + +<p>This attitude drove many a star ball player back to the minors because he +couldn’t make good under the adverse circumstances, but nothing of the +sort exists now. Each veteran does all that he can to help the youngster, +realizing that on the younger generation depends the success of the club, +and that no one makes any money by being on a loser. Travelling with a +tail-end ball club is the poorest pastime in the world. I would rather +ride in the first coach of a funeral procession.</p> + +<p>The youngster is treated more courteously now when he first arrives. In +the old days, the veterans of the club sized up the recruit and treated +him like a stranger for days, which made him feel as if he were among +enemies instead of friends, and, as a result, it was much harder for him +to make good. Now all hands make him a companion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> from the start, unless +he shows signs of being unusually fresh.</p> + +<p>There is a lot to baseball in the Big Leagues besides playing the game. No +man can have a “yellow streak” and last. He must not pay much attention to +his nerves or temperament. He must hide every flaw. It’s all part of the +psychology of baseball. But the saddest words of all to a pitcher are +three—“Take Him Out.”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> +<h3>Pitching in a Pinch</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Many Pitchers Are Effective in a Big League Ball Game until that +Heart-Breaking Moment Arrives Known as the “Pinch”—It Is then that +the Man in the Box is Put to the Severest Test by the Coachers and +the Players on the Bench—Victory or Defeat Hangs on his Work in that +Inning—Famous “Pinches.”</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">In</span> most Big League ball games, there comes an inning on which hangs +victory or defeat. Certain intellectual fans call it the crisis; college +professors, interested in the sport, have named it the psychological +moment; Big League managers mention it as the “break,” and pitchers speak +of the “pinch.”</p> + +<p>This is the time when each team is straining every nerve either to win or +to prevent defeat. The players and spectators realize that the outcome of +the inning is of vital importance. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> in most of these pinches, the real +burden falls on the pitcher. It is at this moment that he is “putting all +he has” on the ball, and simultaneously his opponents are doing everything +they can to disconcert him.</p> + +<p>Managers wait for this break, and the shrewd league leader can often time +it. Frequently a certain style of play is adopted to lead up to the pinch, +then suddenly a slovenly mode of attack is changed, and the team comes on +with a rush in an effort to break up the game. That is the real test of a +pitcher. He must be able to live through these squalls.</p> + +<p>Two evenly matched clubs have been playing through six innings with +neither team gaining any advantage. Let us say that they are the Giants +and the Chicago Cubs. Suddenly the Chicago pitcher begins to weaken in the +seventh. Spectators cannot perceive this, but McGraw, the Giants’ manager, +has detected some crack. All has been quiet on the bench up to this +moment. Now the men begin to fling about sweaters and move around, one +going to the water cooler to get a drink, another picking up a bat or two +and flinging them in the air, while four or five prospective<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> hitters are +lined up, swinging several sticks apiece, as if absolutely confident that +each will get his turn at the plate.</p> + +<p>The two coachers on the side lines have become dancing dervishes, waving +sweaters and arms wildly, and shouting various words of discouragement to +the pitcher which are calculated to make his job as soft as a bed of +concrete. He has pitched three balls to the batter, and McGraw vehemently +protests to the umpire that the twirler is not keeping his foot on the +slab. The game is delayed while this is discussed at the pitcher’s box and +the umpire brushes off the rubber strip with a whisk broom.</p> + +<p>There is a kick against these tactics from the other bench, but the damage +has been done. The pitcher passes the batter, forgets what he ought to +throw to the next man, and cannot get the ball where he wants it. A base +hit follows. Then he is gone. The following batter triples, and, before +another pitcher can be warmed up, three or four runs are across the plate, +and the game is won. That explains why so many wise managers keep a +pitcher warming up when the man in the box is going strong.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>It is in the pinch that the pitcher shows whether or not he is a Big +Leaguer. He must have something besides curves then. He needs a head, and +he has to use it. It is the acid test. That is the reason so many men, who +shine in the minor leagues, fail to make good in the majors. They cannot +stand the fire.</p> + +<p>A young pitcher came to the Giants a few years ago. I won’t mention his +name because he has been pitching good minor-league ball since. He was a +wonder with the bases empty, but let a man or two get on the sacks, and he +wouldn’t know whether he was in a pitcher’s box or learning aviation in +the Wright school, and he acted a lot more like an aviator in the crisis. +McGraw looked him over twice.</p> + +<p>“He’s got a spine like a charlotte russe,” declared “Mac,” after his +second peek, and he passed him back to the bushes.</p> + +<p>Several other Big League managers, tempted by this man’s brilliant record +in the minors, have tried him out since, but he has always gone back. +McGraw’s judgment of the man was correct.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Otis Crandall came to the New York club a few years ago +a raw country boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> from Indiana. I shall never forget how he looked the +first spring I saw him in Texas. The club had a large number of recruits +and was short of uniforms. He was among the last of the hopefuls to arrive +and there was no suit for him, so, in a pair of regular trousers with his +coat off, he began chasing flies in the outfield. His head hung down on +his chest, and, when not playing, a cigarette drooped out of the corner of +his mouth. But he turned out to be a very good fly chaser, and McGraw +admired his persistency.</p> + +<p>“What are you?” McGraw asked him one day.</p> + +<p>“A pitcher,” replied Crandall. Two words constitute an oration for him.</p> + +<p>“Let’s see what you’ve got,” said McGraw.</p> + +<p>Crandall warmed up, and he didn’t have much of anything besides a sweeping +outcurve and a good deal of speed. He looked less like a pitcher than any +of the spring crop, but McGraw saw something in him and kept him. The +result is he has turned out to be one of the most valuable men on the +club, because he is there in a pinch. He couldn’t be disturbed if the +McNamaras tied a bomb to him, with a time fuse on it set for “at once.” He +is the sort of pitcher who is best when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> things look darkest. I’ve heard +the crowd yelling, when he has been pitching on the enemy’s ground, so +that a sixteen-inch gun couldn’t have been heard if it had gone off in the +lot.</p> + +<p>“That crowd was making some noise,” I’ve said to Crandall after the +inning.</p> + +<p>“Was it?” asked Otie. “I didn’t notice it.”</p> + +<p>One day in 1911, he started a game in Philadelphia and three men got on +the bases with no one out, along about the fourth or fifth inning. He shut +them out without a run. It was the first game he had started for a long +while, his specialty having been to enter a contest, after some other +pitcher had gotten into trouble, with two or three men on the bases and +scarcely any one out. After he came to the bench with the threatening +inning behind him, he said to me:</p> + +<p>“Matty, I didn’t feel at home out there to-day until a lot of people got +on the bases. I’ll be all right now.” And he was. I believe that Crandall +is the best pitcher in a pinch in the National League and one of the most +valuable men to a team, for he can play any position and bats hard. +Besides being a great pinch pitcher, he can also hit in a crush, and won +many games for the Giants in 1911 that way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>Very often spectators think that a pitcher has lost his grip in a pinch, +when really he is playing inside baseball. A game with Chicago in Chicago +back in 1908 (not the famous contest that cost the Giants a championship; +I did not have any grip at all that day; but one earlier in the season) +best illustrates the point I want to bring out. Mordecai Brown and I were +having a pitchers’ duel, and the Giants were in the lead by the score of 1 +to 0 when the team took the field for the ninth inning.</p> + +<p>It was one of those fragile games in which one run makes a lot of +difference, the sort that has a fringe of nervous prostration for the +spectators. Chance was up first in the ninth and he pushed a base hit to +right field. Steinfeldt followed with a triple that brought Chance home +and left the run which would win the game for the Cubs on third base. The +crowd was shouting like mad, thinking I was done. I looked at the hitters, +waiting to come up, and saw Hofman and Tinker swinging their bats in +anticipation. Both are dangerous men, but the silver lining was my second +look, which revealed to me Kling and Brown following Hofman and Tinker.</p> + +<p>Without a second’s hesitation, I decided to pass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> both Hofman and Tinker, +because the run on third base would win the game anyway if it scored, and +with three men on the bags instead of one, there would be a remote chance +for a triple play, besides making a force out at the plate possible. +Remember that no one was out at this time. Kling and Brown had always been +easy for me.</p> + +<p>When I got two balls on Hofman, trying to make him hit at a bad one, the +throng stood up in the stand and tore splinters out of the floor with its +feet. And then I passed Hofman. The spectators misunderstood my motive.</p> + +<p>“He’s done. He’s all in,” shouted one man in a voice which was one of the +carrying, persistent, penetrating sort. The crowd took the cry up and +stamped its feet and cheered wildly.</p> + +<p>Then I passed Tinker, a man, as I have said before, who has had a habit of +making trouble for me. The crowd quieted down somewhat, perhaps because it +was not possible for it to cheer any louder, but probably because the +spectators thought that now it would be only a matter of how many the Cubs +would win by. The bases were full, and no one was out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>But that wildly cheering crowd had worked me up to greater effort, and I +struck Kling out and then Brown followed him back to the bench for the +same reason. Just one batter stood between me and a tied score now. He was +John Evers, and the crowd having lost its chortle of victory, was begging +him to make the hit which would bring just one run over the plate. They +were surprised by my recuperation after having passed two men. Evers +lifted a gentle fly to left field and the three men were left on the +bases. The Giants eventually won that game in the eleventh inning by the +score of 4 to 1.</p> + +<p>But that system doesn’t always work. Often I have passed a man to get a +supposedly poor batter up and then had him bang out a base hit. My first +successful year in the National League was 1901, although I joined the +Giants in the middle of the season of 1900. The Boston club at that time +had a pitcher named “Kid” Nichols who was a great twirler. The first two +games I pitched against the Boston club were against this man, and I won +the first in Boston and the second in New York, the latter by the score of +2 to 1.</p> + +<p>Both teams then went west for a three weeks’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> trip, and when the Giants +returned a series was scheduled with Boston at the Polo Grounds. There was +a good deal of speculation as to whether I would again beat the veteran +“Kid” Nichols, and the newspapers, discussing the promised pitching duel, +stirred up considerable enthusiasm over it. Of course, I, the youngster, +was eager to make it three straight over the veteran. Neither team had +scored at the beginning of the eighth inning. Boston runners got on second +and third bases with two out, and Fred Tenney, then playing first base on +the Boston club, was up at the bat. He had been hitting me hard that day, +and I decided to pass him and take a chance on “Dick” Cooley, the next +man, and a weak batter. So Tenney got his base on balls, and the sacks +were full.</p> + +<p>Two strikes were gathered on Cooley, one at which he swung and the other +called, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on my excellent +judgment, which was really counting my chickens while they were still in +the incubator. I attempted to slip a fast one over on Cooley and got the +ball a little too high. The result was that he stepped into it and made a +three base hit which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> eventually won the game by the score of 3 to 0. That +was once when passing a man to get a weak batter did not work.</p> + +<p>I have always been against a twirler pitching himself out, when there is +no necessity for it, as so many youngsters do. They burn them through for +eight innings and then, when the pinch comes, something is lacking. A +pitcher must remember that there are eight other men in the game, drawing +more or less salary to stop balls hit at them, and he must have confidence +in them. Some pitchers will put all that they have on each ball. This is +foolish for two reasons.</p> + +<p>In the first place, it exhausts the man physically and, when the pinch +comes, he has not the strength to last it out. But second and more +important, it shows the batters everything that he has, which is +senseless. A man should always hold something in reserve, a surprise to +spring when things get tight. If a pitcher has displayed his whole +assortment to the batters in the early part of the game and has used all +his speed and his fastest breaking curve, then, when the crisis comes, he +“hasn’t anything” to fall back on.</p> + +<p>Like all youngsters, I was eager to make a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> record during my first year in +the Big League, and in one of the first games I pitched against Cincinnati +I made the mistake of putting all that I had on every ball. We were +playing at the Polo <ins class="correction" title="original: Crounds">Grounds</ins>, and the Giants had the visitors beaten 2 to +0, going into the last inning. I had been popping them through, trying to +strike out every hitter and had not held anything in reserve. The first +man to the bat in the ninth got a single, the next a two bagger, and by +the time they had stopped hitting me, the scorer had credited the +Cincinnati club with four runs, and we lost the game, 4 to 2.</p> + +<p>I was very much down in the mouth over the defeat, after I had the game +apparently won, and George Davis, then the manager of the Giants, noticed +it in the clubhouse.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Matty,” he said, “it was worth it. The game ought to teach +you not to pitch your head off when you don’t need to.”</p> + +<p>It did. I have never forgotten that lesson. Many spectators wonder why a +pitcher does not work as hard as he can all through the game, instead of +just in the pinches. If he did, they argue, there would be no pinches. But +there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> would be, and, if the pitcher did not conserve his energy, the +pinches would usually go against him.</p> + +<p>Sometimes bawling at a man in a pinch has the opposite effect from that +desired. Clarke Griffith, recently of Cincinnati, has a reputation in the +Big Leagues for being a bad man to upset a pitcher from the coacher’s box. +Off the field he is one of the decentest fellows in the game, but, when +talking to a pitcher, he is very irritating. I was working in a game +against the Reds in Cincinnati one day, just after he had been made +manager of the club, and Griffith spent the afternoon and a lot of breath +trying to get me going. The Giants were ahead, 5 to 1, at the beginning of +the seventh. In the Cincinnati half of that inning, “Mike” Mitchell +tripled with the bases full and later tallied on an outfield fly which +tied the score. The effect this had on Griffith was much the same as that +of a lighted match on gasolene.</p> + +<p>“Now, you big blond,” he shouted at me, “we’ve got you at last.”</p> + +<p>I expected McGraw to take me out, as it looked in that inning as if I was +not right, but he did not, and I pitched along up to the ninth with the +score still tied and with Griffith, the carping critic, on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> the side +lines. We failed to count in our half, but the first Cincinnati batter got +on the bases, stole second, and went to third on a sacrifice. He was there +with one out.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where we get you,” chortled Griffith. “This is the point at which +you receive a terrible showing up.”</p> + +<p>I tried to get the next batter to hit at bad balls, and he refused, so +that I lost him. I was afraid to lay the ball over the plate in this +crisis, as a hit or an outfield fly meant the game. Hoblitzell and +Mitchell, two of Griffith’s heaviest batters, were scheduled to arrive at +the plate next.</p> + +<p>“You ought to be up, Mike,” yelled the Cincinnati manager at Mitchell, who +was swinging a couple of sticks preparatory to his turn at the bat. “Too +bad you won’t get a lick, old man, because Hobby’s going to break it up +right here.”</p> + +<p>Something he said irritated me, but, instead of worrying me, it made me +feel more like pitching. I seldom talk to a coacher, but I turned to +Griffith and said:</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring Mike up, and we’ll see what he can do.”</p> + +<p>I deliberately passed Hoblitzell without even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> giving him a chance to hit +at a single ball. It wasn’t to make a grand stand play I did this, but +because it was baseball. One run would win the game anyway, and, with more +men on the bases, there were more plays possible. Besides Hoblitzell is a +nasty hitter, and I thought that I had a better chance of making Mitchell +hit the ball on the ground, a desirable thing under the conditions.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mike,” urged Griffith, as Mitchell stepped up to the plate, “go as +far as you like. Blot up the bases, old boy. This blond is gone.”</p> + +<p>That sort of talk never bothers me. I had better luck with Mitchell than I +had hoped. He struck out. The next batter was easy, and the Giants won the +game in the tenth inning. According to the newspaper reports, I won +twenty-one or twenty-two games before Cincinnati beat me again, so it can +be seen that joshing in pinches is not effective against all pitchers. A +manager must judge the temperament of his victim. But Griffith has never +stopped trying to rag me. In 1911, when the Giants were west on their +final trip, I was warming up in Cincinnati before a game, and he was +batting out flies near me. He would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> talk to me between each ball he hit +to the outfield.</p> + +<p>“Got anything to-day, Matty?” he asked. “Guess there ain’t many games left +in you. You’re getting old.”</p> + +<p>When I broke into the National League, the Brooklyn club had as bad a +bunch of men to bother a pitcher as I ever faced. The team had won the +championship in 1900, and naturally they were all pretty chesty. When I +first began to play in 1901, this crowd—Kelly, Jennings, Keeler and +Hanlon—got after me pretty strong. But I seemed to get pitching +nourishment out of their line of conversation and won a lot of games. At +last, so I have been told, Hanlon, who was the manager, said to his +conversational ball players:</p> + +<p>“Lay off that Mathewson kid. Leave him alone. He likes the chatter you +fellows spill out there.”</p> + +<p>They did not bother me after that, but this bunch spoiled many a promising +young pitcher.</p> + +<p>Speaking of sizing up the <ins class="correction" title="original: temperameut">temperament</ins> of batters and pitchers in a pinch, +few persons realize that it was a little bit of carelessly placed +conversation belonging to “Chief” Bender, the Indian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> pitcher on the +Athletics, that did as much as anything to give the Giants the first game +in the 1911 world’s series.</p> + +<p>“Josh” Devore, the left-fielder on the New York team, is an in-and-out +batter, but he is a bulldog in a pinch and is more apt to make a hit in a +tight place than when the bases are empty. And he is quite as likely to +strike out. He is the type of ball player who cannot be rattled. With +“Chief” Myers on second base, the score tied, and two out, Devore came to +the bat in the seventh inning of the first game.</p> + +<p>“Look at little ‘Josh,’” said Bender, who had been talking to batters all +through the game.</p> + +<p>Devore promptly got himself into the hole with two strikes and two balls +on him, but a little drawback like that never worries “Josh.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to pitch you a curved ball over the outside corner,” shouted +Bender as he wound up.</p> + +<p>“I know it, Chief,” replied “Josh,” and he set himself to receive just +that sort of delivery.</p> + +<p>Up came the predicted curve over the outside corner. “Josh” hit it to left +field for two bases, and brought home the winning run. Bender evidently +thought that, by telling Devore what he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> was actually going to pitch, he +would make him think he was going to cross him.</p> + +<p>“I knew it would be a curve ball,” Devore told me after the game. “With +two and two, he would be crazy to hand me anything else. When he made that +crack, I guessed that he was trying to cross me by telling the truth. +Before he spoke, I wasn’t sure which corner he was going to put it over, +but he tipped me.”</p> + +<p>Some batters might have been fooled by those tactics. It was taking a +chance in a pinch, and Bender lost.</p> + +<p>Very few of the fans who saw this first game of the 1911 world’s series +realize that the “break” in that contest came in the fifth inning. The +score was tied, with runners on second and third bases with two out, when +“Eddie” Collins, the fast second baseman of the Athletics, and a dangerous +hitter, came to the bat. I realized that I was skating on thin ice and was +putting everything I had on the ball. Collins hit a slow one down the +first base line, about six feet inside the bag.</p> + +<p>With the hit, I ran over to cover the base, and Merkle made for the ball, +but he had to get directly in my line of approach to field it. Collins, +steaming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> down the base line, realized that, if he could get the decision +at first on this hit, his team would probably win the game, as the two +other runners could score easily. In a flash, I was aware of this, too.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take it,” yelled Merkle, as he stopped to pick up the ball.</p> + +<p>Seeing Merkle and me in front of him, both heavy men, Collins knew that he +could not get past us standing up. When still ten or twelve feet from the +bag, he slid, hoping to take us unawares and thus avoid being touched. He +could then scramble to the bag. As soon as he jumped, I realized what he +hoped to do, and, fearing that Merkle would miss him, I grabbed the first +baseman and hurled him at Collins. It was an old-fashioned, football +shove, Merkle landing on Collins and touching him out. A great many of the +spectators believed that I had interfered with Merkle on the play. As a +matter of fact, I thought that it was the crisis of the game and knew +that, if Collins was not put out, we would probably lose. That football +shove was a brand new play to me in baseball, invented on the spur of the +second, but it worked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>In minor leagues, there are fewer games in which a “break” comes. It does +not develop in all Big League contests by any means. Sometimes one team +starts to win in the first inning and simply runs away from the other club +all the way. But in all close games the pinch shows up.</p> + +<p>It happens in many contests in the major leagues because of the almost +perfect baseball played. Depending on his fielders, a manager can play for +this “break.” And when the pinch comes, it is a case of the batter’s nerve +against the pitcher’s.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> +<h3>Big League Pitchers and Their Peculiarities.</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Nearly Every Pitcher in the Big Leagues Has Some Temperamental or +Mechanical Flaw which he is Constantly Trying to Hide, and which +Opposing Batters are always Endeavoring to Uncover—The Giants Drove +Coveleski, the Man who Beat them out of a Pennant, Back to the Minor +Leagues by Taunting him on One Sore Point—Weaknesses of Other +Stars.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Like</span> great artists in other fields of endeavor, many Big League pitchers +are temperamental. “Bugs” Raymond, “Rube” Waddell, “Slim” Sallee, and +“Wild Bill” Donovan are ready examples of the temperamental type. The +first three are the sort of men of whom the manager is never sure. He does +not know, when they come into the ball park, whether or not they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> in +condition to work. They always carry with them a delightful atmosphere of +uncertainty.</p> + +<p>In contrast to this eccentric group, there are those with certain +mechanical defects in their pitching of which opposing clubs take +advantage. Last comes the irritable, nervous box artist who must have +things just so, even down to the temperature, before he can work +satisfactorily.</p> + +<p>“As delicate as prima donnas,” says John McGraw of this variety.</p> + +<p>He speaks of the man who loses his love for his art when his shirt is too +tight or a toe is sore. This style, perhaps, is the most difficult for a +manager to handle, unless it is the uncertain, eccentric sort.</p> + +<p>As soon as a new pitcher breaks into the Big Leagues, seven clubs are +studying him with microscopic care to discover some flaw in his physical +style or a temperamental weakness on which his opponents can play. +Naturally, if the man has such a “groove,” his team mates are endeavoring +to hide it, but it soon leaks out and becomes general gossip around the +circuit. Then the seven clubs start aiming at this flaw, and oftentimes +the result is that a promising young pitcher, because he has some one +definite weakness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> goes back to the minors. A crack in the temperament is +the worst. Mechanical defects can usually be remedied when discovered.</p> + +<p>Few baseball fans know that the Giants drove a man back to the minor +leagues who once pitched them out of a pennant. The club was tipped off to +a certain, unfortunate circumstance in the twirler’s early life which left +a lasting impression on his mind. The players never let him forget this +when he was in a game, and it was like constantly hitting him on a boil.</p> + +<p>Coveleski won three games for the Philadelphia National League club from +the Giants back in 1908, when one of these contests would have meant a +pennant to the New York club and possibly a world’s championship. That was +the season the fight was decided in a single game with the Chicago Cubs +after the regular schedule had been played out. Coveleski was hailed as a +wonder for his performance.</p> + +<p>Just after the season closed, “Tacks” Ashenbach, the scout for the +Cincinnati club, now dead, and formerly a manager in the league where +Coveleski got his start, came to McGraw and laughed behind his hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>“Mac,” he said, “I’m surprised you let that big Pole beat you out of a +championship. I can give you the prescription to use every time that he +starts working. All you have to do is to imitate a snare drum.”</p> + +<p>“What are you trying to do—kid me?” asked McGraw, for he was still +tolerably irritable over the outcome of the season.</p> + +<p>“Try it,” was Ashenbach’s laconic reply.</p> + +<p>The result was that the first game Coveleski started against the Giants +the next season, there was a chorus of “rat-a-tat-tats” from the bench, +with each of the coachers doing a “rat-a-tat-tat” solo, for we decided, +after due consideration, this was the way to imitate a snare drum. We +would have tried to imitate a calliope if we had thought that it would +have done any good against this pitcher.</p> + +<p>“I’ll hire a fife and drum corps if the tip is worth anything,” declared +McGraw.</p> + +<p>“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!” came the chorus as Coveleski wound up to +pitch the first ball. It went wide of the plate.</p> + +<p>“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!” it was repeated all through the inning. +When Coveleski walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> to the Philadelphia bench at the end of the first +round, after the Giants had made three runs off him, he looked over at us +and shouted:</p> + +<p>“You think you’re smart, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!” was the only reply. But now we knew we had +him. When a pitcher starts to talk back, it is a cinch that he is +irritated. So the deadly chorus was kept up in volleys, until the umpire +stopped us, and then it had to be in a broken fire, but always there was +the “Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!” When Coveleski looked at McGraw +coaching on third base, the manager made as if to beat a snare drum, and +as he glanced at Latham stationed at first, “Arlie” would reply with the +“rat-a-tat-tat.”</p> + +<p>The team on the bench sounded like a fife and drum corps without the +fifes, and Coveleski got no peace. In the fourth inning, after the game +had been hopelessly lost by the Philadelphia club, Coveleski was taken +out. We did not understand the reason for it, but we all knew that we had +found Coveleski’s “groove” with that “rat-a-tat-tat” chorus. The man who +had beaten the New York club out of a pennant never won another game +against the Giants.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>“Say,” said McGraw to “Tacks” Ashenbach the next time the club was in +Cincinnati, “there are two things I want to ask you. First, why does that +‘rat-a-tat-tat’ thing get under Coveleski’s skin so badly, and, second, +why didn’t you mention it to us when he was beating the club out of a +championship last fall?”</p> + +<p>“Never thought of it,” asserted Ashenbach. “Just chanced to be telling +stories one day last winter about the old times in the Tri-State, when +that weakness of Coveleski’s happened to pop into my mind. Thought maybe +he was cured.”</p> + +<p>“Cured!” echoed McGraw. “Only way he could be cured of that is to poison +him. But tip me. Why is it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, this is the way I heard it,” answered Ashenbach. “When he was a +coal miner back in Shamokin, Pennsylvania, he got stuck on some Jane who +was very fond of music. Everybody who was any one played in the Silver +Cornet Band down in Melodeon Hall on Thursday nights. The girl told +Coveleski that she couldn’t see him with an X-ray unless he broke into the +band.</p> + +<p>“‘But I can’t play any instrument,’ said the Pole.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>“‘Well, get busy and learn, and don’t show around here until you have,’ +answered the girl.</p> + +<p>“Now Coveleski had no talent for music, so he picked out the snare drum as +his victim and started practising regularly, getting some instruction from +the local bandmaster. After he had driven all the neighbors pretty nearly +crazy, the bandmaster said he would give him a show at the big annual +concert, when he tried to get all the pieces in his outfit that he could. +Things went all right until it was time for Coveleski to come along with a +little bit on the snare drum, and then he was nowhere in the neighborhood. +He didn’t even swing at it. But later, when the leader waved for a solo +from the fiddle, Coveleski mistook it for his hit-and-run sign and came in +so strong on the snare drum that no one could identify the fiddle in the +mixup.</p> + +<p>“The result was that the leader asked for waivers on old Coveleski very +promptly, and the girl was not long in following suit. That snare drum +incident has been the sore point in his makeup ever since.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d known it last fall about the first of September,” declared +McGraw.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>But the real snapper came later when the Cincinnati club was whipsawed on +the information. In a trade with Philadelphia, Griffith got Coveleski for +Cincinnati along with several other players. Each game he started against +us he got the old “rat-a-tat-tat.” Griffith protested to the umpires, but +it is impossible to stop a thing of that sort even though the judges of +play did try.</p> + +<p>The Pole did not finish another game against the Giants until his last in +the Big League. One day we were hitting him near and far, and the +“rat-a-tat-tat” chorus was only interrupted by the rattle of the bats +against the ball, when he looked in at the bench to see if Griffith wanted +to take him out, for it was about his usual leaving time.</p> + +<p>“Stay in there and get it,” shouted back Griff.</p> + +<p>Coveleski did. He absorbed nineteen hits and seventeen runs at the hands +of the Giants, this man who had taken a championship of the National +League away from us.</p> + +<p>That night Griffith asked for waivers on him, and he left the Big Leagues +for good. He was a good twirler, except for that one flaw, which cost him +his place in the big show. There is little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> mercy among professional ball +players when a game is at stake, especially if the man has taken a +championship away from a team by insisting upon working out of his turn, +so he can win games that will benefit his club not a scintilla.</p> + +<p>Mordecai Brown, the great pitcher of the Chicago Cubs and the man who did +more than any other one player to bring four National League pennants and +two world’s championships to that club, has a physical deformity which has +turned out to be an advantage. Many years ago, Brown lost most of the +first finger of his right hand in an argument with a feed cutter, said +finger being amputated at the second joint; while his third finger is +shorter than it should be, because a hot grounder carried part of it away +one day. In some strange way, Brown has achieved wonders with this +crippled hand. It is on account of the missing finger that he is called +“Three Fingered” Brown, and he is better known by that appellation than by +his real name.</p> + +<p>Brown beat the Giants a hard game one day in 1911, pitching against me. He +had a big curve, lots of speed, and absolute control. The Giants<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> could +not touch him. Next day McGraw was out warming up with Arthur Wilson, the +young catcher on the club.</p> + +<p>“Wonder if he gets any new curve with that short first finger?” said +McGraw, and thereupon crooked his own initial digit and began trying to +throw the ball in different ways off it to see what the result would be. +Finally he decided:</p> + +<p>“No, I guess he doesn’t get anything extra with the abbreviated finger, +but that’s lucky for you fellows, because, if I thought he did, I’d have a +surgeon out here to-morrow operating on the first fingers of each of you +pitchers.”</p> + +<p>Brown is my idea of the almost perfect pitcher He is always ready to work. +It is customary for most managers in the Big Leagues to say to a man on +the day he is slated to pitch:</p> + +<p>“Well, how do you feel to-day? Want to work?”</p> + +<p>Then if the twirler is not right, he has a chance to say so. But Brown +always replies:</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m ready.”</p> + +<p>He likes to pitch and is in chronic condition. It will usually be found at +the end of a season that he has taken part in more games than any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> other +pitcher in the country. He held the Chicago pitching staff together in +1911.</p> + +<p>“Three Fingered” Brown is a finished pitcher in all departments of the +game. Besides being a great worker, he is a wonderful fielder and sure +death on bunts. He spends weeks in the spring preparing himself to field +short hits in the infield, and it is fatal to try to bunt against him. He +has perfected and used successfully for three years a play invented by +“Joe” McGinnity, the former Giant pitcher. This play is with men on first +and second bases and no one out or one out. The batter tries to sacrifice, +but instead of fielding the ball to first base, which would advance the +two base runners as intended, Brown makes the play to third and thus +forces out the man nearest the plate. This is usually successful unless +the bunt is laid down perfectly along the first base line, so that the +ball cannot be thrown to third base.</p> + +<p>The Cubs have always claimed it was this play which broke the Detroit +club’s heart in the world’s series in 1908, and turned the tide so that +the Cubs took the championship. The American League team was leading in +the first game, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> runners were on first and second bases, “Ty” Cobb +being on the middle sack. It was evident that the batter would try to +sacrifice. Brown walked over to Steinfeldt, playing third base, pulling +out a chew of tobacco as he went.</p> + +<p>“No matter what this guy does or where he hits it, stick to your bag,” +ordered Brown.</p> + +<p>Then he put the chew of tobacco in his mouth, a sign which augurs ill for +his opponents, and pitched a low one to the batter, a perfect ball to +bunt. He followed the pitch through and was on top of the plate as the +batter laid it down. The ball rolled slowly down the third base line until +Brown pounced on it. He whirled and drove the ball at Steinfeldt, getting +Cobb by a foot. That play carried Detroit off its feet, as a sudden +reversal often will a ball club, when things are apparently breaking for +it. Cobb, the Tigers’ speed flash, had been caught at third base on an +attempted sacrifice, an unheard of play, and, from that point on, the +American Leaguers wilted, according to the stories of Chance and his men.</p> + +<p>It is Brown’s perfect control that has permitted catchers like Kling and +Archer to make such great records as throwers. This pitcher can afford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to +waste a ball—that is, pitch out so the batter cannot hit it, but putting +the catcher in a perfect position to throw—and then he knows he can get +the next one over. A catcher’s efficiency as a thrower depends largely on +the pitcher’s ability to have good enough control of the ball to be able +to pitch out when it is necessary. Brown helps a catcher by the way in +which he watches the bases, not permitting the runners to take any lead on +him. All around, I think that he is one of the most finished pitchers of +the game.</p> + +<p>Russell Ford, of the New York American League club, has a hard pitching +motion because he seems to throw a spit ball with a jerk. He cannot pitch +more than one good game in four or five days. McGraw had detected this +weakness from watching the Highlanders play before the post-season series +in 1910, and took advantage of it.</p> + +<p>“If Ford pitches to-day,” said McGraw to his team in the clubhouse before +the first game, “wait everything out to the last minute. Make him pitch +every ball you can.”</p> + +<p>McGraw knew that the strain on Ford’s arm would get him along toward the +end of the game. In the eighth inning the score was tied when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> Devore came +to the bat. No crack in Ford was perceptible to the rest of us, but McGraw +must have detected some slight sign of weakening. He stopped “Josh” on the +way to the plate and ordered:</p> + +<p>“Now go ahead and get him.”</p> + +<p>By the time the inning was over, the Giants had made four runs, and +eventually won the game by the score of 5 to 1. McGraw just played for +this flaw in Ford’s pitching, and hung his whole plan of battle on the +chance of it showing.</p> + +<p>“Old Cy” Young has the absolutely perfect pitching motion. When he jumped +from the National League to the Boston American League club some years +ago, during the war times, many National League players thought that he +was through.</p> + +<p>“What,” said Fred Clarke, the manager of the Pittsburg club, “you American +Leaguers letting that old boy make good in your set? Why, he was done when +he jumped the National. He’d lost his speed.”</p> + +<p>“But you ought to see his curve ball,” answered “Bill” Dineen, then +pitching for the Boston Americans.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>“Curve ball,” echoed Clarke. “He never had any curve that it didn’t take a +microscope to find. He depended on his speed.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s got one now,” replied Dineen.</p> + +<p>Clarke had a chance to look at the curve ball later, for, with Dineen, +Young did a lot toward winning the world’s championship for Boston from +Pittsburg in 1903. The old pitcher was wise enough to realize, when he +began to lose his speed, that he would have to develop a curve ball or go +back to the minors, and he set to work and produced a peach. He is still +pitching—for the National League now—and he will win a lot of games yet. +When he came back in 1911, the American Leaguers said:</p> + +<p>“What, going to let that old man in your show again? He’s done.”</p> + +<p>Maybe he will yet figure in another world’s championship. One never can +tell. Anyway, he has taken a couple of falls out of Pittsburg just for +good luck since he came back to the National League.</p> + +<p>Some pitchers depend largely on their motions to fool batters. “Motion +pitchers” they might be called. Such an elaborate wind-up is developed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +that it is hard for a hitter to tell when and from where the ball is +coming. “Slim” Sallee of the St. Louis Nationals hasn’t any curve to +mention and he lacks speed, but he wins a lot of ball games on his motion.</p> + +<p>“It’s a crime,” says McGraw, “to let a fellow like that beat you. Why, he +has so little on the ball that it looks like one of those Salome dancers +when it comes up to the plate, and actually makes me blush.”</p> + +<p>But Sallee will take a long wind-up and shoot one off his shoe tops and +another from his shoulder while he is facing second base. He has good +control, has catalogued the weaknesses of the batters, and can work the +corners. With this capital, he was winning ball games for the Cardinals in +1911 until he fell off the water wagon. He is different from Raymond in +that respect. When he is on the vehicle, he is on it, and, when he is off, +he is distinctly a pedestrian.</p> + +<p>The way the Giants try to beat Sallee is to get men on the bases, because +then he has to cut down his motion or they will run wild on him. As soon +as a runner gets on the bag with Sallee pitching, he tries to steal to +make “Slim” reduce that long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> winding motion which is his greatest asset. +But Sallee won several games from the Giants last season because we could +not get enough men on the bases to beat him. He only gave us four or five +hits per contest.</p> + +<p>For a long time, “Josh” Devore, the Giants’ left-fielder, was “plate shy” +with left-handers—that is, he stepped away—and all the pitchers in the +League soon learned of this and started shooting the first ball, a fast +one, at his head to increase his natural timidity. Sallee, in particular, +had him scared.</p> + +<p>“Stand up there,” said McGraw to “Josh” one day when Sallee was pitching, +“and let him hit you. He hasn’t speed enough to hurt you.”</p> + +<p>“Josh” did, got hit, and found out that what McGraw said was true. It +cured him of being afraid of Sallee.</p> + +<p>As getting men on the bases decreases Sallee’s effectiveness, even if he +is a left-hander, so it increases the efficiency of “Lefty” Leifield of +Pittsburg. The Giants never regard Sallee as a left-hander with men on the +bases. Most southpaws can keep a runner close to the bag because they are +facing first base when in a position to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> pitch, but Sallee cannot. On the +other hand, Leifield uses almost exactly the same motion to throw to first +base as to pitch to the batter. These two are so nearly alike that he can +change his mind after he starts and throw to the other place.</p> + +<p>He keeps men hugging the bag, and it is next to impossible to steal bases +on him. If he gets his arm so far forward in pitching to the batter that +he cannot throw to the base, he can see a man start and pitch out so the +catcher has a fine chance to get the runner at second. If the signal is +for a curved ball, he can make it a high curve, and the catcher is in +position to throw. Leifield has been working this combination pitch either +to first base or the plate for years, and the motion for each is so +similar that even the umpires cannot detect it and never call a balk on +him.</p> + +<p>A busher broke into the League with the Giants one fall and was batting +against Pittsburg. There was a man on first base and Leifield started to +pitch to the plate, saw by a quick glance that the runner was taking too +large a lead, and threw to first. The youngster swung at the ball and +started to run it out. Every one laughed.</p> + +<p>“What were you trying to do?” asked McGraw.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>“I hit the ball,” protested the bush leaguer. That is how perfect +Leifield’s motion is with men on the bases. But most of his effectiveness +resides in that crafty motion.</p> + +<p>Many New York fans will remember “Dummy” Taylor, the deaf and dumb pitcher +of the Giants. He won ball games for the last two years he was with the +club on his peculiar, whirling motion, but as soon as men got on the bases +and he had to cut it down, McGraw would take him out. That swing and his +irresistible good nature are still winning games in the International +League, which used to be the Eastern.</p> + +<p>So if a pitcher expects to be a successful Big Leaguer, he must guard +against eccentricities of temperament and mechanical motion. As I have +said, Drucke of the Giants for a long time had a little movement with his +foot which indicated to the runner when he was going to pitch, and they +stole bases wildly on him. But McGraw soon discovered that something was +wrong and corrected it. The armor of a Big Leaguer must be impenetrable, +for there are seven clubs always looking for flaws in the manufacture, and +“every little movement has a meaning of its own.”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> +<h3>Playing the Game from the Bench</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Behind Every Big League Ball Game there Is a Master Mind which +Directs the Moves of the Players—How McGraw Won Two Pennants for the +Giants from the “Bench” and Lost One by Giving the Players Too Much +Liberty—The Methods of “Connie” Mack and Other Great Leaders</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">The</span> bench! To many fans who see a hundred Big League ball games each +season, this is a long, hooded structure from which the next batter +emerges and where the players sit while their club is at bat. It is also +the resort of the substitutes, manager, mascot and water cooler.</p> + +<p>But to the ball player it is the headquarters. It is the place from which +the orders come, and it is here that the battle is planned and from here +the moves are executed. The manager sits here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> and pulls the wires, and +his players obey him as if they were manikins.</p> + +<p>“The batteries for to-day’s game,” says the umpire, “will be Sallee and +Bresnahan for St. Louis; Wiltse and Meyers for New York.”</p> + +<p>“Bunt,” says McGraw as his players scatter to take their positions on the +field. He repeats the order when they come to the bat for the first +inning, because he knows that Sallee has two weaknesses, one being that he +cannot field bunts and the other that a great deal of activity in the box +tires him out so that he weakens. A bunting game hits at both these flaws. +As soon as Bresnahan observes the plan of battle, he arranges his players +to meet the attack; draws in his third baseman, shifts the shortstop more +down the line toward third base, and is on the alert himself to gather in +slow rollers just in front of the plate. The idea is to give Sallee the +minimum opportunity to get at the ball and reduce his fielding +responsibilities to nothing or less. There is one thing about Sallee’s +style known to every Big League manager. He is not half as effective with +men on the bases, for he depends largely on his deceptive motion to fool +the batters, and when he has to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> cut this down because runners are on the +bases, his pitching ability evaporates.</p> + +<p>After the old Polo Grounds had been burned down in the spring of 1911, we +were playing St. Louis at American League Park one Saturday afternoon, and +the final returns of the game were about 19 to 5 in our favor, as near as +I can remember. We made thirteen runs in the first inning. Many spectators +went away from the park talking about a slaughter and a runaway score and +so on. That game was won in the very first inning when Sallee went into +the box to pitch, and McGraw had murmured that mystic word “Bunt!”</p> + +<p>The first batters bunted, bunted, bunted in monotonous succession. Sallee +not yet in very good physical condition because it was early in the +season, was stood upon his head by this form of attack. Bresnahan redraped +his infield to try to stop this onslaught, and then McGraw switched.</p> + +<p>“Hit it,” he directed the next batter.</p> + +<p>A line drive whistled past Mowrey’s ears, the man who plays third base on +the Cardinals. He was coming in to get a bunt. Another followed. The break +had come. Bresnahan removed Sallee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> and put another pitcher into the box, +but once a ball club starts to hit the ball, it is like a skidding +automobile. It can’t be stopped. The Giants kept on and piled up a +ridiculous and laughable score, which McGraw had made possible in the +first inning by directing his men to bunt.</p> + +<p>The Giants won the championship of the National League in 1904 and the New +York fans gave the team credit for the victory. It was a club of young +players, and McGraw realized this fact when he started his campaign. Every +play that season was made from the bench, made by John McGraw through his +agents, his manikins, who moved according to the wires which he pulled. +And by the end of the summer his hands were badly calloused from pulling +wires, but the Giants had the pennant.</p> + +<p>When the batter was at the plate in a critical stage, he would stall and +look to the “bench” for orders to discover whether to hit the ball out or +lay it down, whether to try the hit and run, or wait for the base runner +to attempt to steal. By stalling, I mean that he would tie his shoe or fix +his belt, or find any little excuse to delay the game so that he could get +a flash at the “bench”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> for orders. A shoe lace has played an important +role in many a Big League battle, as I will try to show later on in this +story. If it ever became the custom to wear button shoes, the game would +have to be revised.</p> + +<p>As the batter looked toward the bench, McGraw might reach for his +handkerchief to blow his nose, and the batter knew it was up to him to hit +the ball out. Some days in that season of 1904 I saw McGraw blow his nose +during a game until it was red and sore on the end, and then another day, +when he had a cold in his head, he had to do without his handkerchief +because he wanted to play a bunting game. Until his cold got better, he +had to switch to another system of signs.</p> + +<p>During that season, each coacher would keep his eye on the bench for +orders. Around McGraw revolved the game of the Giants. He was the game. +And most of that summer he spent upon the bench, because from there he +could get the best look at the diamond, and his observations were not +confined to one place or to one base runner. He was able to discover +whether an out-fielder was playing too close for a batter, or too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> far +out, and rearrange the men. He could perhaps catch a sign from the +opposing catcher and pass it along to the batter. And he won the pennant +from the bench. He was seldom seen on the coaching lines that year.</p> + +<p>Many fans wonder why, when the Giants get behind in a game, McGraw takes +to the bench, after having been out on the coaching lines inning after +inning while the club was holding its own or winning. Time and again I +have heard him criticised for this by spectators and even by players on +other clubs.</p> + +<p>“McGraw is ‘yellow,’” players have said to me. “Just as soon as his club +gets behind, he runs for cover.”</p> + +<p>The crime of being “yellow” is the worst in the Big Leagues. It means that +a man is afraid, that he lacks the nerve to face the music. But McGraw and +“yellow” are as far apart as the poles, or Alpha and Omega, or Fifth +Avenue and the Bowery, or any two widely separated and distant things. I +have seen McGraw go on to ball fields where he is as welcome as a man with +the black smallpox and face the crowd alone that, in the heat of its +excitement, would like to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> tear him apart. I have seen him take all sorts +of personal chances. He doesn’t know what fear is, and in his bright +lexicon of baseball there is no such word as “fear.” His success is partly +due to his indomitable courage.</p> + +<p>There is a real reason for his going to the bench when the team gets +behind. It is because this increases the club’s chances of winning. From +the bench he can see the whole field, can note where his fielders are +playing, can get a peek at the other bench, and perhaps pick up a tip as +to what to expect. He can watch his own pitcher, or observe whether the +opposing twirler drops his throwing arm as if weary. He is at the helm +when “on the bench,” and, noting any flaw in the opposition, he is in a +position to take advantage of it at a moment’s notice, or, catching some +sign of faltering among his own men, he is immediately there to strengthen +the weakness. Many a game he has pulled out of the fire by going back to +the bench and watching. So the idea obtained by many spectators that he is +quitting is the wrong one. He is only fighting harder.</p> + +<p>The Giants were playing Pittsburg one day in the season of 1909, and +Clarke and McGraw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> had been having a great guessing match. It was one of +those give-and-take games with plenty of batting, with one club forging +ahead and then the other. Clarke had saved the game for Pittsburg in the +sixth inning by a shoe-string. Leifield had been pitching up to this +point, and he wasn’t there or even in the neighborhood. But still the +Pirates were leading by two runs, having previously knocked Ames out of +the box. Doyle and McCormick made hits with no one out in our half of the +sixth.</p> + +<p>It looked like the “break,” and McGraw was urging his players on to even +up the score, when Clarke suddenly took off his sun glasses in left field +and stooped down to tie his shoe. When he removes his sun-glasses that is +a sign for a pitcher to warm up in a hurry, and “Babe” Adams sprinted to +the outfield with a catcher and began to heat up. Clarke took all of five +minutes to tie that shoe, McGraw violently protesting against the delay in +the meantime. Fred Clarke has been known to wear out a pair of shoe laces +in one game tying and untying them. After the shoe was fixed up, he jogged +slowly to the bench and took Leifield out of the box.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> In the interim, +Adams had had an opportunity to warm up, and Clarke raised his arm and +ordered him into the box. He fanned the next two men, and the last batter +hit an easy roller to Wagner. We were still two runs to the bad after that +promising start in the sixth, and Clarke, for the time being, had saved +the game by a shoe string.</p> + +<p>McGraw, who had been on the coaching lines up to this point, retired to +the bench after that, and I heard one of those wise spectators, sitting +just behind our coop, who could tell Mr. Rockefeller how to run his +business but who spends his life working as a clerk at $18 a week, remark +to a friend:</p> + +<p>“It’s all off now. McGraw has laid down.”</p> + +<p>Watching the game through eyes half shut and drawn to a focus, McGraw +waited. In the seventh inning Clarke came to bat with two men on the +bases. A hit would have won the game beyond any doubt. In a flash McGraw +was on his feet and ran out to Meyers, catching. He stopped the game, and, +with a wave of his arm, drew Harry McCormick, playing left field, in close +to third base. The game went on, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> Wiltse twisted a slow curve over the +outside corner of the plate to Clarke, a left-handed hitter. He timed his +swing and sent a low hit singing over third base. McCormick dashed in and +caught the ball off his shoe tops. That made three outs. McGraw had saved +our chances of victory right there, for had McCormick been playing where +he originally intended before McGraw stopped the contest, the ball would +have landed in unguarded territory and two runs would have been scored.</p> + +<p>But McGraw had yet the game to win. As his team came to the bat for the +seventh, he said:</p> + +<p>“This fellow Adams is a youngster and liable to be nervous and wild. +Wait.”</p> + +<p>The batters waited with the patience of Job. Each man let the first two +balls pass him and made Adams pitch himself to the limit to every batter. +It got on Adams’s nerves. In the ninth he passed a couple of men, and a +hit tied the score. Clarke left him in the box, for he was short of +pitchers. On the game went to ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, innings. The +score was still tied and Wiltse was pitching like a machine. McGraw was on +the bench, leaving the coaching to his lieutenants.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> The club was still +waiting for the youngster to weaken. At last, in the thirteenth, after one +man had been put out, the eye of McGraw saw Adams drop his pitching arm to +his side as if tired. It was only a minute motion. None of the spectators +saw it, none of the players.</p> + +<p>“Now hit it, boys,” came the order from the “bench.” The style was +switched, and the game won when three hits were rattled out. McGraw alone +observed that sign of weakening and took advantage of it at the opportune +time. He won the game from the bench. That is what makes him a great +manager, observing the little things. Anyone can see the big ones. If he +had been on the coaching lines, he would not have had as good an +opportunity to study the young pitcher, for he would have had to devote +his attention to the base runners. He might have missed this sign of +wilting.</p> + +<p>McGraw is always studying a pitcher, particularly a new one in the League. +The St. Louis club had a young pitcher last fall, named Laudermilk, who +was being tried out. He had a brother on the team. In his first game +against the Giants, played in St. Louis, he held us to a few scattered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +hits and gave us a terrific battle, only losing the game because one of +his fielders made a costly error behind him. The papers of St. Louis +boosted him as another “Rube” Waddell. He was left-handed. McGraw laughed.</p> + +<p>“All I want,” he said, “is another crack at that Buttermilk after what I +learned about him this afternoon. He can’t control his curve, and all you +fellows have got to do is wait for his fast one. He gave you that fight +to-day because he had you all swinging at bad curve balls.”</p> + +<p>Laudermilk made another appearance against the Giants later, and he made +his disappearance in that game in the fourth inning, when only one was out +to be exact, after we had scored five runs off him by waiting for his fast +one, according to McGraw’s orders.</p> + +<p>After winning the pennant in 1904 by sitting on the bench, keeping away +from the coaching lines, and making every play himself, McGraw decided +that his men were older and knew the game and that he would give them more +rein in 1905. He appeared oftener on the coaching lines and attended more +to the base runners than to the game as a whole. But in the crises he was +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> man who decided what was to be done. The club won the pennant that +year and the world’s championship. The players got very chesty immediately +thereafter, and the buttons on their vests had to be shifted back to make +room for the new measure. They knew the game and had won two pennants, +besides a championship of the world.</p> + +<p>So in the season of 1906 McGraw started with a team of veterans, and it +was predicted that he would repeat. But these men, who knew the game, were +making decisions for themselves because McGraw was giving them more +liberty. The runners went wild on the bases and tried things at the wrong +stages. They lost game after game. At last, after a particularly +disastrous defeat one day, McGraw called his men together in the clubhouse +and addressed them in this wise:</p> + +<p>“Because you fellows have won two championships and beaten the Athletics +is no reason for you all to believe that you are fit to write a book on +how to play baseball. You are just running wild on the bases. You might as +well not have a manager. Now don’t any one try to pull anything without +orders. We will begin all over again.”</p> + +<p>But it is hard to teach old ball-players new tricks,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and several fines +had to be imposed before the orders were obeyed. The club did not win the +championship that year.</p> + +<p>When McGraw won the pennant in 1911, he did it with a club of youngsters, +many of them playing through their first whole season as regulars in the +company. There were Snodgrass and Devore and Fletcher and Marquard. Every +time a batter went to the plate, he had definite orders from the “bench” +as to what he was to attempt—whether to take two, or lay the ball down, +or swing, or work the hit and run. Each time that a man shot out from +first base like a catapulted figure and slid into second, he had been +ordered by McGraw to try to steal. If players protested against his +judgment, his invariable answer was:</p> + +<p>“Do what I tell you, and I’ll take the blame for mistakes.”</p> + +<p>One of McGraw’s laments is, “I wish I could be in three places at once.”</p> + +<p>I never heard him say it with such a ring to the words as after Snodgrass +was touched out in the third game of the 1911 world’s series, in the tenth +inning, when his life might have meant victory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> in that game anyway. I +have frequently referred to the incident in these stories, so most of my +readers are familiar with the situation. Snodgrass was put out trying to +get to third base on a short passed ball, after he had started back for +second to recover some of the ground he had taken in too long a lead +before the ball got to Lapp. McGraw’s face took on an expression of agony +as if he were watching his dearest friend die.</p> + +<p>“If I could only have been there!” he said. “I wish I could be in three +places at once.”</p> + +<p>He meant the bench, the first base coaching line, and the third base line. +At this particular time he was giving the batters orders from the bench. +It was one of those incidents which come up in a ball game and have to be +decided in the drawing of a breath, so that a manager cannot give orders +unless he is right on the spot.</p> + +<p>It is my opinion that it is a big advantage to a team to have the manager +on the bench rather than in the game. Frank Chance of the Chicago Cubs is +a great leader, but I think he would be a greater one if he could find one +of his mechanical ability to play first base, and he could sit on the +bench as the director general. He is occupied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> with the duties of his +position and often little things get by him. I believe that we beat the +Cubs in two games in 1909 because Chance was playing first base instead of +directing the game from the bench.</p> + +<p>In the first contest Ames was pitching and Schlei catching. Now, Schlei +was no three hundred hitter, but he was a good man in a pinch and looked +like Wagner when compared to Ames as a swatter. Schlei came up to the bat +with men on second and third bases, two out, and a chance to win or put us +ahead if he could make a hit. The first time it happened, McGraw unfolded +his arms and relaxed, which is a sign that he is conceding something for +the time being.</p> + +<p>“No use,” he said. “All those runners are going to waste. We’ll have to +make another try in the next inning. They will surely pass Schlei to take +a chance on Ames.”</p> + +<p>Then Overall, who was pitching, whistled a strike over the plate and +McGraw’s body tightened and the old lines around the mouth appeared. Here +was a chance yet.</p> + +<p>“They’re going to let him hit,” he cried joyfully.</p> + +<p>Schlei made a base hit on the next pitch and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> scored both men. Almost the +same thing happened later on in the season with men on second and third +bases, and Raymond, another featherweight hitter, pitching. It struck me +as being an oversight on the part of Chance on both occasions, probably +because he was so busy with his own position and watching the players on +the field that he didn’t notice the pitcher was the next batter. He let +Schlei hit each time, which probably cost him two games.</p> + +<p>The Giants were playing St. Louis at the Polo Grounds in 1910, and I was +pitching against Harmon. I held the Cardinals to one hit up to the ninth +inning, and we had the game won by the score of 1 to 0, when their first +batter in the ninth walked. Then, after two had been put out, another +scratched a hit. It looked as if we still had the game won, since only one +man was left to be put out and the runners were on first and second bases. +Mowrey, the red-headed third baseman, came to the bat.</p> + +<p>“Murray’s playing too near centre field for this fellow,” remarked McGraw +to some of the players on the bench.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he said it when Mowrey shoved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> a long fly to right field, which +soared away toward the stand. Murray started to run with the ball. For a +minute it looked as if he were going to get there, and then it just tipped +his outstretched hands as it fell to the ground. It amounted to a +three-base hit and won the game for the Cardinals by the score of 2 to 1.</p> + +<p>“I knew it,” said McGraw, one of whose many rôles is as a prophet of evil. +“Didn’t I call the turn? I ought to have gone out there and stopped the +game and moved Murray over. I blame myself for that hit.”</p> + +<p>That was a game in which the St. Louis batters made three hits and won it. +It isn’t the number of hits, so much as when they come, that wins ball +games.</p> + +<p>Frequently, McGraw will stop a game—bring it to a dead standstill—by +walking out from the bench as the pitcher is about to wind up.</p> + +<p>“Stop it a minute, Meyers,” he will shout. “Pull Snodgrass in a little bit +for this fellow.”</p> + +<p>The man interested in statistics would be surprised at how many times +little moves of this sort have saved games. But for the McGraw system to +be effective, he must have working for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> him a set of players who are +taking the old look around for orders all the time. He has a way of +inducing the men to keep their heads up which has worked very well. If a +player has been slow or has not taken all the distance McGraw believes is +possible on a hit, he often finds $10 less in his pay envelope at the end +of the month. And the conversation on the bench at times, when men have +made errors of omission, would not fit into any Sunday-school room.</p> + +<p>During a game for the most part, McGraw is silent, concentrating his +attention on the game, and the players talk in low tones, as if in church, +discussing the progress of the contest. But let a player make a bad break, +and McGraw delivers a talk to him that would have to be written on +asbestos paper.</p> + +<p>Arthur Wilson was coaching at third base in one of the games in a series +played in Philadelphia the first part of September, 1911. There were +barely enough pitchers to go around at the time, and McGraw was very +careful to take advantage of every little point, so that nothing would be +wasted. He feels that if a game is lost because the other side is better, +there is some excuse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> but if it goes because some one’s head should be +used for furniture instead of thinking baseball, it is like losing money +that might have been spent. Fletcher was on second base when Meyers came +to bat. The Indian pushed the ball to right field along the line. Fletcher +came steaming around third base and could have rolled home safely, but +Wilson, misjudging the hit, rushed out, tackled him, and threw him back on +the bag. Even the plodding Meyers reached second on the hit and McGraw was +boiling. He promptly sent a coacher out to relieve Wilson, and his oratory +to the young catcher would have made a Billingsgate fishwife sore. We +eventually won the game, but at this time there was only a difference of +something like one, and it would have been a big relief to have seen that +run which Wilson interrupted across the plate.</p> + +<p>McGraw is always on Devore’s hip because he often feels that this +brilliant young player does not get as much out of his natural ability as +he might. He is frequently listless, and, often, after a good hit, he will +feel satisfied with himself and fan out a couple of times. So McGraw does +all that he can to discourage this self-satisfaction. “Josh” is a great +man in a pinch, for he hangs on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> like a bulldog, and instead of getting +nervous, works the harder. If the reader will consult past history, he +will note that it was a pinch hit by Devore which won the first +world-series game, and one of his wallops, combined with a timely bingle +by Crandall, was largely instrumental in bringing the second victory to +the Giants. McGraw has made Devore the ball-player that he is by skilful +handling.</p> + +<p>The Giants were having a nip and tuck game with the Cubs in the early part +of last summer, when Devore came to the bat in one of those pinches and +shot a three bagger over third base which won the game. As he slid into +third and picked himself up, feeling like more or less of a hero because +the crowd was announcing this fact to him by prolonged cheers, McGraw +said:</p> + +<p>“Gee, you’re a lucky guy. I wish I had your luck. You were shot full of +horseshoes to get that one. When I saw you shut your eyes, I never thought +you would hit it.”</p> + +<p>This was like pricking a bubble, and “Josh’s” chest returned to its normal +measure.</p> + +<p>Marquard is another man whom McGraw constantly subjects to a +conversational massage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> Devore and Marquard room together on the road, +and they got to talking about their suite at the hotel during a close game +in Philadelphia one day. It annoys McGraw to hear his men discussing +off-stage subjects during a critical contest, because it not only +distracts their attention, but his and that of the other players.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that room of ours a dandy, Rube?” asked Devore.</p> + +<p>“Best in the lot,” replied Marquard.</p> + +<p>“It’s got five windows and swell furniture,” said Devore.</p> + +<p>“Solid mahogany,” said McGraw, who apparently had been paying no attention +to the conversation. “That is, judging by some of the plays I have seen +you two pull. Now can the conversation.”</p> + +<p>Devore went down into Cuba with the Giants, carrying quite a bank roll +from the world’s series, and the idea that he was on a picnic. He started +a personally conducted tour of Havana on his first night there and we lost +the game the next day, “Josh” overlooking several swell opportunities to +make hits in pinches. In fact he didn’t even get a foul.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>“You are fined $25,” said McGraw to him after the game.</p> + +<p>“You can’t fine me,” said Devore. “I’m not under contract.”</p> + +<p>“Then you take the next boat home,” replied the manager. “I didn’t come +down here to let a lot of coffee-colored Cubans show me up. You’ve got to +either play ball or go home.”</p> + +<p>Devore made four hits the next day.</p> + +<p>In giving his signs from the bench to the players, McGraw depends on a +gesture or catch word. When “Dummy” Taylor, the deaf and dumb twirler, was +with the club, all the players learned the deaf and dumb language. This +medium was used for signing for a time, until smart ball players, like +Evers and Leach, took up the study of it and became so proficient they +could converse fluently on their fingers. But they were also great +“listeners,” and we didn’t discover for some time that this was how they +were getting our signs. Thereafter we only used the language for social +purposes.</p> + +<p>Evers and McGraw got into a conversation one day in the deaf and dumb +language at long range and “Johnny” Evers threw a finger out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> of joint +replying to McGraw in a brilliant flash of repartee.</p> + +<p>Every successful manager is a distinct type. Each plays the game from the +bench. “Connie” Mack gives his men more liberty than most. Chance rules +for the most part with an iron hand. Bresnahan is ever spurring his men +on. Chance changes his seat on the bench, and there is a double steal. +“Connie” Mack uncrosses his legs, and the hit and run is tried.</p> + +<p>Most managers transmit their signs by movements or words. Jennings is +supposed to have hidden in his jumble of jibes some catch words.</p> + +<p>The manager on the bench must know just when to change pitchers. He has to +decide the exact time to send in a substitute hitter, when to install +another base runner. All these decisions must be made in the “batting” of +an eye. It takes quick and accurate judgment, and the successful manager +must be right usually. That’s playing the game from the bench.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> +<h3>Coaching Good and Bad</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Coaching is Divided into Three Parts: Offensive, Defensive, and the +Use of Crowds to Rattle Players—Why McGraw Developed Scientific +Coaching—The Important Rôle a Coacher Plays in the Crisis of a Big +League Ball Game when, on his Orders, Hangs Victory or Defeat.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Critical</span> moments occur in every close ball game, when coaching may win or +lose it. “That wasn’t the stage for you to try to score,” yelled John +McGraw, the manager of the Giants, at “Josh” Devore, as the New York +left-fielder attempted to count from second base on a short hit to left +field, with no one out and the team one run behind in a game with the +Pirates one day in 1911, when every contest might mean the winning or +losing of the pennant.</p> + +<p>“First time in my life I was ever thrown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> out trying to score from second +on a base hit to the outfield,” answered Devore, “and besides the coacher +sent me in.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care,” replied McGraw, “that was a two out play.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, one of the younger players on the team was coaching +at third base at the time and made an error of judgment in sending Devore +home, of which an older head would not have been guilty. And the Pirates +beat us by just that one run the coacher sacrificed. The next batter came +through with an outfield fly which would have scored Devore from third +base easily.</p> + +<p>Probably no more wily general ever crouched on the coaching line at third +base than John McGraw. His judgment in holding runners or urging them on +to score is almost uncanny. Governed by no set rules himself, he has +formulated a list of regulations for his players which might be called the +“McGraw Coaching Curriculum.” He has favorite expressions, such as “there +are stages” and “that was a two out play,” which mean certain chances are +to be taken by a coacher at one point in a contest, while to attempt such +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> play under other circumstances would be nothing short of foolhardy.</p> + +<p>With the development of baseball, coaching has advanced until it is now an +exact science. For many years the two men who stood at first and third +bases were stationed there merely to bullyrag and abuse the pitchers, +often using language that was a disgrace to a ball field. When they were +not busy with this part of their art, they handed helpful hints to the +runners as to where the ball was and whether the second baseman was +concealing it under his shirt (a favorite trick of the old days), while +the pitcher pretended to prepare to deliver it. But as rules were made +which strictly forbade the use of indecent language to a pitcher, and as +the old school of clowns passed, coaching developed into a science, and +the sentries stationed at first and third bases found themselves occupying +important jobs.</p> + +<p>For some time McGraw frowned down upon scientific coaching, until its +value was forcibly brought home to him one day by an incident that +occurred at the Polo Grounds, and since then he has developed it until his +knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> of advising base runners is the pinnacle of scientific +coaching.</p> + +<p>A few years ago, the Giants were having a nip and tuck struggle one day, +when Harry McCormick, then the left-fielder, came to the plate and knocked +the ball to the old centre-field ropes. He sped around the bases, and when +he reached third, it looked as if he could roll home ahead of the ball. +“Cy” Seymour was coaching and surprised everybody by rushing out and +tackling McCormick, throwing him down and trying to force him back to +third base. But big McCormick got the best of the struggle, scrambled to +his feet, and finally scored after overcoming the obstacle that Seymour +made. That run won the game.</p> + +<p>“What was the matter with you, Cy?” asked McGraw as Seymour came to the +bench after he had almost lost the game by his poor coaching.</p> + +<p>“The sun got in my eyes, and I couldn’t see the ball,” replied Seymour.</p> + +<p>“You’d better wear smoked glasses the next time you go out to coach,” +replied the manager. The batter was hitting the ball due east, and the +game was being played in the afternoon, so Seymour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> had no alibi. From the +moment “Cy” made that mistake, McGraw realized the value of scientific +coaching, which means making the most of every hit in a game.</p> + +<p>I have always held that a good actor with a knowledge of baseball would +make a good coacher, because it is the acting that impresses a base +runner, not the talking. More often than not, the conversation of a +coacher, be it ever so brilliant, is not audible above the screeching of +the crowd at critical moments. And I believe that McGraw is a great actor, +at least of the baseball school.</p> + +<p>The cheering of the immense crowds which attend ball games, if it can be +organized, is a potent factor in winning or losing them. McGraw gets the +most out of a throng by his clever acting. Did any patron of the Polo +Grounds ever see him turn to the stands or make any pretence that he was +paying attention to the spectators? Does he ever play to the gallery? Yet +it is admitted that he can do more with a crowd, make it more malleable, +than any other man in baseball to-day.</p> + +<p>The attitude of the spectators makes a lot of difference to a ball club. A +lackadaisical, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>half-interested crowd often results in the team playing +slovenly ball, while a lively throng can inject ginger into the men and +put the whole club on its toes. McGraw is skilled in getting the most out +of the spectators without letting them know that he is doing it.</p> + +<p>Did you ever watch the little manager crouching, immovable, at third base +with a mitt on his hand, when the New York club goes to bat in the seventh +inning two runs behind? The first hitter gets a base on balls. McGraw +leaps into the air, kicks his heels together, claps his mitt, shouts at +the umpire, runs in and pats the next batter on the back, and says +something to the pitcher. The crowd gets it cue, wakes up and leaps into +the air, kicking its heels together. The whole atmosphere inside the park +is changed in a minute, and the air is bristling with enthusiasm. The +other coacher, at first base, is waving his hands and running up and down +the line, while the men on the bench have apparently gained new hope. They +are moving about restlessly, and the next two hitters are swinging their +bats in anticipation with a vigor which augurs ill for the pitcher. The +game has found Ponce de Leon’s fountain of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> youth, and the little, silent +actor on the third base coaching line is the cause of the change.</p> + +<p>“Nick” Altrock, the old pitcher on the Chicago White Sox, was one of the +most skilful men at handling a crowd that the game has ever developed. As +a pitcher, Altrock was largely instrumental in bringing a world’s +championship to the American League team in 1906, and, as a coacher, after +his Big League pitching days were nearly done, he won many a game by his +work on the lines in pinches. Baseball has produced several comedians, +some with questionable ratings as humorists. There is “Germany” Schaefer +of the Washington team, and there were “Rube” Waddell, “Bugs” Raymond and +others, but “Nick” Altrock could give the best that the game has brought +out in the way of comic-supplement players a terrible battle for the +honors.</p> + +<p>At the old south side park in Chicago, I have seen him go to the lines +with a catcher’s mitt and a first-baseman’s glove on his hands and lead +the untrained mob as skilfully as one of those pompadoured young men with +a megaphone does the undergraduates at a college football game.</p> + +<p>My experience as a pitcher has been that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> is not the steady, unbroken +flood of howling and yelling, with the incessant pounding of feet, that +gets on the nerves of a ball-player, but the broken, rhythmical waves of +sound or the constant reiteration of one expression. A man gets accustomed +to the steady cheering. It becomes a part of the game and his +surroundings, as much as the stands and the crowd itself are, and he does +not know that it is there. Let the coacher be clever enough to induce a +crowd to repeat over and over just one sentence such as “Get a hit,” “Get +a hit,” and it wears on the steadiest nerves. Nick Altrock had his +baseball chorus trained so that, by a certain motion of the arm, he could +get the crowd to do this at the right moment.</p> + +<p>But the science of latter-day coaching means much more than using the +crowd. All coaching, like all Gaul and four or five other things, is +divided into three parts, defensive coaching, offensive coaching and the +use of the crowd. Offensive coaching means the handling of base runners, +and requires quick and accurate judgment. The defensive sort is the advice +that one player on the field gives another as to where to throw the ball, +who shall take a hit, and how the base runner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> is coming into the bag. +There is a sub-division of defensive coaching which might be called the +illegitimate brand. It is giving “phoney” advice to a base runner by the +fielders of the other side that may lead him, in the excitement of the +moment, to make a foolish play. This style has developed largely in the +Big Leagues in the last three or four years.</p> + +<p>Offensive coaching, in my opinion, is the most important. For a man to be +a good coacher he must be trained for the work. The best coachers are the +seasoned players, the veterans of the game. A man must know the throwing +ability of each outfielder on the opposing club, he must be familiar with +the speed of the base runner whom he is handling, and he must be so +closely acquainted with the game as a whole that he knows the stages at +which to try a certain play and the circumstances under which the same +attempt would be foolish. Above all things, he must be a quick thinker.</p> + +<p>Watch McGraw on the coaching lines some day. As he crouches, he picks up a +pebble and throws it out of his way, and two base runners start a double +steal. “Hughie” Jennings emits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> his famous “Ee-Yaah!” and the third +baseman creeps in, expecting Cobb to bunt with a man on first base and no +one out. The hitter pushes the ball on a line past the third baseman. The +next time Jennings shrieks his famous war-cry, it has a different +intonation, and the batter bunts.</p> + +<p>“Bill” Dahlen of the Brooklyn club shouts, “Watch his foot,” and the base +runner starts while the batter smashes the ball on a hit and run play. +Again the pitcher hears that “Watch his foot.” He “wastes one,” so that +the batter will not get a chance at the ball and turns to first base. He +is surprised to find the runner anchored there. Nothing has happened. So +it will be seen that the offensive coacher controls the situation and +directs the plays, usually taking his orders from the manager, if the boss +himself is not on the lines.</p> + +<p>In 1911 the Giants led the National League by a good margin in stealing +bases, and to this speed many critics attributed the fact that the +championship was won by the club. I can safely say that every base which +was pilfered by a New York runner was stolen by the direct order of +McGraw, except in the few games from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> which he was absent. Then his +lieutenants followed his system as closely as any one can pursue the +involved and intricate style that he alone understands. If it was the base +running of the Giants that won the pennant for the club, then it was the +coaching of McGraw, employing the speed of his men and his opportunities, +which brought the championship to New York.</p> + +<p>The first thing that every manager teaches his players now is to obey +absolutely the orders of the coacher, and then he selects able men to give +the advice. The brain of McGraw is behind each game the Giants play, and +he plans every move, most of the hitters going to the plate with definite +instructions from him as to what to try to do. In order to make this +system efficient, absolute discipline must be assured. If a player has +other ideas than McGraw as to what should be done, “Mac’s” invariable +answer to him is:</p> + +<p>“You do what I tell you, and I’ll take the responsibility if we lose.”</p> + +<p>For two months at the end of 1911, McGraw would not let either “Josh” +Devore or John Murray swing at a first ball pitched to them. Murray did +this one day, after he had been ordered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> not to, and he was promptly fined +$10 and sat down on the bench, while Becker played right field. Many fans +doubtless recall the substitution of Becker, but could not understand the +move.</p> + +<p>Murray and Devore are what are known in baseball as “first-ball hitters.” +That is, they invariably hit at the first one delivered. They watch a +pitcher wind up and swing their bats involuntarily, as a man blinks his +eyes when he sees a blow started. It is probably due to slight +nervousness. The result was that the news of this weakness spread rapidly +around the circuit by the underground routes of baseball, and every +pitcher in the League was handing Devore and Murray a bad ball on the +first one. Of course, each would miss it or else make a dinky little hit. +They were always “in the hole,” which means that the pitcher had the +advantage in the count. McGraw became exasperated after Devore had fanned +out three times one day by getting bad starts, hitting at the first ball.</p> + +<p>“After this,” said McGraw to both Murray and Devore in the clubhouse, “if +either of you moves his bat off his shoulder at a first ball, even if it +cuts the plate, you will be fined $10 and sat down.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>Murray forgot the next day, saw the pitcher wind up, and swung his bat at +the first one. He spent the rest of the month on the bench. But Devore’s +hitting improved at once because all the pitchers, expecting him to swing +at the first one, were surprised to find him “taking it” and, as it was +usually bad, he had the pitcher constantly “in the hole,” instead of being +at a disadvantage himself. For this reason he was able to guess more +accurately what the pitcher was going to throw, and his hitting +consequently improved. So did Murray’s after he had served his term on the +bench. The right-fielder hit well up to the world’s series and then he +just struck a slump that any player is liable to encounter. But so +dependent is McGraw’s system on absolute discipline for its success that +he dispensed with the services of a good player for a month to preserve +his style.</p> + +<p>In contrast, “Connie” Mack, the manager of the Athletics, and by many +declared to be the greatest leader in the country (although each private, +of course, is true to his own general), lets his players use their own +judgment largely. He seldom gives a batter a direct order unless the pinch +is very stringent.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>The most difficult position to fill as a coacher is at third base, the +critical corner. There a man’s judgment must be lightning fast and always +accurate. He encourages runners with his voice, but his orders are given +primarily with his hands, because often the noise made by the crowd drowns +out the shouted instructions. Last, he must be prepared to handle all +sorts of base running.</p> + +<p>On nearly every ball club, there are some players who are known in the +frank parlance of the profession as “hog wild runners.”</p> + +<p>The expression means that these players are bitten by a sort of “bug” +which causes them to lose their heads when once they get on the bases. +They cannot be stopped, oftentimes fighting with a coacher to go on to the +next base, when it is easy to see that if the attempt is made, the runner +is doomed.</p> + +<p>New York fans have often seen McGraw dash out into the line at third base, +tackle Murray, and throw him back on the bag. He is a “hog wild” runner, +and with him on the bases, the duties of a coacher become more arduous. He +will insist on scoring if he is not stopped or does not drop dead.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>Some youngster was coaching on third base in a game with Boston in the +summer of 1911 and the Giants had a comfortable lead of several runs. +Murray was on second when the batter hit clearly and sharply to left +field. Murray started, and, with his usual intensity of purpose, rounded +third base at top speed, bound to score. The ball was already on the way +home when Murray, about ten feet from the bag, tripped and fell. He +scrambled safely back to the cushion on all fours. There was nothing else +to do.</p> + +<p>“This is his third year with me,” laughed McGraw on the bench, “and that’s +the first time he has ever failed to try to score from second base on a +hit unless he was tackled.”</p> + +<p>All ball clubs have certain “must” motions which are as strictly observed +as danger signals on a railroad. A coacher’s hand upraised will stop a +base runner as abruptly as the uplifted white glove of a traffic policeman +halts a row of automobiles. A wave of the arm will start a runner going at +top speed again.</p> + +<p>Many times a quick-witted ball-player wins a game for his club by his snap +judgment. Again McGraw is the master of that. He took a game<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> from the +Cubs in 1911, because, always alert for flaws in the opposition, he +noticed the centre-fielder drop his arm after getting set to throw the +ball home. Devore was on second base, and one run was needed to win the +game. Doyle hit sharply to centre field, and Devore, coming from second, +started to slow up as he rounded third. Hofman, the Chicago +centre-fielder, perceiving this slackening of pace, dropped his arm. +McGraw noticed this, and, with a wave of his arm, notified Devore to go +home. With two strides he was at top speed again, and Hofman, taken by +surprise, threw badly.</p> + +<p>The run scored which won the game.</p> + +<p>The pastime of bullyragging the pitcher by the coachers has lost its +popularity recently. The wily coacher must first judge the temperament of +a pitcher before he dares to undertake to get on his nerves. Clarke +Griffith, formerly the manager of Cincinnati, has a reputation for being +able to ruin young pitchers just attempting to establish themselves in the +Big League. Time and again he has forced youngsters back to the minors by +his constant cry of “Watch his foot” or “He’s going to waste this one.”</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i147.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center"><small>Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio</small></p> +<p class="note">Baker out at the plate trying to stretch a triple into a home run. This +picture shows Catcher Easterly of Cleveland waiting with the ball to touch +Baker. The home-run hero of the Athletics is shown in the picture starting +the fall-away slide in an effort to get away from Easterly. Harry Davis is +approaching the plate, and Jack Sheridan is awaiting the outcome at the plate.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>The rules are very strict now about talking to pitchers, but, if a +complaint is made, Griffith declares that he was warning the batter that +it was to be a pitchout, which is perfectly legitimate. The rules permit +the coacher to talk to the batter and the base runners.</p> + +<p>Griffith caught a Tartar in Grover Cleveland Alexander, the sensational +pitcher of the Philadelphia club. It was at his first appearance in +Cincinnati that the young fellow got into the hole with several men on the +bases, and “Mike” Mitchell coming up to the bat.</p> + +<p>“Now here is where we get a look at the ‘yellow,’” yelled Griffith at +Alexander.</p> + +<p>The young pitcher walked over toward third base.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make that big boob up at the bat there show such a ‘yellow +streak’ that you won’t be able to see any white,” declared Alexander, and +then he struck Mitchell out. Griffith had tried the wrong tactics.</p> + +<p>A story is told of Fred Clarke and “Rube” Waddell, the eccentric twirler. +Waddell was once one of the best pitchers in the business when he could +concentrate his attention on his work, but his mind wandered easily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>“Now pay no attention to Clarke,” warned his manager before the game.</p> + +<p>Clarke tried everything from cajolery to abuse on Waddell with no effect, +because the eccentric “Rube” had been tipped to fight shy of the Pittsburg +manager. Suddenly Clarke became friendly and walked with Waddell between +innings, chatting on trivial matters. At last he said:</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you come out on my ranch in Kansas and hunt after the season, +George? I’ve got a dog out there you might train.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of a dog?” asked Waddell at once interested.</p> + +<p>“Just a pup,” replied Clarke, “and you can have him if he takes a fancy to +you.”</p> + +<p>“They all do,” replied Waddell. “He’s as good as mine.”</p> + +<p>The next inning the big left-hander was still thinking of that dog, and +the Pirates made five runs.</p> + +<p>In many instances defensive coaching is as important as the offensive +brand, which simply indorses the old axiom that any chain is only as +strong as its weakest link or any ball club is only as efficient as its +most deficient department.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> When Roger Bresnahan was on the Giants, he was +one of those aggressive players who are always coaching the other fielders +and holding a team together, a type so much desired by a manager. If a +slow roller was hit between the pitcher’s box and third base, I could +always hear “Rog” yelling, “You take it, Matty,” or, “Artie, Artie,” +meaning Devlin, the third baseman. He was in a position to see which man +would be better able to make the play, and he gave this helpful advice. +His coaching saved many a game for the Giants in the old days. “Al” +Bridwell, the former shortstop, was of the same type, and, if you have +ever attended a ball game at the Polo Grounds, you have doubtless heard +him in his shrill, piercing voice, shouting:</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” or, “You take it!”</p> + +<p>This style of coaching saves ball-players from accidents, and accidents +have lost many a pennant. I have always held that it was a lack of the +proper coaching that sent “Cy” Seymour, formerly the Giant centre-fielder, +out of the Big Leagues and back to the minors. Both Murray and he +attempted to catch the same fly in the season of 1909 and came into +collision. Seymour went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> down on the field, but later got up and played +the game out. However, he hurt his leg so badly that it never regained its +strength.</p> + +<p>Then there is that other style of defensive coaching which is the shouting +of misleading advice by the fielders to the base runners. Collins and +Barry, the second baseman and shortstop on the Athletics, worked a clever +trick in one of the games of the 1911 world’s series which illustrates my +point. The play is as old as the one in which the second baseman hides the +ball under his shirt so as to catch a man asleep off first base, but often +the old ones are the more effective.</p> + +<p>Doyle was on first base in one of the contests played in Philadelphia, and +the batter lifted a short foul fly to Baker, playing third base. The crowd +roared and the coacher’s voice was drowned by the volume of sound. “Eddie” +Collins ran to cover second base, and Barry scrabbled his hand along the +dirt as if preparing to field a ground ball.</p> + +<p>“Throw it here! Throw it here!” yelled Collins, and Doyle, thinking that +they were trying for a force play, increased his efforts to reach second. +Baker caught the fly, and Larry was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> doubled up at first base so far that +he looked foolish. Yet it really was not his fault. The safest thing for a +base runner to do under those circumstances is to get one glimpse of the +coacher’s motions and then he can tell whether to go back or to go on.</p> + +<p>“Johnnie” Kling, the old catcher of the Chicago Cubs, used to work a +clever piece of defensive coaching with John Evers, the second baseman. +This was tried on young players and usually was successful. The victim was +picked out before the game, and the play depended upon him arriving at +second base. Once there the schemers worked it as follows:</p> + +<p>When the “busher” was found taking a large lead, Evers would dash to the +bag and Kling would make a bluff to throw the ball, but hold it. The +runner naturally scampered for the base. Then, seeing that Kling had not +thrown, he would start to walk away from it again.</p> + +<p>“If the Jew had thrown that time, he would have had you,” Evers would +carelessly hurl over his shoulder at the intended victim. The man usually +turned for a fatal second to reply. Tinker, who was playing shortstop, +rushed in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> from behind, Kling whipped the ball to the bag, and the man, +caught off his guard, was tagged out. The play was really made before the +game, when the victim was selected.</p> + +<p>It was this same Evers-Kling combination that turned the tide in the first +inning of the most famous game ever played in baseball, the extra one +between the Giants and the Cubs in the season of 1908. The Chicago club +was nervous in the first inning. Tenney was hit by a pitched ball, and +Herzog walked. It looked as if Pfeister, the Chicago pitcher, was losing +his grip. Bresnahan struck out, and Kling, always alert, dropped the third +strike, but conveniently at his feet. Thinking that here was an +opportunity the crowd roared. Evers, playing deep, almost behind Herzog, +shouted, “Go on!”</p> + +<p>Herzog took the bait in the excitement of the moment and ran—and was +nipped many yards from first base.</p> + +<p>There are many tricks to the coacher’s trade, both offensive and +defensive, and it is the quickest-witted man who is the best coacher. The +sentry at first yells as the pitcher winds up, “There he goes!” imitating +the first baseman as nearly as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> possible, in the hope that the twirler +will waste one by pitching out and thus give the batter an advantage. The +coacher on third base will shout at the runner on a short hit to the +outfield, “Take your turn!” in the dim hope that the fielder, seeing the +man rounding third, will throw the ball home, and the hitter can thus make +an extra base. And the job of coaching is no sinecure. McGraw has told me +after directing a hard game that he is as tired as if he had played.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> +<h3>Honest and Dishonest Sign Stealing</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Everything Fair in Baseball except the Dishonest Stealing of +Signals—The National Game More a Contest of the Wits than Most +Onlookers Imagine.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">When</span> the Philadelphia Athletics unexpectedly defeated the Chicago Cubs in +the world’s series of 1910, the National League players cried that their +signals had been stolen by the American League team, and that, because +Connie Mack’s batters knew what to expect, they had won the championship.</p> + +<p>But were the owners or any member of the Philadelphia club arrested +charged with grand larceny in stealing the baseball championship of the +world? No. Was there any murmur against the methods of Connie Mack’s men? +No, again. By a strange kink in the ethics of baseball John Kling, the +Chicago catcher,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> was blamed by the other players on the defeated team for +the signs being stolen. They charged that he had been careless in covering +his signals and that the enemy’s coachers, particularly Topsy Hartsell, a +clever man at it, had seen them from the lines. This was really the cause +of Kling leaving the Cubs and going to Boston in 1911.</p> + +<p>After the games were over and the series was lost, many of the players, +and especially the pitchers, would hardly speak to Kling, the man who had +as much as any one else to do with the Cubs winning four championships, +and the man who by his great throwing had made the reputations of a lot of +their pitchers. But the players were sore because they had lost the series +and lost the extra money which many of them had counted as their own +before the games started, and they looked around for some one to blame and +found Kling. One of the pitchers complained after he had lost a game:</p> + +<p>“Can’t expect a guy to win with his catcher giving the signs so the +coachers can read ’em and tip the batters.”</p> + +<p>“And you can’t expect a catcher to win a game<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> for you if you haven’t got +anything on the ball,” replied Kling, for he is quick tempered and cannot +stand reflections on his ability. But the pitcher’s chance remark had +given the other players an excuse for fixing the blame, and it was put on +Kling.</p> + +<p>I honestly do not believe that Kling was in any way responsible for the +rout of the proud Cubs. The Chicago pitchers were away off form in the +series and could not control the ball, thus getting themselves “into the +hole” all the time. Shrewd Connie Mack soon realized this and ordered his +batters to wait everything out, to make the twirlers throw every ball +possible. The result was that, with the pitcher continually in the hole, +the batters were guessing what was coming and frequently guessing right, +as any smart hitter could under the circumstances. This made it look as if +the Athletics were getting the Cubs’ signals.</p> + +<p>“Why, I changed signs every three innings, Matty,” Kling told me +afterwards in discussing the charge. “Some of the boys said that I gave +the old bended-knee sign for a curve ball. Well, did you ever find +anything to improve on the old ones? That’s why they are old.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>But the Cubs still point the finger of scorn at Kling, for it hurts to +lose. I know it, I have lost myself. Even though the Athletics are charged +with stealing the signs whether they did or not, it is no smirch on the +character of the club, for they stole honestly—which sounds like a +paradox.</p> + +<p>“You have such jolly funny morals in this bally country,” declared an +Englishman I once met. “You steal and rob in baseball and yet you call it +fair. Now in cricket we give our opponents every advantage, don’t cher +know, and after the game we are all jolly good fellows at tea together.”</p> + +<p>This brings us down to the ethics of signal stealing. Each game has its +own recognized standards of fairness. For instance, no tricks are +tolerated in tennis, yet the baseball manager who can devise some scheme +by which he disconcerts his opponents is considered a great leader. I was +about to say that all is fair in love, war, and baseball, but will modify +that too comprehensive statement by saying all is fair in love, war, and +baseball except stealing signals dishonestly, which listens like another +paradox. Therefore, I shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> divide the subject of signal stealing into +half portions, the honest and the dishonest halves, and, since we are +dealing in paradoxes, take up the latter first.</p> + +<p>Dishonest signal stealing might be defined as obtaining information by +artificial aids. The honest methods are those requiring cleverness of eye, +mind, and hand without outside assistance. One of the most flagrant and +for a time successful pieces of signal stealing occurred in Philadelphia +several years ago.</p> + +<p>Opposing players can usually tell when the batsman is getting the signs, +because he steps up and sets himself for a curve with so much confidence. +During the season of 1899 the report went around the circuit that the +Philadelphia club was stealing signals, because the batters were popping +them all on the nose, but no one was able to discover the transmitter. The +coachers were closely watched and it was evident that these sentinels were +not getting the signs.</p> + +<p>It was while the Washington club, then in the National League, was playing +Philadelphia that there came a rainy morning which made the field very +wet, and for a long time it was doubtful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> whether a game could be played +in the afternoon, but the Washington club insisted on it and overruled the +protests of the Phillies. Arlie Latham, now the coacher on the Giants’, +was playing third base for the Senators at the time. He has told me often +since how he discovered the device by which the signs were being stolen. +He repeated the story to me recently when I asked him for the facts to use +in this book.</p> + +<p>“There was a big puddle in the third base coaching box that day,” said +Latham. “And it was in the third inning that I noticed Cupid Childs, the +Philadelphia second baseman, coaching. He stood with one foot in the +puddle and never budged it, although the water came up to his shoe-laces. +He usually jumped around when on the lines, and this stillness surprised +me.</p> + +<p>“‘Better go get your rubbers if you are goin’ to keep that trilby there,’ +I said to him. ‘Charley horse and the rheumatism have no terrors for you.’</p> + +<p>“But he kept his foot planted in the puddle just the same, and first thing +the batter cracked out a base hit.</p> + +<p>“‘So that’s where you’re gettin’ the signs?’ I said to him, not guessing +that it really was.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Then he started to jump around and we got the next +two batters out right quick, there being a big slump in the Philadelphia +hitting as soon as he took his foot out of that puddle.</p> + +<p>“When the Washington club went to bat I hiked out to the third base line +and started to coach, putting my foot into the puddle as near the place +where Childs had had his as I could.</p> + +<p>“‘Here’s where we get a few signs,’ I yelled, ‘and I ain’t afraid of +Charley horse, either.’</p> + +<p>“I looked over at the Philadelphia bench, and there were all the extra +players sitting with their caps pulled down over their eyes, so that I +couldn’t see their faces. The fielders all looked the other way. Then I +knew I was on a warm scent.</p> + +<p>“When the Washington players started back for the field I told Tommy +Corcoran that I thought they must be getting the signs from the third base +coaching box, although I hadn’t been able to feel anything there. He went +over and started pawing around in the dirt and water with his spikes and +fingers. Pretty soon he dug up a square chunk of wood with a buzzer on the +under side of it.</p> + +<p>“‘That ought to help their hitting a little,’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> he remarked as he kept on +pulling. Up came a wire, and when he started to pull on it he found that +it was buried about an inch under the soil and ran across the outfield. He +kept right on coiling it up and following it, like a hound on a scent, the +Philadelphia players being very busy all this time and nervous like a +busher at his début into Big League society. One of the substitutes +started to run for the clubhouse, but I stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Tommy was galloping by this time across the outfield and all the time +pulling up this wire. It led straight to the clubhouse, and there sitting +where he could get a good view of the catcher’s signs with a pair of +field-glasses was Morgan Murphy. The wire led right to him.</p> + +<p>“‘What cher doin’?’ asked Tommy.</p> + +<p>“‘Watchin’ the game,’ replied Murphy.</p> + +<p>“‘Couldn’t you see it easier from the bench than lookin’ through those +peepers from here? And why are you connected up with this machine?’ +inquired Tommy, showin’ him the chunk of wood with the buzzer attached.</p> + +<p>“‘I guess you’ve got the goods,’ Murphy answered with a laugh, and all the +newspapers laughed at it then, too. But the batting averages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> of the +Philadelphia players took an awful slump after that.</p> + +<p>“‘Why didn’t they tip me?’ asked Murphy as he put aside his field-glasses +and went to the bench and watched the rest of the game from there. And we +later won that contest, our first victory of the series, which was no +discredit to us, since it was like gamblin’ against loaded dice,” +concluded “Arlie.”</p> + +<p>The newspapers may have laughed at the incident in those days, but since +that time the National Commission has intimated that if there was ever a +recurrence of such tactics, the club caught using them would be subjected +to a heavy fine and possibly expulsion from the League. So much have +baseball standards improved.</p> + +<p>The incident is a great illustration of the unfair method of obtaining +signs. Since then, there have come from time to time reports of teams +taking signals by mechanical devices. The Athletics once declared that the +American League team in New York had a man stationed behind the fence in +centre field with a pair of glasses and that he shifted a line in the +score board slightly, so as to tip off the batters, but this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> charge was +never confirmed. It was said a short time ago that the Athletics +themselves had a spy located in a house outside their grounds and that he +tipped the batters by raising and lowering an awning a trifle. When the +Giants went to Philadelphia in 1911 for the first game of the world’s +series in the enemy’s camp, I kept watching the windows of the houses just +outside of the park for suspicious movements, but could discover none. +Once in Pittsburg I thought that the Pirates were getting the Giants’ +signals and I kept my eyes glued to the score board in centre field, +throughout one whole series, to see if any of the figures moved or changed +positions, as that seemed to be the only place from which a batter could +be tipped. But I never discovered anything wrong.</p> + +<p>There are many fair ways to steal the signs of the enemy, so many that the +smart ball-player is always kept on the alert by them. Baseball geniuses, +some almost magicians, are constantly looking for new schemes to find out +what the catcher is telling the pitcher, what the batter is tipping the +base runner to, or what the coacher’s instructions are. The Athletics have +a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> reputation as being a club able to get the other team’s signs if +they are obtainable. This is their record all around the American League +circuit.</p> + +<p>Personally I do not believe that Connie Mack’s players steal as much +information as they get the credit for, but the reputation itself, if they +never get a sign, is valuable. If a prizefighter is supposed to have a +haymaking punch in his left hand, the other fellow is going to be +constantly looking out for that left. If the players on a club have great +reputations as signal stealers, their opponents are going to be on their +guard all the time, which gives the team with the reputation just that +much advantage. If a pitcher has a reputation, he has the percentage on +the batter. Therefore, this gossip about the signal-stealing ability of +the Athletics has added to their natural strength.</p> + +<p>“Bill,” I said to Dahlen, the Brooklyn manager, one day toward the end of +the season of 1911, when the Giants were playing their schedule out after +the pennant was sure, “see if you can get the Chief’s signs.”</p> + +<p>Dahlen coached on first base and then went to third, always looking for +Meyers’s signals. Pretty soon he came to me.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>“I can see them a little bit, Matty,” he reported.</p> + +<p>“Chief,” I said to Meyers that night as I buttonholed him in the +clubhouse, “you’ve got to be careful to cover up your signs in the Big +Series. The Athletics have a reputation of being pretty slick at getting +them. And to make sure we will arrange a set of signs that I can give if +we think they are ‘hep’ to yours.”</p> + +<p>So right there Meyers and I fixed up a code of signals that I could give +to him, the Chief always to use some himself which would be “phoney” of +course, and might have the desirable effect of “crossing them.”</p> + +<p>In the first championship game at the Polo Grounds, Topsy Hartsell was out +on the coaching lines looking for signals, and the Chief started giving +the real ones until Davis stepped into a curve ball and cracked it to left +field for a single, scoring the only run made by the Athletics. Right here +Meyers stopped, and I began transmitting the private information, although +the Chief continued to pass out signals that meant nothing. The Athletics +were getting the Indian’s and could not understand why the answers seemed +invariably to be wrong, for a couple of them struck out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> swinging at bad +balls, and one batter narrowly avoided being hit by a fast one when +apparently he had been tipped off to a curve and was set ready to swing at +it. They did not discover that I was behind the signals, although to make +this method successful the catcher must be a clever man. If he makes it +too obvious that his signals are “phoney” and are meant to be seen, then +the other club will look around for the source of the real ones. Meyers +carefully concealed his misleading wig-wags beneath his chest protector, +under his glove and behind his knee, as any good catcher does his real +signs, so they would not look at my head.</p> + +<p>Many persons argue: if a man sees the signs, what good does it do him if +he does not know what they mean? It is easy for a smart ball-player to +deduce the answers, because there are only three real signs passed between +a pitcher and catcher, the sign for the fast one, for the curve ball and +for the pitchout. If a coacher sees a catcher open his hand behind his +glove and then watches the pitcher throw a fast one, he is likely to guess +that the open palm says “Fast one.”</p> + +<p>After a coacher has stolen the desired <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>information, he must be clever to +pass it along to the batter without the other club being aware that he is +doing it. He may straighten up to tell the batter a curve ball is coming, +and bend over to forecast a fast one, and turn his back as a neutral +signal, meaning that he does not know what is coming. If a coacher is +smart enough to pass the meanings to the batter without the other team +getting on, he may go through the entire season as a transmitter of +information. To steal signs fairly requires quickness of mind, eye and +action. Few players can do it successfully. Perhaps that is why it is +considered fair.</p> + +<p>If a team is going to make a success of signal stealing it must get every +sign that is given, for an occasional crumb of information picked up at +random is worse than none at all. First, it is dangerous. A batter, tipped +off that a curved ball is coming, steps up to the plate and is surprised +to meet a fast one, which often he has not time to dodge. Many a good +ball-player has been injured in this way, and an accident to a star has +cost more than one pennant.</p> + +<p>“Joe” Kelley, formerly manager of the Reds, was coaching in Cincinnati one +day several years<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> ago, and “Eagle Eye Jake” Beckley, the old first +baseman and a chronic three hundred hitter, was at the bat. I had been +feeding him low drops and Kelley, on the third base line, thought he was +getting the signals that Jack Warner, the Giant catcher in a former cast +of characters, was giving. I saw Kelley apparently pass some information +to Beckley, and the latter stepped almost across the plate ready for a +curve. He encountered a high, fast one, close in, and he encountered it +with that part of him between his neck and hat band. “Eagle Eye” was +unconscious for two days after that and in the hospital several weeks. +When he got back into the game he said to me one day:</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you throw me that curve, Matty, that ‘Joe’ tipped me to?”</p> + +<p>“Were you tipped off?” I asked. “Then it was ‘Joe’s’ error, not mine.”</p> + +<p>“Say,” he answered, “if I ever take another sign from a coacher I hope the +ball kills me.”</p> + +<p>“It probably will,” I replied. “That one nearly did.”</p> + +<p>It is one of the risks of signal stealing. Beckley had received the wrong +information and I felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> no qualms at hitting him, for it was not a wild +pitch but a misinterpreted signal which had put him out of the game. His +manager, not I, was to blame. For this reason many nervous players refuse +to accept any information from a coacher, even if the coacher thinks he +knows what is going to be pitched, because they do not dare take the risk +of getting hit by a fast one, against which they have little protection if +set for a curve. On this account few National League clubs attempt to +steal signs as a part of the regular team work, but many individuals make +a practice of it for their own benefit and for the benefit of the batter, +if he is not of the timid type.</p> + +<p>As soon as a runner gets on second base he is in an excellent position to +see the hands of the catcher, and it is then that the man behind the bat +is doing all that he can cover up. Jack Warner, the old Giant, used +sometimes to give his signals with his mouth in this emergency, because +they were visible from the pitcher’s box, but not from second base. The +thieves were looking at his hands for them. In the National League, Leach, +Clarke, Wagner, Bresnahan, Evers, Tinker and a few more of the sort are +dangerous to have on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> second. Wagner will get on the middle sack and watch +the catcher until he thinks that he has discovered the pitchout sign, +which means a ball is to be wasted in the hope that a base runner can be +caught. Wagner takes a big lead, and the catcher, tempted, gives the +“office” to waste one, thinking to nail “Hans” off second. The Dutchman +sees it, and instead of running back to second dashes for third. He starts +as the catcher lets go of the ball to throw to second and can usually make +the extra base.</p> + +<p>Many coachers, who do not attempt to get the signs for fast and curved +balls, study the catcher to get his pitchout sign, because once this is +recognized it gives the team at the bat a great advantage. If a coacher +sees the catcher give the pitchout signal he can stop the runner from +trying to steal and the pitcher has wasted a ball and is “in the hole.” +Then if his control is uncertain the result is likely to be disastrous.</p> + +<p>Several players in the National League are always trying to get the +batter’s signs. Bresnahan, the manager and catcher of the St. Louis club, +devotes half his time and energy to looking for the wireless code employed +by batter and base<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> runner. If he can discover the hit and run sign, then +he is able to order a pitchout and catch the man who has started to run in +response to it several feet at second base. He is a genius at getting this +information.</p> + +<p>Once late in 1911, when the New York club was in St. Louis on the last +trip West, I came up to the bat with Fletcher on first base. I rubbed the +end of my stick with my hand and Roger exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s your old hit and run, Matty! What are you trying to do, kid me?”</p> + +<p>“I forgot you knew it, Rog,” I answered, “but it goes.”</p> + +<p>He thought I was attempting to cross him and did not order a pitchout. The +sign had been given intentionally. I hit the ball and had the laugh on +him. If a catcher can get a pitchout on a hit and run sign he upsets the +other team greatly. Take a fast man on first base and the batter signs him +that he is going to hit the next ball. The runner gets his start and the +ball comes up so wide that the batter could not half reach it with a +ten-foot bat. The runner is caught easily at second base and it makes him +look foolish. That is why so many catchers devote time to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> looking for +this signal. It is a great fruit bearer.</p> + +<p>Many of the extra players on the bench are always on the alert for the hit +and run sign. This is a typical situation:</p> + +<p>The Giants were playing the Pittsburg club one day in 1911. Byrne was on +first base. Fred Clarke was at bat and Byrne started for second while +Clarke hit the ball to right field, Byrne reaching third base on the play.</p> + +<p>“What did he do?” asked Ames.</p> + +<p>“Did you get it, Matty?” inquired Wiltse.</p> + +<p>“No,” I answered. “Did you?”</p> + +<p>“I think he tapped his bat on the plate,” replied Wiltse. The next time +Clarke came up we were all looking to see if he tapped his bat on the +plate. Byrne was again on first base. The Pirates’ manager fixed his cap, +he stepped back out of the box and knocked the dirt out of his cleats, and +he did two or three other natural things before the pitch, but nothing +happened. Then he tapped his bat on the plate.</p> + +<p>“Make him put them over, Chief,” yelled Wiltse which, translated, meant, +“Order a pitch-out, Chief. He just gave Byrne the hit and run sign.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>Meyers signed for a pitchout, and Byrne was caught ten feet from second. +Wiltse on the bench had really nailed the base runner. As soon as a sign +is discovered it is communicated to the other players, and they are always +watching for it, but try to conceal the fact that they recognize it, +because, as soon as a batter discovers that his messages are being read, +he changes his code.</p> + +<p>From these few facts about signals and sign stealing some idea of the +battle of wits that is going on between two ball clubs in a game may be +obtained. That is why so few men without brains last in the Big Leagues +nowadays. A young fellow broke in with the Giants a few years ago and was +very anxious to make good. He was playing shortstop.</p> + +<p>“Watch for the catcher’s signs and then shift,” McGraw told him one day. +It is well known in baseball that a right-handed hitter will naturally +push a curve over the outside corner of the plate toward right field and +over the inside he will pull it around toward third base. But this +youngster was overanxious and would shift before the pitcher started to +deliver the ball. Some smart player on another club noticed this and +tipped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> the batters off to watch the youngster for the signs. When he +shifted toward second base the batter set himself for a ball over the +outside corner. For a long time McGraw could not understand how the other +teams were getting the Giants’ signs, especially as it was on our home +grounds. At last he saw the new infielder shift one day and the batter +prepare for an inside ball.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said to the player, rushing on the field after he had stopped +the pitcher, “do you know you are telegraphing the signs to the batters by +moving around before the pitcher throws the ball?”</p> + +<p>Bill Dahlen, formerly a shortstop on the Giants, used to shift, but he was +clever enough to wait until the pitcher had started his motion, when it +was too late for the batter to look at him.</p> + +<p>Ball-players are always looking to steal some sign so that they may +“cross” the enemy. In the language of the Big Leagues it is “signs,” never +“signals.” And in conclusion I reiterate my former sentiments that all is +fair in love, war and baseball except stealing signs dishonestly.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> +<h3>Umpires and Close Decisions</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>Ball-players and Umpires are Regarded by the Fans as Natural +Enemies, and the Fans Are about Right—Types of Arbiters and how the +Players Treat them—“Silk” O’Loughlin, “Hank” O’Day, “Tim” Hurst, +“Bob”” Emslie, and Others, and Close Ones they have Called—Also Some +Narrow Escapes which have Followed.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">When</span> the Giants were swinging through the West in 1911 on the final trip, +the club played three games in Pittsburg, with the pennant at that time +only a possibility more or less remote. The Pirates still had a chance, +and they were fighting hard for every game, especially as they were +playing on their home grounds.</p> + +<p>The first contest of the series was on Saturday afternoon before a crowd +that packed the gigantic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> stands which surrounded Forbes Field. The throng +wanted to see the Pirates win because they were the Pirates, and the +Giants beaten because they were the Giants, and were sticking their heads +up above the other clubs in the race. I always think of the horse show +when I play in Pittsburg, for they have the diamond horse-shoe of boxes +there, you know. No; I’m wrong—it’s at the Metropolitan Opera House they +have the diamond horse-shoe. Any way, the diamond horse-shoe of boxes was +doing business at Forbes Field that Saturday afternoon.</p> + +<p>This story is going to be about umpires, but the reader who has never seen +the Forbes Field folks must get the atmosphere before I let the yarn into +the block. Once, on a bright, sunny day there, I muffed fly after fly +because the glint of Sol’s rays on the diamonds blinded me. Always now I +wear smoked glasses. “Josh” Devore is so afraid that he will lose social +caste when he goes to Pittsburg that he gets his finger-nails manicured +before he will appear on the field. And the lady who treated him one day +polished them to such an ultimate glossiness that the sun flashed on them, +and he dropped two flies in left field.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>“Look here, Josh,” warned McGraw after the game, “I hire you to play ball +and not to lead cotillions. Get some pumice stone and rub it on your +finger-nails and cut out those John Drew manicures after this.”</p> + +<p>This crowd is worse after umpires than the residents of the bleachers. The +game on that Saturday worked out into a pitchers’ battle between Marty +O’Toole, the expensive exponent of the spit ball, and “Rube” Marquard, the +great left-hander. Half of “Who’s Who in Pittsburg” had already split +white gloves applauding when, along about the fourth or fifth inning, Fred +Clarke got as far as third base with one out. The score was nothing for +either side as yet, and of such a delicate nature was the contest that one +run was likely to decide it.</p> + +<p>“Hans” Wagner, the peerless, and the pride of Pittsburg, was at the bat. +He pushed a long fly to Murray in right field, and John caught it and +threw the ball home. Clarke and the ball arrived almost simultaneously. +There was a slide, a jumble of players, and a small cloud of dust blew +away from the home plate.</p> + +<p>“Ye’re out!” bawled Mr. Brennan, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>umpire, jerking his thumb over his +shoulder with a conclusiveness that forbade argument. Clarke jumped up and +stretched his hands four feet apart, for he recognizes no conclusiveness +when “one is called against him.”</p> + +<p>“Safe! that much!” he shouted in Brennan’s ear, showing him the four-foot +margin with his hands.</p> + +<p>There was a roar from the diamond horse-shoe that, if it could have been +canned and put on a phonograph, would have made any one his fortune +because it could have been turned on to accompany moving pictures of lions +and other wild beasts to make them realistic.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said Clarke to Brennan, “I know a pickpocket who looks honest +compared to you, and I’d rather trust my watch to a second-story worker.”</p> + +<p>Brennan was dusting off the plate and paid no attention to him. But Clarke +continued to snap and bark at the umpire as he brushed himself off, +referring with feeling to Mr. Brennan’s immediate family, and weaving into +his talk a sketch of the umpire’s ancestors, for Clarke is a great master +of the English language as fed to umpires.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>“Mr. Clarke,” said Brennan, turning at last, “you were out. Now beat it to +the bench before you beat it to the clubhouse.”</p> + +<p>Clarke went grumbling and all the afternoon was after Brennan for the +decision, his wrath increasing because the Pirates lost the game finally, +although they would not have won it had they been given that decision. And +the crowd was roaring at Brennan, too, throughout the remainder of the +contest, asking him pointed questions about his habits and what his +regular business was.</p> + +<p>It takes a man with nerve to make a decision like that—one that could be +called either way because it was so close—and to make it as he sees it, +which happened in this particular case to be against the home team.</p> + +<p>Many times have I, in the excitement of the moment, protested against the +decision of an umpire, but fundamentally I know that the umpires are +honest and are doing their best, as all ball-players are. The umpires make +mistakes and the players make errors. Many arbiters have told me that when +they are working they seldom know what inning it is or how many are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> out, +and sometimes, in their efforts to concentrate their minds on their +decisions, they say they even forget what clubs are playing and which is +the home team.</p> + +<p>The future of the game depends on the umpire, for his honesty must not be +questioned. If there is a breath of suspicion against a man, he is +immediately let go, because constant repetition of such a charge would +result in baseball going the way of horse racing and some other sports. No +scandal can creep in where the umpire is concerned, for the very +popularity of baseball depends on its honesty.</p> + +<p>“The only good umpire is a dead umpire,” McGraw has declared many times +when he has been disgruntled over some decision.</p> + +<p>“I think they’re all dead ones in this League,” replied Devore one day, +“considering the decisions that they are handing me down there at second +base. Why, I had that bag by three feet and he called me out.”</p> + +<p>Many baseball fans look upon an umpire as a sort of necessary evil to the +luxury of baseball, like the odor that follows an automobile.</p> + +<p>“Kill him! He hasn’t got any friends!” is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> an expression shouted from the +stands time and again during a game.</p> + +<p>But I know differently. I have seen umpires with friends. It is true that +most ball-players regard umpires as their natural enemies, as a boy does a +school teacher. But “Bill” Klem has friends because I have seen him with +them, and besides he has a constant companion, which is a calabash pipe. +And “Billy” Evans of the American League has lots of friends. And most all +of the umpires have some one who will speak to them when they are off the +field.</p> + +<p>These men in blue travel by themselves, live at obscure hotels apart from +those at which the teams stop, and slip into the ball parks unobtrusively +just before game time. They never make friends with ball-players off the +field for fear that there might be a hint of scandal. Seldom do they take +the same train with a club unless it cannot be avoided. “Hank” O’Day, the +veteran of the National League staff, and Brennan took the same train out +of Chicago with the Giants in the fall of 1911 because we stopped in +Pittsburg for one game, and they had to be there to umpire. It was the +only available means of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> transportation. But they stayed by themselves in +another Pullman until some one told them “Charley” Faust, the official +jinx-killer of the Giants, was doing his stunt. Then they both came back +into the Giants’ car and for the first time in my life I saw “Hank” O’Day +laugh. His face acted as if it wasn’t accustomed to the exercise and broke +all in funny new wrinkles, like a glove when you put it on for the first +time.</p> + +<p>There are several types of umpires, and ball-players are always studying +the species to find out the best way to treat each man to get the most out +of him. There are autocrats and stubborn ones and good fellows and +weak-kneed ones, almost as many kinds as there are human beings. The +autocrat of the umpire world is “Silk” O’Loughlin, now appearing with a +rival show.</p> + +<p>“There are no close plays,” says “Silk.” “A man is always out or safe, or +it is a ball or a strike, and the umpire, if he is a good man and knows +his business, is always right. For instance, I am always right.”</p> + +<p>He refuses to let the players discuss a decision with him, maintaining +that there is never any room for argument. If a man makes any talk with +him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> it is quick to the shower bath. “Silk” has a voice of which he is +proud and declares that he shares the honors with Caruso and that it is +only his profession as an umpire that keeps him off the grand-opera +circuit. I have heard a lot of American League ball-players say at various +times that they wished he was on the grand-opera circuit or some more +calorific circuit, but they were mostly prejudiced at those moments by +some sentiments which “Silk” had just voiced in an official capacity.</p> + +<p>As is well known in baseball, “Silk” is the inventor of “Strike Tuh!” and +the creased trousers for umpires. I have heard American League players +declare that they are afraid to slide when “Silk” is close down over a +play for fear they will bump up against his trousers and cut themselves. +He is one of the kind of umpires who can go through a game on the hottest +summer day, running about the bases, and still keep his collar unwilted. +At the end he will look as if he were dressed for an afternoon tea.</p> + +<p>Always he wears on his right hand, which is his salary or decision wing, a +large diamond that sparkles in the sunlight every time he calls a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +out. Many American League players assert that he would rather call a man +out than safe, so that he can shimmer his “cracked ice,” but again they +are usually influenced by circumstances. Such is “Silk,” well named.</p> + +<p>Corresponding to him in the National League is “Billy” Klem. He always +wears a Norfolk jacket because he thinks it more stylish, and perhaps it +is, and he refuses to don a wind pad. Ever notice him working behind the +bat? But I am going to let you in on a secret. That chest is not all his +own. Beneath his jacket he carries his armor, a protector, and under his +trousers’ legs are shin guards. He insists that all players call him “Mr.” +He says that he thinks maybe soon his name will be in the social register.</p> + +<p>“Larry” Doyle thought that he had received the raw end of a decision at +second base one day. He ran down to first, where Klem had retreated after +he passed his judgment.</p> + +<p>“Say, ‘Bill,’” exploded “Larry,” “that man didn’t touch the bag—didn’t +come within six feet of it.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Doyle,” replied Klem, “when you talk to me call me ‘Mr. Klem.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>“But, Mr. Klem—” amended “Larry.”</p> + +<p>Klem hurriedly drew a line with his foot as Doyle approached him +menacingly.</p> + +<p>“But if you come over that line, you’re out of the game, Mr. Doyle,” he +threatened.</p> + +<p>“All right,” answered “Larry,” letting his pugilistic attitude evaporate +before the abruptness of Klem as the mist does before the classic noonday +sun, “but, Mr. Klem, I only wanted to ask you if that clock in centre +field is right by your watch, because I know everything about you is +right.”</p> + +<p>“Larry” went back, grinning and considering that he had put one over on +Klem—Mr. Klem.</p> + +<p>For a long time “Johnny” Evers of the Chicago club declared that Klem owed +him $5 on a bet he had lost to the second baseman and had neglected to +pay. Now John, when he was right, could make almost any umpirical goat +leap from crag to crag and do somersaults en route. He kept pestering Klem +about that measly $5 bet, not in an obtrusive way, you understand, but by +such delicate methods as holding up five fingers when Klem glanced down on +the coaching lines where he was stationed, or by writing a large “5”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> in +the dirt at the home plate with the butt of his bat as he came up when +Klem was umpiring on balls and strikes, or by counting slowly and casually +up to five and stopping with an abruptness that could not be misconstrued.</p> + +<p>One day John let his temper get away from him and bawled Klem out in his +most approved fashion.</p> + +<p>“Here’s your five, Mr. Evers,” said Klem, handing him a five dollar bill, +“and now you are fined $25.”</p> + +<p>“And it was worth it,” answered Evers, “to bawl you out.”</p> + +<p>Next comes the O’Day type, and there is only one of them, “Hank.” He is +the stubborn kind—or perhaps <i>was</i> the stubborn kind, would be better, as +he is now a manager. He is bull-headed. If a manager gets after him for a +decision, he is likely to go up in the air and, not meaning to do it, call +close ones against the club that has made the kick, for it must be +remembered that umpires are only “poor weak mortals after all.” O’Day has +to be handled with shock absorbers. McGraw tries to do it, but shock +absorbers do not fit him well, and the first thing that usually occurs is +a row.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>“Let me do the kicking, boys,” McGraw always warns his players before a +contest that O’Day is going to umpire. He does not want to see any of his +men put out of the game.</p> + +<p>“Bill” Dahlen always got on O’Day’s nerves by calling him “Henry.” For +some reason, O’Day does not like the name, and “Bill” Dahlen discovered +long ago the most irritating inflection to give it so that it would rasp +on O’Day’s ears. He does not mind “Hank” and is not a “Mister” umpire. But +every time Dahlen would call O’Day “Henry” it was the cold shower and the +civilian’s clothes for his.</p> + +<p>Dahlen was playing in St. Louis many years ago when the race track was +right opposite the ball park. “Bill” had a preference in one of the later +races one day and was anxious to get across the street and make a little +bet. He had obtained a leave of absence on two preceding days by calling +O’Day “Henry” and had lost money on the horses he had selected as fleet of +foot. But this last time he had a “sure thing” and was banking on some +positive information which had been slipped to him by a friend of the +friend of the man who owned the winner, and “Bill”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> wanted to be there. +Along about the fifth inning, “Bill” figured that it was time for him to +get a start, so he walked up to O’Day and said:</p> + +<p>“Henry, do you know who won the first race?”</p> + +<p>“No, and you won’t either, Mr. Dahlen,” answered “Hank.” “You are fined +$25, and you stay here and play the game out.”</p> + +<p>Some one had tipped “Hank” off. And the saddest part of the story is that +”Bill’s“ horse walked home, and he could not get a bet down on him.</p> + +<p>”First time it ever failed to work,“ groaned ”Bill“ in the hotel that +night, ”and I said ‘Henry’ in my meanest way, too.“</p> + +<p>Most clubs try to keep an umpire from feeling hostile toward the team +because, even if he means to see a play right, he is likely to call a +close one against his enemies, not intending to be dishonest. It would +simply mean that you would not get any close ones from him, and the close +ones count. Some umpires can be reasoned with, and a good fair protest +will often make a man think perhaps he has called it wrong, and he will +give you the edge on the next decision. A player must understand an umpire +to know how to approach him to the best advantage. O’Day cannot be +reasoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> with. It is as dangerous to argue with him as it is to try to +ascertain how much gasoline is in the tank of an automobile by sticking +down the lighted end of a cigar or a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Emslie will listen to a reasonable argument. He is one of the finest +umpires that ever broke into the League, I think. He is a good fellow. Far +be it from me to be disloyal to my manager, for I think that he is the +greatest that ever won a pennant, but Emslie put one over on McGraw in +1911 when it was being said that Emslie was getting so old he could not +see a play.</p> + +<p>”I’ll bet,“ said McGraw to him one day after he had called one against the +Giants, ”that I can put a baseball and an orange on second base, and you +can’t tell the difference standing at the home plate, Bob.“</p> + +<p>Emslie made no reply right then, but when the eye test for umpires was +established by Mr. Lynch, the president of the League, ”Bob“ passed it at +the head of the list and then turned around and went up to Chatham in +Ontario, Canada, and made a high score with the rifle in a shooting match +up there. After he had done that, he was umpiring at the Polo Grounds one +day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>“Want to take me on for a shooting go, John?” he asked McGraw as he passed +him.</p> + +<p>“No, Bob, you’re all right. I give it to you,” answered McGraw, who had +long forgotten his slur on Emslie’s eyesight.</p> + +<p>Emslie is the sort of umpire who rules by the bond of good fellowship +rather than by the voice of authority. “Old Bob” has one “groove” and it +is a personal matter about which he is very sensitive. He is under cover. +It is no secret, or I would not give way on him. But that luxuriant growth +of hair, apparent, comes off at night like his collar and necktie. It used +to be quite the fad in the League to “josh” “Bob” about his wig, but that +pastime has sort of died out now because he has proven himself to be such +a good fellow.</p> + +<p>I had to laugh to myself, and not boisterously, in the season of 1911 when +Mr. Lynch appointed “Jack” Doyle, formerly a first baseman and a +hot-headed player, an umpire and scheduled him to work with Emslie. I +remembered the time several seasons ago when Doyle took offence at one of +“Bob’s” decisions and wrestled him all over the infield trying to get his +wig off and show<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> him up before the crowd. And then Emslie and he worked +together like Damon and Pythias. This business makes strange bed-fellows.</p> + +<p>Emslie was umpiring in New York one day in the season of 1909, when the +Giants were playing St. Louis. A wild pitch hit Emslie over the heart and +he wilted down, unconscious. The players gathered around him, and +Bresnahan, who was catching for St. Louis at the time, started to help +“Bob.” Suddenly the old umpire came to and began to fight off his +first-aid-to-the-injured corps. No one could understand his attitude as he +struggled to his feet and strolled away by himself, staggering a little +and apparently dizzy. At last he came back and gamely finished the +business of the day. I never knew why he fought with the men who were +trying to help him until several weeks later, when we were playing in +Pittsburg. As I came out from under the stand on my way to the bench, +Emslie happened to be making his entrance at the same time.</p> + +<p>“Say, Matty,” he asked me, “that time in New York did my wig come off? Did +Bresnahan take my wig off?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>“No, Bob,” I replied, “he was only trying to help you.”</p> + +<p>“I thought maybe he took it off while I was down and out and showed me up +before the crowd,” he apologized.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Bob,” I said. “I don’t believe there is a player in either League +who would do that, and, if any youngster tried it now, he would probably +be licked.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to hear you say that, Matty,” answered the old man, as he picked +up his wind pad and prepared to go to work. And he called more bad ones on +me that day than he ever had in his life before, but I never mentioned the +wig to him.</p> + +<p>Most umpires declare they have off days just like players, when they know +that they are making mistakes and cannot help it. If a pitcher of Mordecai +Brown’s kind, who depends largely on his control for his effectiveness, +happens to run up against an umpire with a bad day, he might just as well +go back to the bench. Brown is a great man to work the corners of the +plate, and if the umpire is missing strikes, he is forced to lay the ball +over and then the batters whang it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> out. Johnstone had an off day in +Chicago in 1911, when Brown was working.</p> + +<p>“What’s the use of my tryin’ to pitch, Jim,” said Brown, throwing down his +glove and walking to the bench disgusted, “if you don’t know a strike when +you see one?”</p> + +<p>Sometimes an umpire who has been good will go into a long slump when he +cannot call things right and knows it. Men like that get as discouraged as +a pitcher who goes bad. There used to be one in the National League who +was a pretty fair umpire when he started and seemed to be getting along +fine until he hit one of those slumps. Then he began calling everything +wrong and knew it. At last he quit, and the next time I saw him was in +Philadelphia in the 1911 world’s series. He was a policeman.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Matty,” he shouted at me as we were going into Shibe Park for the +first game there. “I can call you by your first name now,” and he waved +his hand real friendly. The last conversation I had with that fellow, +unless my recollection fails me entirely, was anything but friendly.</p> + +<p>Umpires have told me that sometimes they see a play one way and call it +another, and, as soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> as the decision is announced, they realize that +they have called it wrong. This malady has put more than one umpire out. A +man on the National League staff has informed me since, that he called a +hit fair that was palpably two feet foul in one of the most important +games ever played in baseball, when he saw the ball strike on foul ground.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help saying ‘Fair ball,’” declared this man, and he is one of +the best in the National League. “Luckily,” he added, “the team against +which the decision went won the game.”</p> + +<p>Many players assert that arbiters hold a personal grudge against certain +men who have put up too strenuous kicks, and for that reason the wise ones +are careful how they talk to umpires of this sort. Fred Tenney has said +for a long time that Mr. Klem gives him a shade the worst of it on all +close ones because he had a run in with that umpire one day when they came +to blows. Tenney is a great man to pick out the good ones when at the bat, +and Fred says that if he is up with a three and two count on him now, Klem +is likely to call the next one a strike if it is close, not because he is +dishonest, but because he has a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> certain personal prejudice which he +cannot overcome. And the funny part about it is that Tenney does not hold +this up against Klem.</p> + +<p>Humorous incidents are always occurring in connection with umpires. We +were playing in Boston one day a few years ago, and the score was 3 to 0 +against the Giants in the ninth inning. Becker knocked a home run with two +men on the bases, and it tied the count. With men on first and third bases +and one out in the last half of the ninth, a Boston batter tapped one to +Merkle which I thought he trapped, but Johnstone, the umpire, said he +caught it on the fly. It was simplicity itself to double the runner up off +first base who also thought Merkle had trapped the ball and had started +for second. That retired the side, and we won the game in the twelfth +inning, whereas Boston would have taken it in the ninth if Johnstone had +said the ball was trapped instead of caught on the fly.</p> + +<p>It was a very hot day, and those extra three innings in the box knocked me +out. I was sick for a week with stomach trouble afterwards and could not +pitch in Chicago, where we made our next stop. That was a case of where a +decision in my favor “made me sick.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>“Tim” Hurst, the old American League umpire, was one of the most +picturesque judges that ever spun an indicator. He was the sort who would +take a player at his word and fight him blow for blow. “Tim” was umpiring +in Baltimore in the old days when there was a runner on first base.</p> + +<p>“The man started to steal,” says “Tim.” He was telling the story only the +other day in McGraw’s billiard room in New York, and it is better every +time he does it. “As he left the bag he spiked the first baseman and that +player attempted to trip him. The second baseman blocked the runner and, +in sliding into the bag, the latter tried to spike ‘Hugh’ Jennings, who +was playing shortstop and covering, while Jennings sat on him to knock the +wind out. The batter hit Robinson, who was catching, on the hands with his +bat so that he couldn’t throw, and ‘Robbie’ trod on my toes with his +spikes and shoved his glove into my face so that I couldn’t see to give +the decision. It was one of the hardest that I have ever been called upon +to make.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do?” I asked him.</p> + +<p>“I punched ‘Robbie’ in the ribs, called it a foul and sent the runner +back,” replied “Tim.”</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> +<h3>The Game that Cost a Pennant</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>The Championship of the National League was Decided in 1908 in One +Game between the Giants and Cubs—Few Fans Know that it Was Mr. Brush +who Induced the Disgruntled New York Players to Meet Chicago—This is +the “Inside” Story of the Famous Game, Including “Fred” Merkle’s Part +in the Series of Events which Led up to it.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">The</span> New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs played a game at the Polo Grounds +on October 8, 1908, which decided the championship of the National League +in one afternoon, which was responsible for the deaths of two spectators, +who fell from the elevated railroad structure overlooking the grounds, +which made Fred Merkle famous for not touching second, which caused +lifelong friends to become bitter enemies,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> and which, altogether, was the +most dramatic and important contest in the history of baseball. It stands +out from every-day events like the battle of Waterloo and the +assassination of President Lincoln. It was a baseball tragedy from a New +York point of view. The Cubs won by the score of 4 to 2.</p> + +<p>Behind this game is some “inside” history that has never been written. Few +persons, outside of the members of the New York club, know that it was +only after a great deal of consultation the game was finally played, only +after the urging of John T. Brush, the president of the club. The Giants +were risking, in one afternoon, their chances of winning the pennant and +the world’s series—the concentration of their hopes of a season—because +the Cubs claimed the right on a technicality to play this one game for the +championship. Many members of the New York club felt that it would be +fighting for what they had already won, as did their supporters. This made +bad feeling between the teams and between the spectators, until the whole +dramatic situation leading up to the famous game culminated in the climax +of that afternoon. The nerves of the players<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> were rasped raw with the +strain, and the town wore a fringe of nervous prostration. It all burst +forth in the game.</p> + +<p>Among other things, Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, had a cartilage +in his neck broken when some rooter hit him with a handy pop bottle, +several spectators hurt one another when they switched from conversational +to fistic arguments, large portions of the fence at the Polo Grounds were +broken down by patrons who insisted on gaining entrance, and most of the +police of New York were present to keep order. They had their clubs +unlimbered, too, acting more as if on strike duty than restraining the +spectators at a pleasure park. Last of all, that night, after we had lost +the game, the report filtered through New York that Fred Merkle, then a +youngster and around whom the whole situation revolved, had committed +suicide. Of course it was not true, for Merkle is one of the gamest +ball-players that ever lived.</p> + +<p>My part in the game was small. I started to pitch and I didn’t finish. The +Cubs beat me because I never had less on the ball in my life. What I can’t +understand to this day is why it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> took them so long to hit me. Frequently +it has been said that “Cy” Seymour started the Cubs on their victorious +way and lost the game, because he misjudged a long hit jostled to centre +field by “Joe” Tinker at the beginning of the third inning, in which +chapter they made four runs. The hit went for three bases.</p> + +<p>Seymour, playing centre field, had a bad background against which to judge +fly balls that afternoon, facing the shadows of the towering stand, with +the uncertain horizon formed by persons perched on the roof. A baseball +writer has said that, when Tinker came to the bat in that fatal inning, I +turned in the box and motioned Seymour back, and instead of obeying +instructions he crept a few steps closer to the infield. I don’t recall +giving any advice to “Cy,” as he knew the Chicago batters as well as I did +and how to play for them.</p> + +<p>Tinker, with his long bat, swung on a ball intended to be a low curve over +the outside corner of the plate, but it failed to break well. He pushed +out a high fly to centre field, and I turned with the ball to see Seymour +take a couple of steps toward the diamond, evidently thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> it would +drop somewhere behind second base. He appeared to be uncertain in his +judgment of the hit until he suddenly turned and started to run back. That +must have been when the ball cleared the roof of the stand and was visible +above the sky line. He ran wildly. Once he turned, and then ran on again, +at last sticking up his hands and having the ball fall just beyond them. +He chased it and picked it up, but Tinker had reached third base by that +time. If he had let the ball roll into the crowd in centre field, the Cub +could have made only two bases on the hit, according to the ground rules. +That was a mistake, but it made little difference in the end.</p> + +<p>All the players, both the Cubs and the Giants, were under a terrific +strain that day, and Seymour, in his anxiety to be sure to catch the ball, +misjudged it. Did you ever stand out in the field at a ball park with +thirty thousand crazy, shouting fans looking at you and watch a ball climb +and climb into the air and have to make up your mind exactly where it is +going to land and then have to be there, when it arrived, to greet it, +realizing all the time that if you are not there you are going to be +everlastingly roasted? It is no cure for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>nervous diseases, that +situation. Probably forty-nine times out of fifty Seymour would have +caught the fly.</p> + +<p>“I misjudged that ball,” said “Cy” to me in the clubhouse after the game. +“I’ll take the blame for it.”</p> + +<p>He accepted all the abuse the newspapers handed him without a murmur and I +don’t think myself that it was more than an incident in the game. I’ll try +to show later in this story where the real “break” came.</p> + +<p>Just one mistake, made by “Fred” Merkle, resulted in this play-off game. +Several newspaper men have called September 23, 1908, “Merkle Day,” +because it was on that day he ran to the clubhouse from first base instead +of by way of second, when “Al” Bridwell whacked out the hit that +apparently won the game from the Cubs. Any other player on the team would +have undoubtedly done the same thing under the circumstances, as the +custom had been in vogue all around the circuit during the season. It was +simply Fred Merkle’s misfortune to have been on first base at the critical +moment. The situation which gave rise to the incident is well known to +every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> follower of baseball. Merkle, as a pinch hitter, had singled with +two out in the ninth inning and the score tied, sending McCormick from +first base to third. “Al” Bridwell came up to the bat and smashed a single +to centre field. McCormick crossed the plate, and that, according to the +customs of the League, ended the game, so Merkle dug for the clubhouse. +Evers and Tinker ran through the crowd which had flocked on the field and +got the ball, touching second and claiming that Merkle had been forced out +there.</p> + +<p>Most of the spectators did not understand the play, as Merkle was under +the shower bath when the alleged put-out was made, but they started after +“Hank” O’Day, the umpire, to be on the safe side. He made a speedy +departure under the grand-stand and the crowd got the put-out unassisted. +Finally, while somewhere near Coogan’s Bluff, he called Merkle out and the +score a tie. When the boys heard this in the clubhouse, they laughed, for +it didn’t seem like a situation to be taken seriously. But it turned out +to be one of those things that the farther it goes the more serious it +becomes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>“Connie” Mack, the manager of the Athletics, says:</p> + +<p>“There is no luck in Big League baseball. In a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-four games, the lucky and unlucky plays break about even, except in +the matter of injuries.”</p> + +<p>But Mack’s theory does not include a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-five games, with the result depending on the one hundred and +fifty-fifth. Chicago had a lot of injured athletes early in the season of +1908, and the Giants had shot out ahead in the race in grand style. In the +meantime the Cubs’ cripples began to recuperate, and that lamentable event +on September 23 seemed to be the turning-point in the Giants’ fortunes.</p> + +<p>Almost within a week afterwards, Bresnahan had an attack of sciatic +rheumatism and “Mike” Donlin was limping about the outfield, leading a +great case of “Charley horse.” Tenney was bandaged from his waist down and +should have been wearing crutches instead of playing first base on a Big +League club. Doyle was badly spiked and in the hospital. McGraw’s daily +greeting to his athletes when he came to the park was:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>“How are the cripples? Any more to add to the list of identified dead +to-day?”</p> + +<p>Merkle moped. He lost flesh, and time after time begged McGraw to send him +to a minor league or to turn him loose altogether.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t your fault,” was the regular response of the manager who makes +it a habit to stand by his men.</p> + +<p>We played on with the cripples, many double-headers costing the pitchers +extra effort, and McGraw not daring to take a chance on losing a game if +there were any opportunity to win it. He could not rest any of his men. +Merkle lost weight and seldom spoke to the other players as the Cubs crept +up on us day after day and more men were hurt. He felt that he was +responsible for this change in the luck of the club. None of the players +felt this way toward him, and many tried to cheer him up, but he was +inconsolable. The team went over to Philadelphia, and Coveleski, the +pitcher we later drove out of the League, beat us three times, winning the +last game by the scantiest of margins. The result of that series left us +three to play with Boston to tie the Cubs if they won from Pittsburg the +next day, Sunday. If the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> Pirates had taken that Sunday game, it would +have given them the pennant. We returned to New York on Saturday night +very much downhearted.</p> + +<p>“Lose me. I’m the jinx,” Merkle begged McGraw that night.</p> + +<p>“You stick,” replied the manager.</p> + +<p>While we had been losing, the Cubs had been coming fast. It seemed as if +they could not drop a game. At last Cincinnati beat them one, which was +the only thing that made the famous season tie possible. There is an +interesting anecdote connected with that Cincinnati contest which goes to +prove the honesty of baseball. Two of the closest friends in the game are +“Hans” Lobert, then with the Reds, and Overall, the former Chicago +pitcher. It looked as if Chicago had the important game won up to the +ninth inning when Lobert came to the bat with two men out and two on the +bases. Here he had a chance to overcome the lead of one run which the Cubs +had gained, and win the contest for the home club, but he would beat his +best friend and maybe put the Cubs out of the running for the pennant.</p> + +<p>Lobert had two balls and two strikes when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> smashed the next pitch to +center field, scoring both the base runners. The hit came near beating the +Cubs out of the championship. It would have if we had taken one of those +close games against Philadelphia. Lobert was broken-hearted over his hit, +for he wanted the Cubs to win. On his way to the clubhouse, he walked with +Overall, the two striding side by side like a couple of mourners.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, ‘Orvie,’” said Lobert. “I would not have made that hit for my +year’s salary if I could have helped it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, ‘Hans,’” returned Overall. “It’s all part of the +game.”</p> + +<p>Next came the famous game in Chicago on Sunday between the Cubs and the +Pittsburg Pirates, when a victory for the latter club would have meant the +pennant and the big game would never have been played. Ten thousand +persons crowded into the Polo Grounds that Sunday afternoon and watched a +little electric score board which showed the plays as made in Chicago. For +the first time in my life I heard a New York crowd cheering the Cubs with +great fervor, for on their victory hung our only chances of ultimate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +success. The same man who was shouting himself hoarse for the Cubs that +afternoon was for taking a vote on the desirability of poisoning the whole +Chicago team on the following Thursday. Even the New York players were +rooting for the Cubs.</p> + +<p>The Chicago team at last won the game when Clarke was called out at third +base on a close play, late in the contest. With the decision, the Pirates’ +last chance went glimmering. The Giants now had three games to win from +Boston on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, to make the deciding game on +Thursday necessary. We won those, and the stage was cleared for the big +number.</p> + +<p>The National Commission gave the New York club the option of playing three +games out of five for the championship or risking it all on one contest. +As more than half of the club was tottering on the brink of the hospital, +it was decided that all hope should be hung on one game. By this time, +Merkle had lost twenty pounds, and his eyes were hollow and his cheeks +sunken. The newspapers showed him no mercy, and the fans never failed to +criticise and hiss him when he appeared on the field. He stuck to it and +showed up in the ball park every day, putting on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> uniform and +practising. It was a game thing to do. A lot of men, under the same fire, +would have quit cold. McGraw was with him all the way.</p> + +<p>But it was not until after considerable discussion that it was decided to +play that game. All the men felt disgruntled because they believed they +would be playing for something they had already won. Even McGraw was so +wrought up, he said in the clubhouse the night before the game:</p> + +<p>“I don’t care whether you fellows play this game or not. You can take a +vote.”</p> + +<p>A vote was taken, and the players were not unanimous, some protesting it +ought to be put up to the League directors so that, if they wanted to rob +the team of a pennant, they would have to take the blame. Others insisted +it would look like quitting, and it was finally decided to appoint a +committee to call upon Mr. Brush, the president of the club, who was ill +in bed in the Lambs club at the time. Devlin, Bresnahan, Donlin, Tenney, +and I were on that committee.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Brush,” I said to my employer, having been appointed the spokesman, +“McGraw has left it up to us to decide whether we shall meet the Chicago +team for the championship of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> National League to-morrow. A lot of the +boys do not believe we ought to be forced to play over again for something +we have already won, so the players have appointed this committee of five +to consult with you and get your opinion on the subject. What we decide +goes with them.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Brush looked surprised. I was nervous, more so than when I am in the +box with three on the bases and “Joe” Tinker at the bat. Bresnahan fumbled +with his hat, and Devlin coughed. Tenney leaned more heavily on his cane, +and Donlin blew his nose. We five big athletes were embarrassed in the +presence of this sick man. Suddenly it struck us all at the same time that +the game would have to be played to keep ourselves square with our own +ideas of courage. Even if the Cubs had claimed it on a technicality, even +if we had really won the pennant once, that game had to be played now. We +all saw that, and it was this thin, ill man in bed who made us see it even +before he had said a word. It was the expression on his face. It seemed to +say, “And I had confidence in you, boys, to do the right thing.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to leave it to you,” he answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> “You boys can play the game +or put it up to the directors of the League to decide as you want. But I +shouldn’t think you would stop now after making all this fight.”</p> + +<p>The committee called an executive session, and we all thought of the crowd +of fans looking forward to the game and of what the newspapers would say +if we refused to play it and of Mr. Brush lying there, the man who wanted +us to play, and it was rapidly and unanimously decided to imitate “Steve” +Brodie and take a chance.</p> + +<p>“We’ll play,” I said to Mr. Brush.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” he answered. “And, say, boys,” he added, as we started to file +out, “I want to tell you something. Win or lose, I’m going to give the +players a bonus of $10,000.”</p> + +<p>That night was a wild one in New York. The air crackled with excitement +and baseball. I went home, but couldn’t sleep for I live near the Polo +Grounds, and the crowd began to gather there early in the evening of the +day before the game to be ready for the opening of the gates the next +morning. They tooted horns all night, and were never still. When I +reported at the ball park, the gates had been closed by order of the +National<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> Commission, but the streets for blocks around the Polo Grounds +were jammed with persons fighting to get to the entrances.</p> + +<p>The players in the clubhouse had little to say to one another, but, after +the bandages were adjusted, McGraw called his men around him and said:</p> + +<p>“Chance will probably pitch Pfiester or Brown. If Pfiester works there is +no use trying to steal. He won’t give you any lead. The right-handed +batters ought to wait him out and the left-handers hit him when he gets in +a hole. Matty is going to pitch for us.”</p> + +<p>Pfiester is a left-hand pitcher who watches the bases closely.</p> + +<p>Merkle had reported at the clubhouse as usual and had put on his uniform. +He hung on the edge of the group as McGraw spoke, and then we all went to +the field. It was hard for us to play that game with the crowd which was +there, but harder for the Cubs. In one place, the fence was broken down, +and some employees were playing a stream of water from a fire hose on the +cavity to keep the crowd back. Many preferred a ducking to missing the +game and ran through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> the stream to the lines around the field. A string +of fans recklessly straddled the roof of the old grand-stand.</p> + +<p>Every once in a while some group would break through the restraining ropes +and scurry across the diamond to what appeared to be a better point of +vantage. This would let a throng loose which hurried one way and another +and mixed in with the players. More police had to be summoned. As I +watched that half-wild multitude before the contest, I could think of +three or four things I would rather do than umpire the game.</p> + +<p>I had rested my arm four days, not having pitched in the Boston series, +and I felt that it should be in pretty good condition. Before that +respite, I had been in nine out of fifteen games. But as I started to warm +up, the ball refused to break. I couldn’t get anything on it.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, Rog?” I asked Bresnahan. “They won’t break for me.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll come as you start to work,” he replied, although I could see that +he, too, was worried.</p> + +<p>John M. Ward, the old ball-player and now one of the owners of the Boston +National League club, has told me since that, after working almost every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +day as I had been doing, it does a pitcher’s arm no good to lay off for +three or four days. Only a week or ten days will accomplish any results. +It would have been better for me to continue to work as often as I had +been doing, for the short rest only seemed to deaden my arm.</p> + +<p>The crowd that day was inflammable. The players caught this incendiary +spirit. McGinnity, batting out to our infield in practice, insisted on +driving Chance away from the plate before the Cubs’ leader thought his +team had had its full share of the batting rehearsal. “Joe” shoved him a +little, and in a minute fists were flying, although Chance and McGinnity +are very good friends off the field.</p> + +<p>Fights immediately started all around in the stands. I remember seeing two +men roll from the top to the bottom of the right-field bleachers, over the +heads of the rest of the spectators. And they were yanked to their feet +and run out of the park by the police.</p> + +<p>“Too bad,” I said to Bresnahan, nodding my head toward the departing +belligerents, “they couldn’t have waited until they saw the game, anyway. +I’ll bet they stood outside the park<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> all night to get in, only to be run +out before it started.”</p> + +<p>I forgot the crowd, forgot the fights, and didn’t hear the howling after +the game started. I knew only one thing, and that was my curved ball +wouldn’t break for me. It surprised me that the Cubs didn’t hit it far, +right away, but two of them fanned in the first inning and Herzog threw +out Evers. Then came our first time at bat. Pfiester was plainly nervous +and hit Tenney. Herzog walked and Bresnahan fanned out, Herzog being +doubled up at second because he tried to advance on a short passed ball. +“Mike” Donlin whisked a double to right field and Tenney counted.</p> + +<p>For the first time in almost a month, Merkle smiled. He was drawn up in +the corner of the bench, pulling away from the rest of us as if he had +some contagious disease and was quarantined. For a minute it looked as if +we had them going. Chance yanked Pfiester out of the box with him +protesting that he had been robbed on the decisions on balls and strikes. +Brown was brought into the game and fanned Devlin. That ended the inning.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>We never had a chance against Brown. His curve was breaking sharply, and +his control was microscopic. We went back to the field in the second with +that one run lead. Chance made the first hit of the game off me in the +second, but I caught him sleeping at first base, according to Klem’s +decision. There was a kick, and Hofman, joining in the chorus of protests, +was sent to the clubhouse.</p> + +<p>Tinker started the third with that memorable triple which gave the Cubs +their chance. I couldn’t make my curve break. I didn’t have anything on +the ball.</p> + +<p>“Rog,” I said to Bresnahan, “I haven’t got anything to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Keep at it, Matty,” he replied. “We’ll get them all right.”</p> + +<p>I looked in at the bench, and McGraw signalled me to go on pitching. Kling +singled and scored Tinker. Brown sacrificed, sending Kling to second, and +Sheckard flied out to Seymour, Kling being held on second base. I lost +Evers, because I was afraid to put the ball over the plate for him, and he +walked. Two were out now, and we had yet a chance to win the game as the +score was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> only tied. But Schulte doubled, and Kling scored, leaving men +on second and third bases. Still we had a Mongolian’s chance with them +only one run ahead of us. Frank Chance, with his under jaw set like the +fender on a trolley car, caught a curved ball over the inside corner of +the plate and pushed it to right field for two bases. That was the most +remarkable batting performance I have ever witnessed since I have been in +the Big Leagues. A right-handed hitter naturally slaps a ball over the +outside edge of the plate to right field, but Chance pushed this one, on +the inside, with the handle of his bat, just over Tenney’s hands and on +into the crowd. The hit scored Evers and Schulte and dissolved the game +right there. It was the “break.” Steinfeldt fanned.</p> + +<p>None of the players spoke to one another as they went to the bench. Even +McGraw was silent. We knew it was gone. Merkle was drawn up behind the +water cooler. Once he said:</p> + +<p>“It was my fault, boys.”</p> + +<p>No one answered him. Inning after inning, our batters were mowed down by +the great pitching of Brown, who was never better. His control of his +curved ball was marvellous, and he had all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> his speed. As the innings +dragged by, the spectators lost heart, and the cowbells ceased to jingle, +and the cheering lost its resonant ring. It was now a surly growl.</p> + +<p>Then the seventh! We had our one glimmer of sunshine. Devlin started with +a single to centre, and McCormick shoved a drive to right field. Recalling +that Bridwell was more or less of a pinch hitter, Brown passed him +purposely and Doyle was sent to the bat in my place. As he hobbled to the +plate on his weak foot, said McGraw:</p> + +<p>“Hit one, Larry.”</p> + +<p>The crowd broke into cheers again and was stamping its feet. The bases +were full, and no one was out. Then Doyle popped up a weak foul behind the +catcher. His batting eye was dim and rusty through long disuse. Kling went +back for it, and some one threw a pop bottle which narrowly missed him, +and another scaled a cushion. But Kling kept on and got what he went +after, which was the ball. He has a habit of doing that. Tenney flied to +Schulte, counting Devlin on the catch, and Tinker threw out Herzog. The +game was gone. Never again did we have a chance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>It was a glum lot of players in the clubhouse. Merkle came up to McGraw +and said:</p> + +<p>“Mac, I’ve lost you one <ins class="correction" title="original: penant">pennant</ins>. Fire me before I can do any more harm.”</p> + +<p>“Fire you?” replied McGraw. “We ran the wrong way of the track to-day. +That’s all. Next year is another season, and do you think I’m going to let +you go after the gameness you’ve shown through all this abuse? Why you’re +the kind of a guy I’ve been lookin’ for many years. I could use a carload +like you. Forget this season and come around next spring. The newspapers +will have forgotten it all then. Good-by, boys.” And he slipped out of the +clubhouse.</p> + +<p>“He’s a regular guy,” said Merkle.</p> + +<p>Merkle has lived down that failure to touch second and proved himself to +be one of the gamest players that ever stood in a diamond. Many times +since has he vindicated himself. He is a great first baseman now, and +McGraw and he are close friends. That is the “inside” story of the most +important game ever played in baseball and Merkle’s connection with it.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> +<h3>When the Teams Are in Spring Training</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>The Hardships of the Preliminary Practice in Limbering up Muscles +and Reducing Weight for the Big Campaign—How a Ball Club is Whipped +into Playing Shape—Trips to the South Not the Picnics they Seem to +Be—The Battle of the Bushers to Stay in the Big Show—Making a +Pitcher—Some Fun on the Side, including the Adventure of the Turkish +Bath.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Spring</span> training! The words probably remind the reader of the sunny South +and light exercise and good food and rubs and other luxuries, but the +reader perhaps has never been with a Big League ball club when it is +getting ready to go into a six months’ campaign.</p> + +<p>All I can ever remember after a training trip is taking off and putting on +a uniform, and running around the ball park under the inspiration of John +McGraw, and he is some inspirer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>The heavier a man gets through the winter, the harder the routine work is +for him, and a few years ago I almost broke down and cried out of sympathy +for Otis Crandall, who arrived in camp very corpulent.</p> + +<p>“What have you been doing this winter, Otie?” McGraw asked him after +shaking hands in greeting, “appearing with a show as the stout lady? +You’ll have to take a lot of that off.”</p> + +<p>“Taking it off” meant running several miles every day so bundled up that +the Indiana agriculturist looked like the pictures published of “Old Doc” +Cook which showed him discovering the north pole. Ever since, Crandall’s +spring training, like charity, has begun at home, and he takes exercise +night and morning throughout the winter, so that when he comes into camp +his weight will be somewhere near normal. In 1911 he had the best year of +his career. He is the type of man who cannot afford to carry too much +weight. He is stronger when he is slimmer.</p> + +<p>In contrast to him is George Wiltse, who maps out a training course with +the idea of adding several pounds, as he is better with all the real +weight he can put on. By that I do not mean any fat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>George came whirling and spinning and waltzing and turkey-trotting and +pirouetting across the field at Marlin Springs, Texas, the Giants’ spring +training headquarters, one day in the spring of 1911, developing steps +that would have ruled him off any cotillion floor in New York in the days +of the ban on the grizzly bear and kindred dances. Suddenly he dove down +with his left hand and reached as far as he could.</p> + +<p>“What’s that one, George?” I yelled as he passed me.</p> + +<p>“Getting ready to cover first base on a slow hit, Matty,” he replied, and +was off on another series of hand springs that made him look more like a +contortionist rehearsing for an act which he was going to take out for the +“big time” than a ball-player getting ready for the season.</p> + +<p>But perhaps some close followers of baseball statistics will recall a game +that Wiltse took from the Cubs in 1911 by a wonderful one-hand reaching +catch of a low throw to first base. Two Chicago runners were on the bags +at the time and the loss of that throw would have meant that they both +scored. Wiltse caught the ball, and it made the third out, and the Giants +won the game. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>Thousands of fans applauded the catch, but the play was not +the result of the exigencies of the moment. It was the outcome of +forethought used months before.</p> + +<p>Spectators at ball games who wonder at the marvellous fielding of Wiltse +should watch him getting ready during the spring season at Marlin. He is a +tireless worker, and when he is not pitching he is doing hand springs and +other acrobatic acts to limber up all his muscles. It is torture then, but +it pays in the end.</p> + +<p>When I was a young fellow and read about the Big League clubs going South, +I used to think what a grand life that must be. Riding in Pullmans, some +pleasant exercise which did not entail the responsibility of a ball game, +and plenty of food, with a little social recreation, were all parts of my +dream. A young ball-player looks on his first spring training trip as a +stage-struck young woman regards the theatre. She cannot wait for her +first rehearsal, and she thinks only of the lobster suppers and the +applause and the lights and the life, but nowhere in her dream is there a +place for the raucous voice of the stage manager and the long jumps of +“one night stands” with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> loss of sleep and the poor meals and the cold +dressing rooms. As actors begin to dread the drudgery of rehearsing, so do +baseball men detest the drill of the spring training. The only thing that +I can think of right away which is more tiresome and less interesting is +signal practice with a college football team.</p> + +<p>About the time that the sap starts up in the trees and the young man’s +fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love and baseball, the big trek starts. +Five hundred ball-players, attached more or less firmly to sixteen major +league clubs, spread themselves out over the southern part of the United +States, from Florida to California, and begin to prepare for the campaign +that is to furnish the answer to that annual question, “Which is the best +baseball club in the world?”</p> + +<p>In the case of the Giants, McGraw, with a flock of youngsters, has already +arrived when the older men begin to drift into camp. The youngsters, who +have come from the bushes and realize that this is their one big chance to +make good, to be a success or a failure in their chosen profession—in +short, to become a Big Leaguer or go back to the bushes for good—have +already been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> working for ten days and are in fair shape. They stare at +the regulars as the veterans straggle in by twos and threes, and McGraw +has a brief greeting for each. He could use a rubber stamp.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Matty? What kind of shape are you in? Let’s see you in a +uniform at nine o’clock to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p>When I first start South, for the spring trip, after shivering through a +New York winter, I arouse myself to some enthusiasm over the prospect, but +all this has evaporated after listening to that terse speech from McGraw, +for I know what it means. Nothing looms on the horizon but the hardest +five weeks’ grind in the world.</p> + +<p>The next day the practice begins, and for the first time in five months, a +uniform is donned. I usually start my work by limbering up slowly, and on +the first day I do not pitch at all. With several other players, I help to +form a large circle and the time is spent in throwing the ball at +impossible and unreachable points in the anatomy. The man next to you +shoots one away up over your head and the next one at your feet and off to +the side while he is looking at the third man from you. This is great for +limbering up, but the loosening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> is torture. After about fifteen minutes +of that, the winter-logged player goes over on the bench and drops down +exhausted. But does he stay there? Not if McGraw sees him, and he is one +of the busiest watchers I have ever met.</p> + +<p>“Here, Matty,” he will shout, “lead this squad three times around the park +and be careful not to cut the corners.”</p> + +<p>By the time that little formality is finished, a man’s tongue is hanging +out and he goes to get a drink of water. The spring training is just one +darned drink after another and still the player is always thirsty.</p> + +<p>After three hours of practice, McGraw may say:</p> + +<p>“All right, Matty. Go back to the hotel and get a bath and a rub and cut +it out for to-day.”</p> + +<p>Or he may remark:</p> + +<p>“You’re looking heavy this year. Better take another little workout this +afternoon.”</p> + +<p>And so ends the first day. That night I flex the muscles in my salary wing +and wonder to myself if it is going to be <i>very</i> sore. I get the answer +next day. And what always makes me maddest is that the fans up North +imagine that we are having some kind of a picnic in Marlin Springs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +Texas. My idea of no setting for a pleasure party is Marlin Springs, +Texas.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i229.jpg" alt="" /></div> +<p class="center"><small>Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio</small></p> +<p class="center"><strong>Close Play at the Plate</strong></p> +<p class="note">This picture illustrates how easily the base runner, with his deceptive +slide, can get away from the catcher, who has the ball waiting for him. It +is always a hard decision for the umpire. Shown in the picture are, left +to right, Conroy of Washington, Umpire Evans, and Catcher Land of Cleveland.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>The morning of the second day is always a pleasant occasion. The muscles +which have remained idle so long begin to rebel at the unaccustomed +exercise, and the players are as pleasant as a flock of full-grown grizzly +bears. I would not be a waiter for a ball club on a spring tour if they +offered me a contract with a salary as large as J. P. Morgan’s income.</p> + +<p>Each year the winter kinks seem to have settled into the muscles more +permanently and are harder to iron out. Of course, there comes a last time +for each one of us to go South, and every season I think, on the morning +of the second day, when I try to work my muscles, that this one is my +last.</p> + +<p>The bushers lend variety to the life in a spring camp. Many of them try +hard to “horn in” with the men who have made good as Big Leaguers. When a +young player really seems to want to know something, any of the older men +will gladly help him, but the trouble with most of them is that they think +they are wonders when they arrive.</p> + +<p>“How do you hold a curve?” a young fellow asked me last spring.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>I showed him.</p> + +<p>“Do you think Hans Wagner is as good as Ty Cobb?” he asked me next.</p> + +<p>“Listen!” I answered. “Did you come down here to learn to play ball or +with the idea that you are attending some sort of a conversational +soiree?”</p> + +<p>Many recruits think that, if they can get friendly with the veterans, they +will be retained on account of their social standing, and I cannot “go” +young ball-players who attempt to become the bootblacks for the old ones.</p> + +<p>I have seen many a youngster ruin himself, even for playing in the minors, +through his too vigorous efforts to make good under the large tent. He +will come into camp, and the first day out put everything he has on the +ball to show the manager “he’s got something.” The Giants had a young +pitcher with them in 1911, named Nagle, who tried to pick up the pace, on +the first day in camp, at which he had left off on the closing day of the +previous year. He started to shoot the ball over to the batters with big, +sharp breaking curves on it. He had not been South three days before he +developed a sore arm that required a sling to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> help him carry it around, +and he never was able to twirl again before he was shunted back into the +lesser leagues.</p> + +<p>But hope springs eternal in the breast of the bush leaguer in the spring, +and many a young fellow, when he gets his send-off from the little, old +home town, with the local band playing at the station, knows that the next +time the populace of that place hears of him, it will be through seeing +his name in the headlines of the New York papers. And then along about the +middle of April, he comes sneaking back into the old burg, crestfallen and +disappointed. There are a lot of humor and some pathos in a spring +training trip. Many a busher I have seen go back who has tried hard to +make good and just could not, and I have felt sorry for him. It is just +like a man in any other business getting a chance at a better job than the +one he is holding and not being big enough to fit it. It is the one time +that opportunity has knocked, and most of the bush leaguers do not know +the combination to open the door, and, as has been pointed out, +opportunity was never charged with picking locks. Many are called in the +spring, but few get past. Most of them are sincere young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> fellows, too, +trying to make good, and I have seen them work until their tongues were +hanging out and the perspiration was starting all over them, only to hear +McGraw say:</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry, but you will have to go back again. I’ve let you out to +Kankakee.”</p> + +<p>“Steve Evans”, who now plays right field on the St. Louis club, was South +with the Giants one season and worked hard to stick. But McGraw had a lot +of young out-fielders, and some minor league magnate from Montreal came +into camp one day who liked “Steve’s” action. McGraw started for the +outfield where Evans was chasing flies and tried to get to “Steve,” but +every time the manager approached him with the minor league man, Evans +would rush for a ball on another corner of the field, and he became +suddenly hard of hearing. Finally McGraw abandoned the chase and let +another out-fielder go to Montreal, retaining Evans.</p> + +<p>“Say, ‘Steve,’” said “Mac,” that night, “why didn’t you come, when I +called you out on the field there this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Because I could hear the rattle of the tin can you wanted to tie to me, +all over the lot,” replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Evans. And eventually, by that subtle dodging, +he landed in the Big League under Bresnahan and has made good out there.</p> + +<p>I believe that a pitcher by profession has the hardest time of any of the +specialists who go into a spring camp. His work is of a more routine +nature than that which attaches to any of the other branches of the +baseball art. It is nothing but a steady grind.</p> + +<p>The pitcher goes out each morning and gets a catcher with a big mitt and a +loud voice and, with a couple of his fellow artists, starts to warm up +with this slave-driver. The right sort of a catcher for spring rehearsing +is never satisfied with anything you do. I never try to throw a curve for +ten days at least after I get South, for a misplaced curve early in the +season may give a man a sore arm for the greater part of the summer, and +Big League clubs are not paying pitchers for wearing crippled whips.</p> + +<p>After warming up for an hour or so, three or four pitchers throw slow ones +to a batter and try to get the ball on the half bounce and compete as to +the number of fumbles. This is great for limbering up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>Then comes the only real enjoyment of the day. It is quick in passing, +like a piece of great scenery viewed out of the window of a railroad coach +going sixty miles an hour. Each afternoon the regulars play the Yannigans +(the spring name of the second team) a game of six innings, and each +pitcher has a chance to work about one inning. The batters are away off +form and are missing the old round-house curve by two feet that they would +hit out of the lot in mid-season. This makes you think for a few minutes +that you are a good pitcher. But there is even a drawback to this brief +bit of enjoyment, for the diamond at Marlin is skinned—that is, made of +dirt, although it is billed as a grass infield, and the ball gets “wingy.” +Little pieces of the cover are torn loose by contact with the rough dirt, +and it is not at all like the hard, smooth, grass-stained ball that is +prevalent around the circuit in mid-season. Grass seed has been planted on +this infield, but so far, like a lot of bushers, it has failed to make +good its promises.</p> + +<p>After that game comes the inevitable run around the park which has been a +headliner in spring training ever since the institution was discovered. A +story is told of “Cap” Anson and his famous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> old White Stockings. +According to the reports I have heard, training with the “Cap” when he was +right was no bed of roses. After hours of practice, he would lead the men +in long runs, and the better he felt, the longer the runs. One hot day, so +the story goes, Anson was toiling around the park, with his usual +determination, at the head of a string of steaming, sweating players, when +“Bill” Dahlen, a clever man at finding an opening, discovered a loose +board in the fence on the back stretch, pulled it off, and dived through +the hole. On the next lap two more tired athletes followed him, and at +last the whole squad was on the other side of the fence, watching their +leader run on tirelessly. But “Cap” must have missed the “plunk, plunk” of +the footsteps behind him, for he looked around and saw that his players +were gone. He kept grimly on, alone, until he had finished, and then he +pushed his red face through the hole in the fence and saw his men.</p> + +<p>“Your turn now, boys,” he said, and while he sat in the grand-stand as the +sole spectator, he made that crowd of unfortunate athletes run around the +track twice as many times as he himself had done.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>“Guess I won’t have +to nail up that hole in the fence, boys,” “Cap” remarked when it was all over.</p> + +<p>Speaking of the influence of catchers on pitchers during the training +trip, there is the well-known case of Wilbert Robinson, the old catcher, +and “Rube” Marquard, the great left-handed pitcher of the Giants. “Robbie” +devoted himself almost entirely in the spring of 1911 to the training of +the then erratic “Rube,” and he handed back to McGraw at the end of the +rehearsal the man who turned out to be the premier pitcher of his League, +according to the official figures, and figures are not in the habit of +lying.</p> + +<p>“Robbie” used to take Marquard off into some corner every day and talk to +him for hours. Draw up close, for I am going to tell you the secret of how +Marquard became a great pitcher and that, too, at just about the time the +papers were mentioning him as the “$11,000 lemon,” and imploring McGraw to +let him go to some club in exchange for a good capable bat boy.</p> + +<p>“Now ‘Rube,’” would be “Robbie’s” first line in the daily lecture, “you’ve +got to start on the first ball to get the batter. Always have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>something +on him and never let him have anything on you. This is the prescription +for a great pitcher.”</p> + +<p>One of the worst habits of Marquard’s early days was to get a couple of +strikes on a batter and then let up until he got himself “into a hole” and +could not put the ball over. Robinson by his coaching gave him the +confidence he lacked.</p> + +<p>“‘Rube,’ you’ve got a lot of stuff to-day,” “Robbie” would advise, “but +don’t try to get it all on the ball. Mix it with a little control, and it +will make a great blend. Now, this guy is a high ball hitter. Let’s see +you keep it low for him. He waits, so you will have to get it over.”</p> + +<p>And out there in the hot Texas sun, with much advice and lots of patience, +Wilbert Robinson was manufacturing a great pitcher out of the raw +material. One of Marquard’s worst faults, when he first broke into the +League, was that he did not know the batters and their grooves, and these +weaknesses Robinson drilled into his head—not that a drill was required +to insert the information. Robinson was the coacher, umpire, catcher and +batter rolled into one, and as a result look at the “Rube.”</p> + +<p>When Marquard began to wabble a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> toward the end of 1911 and to show +some of his old shyness while the club was on its last trip West, Robinson +hurried on to Chicago and worked with him for two days. The “Rube” had +lost the first game of the series to the Cubs, but he turned around after +Robinson joined us and beat them to death in the last contest.</p> + +<p>Pitchers, old and young, are always trying for new curves in the spring +practice, and out of the South, wafted over the wires by the fertile +imaginations of the flotilla of correspondents, drift tales each spring of +the “fish” ball and the new “hook” jump and the “stop” ball and many more +eccentric curves which usually boil down to modifications of the old ones. +I worked for two weeks once on a new, slow, spit ball that would wabble, +but the trouble was that I could never tell just when or where it was +going to wabble, and so at last I had to abandon it because I could not +control it.</p> + +<p>After sending out fake stories of new and wonderful curves for several +years, at last the correspondents got a new one when the spit ball was +first discovered by Stricklett, a Brooklyn pitcher, several seasons ago. +One Chicago correspondent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> sent back to his paper a glowing tale of the +wonderful new curve called the “spit ball,” which was obtained by the use +of saliva, only to get a wire from his office which read:</p> + +<p>“It’s all right to ‘fake’ about new curves, but when it comes to being +vulgar about it, that’s going too far. Either drop that spit ball or mail +us your resignation.”</p> + +<p>The paper refused to print the story and a real new curve was born without +its notice. As a matter of fact, Bowerman, the old Giant catcher, was +throwing the spit ball for two or three years before it was discovered to +be a pitching asset. He used to wet his fingers when catching, and as he +threw to second base the ball would take all sorts of eccentric breaks +which fooled the baseman, and none could explain why it did it until +Stricklett came through with the spit ball.</p> + +<p>Many good pitchers, who feel their arms begin to weaken, work on certain +freak motions or forms of delivery to make themselves more effective or +draw out their baseball life in the Big Leagues for a year or two. A story +is told of “Matty” Kilroy, a left-hander, who lived for two years through +the development of what he called the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> “Bazzazaz” balk, and it had the +same effect on his pitching as administering oxygen often has on a patient +who is almost dead.</p> + +<p>“My old soup bone,” says Kilroy, “was so weak that I couldn’t break a pane +of glass at fifty feet. So one winter I spent some time every day out in +the back yard getting that balk motion down. I had a pretty fair balk +motion when my arm was good, but I saw that it had to be better, so I put +one stone in the yard for a home plate and another up against the fence +for first base. Then I practised looking at the home plate stone and +throwing at first base with a snap of the wrist and without moving my +feet. It was stare steady at the batter, then the arm up to about my ear, +and zip, with a twist of the wrist at first base, and you’ve got him!</p> + +<p>“I got so I could throw ’em harder to the bag with that wrist wriggle than +I could to the batter, and I had them stickin’ closer to the base for two +years than a sixteen-year-old fellow does to his gal when they’ve just +decided they would do for each other.”</p> + +<p>As a rule McGraw takes charge of the batters and general team work at +spring practice, and he is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> one of the busiest little persons in seven +counties, for he says a lot depends on the start a club gets in a league +race. He always wants the first jump because it is lots easier falling +back than catching up.</p> + +<p>After a week or so of practice, the team is divided up into two squads, +and one goes to San Antonio and the other to Houston each Saturday and +Sunday to play games. One of the older men takes charge of the younger +players, and there is a lot of rivalry between the two teams to see which +one will make the better record, I remember one year I was handling the +youngsters, and we went to Houston to play the team there and just managed +to nose out a victory. McGraw thought that for the next Saturday he had +better strengthen the Yannigans up a bit, so he sent Roger Bresnahan along +to play third base instead of Henderson, the young fellow we had the week +before. Playing third base could not exactly have been called a habit with +“Rog” at that time. He was still pretty fat, and bending over quick after +grounders was not his regular line. He booted two or three and finally +managed to lose the game for us. We sent McGraw the following telegram +that night:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>“John McGraw, manager of the Giants, San Antonio, Texas:</p> + +<p>“Will trade Bresnahan for Henderson. Rush answer.”</p> + +<p>McGraw does not like to have any of his clubs beaten by the minor +leaguers, because the bushers are inclined to imitate pouter pigeons right +away after beating the Big Leaguers.</p> + +<p>The social side of a training trip consists of kicking about the grub, +singing songs at night, and listening to the same old stories that creep +out of the bushes on crutches year after year. Last spring the food got so +bad that some of the newspaper men fixed up a fake story they said they +were going to send to New York, displayed it to the proprietor, and he +came through with beefsteak for three nights in succession, thus +establishing a record and proving the power of the press. The trouble with +the diet schedule on a spring trip is that almost invariably those hotels +on the bush-league circuits serve dinner in the middle of the day, just +when a ball-player does not feel like eating anything much. Then at night +they have a pick-up supper when one’s stomach feels as if it thought a +fellow’s throat had been cut.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>The Giants had an umpire with them in the spring of 1911, named Hansell, +who enlivened the long, weary, training season some. Like a lot of the +recruits who thought that they were great ball-players, this Hansell +firmly believed he was a great umpire. He used to try to put players who +did not agree with his decisions out of the game and, of course, they +would not go.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you have them arrested if they won’t leave?” McGraw asked him +one day. “I would.”</p> + +<p>So the next afternoon Hansell had a couple of the local constables out at +the grounds and tried to have Devore pinched for kicking on a decision. +“Josh” got sore and framed it up to have a camera man at the park the next +day to take a moving picture of a mob scene, Hansell, the umpire, to be +the hero and mobbed. Hansell fell for it until he saw all the boys picking +up real clods and digging the dirt out of their spikes, and then he made a +run for it and never came back. That is how we lost a great umpire.</p> + +<p>“You boys made it look too realistic for him,” declared McGraw.</p> + +<p>Hansell had a notion that he was a runner and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> offered to bet Robinson, +who is rather corpulent now, that he could beat him running across the +field. Robinson took him, and walked home ahead of the umpire in the race.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see where I get off on this deal,” complained McGraw when it was +over. “I framed up this race for you two fellows, and then Hansell comes +to me and borrows the ten to pay ‘Robbie.’”</p> + +<p>Somebody fixed up a Turkish bath in the hotel one day by stuffing up the +cracks in one of the bathrooms and turning the hot water into the tub and +the steam into the radiator full blast.</p> + +<p>Several towels were piled on the radiator and the players sat upon this +swathed in blankets to take off weight. They entered the impromptu Turkish +bath, wearing only the well-known smile. McGraw still maintains that it +was “Bugs” Raymond who pulled out the towels when it came the manager’s +turn to sit on the radiator, and, if he could have proved his case, +Raymond would not have needed a doctor. It would have been time for the +undertaker.</p> + +<p>Finally comes the long wending of the way up North. “Bugs” Raymond always +depends on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> friends for his refreshments, and as he had few friends in +Marlin in 1911, he got few drinks. But when we got to Dallas cocktails +were served with the dinner and all the ball-players left them untouched, +McGraw enforcing the old rule that lips that touch “licker” shall never +moisten a spit ball for him. “Bugs” was missed after supper and some one +found him out in the kitchen licking up all the discarded Martinis. That +was the occasion of his first fine of the season, and after that, as +“Bugs” himself admitted, “life for him was just one fine after another.”</p> + +<p>At last, after the long junket through the South, on which all managers +are Simon Legrees, is ended, comes a welcome day, when the new uniforms +are donned and the band plays and “them woids” which constitute the +sweetest music to the ears of a ball-player, roll off the tongue of the +umpire:</p> + +<p>“The batteries for to-day are Rucker and Bergen for Brooklyn, Marquard and +Meyers for New York. Play ball!”</p> + +<p>The season is on.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> +<h3>Jinxes and What They Mean to a Ball-Player</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>A Load of Empty Barrels, Hired by John McGraw, once Pulled the +Giants out of a Losing Streak—The Child of Superstition Appears to +the Ball-Player in Many Forms—Various Ways in which the Influence of +the Jinx can be Overcome—The True Story of “Charley” Faust—The +Necktie that Helped Win a Pennant.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">A friend</span> of mine, who took a different fork in the road when we left +college from the one that I have followed, was walking down Broadway in +New York with me one morning after I had joined the Giants, and we passed +a cross-eyed man. I grabbed off my hat and spat in it. It was a new hat, +too. “What’s the matter with you, Matty?” he asked, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Spit in your hat quick and kill that jinx,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> I answered, not thinking for +the minute, and he followed my example.</p> + +<p>I forgot to mention, when I said he took another fork in the road, that he +had become a pitcher, too, but of a different kind. He had turned out to +be sort of a conversational pitcher, for he was a minister, and, as luck +would have it, on the morning we met that cross-eyed man he was wearing a +silk hat. I was shocked, pained, and mortified when I saw what I had made +him do. But he was the right sort, and wanted to go through with the thing +according to the standards of the professional man with whom he happened +to be at the time.</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea?” he asked as he replaced his hat.</p> + +<p>“Worst jinx in the world to see a cross-eyed man,” I replied. “But I hope +I didn’t hurt your silk hat,” I quickly apologized.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. But how about these ball-players who masticate the weed? Do +they kill jinxes, too?” he wanted to know. And I had to admit that they +were the main exterminators of the jinx.</p> + +<p>“Then,” he went on, “I’m glad that the percentage of wearers of cross eyes +is small.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>I have just looked into one of my favorite works for that word “jinx,” and +found it not. My search was in Webster’s dictionary. But any ball-player +can give a definition of it with his hands tied behind him—that is, any +one except “Arlie” Latham, and, with his hands bound, he is deaf and dumb. +A jinx is something which brings bad luck to a ball-player, and the +members of the profession have built up a series of lucky and unlucky +omens that should be catalogued. And besides the common or garden variety +of jinxes, many stars have a series of private or pet and trained ones +that are more malignant in their forms than those which come out in the +open.</p> + +<p>A jinx is the child of superstition, and ball-players are among the most +superstitious persons in the world, notwithstanding all this conversation +lately about educated men breaking into the game and paying no attention +whatever to the good and bad omens. College men are coming into both the +leagues, more of them each year, and they are doing their share to make +the game better and the class of men higher, but they fall the hardest for +the jinxes. And I don’t know as it is anything to be ashamed of at that.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>A really true, on-the-level, honest-to-jiminy jinx can do all sorts of +mean things to a professional ball-player. I have seen it make a bad +pitcher out of a good one, and a blind batter out of a three-hundred +hitter, and I have seen it make a ball club, composed of educated men, +carry a Kansas farmer, with two or three screws rattling loose in his +dome, around the circuit because he came as a prophet and said that he was +accompanied by Miss Fickle Fortune. And that is almost a jinx record.</p> + +<p>Jinx and Miss Fickle Fortune never go around together. And ball-players +are always trying to kill this jinx, for, once he joins the club, all hope +is gone. He dies hard, and many a good hat has been ruined in an effort to +destroy him, as I have said before, because the wearer happened to be +chewing tobacco when the jinx dropped around. But what’s a new hat against +a losing streak or a batting slump?</p> + +<p>Luck is a combination of confidence and getting the breaks. Ball-players +get no breaks without confidence in themselves, and lucky omens inspire +this confidence. On the other hand, unlucky signs take it away. The lucky +man is the one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> hits the nail on the head and not his fingers, and the +ability to swat the nail on its receptive end is a combination of +self-confidence and an aptitude for hammering. Good ball-playing is the +combination of self-confidence and the ability to play.</p> + +<p>The next is “Red” Ames, although designated as “Leon” by his family when a +very small boy before he began to play ball. (He is still called “Leon” in +the winter.) Ames is of Warren, Ohio, and the Giants, and he is said to +hold the Marathon record for being the most unlucky pitcher that ever +lived, and I agree with the sayers. For several seasons, Ames couldn’t +seem to win a ball game, no matter how well he pitched. In 1909, “Red” +twirled a game on the opening day of the season against Brooklyn that was +the work of a master. For nine innings he held his opponents hitless, only +to have them win in the thirteenth. Time and again Ames has pitched +brilliantly, to be finally beaten by a small score, because one of the men +behind him made an error at a critical moment, or because the team could +not give him any runs by which to win. No wonder the newspapers began to +speak of Ames as the “hoodoo” pitcher and the man “who couldn’t win.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>There was a cross-eyed fellow who lived between Ames and the Polo Grounds, +and “Red” used to make a detour of several blocks en route to the park to +be sure to miss him in case he should be out walking. But one day in 1911, +when it was his turn to pitch, he bumped into that cross-eyed man and, in +spite of the fact that he did his duty by his hat and got three or four +small boys to help him out, he failed to last two innings. When it came +time to go West on the final trip of the 1911 season, Ames was badly +discouraged.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see any use in taking me along, Mac,” he said to McGraw a few +days before we left. “The club can’t win with me pitching if the other +guys don’t even get a foul.”</p> + +<p>The first stop was in Boston, and on the day we arrived it rained. In the +mail that day, addressed to Leon Ames, came a necktie and a four-leaf +clover from a prominent actress, wishing Ames good luck. The directions +were inside the envelope. The four-leaf clover, if the charm were to work, +must be worn on both the uniform and street clothes, and the necktie was +to be worn with the street clothes and concealed in the uniform, if that +necktie could be concealed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>anywhere. It would have done for a headlight + +and made Joseph’s coat of many colors look like a mourning garment.</p> + +<p>“Might as well wish good luck to a guy on the way to the morgue,” murmured +Ames as he surveyed the layout, but he manfully put on the necktie, taking +his first dose of the prescription, as directed, at once, and he tucked +the four-leaf clover away carefully in his wallet.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got your work cut out for you, old boy,” he remarked to the charm +as he put it away, “but I’d wear you if you were a horseshoe.”</p> + +<p>The first day that Ames pitched in Boston he won, and won in a stroll.</p> + +<p>“The necktie,” he explained that night at dinner, and pointed to the +three-sheet, colored-supplement affair he was wearing around his collar, +“I don’t change her until I lose.”</p> + +<p><i>And he didn’t lose a game on that trip.</i> Once he almost did, when he was +taken out in the sixth inning, and a batter put in for him, but the Giants +finally pulled out the victory and he got the credit for it. He swept +through the West unbeatable, letting down Pittsburg with two or three +hits, cleaning up in St. Louis, and finally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> breaking our losing streak in +Chicago after two games had gone against us. And all the time he wore that +spectrum around his collar for a necktie. As it frayed with the wear and +tear, more colors began to show, although I didn’t think it possible. If +he had had occasion to put on his evening clothes, I believe that tie +would have gone with it.</p> + +<p>For my part, I would almost rather have lost a game and changed the +necktie, since it gave one the feeling all the time that he was carrying +it around with him because he had had the wrong end of an election bet, or +something of the sort. But not Ames! He was a game guy. He stuck with the +necktie, and it stuck with him, and the combination kept right on winning +ball games. Maybe he didn’t mind it because he could not see it himself, +unless he looked in a mirror, but it was rough on the rest of the team, +except that we needed the games the necktie won, to take the pennant.</p> + +<p>Columns were printed in the newspapers about that necktie, and it became +the most famous scarf in the world. Ames used to sleep with it under his +pillow alongside of his bank roll, and he didn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> lose another game until +the very end of the season, when he dropped one against Brooklyn.</p> + +<p>“I don’t hardly lay that up against the tie,” he said afterwards. “You +see, Mac put all those youngsters into it, and I didn’t get any support.”</p> + +<p>Analyzing is a distasteful pastime to me, but let’s see what it was that +made Ames win. Was it the necktie? Perhaps not. But some sliver of +confidence, which resulted from that first game when he was dressed up in +the scarf and the four-leaf clover, got stuck in his mind. And after that +the rest was easy.</p> + +<p>Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, has a funny superstition which is +of the personal sort. Most ball-players have a natural prejudice against +the number “13” in any form, but particularly when attached to a Pullman +berth. But Chance always insists, whenever possible, that he have “lower +13.” He says that if he can just crawl in under that number he is sure of +a good night’s rest, a safe journey, and a victory the next day. He has +been in two or three minor railroad accidents, and he declares that all +these occurred when he was sleeping on some other shelf besides “lower +13.” He can usually satisfy his hobby,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> too, for most travellers steer +clear of the berth.</p> + +<p>McGraw believes a stateroom brings him good luck, or at least he always +insists on having one when he can get it.</p> + +<p>“Chance can have ‘lower 13,’” says “Mac,” “but give me a stateroom for +luck.”</p> + +<p>Most ball-players nowadays treat the superstitions of the game as jokes, +probably because they are a little ashamed to acknowledge their +weaknesses, but away down underneath they observe the proprieties of the +ritual. Why, even I won’t warm up with the third baseman while I am +waiting for the catcher to get on his mask and the rest of his +paraphernalia. Once, when I first broke in with the Giants, I warmed up +with the third baseman between innings and in the next round they hit me +hard and knocked me out of the box. Since then I have had an uncommon +prejudice against the practice, and I hate to hear a man even mention it. +Devlin knows of my weakness and never suggests it when he is playing the +bag, but occasionally a new performer will drill into the box score at +third base and yell:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>“Come on, Matty! Warm up here while you’re waiting.”</p> + +<p>It gets me. I’ll pitch to the first baseman or a substitute catcher to +keep warm, but I would rather freeze to death than heat up with the third +baseman. That is one of my pet jinxes.</p> + +<p>And speaking of Arthur Devlin, he has a few hand-raised jinxes of his own, +too. For instance, he never likes to hear a player hum a tune on the +bench, because he thinks it will keep him from getting a base hit. He +nearly beat a youngster to death one day when he kept on humming after +Devlin had told him to stop.</p> + +<p>“Cut that out, Caruso,” yelled Arthur, as the recruit started his melody. +“You are killing base hits.”</p> + +<p>The busher continued with his air until Devlin tried another form of +persuasion.</p> + +<p>Arthur also has a favorite seat on the bench which he believes is luckier +than the rest, and he insists on sitting in just that one place.</p> + +<p>But the worst blow Devlin ever had was when some young lady admirer of his +in his palmy days, who unfortunately wore her eyes crossed, insisted on +sitting behind third base for each game, so as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> to be near him. Arthur +noticed her one day and, after that, it was all off. He hit the worst +slump of his career. For a while no one could understand it, but at last +he confessed to McGraw.</p> + +<p>“Mac,” he said one night in the club-house, “it’s that jinx. Have you +noticed her? She sits behind the bag every day, and she has got me going. +She has sure slid the casters under me. I wish we could bar her out, or +poison her, or shoot her, or chloroform her, or kill her in some nice, +mild way because, if it isn’t done, this League is going to lose a +ball-player. How can you expect a guy to play with that overlooking him +every afternoon?”</p> + +<p>McGraw took Devlin out of the game for a time after that, and the +newspapers printed several yards about the cross-eyed jinx who had ruined +the Giants’ third baseman.</p> + +<p>With the infield weakened by the loss of Devlin, the club began to lose +with great regularity. But one day the jinxess was missing and she never +came back. She must have read in the newspapers what she was doing to +Devlin, her hero, and quit the national pastime or moved to another part +of the stand. With this weight off his shoulders,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> Arthur went back into +the game and played like mad.</p> + +<p>“If she’d stuck much longer,” declared McGraw, joyous in his rejuvenated +third baseman, “I would have had her eyes operated on and straightened. +This club couldn’t afford to keep on losing ball games because you are +such a Romeo, Arthur, that even the cross-eyed ones fall for you.”</p> + +<p>Ball-players are very superstitious about the bats. Did you ever notice +how the clubs are all laid out in a neat, even row before the bench and +are scrupulously kept that way by the bat boy? If one of the sticks by any +chance gets crossed, all the players will shout:</p> + +<p>“Uncross the bats! Uncross the bats!”</p> + +<p>It’s as bad as discovering a three-alarm fire in an excelsior factory. +Don’t believe it? Then listen to what happened to the Giants once because +a careless bat boy neglected his duty. The team was playing in Cincinnati +in the season of 1906 when one of the bats got crossed through the +carelessness of the boy. What was the result? “Mike” Donlin, the star +slugger of the team, slid into third base and came up with a broken +ankle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>Ever since that time we have carried our own boy with us, because a club +with championship aspirations cannot afford to take a chance with those +foreign artists handling the bats. They are likely to throw you down at +any time.</p> + +<p>The Athletics have a funny superstition which is private or confined to +their team as far as I know. When luck seems to be breaking against them +in a game, they will take the bats and throw them wildly into the air and +let them lie around in front of their bench, topsy-turvy. They call this +changing the luck, but any other club would consider that it was the worst +kind of a jinx. It is the same theory that card-players have about +shuffling the deck vigorously to bring a different run of fortune. Then, +if the luck changes, the Athletics throw the bats around some more to keep +it. This act nearly cost them one of their best ball-players in the third +game of the 1911 world’s series.</p> + +<p>The Philadelphia players had tossed their bats to break their run of luck, +for the score was 1 to 0 against them, when Baker came up in the ninth +inning. He cracked his now famous home run into the right-field bleachers, +and the men on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> bench hurled the bats wildly into the air. In jumping +up and reaching for a bat to throw, Jack Barry, the shortstop, hit his +head on the concrete roof of the structure and was stunned for a minute. +He said that little black specks were floating in front of his eyes, but +he gamely insisted on playing the contest out. “Connie” Mack was so +worried over his condition that he sent Ira Thomas out on the field to +inquire if he were all right, and this interrupted the game in the ninth +inning. A lot of the spectators thought that Thomas was out there, bearing +some secret message from “Connie” Mack. None knew that he was ascertaining +the health of a player who had almost killed himself while killing a jinx.</p> + +<p>The Athletics, for two seasons, have carried with them on all their trips +a combination bat boy and mascot who is a hunchback, and he outjinxed our +champion jinx killer, Charley Faust, in the 1911 world’s series. A +hunchback is regarded by ball-players as the best luck in the world. If a +man can just touch that hump on the way to the plate, he is sure to get a +hit, and any observant spectator will notice the Athletics’ hitters +rubbing the hunchback boy before leaving the bench.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> So attached to this +boy have the players become that they voted him half a share of the prize +money last year after the world’s series. Lots of ball-players would tell +you that he deserved it because he has won two world’s pennants for them.</p> + +<p>Another great piece of luck is for a ball-player to rub a colored kid’s +head. I’ve walked along the street with ball-players and seen them stop a +young negro and take off his hat and run their hands through his kinky +hair. Then I’ve seen the same ball-player go out and get two or three hits +that afternoon and play the game of his life. Again, it is the confidence +inspired, coupled with the ability.</p> + +<p>Another old superstition among ball-players is that a load of empty +barrels means base hits. If an athlete can just pass a flock of them on +the way to the park, he is sure to step right along stride for stride with +the three-hundred hitters that afternoon.</p> + +<p>McGraw once broke up a batting slump of the Giants with a load of empty +barrels. That is why I maintain he is the greatest manager of them all. He +takes advantage of the little things, even the superstitions of his men, +and turns them to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> account. He played this trick in one of the first +years that he managed the New York club. The batting of all the players +had slumped at the same time. None could hit, and the club was losing game +after game as a result, because the easiest pitchers were making the best +batters look foolish. One day Bowerman came into the clubhouse with a +smile on his face for the first time in a week.</p> + +<p>“Saw a big load of empty barrels this afternoon, boys,” he announced, “and +just watch me pickle the pill out there to-day.”</p> + +<p>Right at that point McGraw got an idea, as he frequently does. Bowerman +went out that afternoon and made four hits out of a possible five. The +next day three or four more of the players came into the park, carrying +smiles and the announcement that fortunately they, too, had met a load of +empty barrels. They, then, all went out and regained their old batting +strides, and we won that afternoon for the first time in a week. More saw +a load of barrels the next day and started to bat. At last all the members +of the team had met the barrels, and men with averages of .119 were +threatening to chisel into the three-hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> set. With remarkable +regularity the players were meeting loads of empty barrels on their way to +the park, and, with remarkable regularity and a great deal of expedition, +the pitchers of opposing clubs were being driven to the shower bath.</p> + +<p>“Say,” asked “Billy” Gilbert, the old second baseman, of “Bill” Lauder, +formerly the protector of the third corner, one day, “is one of that team +of horses sorrel and the other white?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” answered “Bill.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” echoed McGraw. “I hired that load of empty barrels by the week to +drive around and meet you fellows on the way to the park, and you don’t +think I can afford to have them change horses every day, do you?”</p> + +<p>Everybody had a good laugh and kept on swatting. McGraw asked for waivers +on the load of empty barrels soon afterwards, but his scheme had stopped a +batting slump and put the club’s hitters on their feet again. He plays to +the little personal qualities and superstitions in the men to get the most +out of them. And just seeing those barrels gave them the idea that they +were bound to get the base hits, and they got them. Once more, the old +confidence, hitched up with ability.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>What manager would have carried a Kansas farmer around the circuit with +him besides McGraw? I refer to Charles Victor Faust of Marion, Kansas, the +most famous jinx killer of them all. Faust first met the Giants in St. +Louis on the next to the last trip the club made West in the season of +1911, when he wandered into the Planter’s Hotel one day, asked for McGraw +and announced that a fortune teller of Marion had informed him he would be +a great pitcher and that for $5 he could have a full reading. This +pitching announcement piqued Charles, and he reached down into his jeans, +dug out his last five, and passed it over. The fortune teller informed +Faust that all he had to do to get into the headlines of the newspapers +and to be a great pitcher was to join the New York Giants. He joined, and, +after he once joined, it would have taken the McNamaras in their best form +to separate him from the said Giants.</p> + +<p>“Charley” came out to the ball park and amused himself warming up. +Incidentally, the Giants did not lose a game while he was in the +neighborhood. The night the club left for Chicago on that trip, he was +down at the Union Station ready to go along.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>“Did you get your contract and transportation?” asked McGraw, as the lanky +Kansan appeared.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered “Charley.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw,” replied McGraw. “I left it for you with the clerk at the hotel. +The train leaves in two minutes,” he continued, glancing at his watch. “If +you can run the way you say you can, you can make it and be back in time to catch it.”</p> + +<p>It was the last we saw of “Charley” Faust for a time—galloping up the +platform in his angular way with that contract and transportation in sight.</p> + +<p>“I’m almost sorry we left him,” remarked McGraw as “Charley” disappeared +in the crowd. We played on around the circuit with indifferent luck and +got back to New York with the pennant no more than a possibility, and +rather a remote one at that. The first day we were in New York “Charley” +Faust entered the clubhouse with several inches of dust and mud caked on +him, for he had come all the way either by side-door special or blind +baggage.</p> + +<p>“I’m here, all right,” he announced quietly, and started to climb into a +uniform.</p> + +<p>“I see you are,” answered McGraw.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>“Charley” stuck around for two or three days, and we won. Then McGraw +decided he would have to be dropped and ordered the man on the door of the +clubhouse to bar this Kansas kid out. Faust broke down and cried that day, +and we lost. After that he became a member of the club, and we won game +after game until some busy newspaper man obtained a vaudeville engagement +for him at a salary of $100 a week. We lost three games the week he was +absent from the grounds, and Faust saw at once he was not doing the right +thing by the club, so, with a wave of his hand that would have gone with +J. P. Morgan’s income, he passed up some lucrative vaudeville contracts, +much to the disgust of the newspaper man, who was cutting the remuneration +with him, and settled down to business. The club did not lose a game after +that, and it was decided to take Faust West with us on the last and famous +trip in 1911. Daily he had been bothering McGraw and Mr. Brush for his +contract, for he wanted to pitch. The club paid him some money from time +to time to meet his personal expenses.</p> + +<p>The Sunday night the club left for Boston, a vaudeville agent was at the +Grand Central Station<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> with a contract offering Faust $100 a week for five +weeks, which “Charley” refused in order to stick with the club. It was the +greatest trip away from home in the history of baseball. Starting with the +pennant almost out of reach, the Giants won eighteen and lost four games. +One contest that we dropped in St. Louis was when some of the newspaper +correspondents on the trip kidnapped Faust and sat him on the St. Louis +bench.</p> + +<p>Another day in St. Louis the game had gone eleven innings, and the +Cardinals needed one run to win. They had several incipient scores on the +bases and “Rube” Marquard, in the box, was apparently going up in the air. +Only one was out. Faust was warming up far in the suburbs when, under +orders from McGraw, I ran out and sent him to the bench, for that was the +place from which his charm seemed to be the most potent. “Charley” came +loping to the bench as fast as his long legs would transport him and St. +Louis didn’t score and we won the game. It was as nice a piece of pinch +mascoting as I ever saw.</p> + +<p>The first two games that “Charley” really lost were in Chicago. And all +through the trip, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> reiterated his weird prophecies that “the Giants +with Manager McGraw were goin’ ta win.” The players believed in him, and +none would have let him go if it had been necessary to support him out of +their own pockets. And we did win.</p> + +<p>“Charley,” with his monologue and great good humor, kept the players in +high spirits throughout the journey, and the feeling prevailed that we +couldn’t lose with him along. He was advertised all over the circuit, and +spectators were going to the ball park to see Faust and Wagner. “Charley” +admitted that he could fan out Hans because he had learned how to pitch +out there in Kansas by correspondence school and had read of “Hans’s” +weakness in a book. His one “groove” was massages and manicures. He would +go into the barber shop with any member of the team who happened to be +getting shaved and take a massage and manicure for the purposes of +sociability, as a man takes a drink. He easily was the record holder for +the manicure Marathon, hanging up the figures of five in one day in St. +Louis. He also liked pie for breakfast, dinner and supper, and a small +half before retiring.</p> + +<p>But, alas! “Charley” lost in the world’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> series. He couldn’t make good. +And a jinx killer never comes back. He is gone. And his expansive smile +and bump-the-bumps slide are gone with him. That is, McGraw hopes he is +gone. But he was a wonder while he had it. And he did a great deal toward +giving the players confidence. With him on the bench, they thought they +couldn’t lose, and they couldn’t. It has long been a superstition among +ball-players that when a “bug” joins a club, it will win a championship, +and the Giants believed it when “Charley” Faust arrived. Did “Charley” +Faust win the championship for the Giants?</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>Another time-honored superstition among ball-players is that no one must +say to a pitcher as he goes to the box for the eighth inning:</p> + +<p>“Come on, now. Only six more men.”</p> + +<p>Or for the ninth:</p> + +<p>“Pitch hard, now. Only three left.”</p> + +<p>Ames says that he lost a game in St. Louis once because McGraw forgot +himself and urged him to pitch hard because only three remained to be put +out. Those three batters raised the mischief with Ames’s prospects; he was +knocked out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> of the box in that last inning, and we lost the game. That +was before the days of the wonder necktie.</p> + +<p>Ames won the third game played in Chicago on the last trip West. Coming +into the ninth inning, he had the Cubs beaten, when McGraw began:</p> + +<p>“Come on, ‘Red,’ only——”</p> + +<p>“Nix, Mac,” cut in Ames, “for the love of Mike, be reasonable.”</p> + +<p>And then he won the game. But the chances are that if McGraw had got that +“only three more” out, he would have lost, because it would have been +working on his strained nerves.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> +<h3>Base Runners and How They Help a Pitcher to Win</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>The Secret of Successful Base Running is Getting the Start—A Club +Composed of Good Base Runners Is Likely to do More to Help a Pitcher +Win Games than a Batting Order of Hard Hitters—Stealing Second Is an +Art in Taking Chances—The Giants Stole their Way to a Pennant, but +“Connie” Mack Stopped the Grand Larceny when it Came to a World’s +Championship.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">Many</span> times have the crowds at the Polo Grounds seen a man get on first +base in a close game, and, with the pitcher’s motion, start to steal +second, only to have the catcher throw him out. The spectators groan and +criticise the manager.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t he wait for the hitters to bat him around?” is the cry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>Then, again, a man starts for the base, times his get-away just right, and +slides into the bag in a cloud of dust while the umpire spreads out his +hands indicating that he is safe. The crowd cheers and proclaims McGraw a +great manager and the stealer a great base runner. Maybe the next batter +comes along with a hit, and the runner scores. It wins the game, and +mention is made in the newspapers the next morning of the fast base +running of the club. A man has covered ninety feet of ground while the +ball is travelling from the pitcher to the catcher and back to the fielder +who is guarding second base. It is the most important ninety feet in +baseball. From second base just one hit scores the runner. Stealing +second, one of the most picturesque plays of the game, is the gentle art +of taking a chance.</p> + +<p>In 1911, the Giants stole more bases than any other Big League club has +had to its credit since the Pirates established the record in 1903. +Devore, Snodgrass, Murray, Merkle and Doyle, once they got on the bases +were like loose mercury. They couldn’t be caught. And McGraw stole his way +to a pennant with this quintet of runners, not alone because of the number +of bases they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> pilfered, but because of the edge it gave the Giants on the +rest of the clubs, with the men with base-stealing reputations on the +team. I should say that holding these runners up on the bases and worrying +about what they were going to do reduced the efficiency of opposing +pitchers one-third.</p> + +<p>It wasn’t the speed of the men that accounted for the record. A sprinter +may get into the Big League and never steal a base. But it was the McGraw +system combined with their natural ability.</p> + +<p>“Get the start,” reiterates McGraw. “Half of base stealing is leaving the +bag at the right time. Know when you have a good lead and then never stop +until you have hit the dirt.”</p> + +<p>It is up to the pitcher as much as the catcher to stop base stealing, for +once a club begins running wild on another, the bats might as well be +packed up and the game conceded. Pitchers make a study of the individual +runners and their styles of getting starts. In my mind, I know just how +much of a lead every base runner in the National League can take on me +with impunity.</p> + +<p>“Bob” Bescher of the Cincinnati club was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> leading, bright, particular +base-stealing star of the National League in the season of 1911, and the +secret of his success was in his start. He tries to get as big a lead as +possible with each pitch, and then, when he intends to leave, edges a +couple of feet farther than usual, catching the pitcher unawares. With the +two extra feet, Bescher is bound to get to second base at the same time as +the ball, and no catcher in the world can stop him. Therefore, it is up to +the pitcher to keep him from getting this start—the two more feet he +seeks. I know that Bescher can take ten feet from the bag when I am +pitching and get back safely. But, I am equally sure that, if he makes his +lead twelve feet and I notice it, I can probably catch him. As a good +ribbon salesman constantly has in his mind’s eye the answer to the +question, “How far is a yard?” so I know at a glance exactly how far +Bescher can lead and get back safely, when he is on first base. If I +glance over and see him twelve feet away from the bag and about to start, +I turn and throw and catch him flat-footed. The crowd laughs at him and +says:</p> + +<p>“Bescher asleep at the switch again!”</p> + +<p>The real truth is that Bescher was not asleep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> but trying to get that old +jump which would have meant the stolen base. Again, he takes the twelve +feet, and I don’t perceive it. He gets started with my arm and goes into +the bag ahead of the ball.</p> + +<p>“Great base runner,” comments the fickle crowd.</p> + +<p>Bescher has only accomplished what he was trying to do before, but he has +gotten away with it this time. Being a great ball-player is the gentle art +of getting away with it.</p> + +<p>Spectators often wonder why a pitcher wearies them with throwing over to +the first base many times, when it is plain to see that he has no chance +of catching his quarry. “Bill” Dahlen used to be one of the best men in +the game for getting back in some way when on base, employing a straddle +slide and just hooking the bag with his toe, leaving “a shoe-string to +touch.” The result was that he was always handing the pitcher the laugh as +he brushed himself off, for none can say Dahlen was not an immaculate +ball-player.</p> + +<p>But the pitchers found out that they could tire Dahlen out by repeatedly +throwing over to the bag, and that, after five throws, which required<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +five dashes and slides back to the base, he was all in and could not steal +because he didn’t have the physical strength left. Thus, as soon as Dahlen +got on, a pitcher began throwing over until he had him tired out, and then +he pitched to the batter. So “Bill” crossed them by living on the bag +until he thought he saw his opportunity to get the jump, and then he would +try to steal.</p> + +<p>Few good base runners watch the ball after they have once left the bag. +They look at the baseman to see how he is playing and make the slide +accordingly. If Devore sees Huggins of St. Louis behind the base, he +slides in front and pulls his body away from the bag, so that he leaves +the smallest possible area to touch. If he observes the baseman cutting +inside to block him off, he goes behind and hooks it with just one toe, +again presenting the minimum touching surface. If the ball is hit while +the runner is en route, he takes one quick glance at the coacher on the +third base line and can tell by his motions whether to turn back or to +continue.</p> + +<p>McGraw devotes half his time and energy in the spring to teaching his men +base running and the art of sliding, which, when highly cultivated,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> means +being there with one toe and somewhere else with the rest of the body. But +most of all he impresses on the athletes the necessity of getting the +start before making the attempt to steal. As long as I live I shall +believe that if Snodgrass had known he had the jump in the third game of +the world’s series in 1911, when he really had it, and if he had taken +advantage of it, we would have won the game and possibly the championship. +It was in the contest that Baker balanced by banging the home run into the +right field bleachers in the ninth inning, when I was pitching. That tied +the score, 1 to 1.</p> + +<p>For nine innings I had been pitching myself out, putting everything that I +had on every ball, because the team gave me no lead to rest on. When Baker +pushed that ball into the bleachers with only two more men to get out to +win the game, I was all in. But I managed to live through the tenth with +very little on the ball, and we came to the bat. Snodgrass got a base on +balls and journeyed to second on a sacrifice. He was taking a big lead off +the middle base with the pitcher’s motion, and running back before the +catcher got the ball, because a quick throw would have caught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> him. It was +bad baseball, but he was nervous with the intense strain and over-eager to +score.</p> + +<p>Then came the time when he took a longer lead than any other, and Lapp, +the Athletics’ catcher, seeing him, was sure he was going to steal, and in +his hurry to get the ball away and save the game, let it past him. +Snodgrass had the jump, and probably would have made the base had he kept +on going, but he had no orders to steal and had turned and taken a step or +two back toward second when he saw Lapp lose the ball. Again he turned and +retraced his steps, and I never saw a man turn so slowly, simply because I +realized how important a turn that was going to be. Next I looked at Lapp +and saw him picking up the ball, which had rolled only about three feet +behind him. He snapped it to third and had Snodgrass by several feet. +Snodgrass realized this as he plunged down the base line, but he could not +stop and permit himself to be tagged and he could not go back, so he made +that historic slide which was heard almost around the world, cut off +several yards of Frank Baker’s trousers, and more important than the +damage to the uniform, lost us the game.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>Snodgrass had the jump in his first start, and if he had kept right on +going he would have made the bag without the aid of the passed ball, in my +opinion. But he did not know that he had this advantage and was on his way +back, when it looked for a minute as if the Athletics’ catcher had made a +mistake. This really turned out to be the “break” in the game, for it was +on that passed ball that Snodgrass was put out. He would probably have +scored the run which would have won the game had he lived either on second +or third base, for a hit followed.</p> + +<p>After losing the contest after watching the opportunity thrown away, some +fan called me on the <ins class="correction" title="original: te ephone">telephone</ins> that night, when I was feeling in anything +but a conversational mood, and asked me:</p> + +<p>“Was that passed ball this afternoon part of the Athletics’ inside game? +Did Lapp do it on purpose?”</p> + +<p>In passing I want to put in a word for Snodgrass, not because he is a +team-mate of mine, but on account of the criticism which he received for +spiking Baker, and which was not deserved. And in that word I do not want +to detract from Baker’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> reputation a scintilla, if I could, for he is a +great ball-player. But I want to say that if John Murray had ever been +called upon to slide into that bag with Baker playing it as he did, Baker +would probably have been found cut in halves, and only Murray’s own style +of coasting would have been responsible for it. If Fred Clarke of +Pittsburg had been the man coming in, Baker would probably have been +neatly cut into thirds, one third with each foot.</p> + +<p>Clarke is known as one of the most wicked sliders in the National League. +He jumps into the air and spreads his feet apart, showing his spikes as he +comes in. The Giants were playing in Pittsburg several years ago, before I +was married, and there was a friend of mine at the ball park with whom I +was particularly eager to make a hit. The game was close, as are all +contests which lend themselves readily to an anecdote, and Clarke got as +far as third base in the eighth inning, with the score tied and two out. +Warner, the Giants’ catcher, let one get past him and I ran in to cover +the plate. Clarke came digging for home and, as I turned to touch him, he +slid and cut my trousers off, never touching my legs. It was small +consolation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> to me that my stems were still whole and that the umpire had +called Clarke out and that the game was yet saved. My love for my art is +keen, but it stops at a certain point, and that point is where I have to +send a hurry call for a barrel and the team’s tailor. The players made a +sort of group around me while I did my Lady Godiva act from the plate to +the bench.</p> + +<p>Murray has the ideal slide for a base gatherer, but one which commands the +respect of all the guardians of the sacks in the National League. When +about eight feet from the bag, he jumps into the air, giving the fielder a +vision of two sets of nicely honed spikes aimed for the base. As Murray +hits the bag, he comes up on his feet and is in a position to start for +the next station in case of any fumble or slip. He is a great man to use +this slide to advantage against young players, who are inclined to be +timid when they see those spikes. It’s all part of the game as it is +played in the large leagues.</p> + +<p>The Boston team was trying out a young player two years ago. Murray +remarked to McGraw before the game:</p> + +<p>“The first time I get on, I bet I can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> make that fellow fumble and pick up +an extra base.”</p> + +<p>“Theatre tickets for the crowd on Saturday night?” inquired McGraw.</p> + +<p>“You’ve said it,” answered Murray.</p> + +<p>Along about the second or third inning John walked, and started for second +on the first ball pitched. The busher came in to cover the base, and +Murray leaped clear of the ground and yelled:</p> + +<p>“Look out!”</p> + +<p>The newcomer evidently thought that Murray had lost control of his legs, +got one look at those spikes, and bent all his energies toward dodging +them, paying no attention whatever to the ball, which continued its +unmolested journey to centre field. The new man proved to be one of the +best little dodgers I ever saw. John was in a perfect position to start +and went along to third at his leisure.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t I call the turn?” Murray yelled at McGraw as he came to the bench.</p> + +<p>“What show do you want to see?” asked McGraw.</p> + +<p>But on an old campaigner this show of spikes has no effect whatever. The +capable basemen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> in the League know how to cover the bag so as to get the +runner out and still give him room to come in without hurting any one. In +spite of an impression that prevails to the contrary, ball-players never +spike a man on purpose. At present, I don’t believe there is a runner in +the National League who would cut down another man if he had the +opportunity. If one man does spike another accidentally, he is heartily +sorry, and often such an event affects his own playing and his base +running ability.</p> + +<p>The feet-first slide is now more in vogue in the Big Leagues than the old +head-first coast, and I attribute this to two causes. One is that the show +of the spikes is a sort of assurance the base runner is going to have room +to come into the bag, and the second is that the great amount of armor +which a catcher wears in these latter days makes some such formidable +slide necessary when coming into the plate.</p> + +<p>If a base runner hits a catcher squarely with his shin guards on, he is +likely to be badly injured, and he must be sure that the catcher is going +to give him a clear path. Some catchers block off the plate so that a man +has got to shoot his spikes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> at them to get through, and I’m not saying +that it’s bad catching, because that is the way to keep a man from +scoring. Make him go around if possible.</p> + +<p>But the game has changed in the last few years as far as intentional +spiking goes. Many a time, when I first started with the Giants, I heard a +base runner shout at a fielder:</p> + +<p>“Get out of the way there or I’ll cut you in two!”</p> + +<p>And he would not have hesitated to do it, either. That was part of the +game. But nowadays, if a player got the reputation of cutting men down and +putting star players out of the game intentionally, he would soon be +driven out of the League, probably on a stretcher.</p> + +<p>When John Hummel of the Brooklyn club spiked Doyle in 1908, and greatly +lessened the Giants’ chances of winning the pennant, which the club +ultimately lost, he came around to our clubhouse after the game and +inquired for Larry. When he found how badly Doyle was cut, he was as +broken up as any member of our team.</p> + +<p>“If I’d known I was goin’ to cut you, Larry, I wouldn’t have slid,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>“That’s all right,” answered +Doyle. “I guess I was blockin’ you.”</p> + +<p>Ball-players don’t say much in a situation of that kind. But each one who +witnessed the incident knew that when Doyle doubled down, spiked, most of +our chances of the pennant went down with him, for it broke up the infield +of the team at a most important moment. It takes some time for a new part +to work into a clock so that it keeps perfect time again, no matter how +delicate is the workmanship of the new part. So the best infielder takes +time to fit into the infield of a Big League club and have it hit on all +four cylinders again.</p> + +<p>Fred Merkle is one of the few ball-players who still prefers the +head-first slide, and he sticks to it only on certain occasions. He is the +best man to steal third base playing ball to-day. He declares that, when +he is going into the bag, he can see better by shooting his head first and +that he can swing his body away from the base and just hook it with one +finger nail, leaving just that to touch. And he keeps his nails clipped +short in the season, so that there is very little exposed to which the +ball can be applied. If he sees that the third<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> baseman is playing inside +the bag, he goes behind it and hooks it with his finger, and if the man is +playing back, he cuts through in front, pulling his body away from the +play. But the common or garden variety of player will take the hook slide, +feet first, because he can catch the bag with one leg, and the feet aren’t +as tender a portion of the anatomy to be roughly touched as the head and +shoulders.</p> + +<p>A club of base runners will do more to help a pitcher win than a batting +order of hard hitters, I believe. Speed is the great thing in the baseball +of to-day. By speed I do not mean that good men must be sprinters alone. +They must be fast starters, fast runners and fast thinkers. Remember that +last one—fast thinkers.</p> + +<p>Harry McCormick, formerly the left-fielder on the Giants, when he joined +the club before his legs began to go bad, was a sprinter, one of the +fastest men who ever broke into the League. Before he took up baseball as +a profession, he had been a runner in college. But McCormick was never a +brilliant base stealer because he could not get the start.</p> + +<p>When a man is pitching for a club of base<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> runners he knows that every +time a player with a stealing reputation gets on and there is an outside +chance of his scoring, the run is going to be hung up. The tallies give a +pitcher confidence to proceed. Then, when the club has the reputation of +possessing a great bunch of base runners, the other pitcher is worried all +the time and has to devote about half his energies to watching the bases. +This makes him easier to hit.</p> + +<p>But put a hard hitter who is a slow base runner on the club, and he does +little good. There used to be a man on the Giants, named “Charley” +Hickman, who played third base and then the outfield. He was one of the +best natural hitters who ever wormed his way into baseball, but when he +got on, the bases were blocked. He could not run, and it took a hit to +advance him a base. Get a fast man on behind him and, because the rules of +the game do not permit one runner to pass another, it was like having a +freight train preceding the Twentieth Century Limited on a single track +road. Hickman was not so slow when he first started, but after a while his +legs went bad and his weight increased, so that he was built like a box +car, to carry out the railroad figure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>Hickman finally dropped back into the minor leagues and continued to bat +three hundred, but he had to lose the ball to make the journey clear +around the bases on one wallop. Once he hit the old flag pole in centre +field at the Polo Grounds on the fly, and just did nose the ball out at +the plate. It was a record hit for distance. At last, while still +maintaining the three-hundred pace, Hickman was dropped by the Toledo club +of the American Association.</p> + +<p>“Why did you let Charley Hickman go?” I asked the manager one day.</p> + +<p>“Because he was tyin’ up traffic on the bases,” he replied.</p> + +<p>Merkle is not a particularly fast runner, but he is a great base stealer +because he has acquired the knack of “getting away.” He never tries to +steal until he has his start. He is also a good arriver, as I have pointed +out. It was like getting a steamroller in motion to start Hickman.</p> + +<p>Clever ball-players and managers are always trying to evolve new +base-running tactics that will puzzle the other team, but “there ain’t no +new stuff.” It is a case of digging up the old ones. Pitchers are also +earnest in their endeavors to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> discover improved ways to stop base +running. Merkle and I worked out a play during the spring training season +in 1911 which caught perhaps a dozen men off first base before the other +teams began to watch for the trick. And it was not original with me. I got +the idea from “Patsy” Flaherty, a Boston pitcher who has his salary wing +fastened to his left side.</p> + +<p>Flaherty would pitch over to first base quickly, and the fielder would +shoot the ball back. Then Flaherty would pop one through to the batter, +often catching him off his guard, and sneaking a strike over besides +leaving the runner flat on the ground in the position in which he had been +when he slid back to the bag. If the batter hit the ball, the runner was +in no attitude to get a start, and, on an infield tap, it was easy to make +a double play.</p> + +<p>The next time that the man got on base, Flaherty would shoot the ball over +to first as before, and the runner would be up on his feet and away from +the bag, expecting him to throw it to the plate. But as the first baseman +whipped it back quickly Flaherty returned the ball and the runner was +caught flat footed and made to look foolish. Ball-players do certainly +hate to appear ridiculous, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> the laugh from the crowd upsets a Big +Leaguer more than anything else, even a call from McGraw, because the +crowd cannot hear that and does not know the man is looking foolish.</p> + +<p>It was almost impossible to steal bases on “Patsy” Flaherty because he +had the men hugging the bag all the time, and if he had had other +essentials of a pitcher, he would have been a great one. He even lived in +the Big League for some time with this quick throw as his only asset. I +adopted the Flaherty movement, but it is harder for a right-hander to use, +as he is not in such a good position to whip the ball to the bag. Merkle +and I rehearsed it in spring practice. As soon as a man got on first base, +I popped the ball over to Merkle, and without even making a stab at the +runner, he shot it to me. Then back again, just as the runner had let go +of the bag and was getting up. The theoretical result: He was caught +flat-footed. Sometimes it worked. Then they began to play for me.</p> + +<p>Another play on which the changes have often been rung is the double steal +with men on first and third bases. That is McGraw’s favorite situation in +a crisis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>“Somebody’s got +to look foolish on the play,” says “Mac,” “and I don’t want to furnish any laughs.”</p> + +<p>The old way to work it was to have the man on first start for second, as +if he were going to make a straight steal. Then as soon as the catcher +drew his arm back to throw, the runner on third started home. No Big +League club can have a look into the pennant set without trying to +interrupt the journey of that man going to second in a tight place, +because if no play is made for him and a hit follows, it nets the club two +runs instead of one.</p> + +<p>Most teams try to stop this play by having the shortstop or second baseman +come in and take a short throw, and if the man on third breaks for home, +the receiver of the ball whips it back. If both throws are perfect, the +runner is caught at the plate.</p> + +<p>But the catchers found that certain clubs were making this play in routine +fashion, the runner on first starting with the pitch, and the one on third +making his break just as soon as the catcher drew back his arm. Then the +backstops began making a bluff throw to second and whipping the ball to +third, often getting the runner by several feet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> as he had already +definitely started for the plate.</p> + +<p>“Tommy” Leach of the Pittsburg club was probably caught oftener on this +bluff throw than any other man in baseball. For some time he had been +making the play against clubs which used the short throw, and starting as +the catcher drew back his arm, as that was the only chance he had to +score. One day in the season of 1908, when the Pirates were playing +against the Giants, Clarke was on first and Leach on third, with one run +required to balance the game. McGraw knew the double steal was to be +expected, as two were out. Bresnahan was aware of this, too.</p> + +<p>McGinnity was pitching, and with his motion, Clarke got his start. +Bresnahan drew back his arm as if to throw to second, and true to form, +Leach was on his way to the plate. But Bresnahan had not let go of the +ball, and he shot it to Devlin, Leach being run down in the base line and +the Pittsburg club eventually losing the game.</p> + +<p>Again and again Leach fell for this bluff throw, until the news spread +around the circuit that once a catcher drew back his arm with a man on +first base and “Tommy” Leach on third, there would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> be no holding him on +the bag. He was caught time and again—indeed as frequently as the play +came up. It was his “groove.” He could not be stopped from making his +break. At last Clarke had to order him to abandon the play until he could +cure himself of this self-starting habit.</p> + +<p>“What you want to do on that play is cross ’em,” is McGraw’s theory, and +he proceeded to develop the delayed steal with this intent.</p> + +<p>Put the men back on first and third bases. Thank you. The pitcher has the +ball. The runner on first intentionally takes too large a lead. The +pitcher throws over, and he moves a few steps toward second. Then a few +more. All that time the man on third is edging off an inch, two inches, a +foot. The first baseman turns to throw to second to stop that man. The +runner on third plunges for the plate, and usually gets there. It’s a hard +one to stop, but that’s its purpose.</p> + +<p>Then, again, it can be worked after the catcher gets the ball. The runner +starts from first slowly and the catcher hesitates, not knowing whether to +throw to first or second. Since the runner did not start with the pitch, +theoretically no one has come in to take a short throw, and the play +cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> be made back to the plate if the ball is thrown to second. This +form of the play is usually successful. Miller Huggins is one of the +hardest second basemen in the League to work it against successfully. With +men on first and third, he always comes in for the short throw on the +chance, and covers himself up.</p> + +<p>After we had stolen our way to a pennant in the National League in the +season of 1911, and after our five leading base runners had been “mugged” +by the police in St. Louis so that the catchers would know them, many fans +expected to see us steal a world’s championship, and we half expected it +ourselves.</p> + +<p>But so did “Connie” Mack, and there lies the answer. He knew our strong +point, and his players had discussed and rehearsed ways and means to break +up our game. Mack had been watching the Giants for weeks previous to the +series and had had his spies taking notes.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to stop them running bases,” he told his men before the first +game, I have learned since. And they did. Guess the St. Louis police must +have sent Thomas and Lapp copies of those pictures.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>Mack’s pitchers cut their motions down to nothing with men on the bases, +microscopic motions, and they watched the runners like hawks. Thomas had +been practising to get the men. The first time that Devore made a break to +steal, he was caught several feet from the bag.</p> + +<p>“And you call yourself fast!” commented Collins as he threw the ball back +to the pitcher and jogged to his job. “You remind me of a cop on a fixed +post,” he flung over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Pitchers have a great deal to do with the defensive efficiency of the +club. If they do not hold the runners up, the best catcher in the world +cannot stop them at their destination. That is the reason why so many +high-class catchers have been developed by the Chicago Cubs. The team has +always had a good pitching staff, and men like Overall, Brown and Reulbach +force the runners to stick to the oases of safety.</p> + +<p>The Giants stole their way to a pennant in 1911, and it wasn’t on account +of the speedy material, but because McGraw had spent days teaching his men +to slide and emphasizing the necessity of getting the jump. Then he picked +the stages of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> the game when the attempts to steal were to be made. But +McGraw, with his all-star cast of thieves, was stopped in the world’s +series by one Cornelius McGillicuddy.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> +<h3>Notable Instances Where the “Inside” Game Has Failed</h3> + +<div class="note"><p class="hang"><i>The “Inside” Game is of Little Avail when a Batter Knocks a Home Run +with the Bases Full—Many Times the Strategies of Managers have +Failed because Opposing Clubs “Doctored” their Grounds—“Rube” +Waddell Once Cost the Athletics a Game by Failing to Show up after +the Pitcher’s Box had been Fixed for Him—But, although the “Inside” +Game Sometimes Fails, no Manager Wants a Player who will Steal Second +with the Bases Full.</i></p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p class="dropcap"><span class="caps">There</span> is an old story about an altercation which took place during a +wedding ceremony in the backwoods of the Virginia mountains. The +discussion started over the propriety of the best man holding the ring, +and by the time that it had been finally settled the bride gazed around on +a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> dead bridegroom, a dead father, and a dead best man, not to mention +three or four very dead ushers and a clergyman.</p> + +<p>“Them new fangled self-cockin’ automatic guns has sure raised hell with my +prospects,” she sighed.</p> + +<p>That’s the way I felt when John Franklin Baker popped that home run into +the right-field stand in the ninth inning of the third game of the 1911 +world’s series with one man already out. For eight and one-third <ins class="correction" title="original: innnings">innings</ins> +the Giants had played “inside” ball, and I had carefully nursed along +every batter who came to the plate, studying his weakness and pitching at +it. It looked as if we were going to win the game, and then zing! And also +zowie! The ball went into the stand on a line and I looked around at my +fielders who had had the game almost within their grasp a minute before. +Instantly, I realized that I had been pitching myself out, expecting the +end to come in nine innings. My arm felt like so much lead hanging to my +side after that hit. I wanted to go and get some crape and hang it on my +salary whip. Then that old story about the wedding popped into my head, +and I said to myself:</p> + +<p>“He has sure raised hell with your prospects.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>“Sam” Strang, the official pinch hitter of the Giants a few seasons ago, +was one of the best in the business. McGraw sent him to the bat in the +ninth inning of a game the Giants were playing in Brooklyn. We were two +runs behind and two were already out, with one runner on the bases, and he +was only as far as second. “Doc” Scanlon was pitching for Brooklyn, and, +evidently intimidated by Sam’s pinch-hitting reputation or something, +suddenly became wild and gave the Giant batter three balls. With the count +three and nothing, McGraw shouted from the bench:</p> + +<p>“Wait it out, Sam!”</p> + +<p>But Sam did not hear him, and he took a nice masculine, virile, full-armed +swing at the ball and fouled it out of the reach of all the local +guardians of the soil.</p> + +<p>“Are you deaf?” barked McGraw. “Wait it out, I tell you.”</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Strang was a little deaf and did not hear the shouted +instructions the second time. But “Doc” Scanlon was sensitive as to +hearing and, feeling sure Strang would obey the orders of McGraw, thought +he would be taking no chances in putting the next ball over the centre of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +the plate. It came up the “groove,” and Strang admired it as it +approached. Then he took his swing, and the next place the ball touched +was in the Italian district just over the right field fence. The hit tied +the score.</p> + +<p>McGraw met Strang at the plate, and instead of greeting him with shouts of +approbation, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“I ought to fine you $25, and would, except for those two runs and the few +points’ difference the game will make in the percentage. Come on now, +boys. Let’s win this one.” And we did in the eleventh inning.</p> + +<p>That was a case of the “inside” game failing. Any Big League pitcher with +brains would have laid the ball over after hearing McGraw shout earnest +and direct orders at the batter to “wait it out.” Scanlon was playing the +game and Strang was not, but it broke for Sam. It was the first time in +his life that he ever hit the ball over the right field fence in Brooklyn, +and he has never done it since. If he had not been lucky in connecting +with that ball and lifting it where it did the most good, his pay envelope +would have been lighter by $25 at the end of the month, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> would have +obtained an accurate idea of McGraw’s opinion of his intellectuality.</p> + +<p>In the clubhouse after the victory, McGraw said:</p> + +<p>“Honest, Sam, why did you swing at that ball after I had told you not to?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t hear you,” replied Strang.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s lucky you hit it where they weren’t,” answered McGraw, +“because if any fielder had connected with the ball, there would have been +a rough greeting waiting for you on the bench. And as a tip, Sam, direct +from me: You got away with it once, but don’t try it again. It was bad +baseball.”</p> + +<p>“But that straight one looked awful good to me coming up the ‘groove,’” +argued Sam.</p> + +<p>“Don’t fall for all the good lookers, Sam,” suggested McGraw, the +philosopher.</p> + +<p>Strang is now abroad having his voice cultivated and he intends to enter +the grand-opera field as soon as he can finish the spring training in +Paris and get his throat into shape for the big league music circuit. But +I will give any orchestra leader who faces Sam a tip. If he doesn’t want +him to come in strong where the music is marked “rest,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> don’t put one in +the “groove,” because Strang just naturally can’t help swinging at it. He +is a poor waiter.</p> + +<p>The Boston club lost eighteen straight games in the season of 1910, and as +the team was leaving the Polo Grounds after having dropped four in a row, +making the eighteen, I said to Tenney:</p> + +<p>“How does it seem, Fred, to be on a club that has lost eighteen straight?”</p> + +<p>“It’s what General Sherman said war is,” replied Tenney, who seldom +swears. “But for all-around entertainment I would like to see John McGraw +on a team which had dropped fifteen or sixteen in a row.”</p> + +<p>As if Tenney had put the curse on us, the Giants hit a losing streak the +next day that totalled six games straight. Everything that we tried broke +against us. McGraw would attempt the double steal, and both throws would +be accurate, and the runner caught at the plate. A hit and a run sign +would be given, and the batter would run up against a pitch-out.</p> + +<p>McGraw was slowly going crazy. All his pet “inside” tricks were worthless. +He, the king of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> baseball clairvoyants, could not guess right. It began to +look to me as if Tenney would get his entertainment. After the sixth one +had gone against us and McGraw had not spoken a friendly word to any one +for a week, he called the players around him in the clubhouse.</p> + +<p>“I ought to let you all out and get a gang of high-school boys in here to +defend the civic honor of this great and growing city whose municipal +pride rests on your shoulders,” he said. “But I’m not going to do it. +Hereafter we will cut out all ‘inside’ stuff and play straight baseball. +Every man will go up there and hit the ball just as you see it done on the +lots.”</p> + +<p>Into this oration was mixed a judicious amount of sulphur. The Cubs had +just taken the first three of a four-game series from us without any +trouble at all. The next day we went out and resorted to the wallop, +plain, untrimmed slugging tactics, and beat Chicago 17 to 1. Later we +returned to the hand-raised, cultivated hot-house form of baseball, but +for a week we played the old-fashioned game with a great deal of success. +It changed our luck.</p> + +<p>Another method which has upset the “inside”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> game of many visiting teams +is “doping” the grounds.</p> + +<p>The first time in my baseball career that I ever encountered this was in +Brooklyn when Hanlon was the manager. Every time he thought I was going to +pitch there, he would have the diamond doctored for me in the morning. The +ground-keeper sank the pitcher’s box down so that it was below the level +of all the bases instead of slightly elevated as it should be.</p> + +<p>Hanlon knew that I used a lot of speed when I first broke into the League, +getting some of it from my elevation on the diamond. He had a team of fast +men who depended largely on a bunting game and their speed in getting to +first base to win. With me fielding bunts out of the hollow, they had a +better chance of making their goal. Then pitching from the lower level +would naturally result in the batters getting low balls, because I would +be more apt to misjudge the elevation of the plate. Low ones were made to +bunt. Finally, Hanlon always put into the box to work against me a little +pitcher who was not affected as much as I by the topographical changes.</p> + +<p>“Why,” I said to George Davis, the Giants’<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> manager, the first time I +pitched out of the cellar which in Brooklyn was regarded as the pitcher’s +box, “I’m throwing from a hollow instead of off a mound.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” replied Davis. “They ‘doped’ the grounds for you. But never mind. +When we are entertaining, the box at the Polo Grounds will be built up the +days you are going to pitch against Brooklyn, and you can burn them over +and at their heads if you like.”</p> + +<p>The thing that worried the Athletics most before the last world’s series +was the reputation of the Giants as base stealers. When we went to +Philadelphia for the first game, I was surprised at the heavy condition of +the base lines.</p> + +<p>“Did it rain here last night?” I inquired from a native.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered.</p> + +<p>Then I knew that the lines had been wet down to slow up our fast runners +and make it harder for them to steal. As things developed, this precaution +was unnecessary, but it was an effort to break up what was known to be our +strongest “inside” play.</p> + +<p>Baseball men maintain that the acme of doctoring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> grounds was the work of +the old Baltimore Orioles. The team was composed of fast men who were +brilliant bunters and hard base runners. The soil of the infield was mixed +with a form of clay which, when wet and then rolled, was almost as hard as +concrete. The ground outside the first and third base lines was built up +slightly to keep well placed bunts from rolling foul, while toward first +base there was a distinct down grade to aid the runner in reaching that +station with all possible expedition. Toward second there was a gentle +slope, and it was down hill to third. But coming home from third was +up-hill work. A player had to be a mountain climber to make it. This all +benefited fast men like Keeler, McGraw, Kelley and Jennings whose most +dangerous form of attack was the bunt.</p> + +<p>The Orioles did not stop at doctoring the infield. The grass in the +outfield was permitted to grow long and was unkempt. Centre and left +fields were kept level, but in right field there was a sharp down grade to +aid the fast Keeler. He had made an exhaustive study of all the possible +angles at which the ball might bound and had certain paths that he +followed, but which were not marked out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> by sign posts for visiting +right-fielders. He was sure death on hits to his territory, while usually +wallops got past visiting right-fielders. And so great was the grade that +“Wee Willie” was barely visible from the batter’s box. A hitting team +coming to Baltimore would be forced to fall into the bunting game or be +entirely outclassed. And the Orioles did not furnish their guests with +topographical maps of the grounds either.</p> + +<p>The habit of doctoring grounds is not so much in vogue now as it once was. +For a long time it was considered fair to arrange the home field to the +best advantage of the team which owned it, for otherwise what was the use +in being home? It was on the same principle that a general builds his +breastworks to best suit the fighting style of his army, for they are his +breastworks.</p> + +<p>But lately among the profession, sentiment and baseball legislation have +prevailed against the doctoring of grounds, and it is done very little. +Occasionally a pitching box is raised or lowered to meet the requirements +of a certain man, but they are not altered every day to fit the pitcher, +as they once were. Such tactics often hopelessly upset the plan of battle +of the visiting club unless this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> exactly coincided with the habits of the +home team. Many strategic plans have been wasted on carefully arranged +grounds, and many “inside” plays have gone by the boards when the field +was fixed so that a bunt was bound to roll foul if the ball followed the +laws of gravitation, as it usually does, because the visiting team was +known to have the bunting habit.</p> + +<p>A good story of doctored grounds gone wrong is told of the Philadelphia +Athletics. The eccentric “Rube” Waddell had bundles of speed in his early +days, and from a slightly elevated pitcher’s box the batter could scarcely +identify “Rube’s” delivery from that of a cannon. He was scheduled to +pitch one day and showed around at morning practice looking unusually fit +for George.</p> + +<p>“How are you feeling to-day, George?” asked “Connie” Mack, his boss.</p> + +<p>“Never better,” replied the light-hearted “Rube.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you work this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” answered Waddell.</p> + +<p>Then the ground-keeper got busy and built the pitcher’s box up about two +feet, so that Waddell would have a splendid opportunity to cut loose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> all +his speed. At that time he happened to be the only tall man on the +pitching staff of the Philadelphia club, and, as a rule, the box was kept +very low. The scheme would probably have worked out as planned, if it had +not been that Waddell, in the course of his noon-day wanderings, met +several friends in whose society he became so deeply absorbed that he +neglected to report at the ball park at all. He also forgot to send word, +and here was the pitcher’s box standing up out of the infield like one of +the peaks of the Alps.</p> + +<p>As the players gathered, and Waddell failed to show up, the manager +nervously looked at his watch. At last he sent out scouts to the “Rube’s” +known haunts, but no trace of the temperamental artist could be found. The +visitors were already on the field, and it was too late to lower the box. +A short pitcher had to work in the game from this peak of progress, while +the opposing team installed a skyscraper on the mound. The Philadelphia + +club was badly beaten and Waddell heavily fined for his carelessness in +disrupting the “inside” play of his team.</p> + +<p>An old and favorite trick used to be to soap the soil around the pitcher’s +box, so that when a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> was searching for some place to dry his +perspiring hands and grabbed up this soaped earth, it made his palm +slippery and he was unable to control the ball.</p> + +<p>Of course, the home talent knew where the good ground lay and used it or +else carried some unadulterated earth in their trousers’ pockets, as a +sort of private stock. But our old friend “Bugs” Raymond hit on a scheme +to spoil this idea and make the trick useless. Arthur always perspired +profusely when he pitched, and several managers, perceiving this, had made +it a habit to soap the dirt liberally whenever it was his turn to work. +While he was pitching for St. Louis, he went into the box against the +Pirates one day in Pittsburg. His hands were naturally slippery, and +several times he had complained that he could not dry them in the dirt, +especially in Pittsburg soil.</p> + +<p>As Raymond worked in the game in question, he was noticed, particularly by +the Pittsburg batters and spectators, to get better as he went along. +Frequently, his hand slipped into his back pocket, and then his control +was wonderful. Sometimes, he would reach down and apparently pick up a +handful of earth, but it did no damage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> After the game, he walked over to +Fred Clarke, and reached into his back pocket. His face broke into a grin.</p> + +<p>“Ever see any of that stuff, Fred?” he asked innocently, showing the +Pittsburg manager a handful of a dark brown substance. “That’s rosin. It’s +great—lots better than soaped ground. Wish you’d keep a supply out there +in the box for me when I’m going to work instead of that slippery stuff +you’ve got out there now. Will you, as a favor to me?”</p> + +<p>Thereafter, all the pitchers got to carrying rosin or pumice stone in +their pockets, for the story quickly went round the circuit, and it is +useless to soap the soil in the box any more. There are many tricks by +which the grounds or ball are “fixed,” but for nearly all an antidote has +been discovered, and these questionable forms of the “inside” game have +failed so often that they have largely been abandoned.</p> + +<p>One Big League manager used always to give his men licorice or some other +dark and adhesive and juicy substance to chew on a dingy day. The purpose +was to dirty the ball so that it was harder for the batters to see when +the pitcher used his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> fast one. As soon as a new ball was thrown into the +game, it was quickly passed around among the fielders, and instead of +being the lily-white thing that left the umpire’s hands, when it finally +got to the pitcher’s box it was a very pronounced brunette. But some +eagle-eyed arbiter detected this, and kept pouring new balls into the game +when the non-licorice chewers were at the bat, while he saved the +discolored ones for the consumption of the masticators. It was another +trick that failed.</p> + +<p>Frequently, backgrounds are tampered with if the home club is notably weak +at the bat. The best background for a batter is a dull, solid green. Many +clubs have painted backgrounds in several contrasting, broken colors so +that the sunlight, shining on them, blinds the batter. The Chicago White +Sox are said to have done this, and for many years the figures showed that +the batting of both the Chicago players and the visitors at their park was +very light. The White Sox’s hitting was weak anywhere, so that the poor +background was an advantage to them.</p> + +<p>Injuries have often upset the “inside” play of a club. Usually a team’s +style revolves around one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> or two men, and the taking of them out of the +game destroys the whole machine. The substitute does not think as quickly; +neither does he see and grasp the opportunities as readily. This was true +of the Cubs last season. Chance and Evers used to be the “inside” game of +the team. Evers was out of the game most of the summer and Chance was +struck in the head with a pitched ball and had to quit. The playing of the +Chicago team fell down greatly as a result.</p> + +<p>Chance is the sort of athlete who is likely to get injured. When he was a +catcher he was always banged up because he never got out of the way of +anything. He is that kind of player. If he has to choose between accepting +a pair of spikes in a vital part of his anatomy and getting a put-out, or +dodging the spikes and losing the put-out, he always takes the put-out and +usually the spikes. He never dodges away from a ball when at bat that may +possibly break over the plate and cost him a strike. That is why he was +hit in the head. He lingered too long to ascertain whether the ball was +going to curve and found out that it was not, which put him out of the +game, the Cubs practically out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> pennant race, and broke up their +“inside” play.</p> + +<p>Roger Bresnahan is the same kind of a man. He thinks quickly, and is a +brilliant player, but he never dodges anything. He is often hurt as a +result. Once, when he was with the Giants, he was hit in the face with a +pitched ball, and McGraw worried while he was laid up, for fear that it +would make him bat shy. After he came back, he was just as friendly with +the plate as ever. The injury of men like Chance and Bresnahan, whose +services are of such vital importance to the “inside” play of a team, +destroys the effectiveness of the club.</p> + +<p>Once, in 1908, when we were fighting the Cubs for the pennant at every +step, McGraw planned a bunting game against Overall, who is big and not +very fast in covering the little rollers. Bresnahan and O’Day had been +having a serial argument through two games, and Roger, whose nerves were +worn to a frazzle, like those of the rest of us at that time, thought +“Hank” had been shading his judgment slightly toward the Cubs. In another +story I have pointed out that O’Day, the umpire, was stubborn and that +nothing could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> gained by continually picking on him. When the batteries +were announced for that game, McGraw said as the team went to the field:</p> + +<p>“We can beat this guy Overall by bunting.”</p> + +<p>Bresnahan went out to put on his chest protector and shin guards. O’Day +happened to be adjusting his makeup near him. Roger could not resist the +temptation.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you put on a Chicago uniform, ‘Hank’, instead of those duds?” +he asked. “Is it true, if the Cubs win the pennant, they’ve promised to +elect you alderman in Chicago?”</p> + +<p>“Get out of the game and off the field,” said O’Day.</p> + +<p>Bresnahan had to obey the injunction and Needham, the only other available +catcher, went behind the mat. “Tom” Needham never beat out a bunt in his +life, and he destroyed all McGraw’s plans because, with him in the game +instead of Bresnahan, the style had to be switched. We lost. Bresnahan, a +fast man and a good bunter batted third and would have been valuable in +the attack best adapted to beat Overall. But his sudden demise and the +enforced substitution of the plodding Needham ruined the whole plan of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +campaign. Therefore, frequently umpires upset a team’s “inside” game.</p> + +<p>One of McGraw’s schemes back-fired on him when Luderus, the hard-hitting +Philadelphia first baseman, broke into the League. Some one had tipped +“Mac” off, and tipped him wrong, that this youngster could be disconcerted +in a pinch by the catcher discussing signs and what-not with him, thus +distracting his attention.</p> + +<p>“Chief,” said McGraw before the game, “if this Luderus gets up in a tight +place, slip him a little talk.”</p> + +<p>The situation came, and Meyers obeyed instructions. The game was in +Philadelphia, and three men were on the bases with two out. Ames was +pitching.</p> + +<p>“What are you bringing the bat up with you for?” asked the “Chief” as +Luderus arranged himself at the plate.</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>Then Meyers gave Ames his sign. Next he fixed his fingers in a fake signal +and addressed the young batter.</p> + +<p>“The best hitters steal signs,” said the “Chief.” “Just look down in my +glove and see the signals.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>But Luderus was not caught and kept his eyes glued on Ames. He hit the +next ball over the right field wall and won the game. As he crossed the +plate, he said to the “Chief”:</p> + +<p>“It’s too easy. I don’t need your signs. They pulled that one on me in the +bushes long ago.”</p> + +<p>“After this, when that fellow bats,” said McGraw to Meyers later, “do as +exact an imitation of the sphinx as you know how. The tip was no good.”</p> + +<p>The trick of talking to the hitter is an old one. The idea is for the +catcher to give a wrong sign, for his benefit, after having flashed the +right one, induce the batter, usually a youngster, to look down at it, and +then have the pitcher shoot one over the plate while he is staring in the +glove.</p> + +<p>“Steve” Evans, the St. Louis right-fielder, tells a story of a fan who sat +in the same box at the Cardinals’ park every day and devoted most of his +time to roasting him (S. Evans). His favorite expressions in connection +with Evans were “bone dead,” “wooden head,” and so on. He loudly claimed +that “Steve” had no knowledge of the game and spoiled every play that +Bresnahan tried to put through. One day, when the Giants were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> playing in +St. Louis, some one knocked up a high foul which landed in this orator’s +box. He saw it coming, tried to dodge, used poor judgment, and, realizing +that the ball was going to strike him, snatched his hat off, and took it +full on an immodestly bald head. “Steve” Evans was waiting to go to the +bat. He shifted his chew to his other cheek and exclaimed in a voice that +could not have been heard more than two miles away:</p> + +<p>“That’s the ‘gink’ who has been calling me a ‘bone head.’”</p> + +<p>“Steve” got a great laugh from the crowd, but right there the St. Louis +club lost a patron, for the bald-headed one has never been seen at the +grounds since, according to Evans, and his obituary has not been printed +yet, either.</p> + +<p>“Al” Bridwell, formerly the Giants’ shortstop, was one of the cleverest +men at the “inside” game that ever broke into the Big Leagues, and it was +this that made him valuable. Then suddenly his legs went bad, and he +slowed up. It was his speed and his ability to bunt and his tireless +waiting at the plate to make all toilers in the box pitch that had made +him a great player. He seldom swung at a bad ball. As soon as he slowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> +up, McGraw knew he would have to go if the Giants were to win the pennant. +He deeply regretted letting the gritty, little shortstop, whose legs had +grown stiff in his service, leave the club, but sentiment never won any +pennants.</p> + +<p>“Al,” he said to Bridwell, “I’m going to let you go to Boston. Your legs +will be all right eventually, but I’ve got to have a fast man now while +you are getting back your old speed.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, ‘Mac,’” replied Bridwell. “It’s all part of the game.”</p> + +<p>He did not rave and swear that he had been double-crossed, as many players +do under the same circumstances. I never heard Bridwell swear, and I never +found any one else who did. He had been playing for weeks, when every time +he moved it pained him, because he thought he might have a share of the +money that winning a pennant would mean. It was a staggering blow to him, +this sending him from a pennant possibility to a hopeless tail-ender, but +he took it gamely.</p> + +<p>“I guess I was ‘gumming’ the inside stuff,” he said.</p> + +<p>And he did get some of the prize money. The boys voted him a share.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>It will be seen that the “inside” game sometimes fails. Many a time I have +passed a catcher or good batter to take a chance on a pitcher, and then +have had him make a hit just when hits were not at all welcome. I walked a +catcher once and had the pitcher shove the ball over first base for a +single, when he closed his eyes and dodged back in an effort to get his +head out of the line he thought it was pursuing before it curved. In +ducking, he got his bat in front of the ball, a result he had never +obtained with his eyes open.</p> + +<p>Once I started to pass “Hans” Wagner in a pinch to take a chance on the +next batter, and was a little careless in throwing the ball too close to +the plate. He reached out and slapped it for a single. Again the “inside” +game had failed.</p> + +<p>Speaking pretty generally, most managers prefer to use this “inside” game, +though, and there are few vacancies in the Big Leagues right now for the +man who is liable to steal second with the bases full.</p> + + +<p> </p><p> </p> +<hr style="width: 50%;" /> +<p><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></p> + +<p>Punctuation has been corrected without note.</p> + +<p>Other than the corrections noted by hover information, inconsistencies in +spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Pitching in a Pinch, by Christy Mathewson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + +***** This file should be named 33291-h.htm or 33291-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/9/33291/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Pitching in a Pinch + or, Baseball from the Inside + +Author: Christy Mathewson + +Commentator: John N. Wheeler + +Release Date: July 30, 2010 [EBook #33291] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + + + + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +PITCHING IN A PINCH + + + + +[Illustration: Christy Mathewson + +Copyright by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio] + + + + + PITCHING IN A PINCH + + OR BASEBALL FROM THE INSIDE + + + BY CHRISTY MATHEWSON + + + WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY + JOHN N. WHEELER + + + ILLUSTRATED + + + GROSSET & DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Made in the United States of America + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1912 + BY CHRISTOPHER MATHEWSON + + This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, NEW YORK AND LONDON + + The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +Introducing a reader to Christy Mathewson seems like a superfluous piece +of writing and a waste of white paper. Schoolboys of the last ten years +have been acquainted with the exact figures which have made up Matty's +pitching record before they had ever heard of George Washington, because +George didn't play in the same League. + +Perfectly good rational and normal citizens once deserted a reception to +the Governor of the State because Christy Mathewson was going to pitch +against the Chicago club. If the committee on arrangements wanted to make +the hour of the reception earlier, all right, but no one could be expected +to miss seeing Matty in the box against Chance and his Cubs for the sake +of greeting the Governor. + +Besides being a national hero, Matty is one of the closest students of +baseball that ever came into the Big League. By players, he has long been +recognized as the greatest pitcher the game has produced. He has been +pitching in the Big Leagues for eleven years and winning games right +along. + +His great pitching practically won the world's championship for the Giants +from the Philadelphia Athletics in 1905, and, six years later, he was +responsible for one of the two victories turned in by New York pitchers in +a world's series again with the Athletics. + +At certain periods in his baseball career, he has pitched almost every day +after the rest of the staff had fallen down. When the Giants were making +their determined fight for the championship in 1908, the season that the +race was finally decided by a single game with the Cubs, he worked in nine +out of the last fifteen games in an effort to save his club from defeat. +And he won most of them. That has always been the beauty of his +pitching--his ability to win. + +Matty was born in Factoryville, Pa., thirty-one years ago, and, after +going to Bucknell College, he began to play ball with the Norfolk club of +the Virginia League, but was soon bought by the New York Giants, where he +has remained ever since and is likely to stay for some time to come, if he +can continue to make himself as welcome as he has been so far. He was +only nineteen when he joined the club and was a headliner from the start. +Always he has been a student and something of a writer, having done +newspaper work from time to time during the big series. He has made a +careful study of the Big League batters. He has kept a sort of baseball +diary of his career, and, frequently, I have heard him relate unwritten +chapters of baseball history filled with the thrilling incidents of his +personal experience. + +"Why don't you write a real book of the Big Leaguers?" I asked him one +day. + +And he has done it. In this book he is telling the reader of the game as +it is played in the Big Leagues. As a college man, he is able to put his +impressions of the Big Leagues on paper graphically. It's as good as his +pitching and some exciting things have happened in the Big Leagues, +stories that never found their way into the newspapers. Matty has told +them. This is a true tale of Big Leaguers, their habits and their methods +of playing the game, written by one of them. + +JOHN N. WHEELER. + +NEW YORK, March, 1912. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I--THE MOST DANGEROUS BATTERS I HAVE MET 1 + + II--"TAKE HIM OUT!" 21 + + III--PITCHING IN A PINCH 54 + + IV--BIG LEAGUE PITCHERS AND THEIR PECULIARITIES 74 + + V--PLAYING THE GAME FROM THE BENCH 93 + + VI--COACHING--GOOD AND BAD 117 + + VII--HONEST AND DISHONEST SIGN STEALING 140 + + VIII--UMPIRES AND CLOSE DECISIONS 161 + + IX--THE GAME THAT COST A PENNANT 183 + + X--WHEN THE TEAMS ARE IN SPRING TRAINING 206 + + XI--JINXES AND WHAT THEY MEAN TO A BALL-PLAYER 230 + + XII--BASE RUNNERS AND HOW THEY HELP A PITCHER TO WIN 255 + + XIII--NOTABLE INSTANCES WHERE THE "INSIDE" GAME HAS FAILED 381 + + + + +Pitching in a Pinch + + + + +Pitching in a Pinch + + + + +I + +The Most Dangerous Batters I Have Met + + _How "Joe" Tinker Changed Overnight from a Weakling at the Plate to + the Worst Batter I Had to Face--"Fred" Clarke of Pittsburg cannot be + Fooled by a Change of Pace, and "Hans" Wagner's Only "Groove" Is a + Base on Balls--"Inside" Information on All the Great Batters._ + + +I have often been asked to which batters I have found it hardest to pitch. + +It is the general impression among baseball fans that Joseph Faversham +Tinker, the short-stop of the Chicago Cubs, is the worst man that I have +to face in the National League. Few realize that during his first two +years in the big show Joe Tinker looked like a cripple at the plate when I +was pitching. His "groove" was a slow curve over the outside corner, and I +fed him slow curves over that very outside corner with great regularity. +Then suddenly, overnight, he became from my point of view the most +dangerous batter in the League. + +Tinker is a clever ball-player, and one day I struck him out three times +in succession with low curves over the outside corner. Instead of getting +disgusted with himself, he began to think and reason. He knew that I was +feeding him that low curve over the outside corner, and he started to look +for an antidote. He had always taken a short, choppy swing at the ball. +When he went to the clubhouse after the game in which he struck out three +times, he was very quiet, so I have been told. He was just putting on his +last sock when he clapped his hand to his leg and exclaimed: + +"I've got it." + +"Got what?" asked Johnny Evers, who happened to be sitting next to Tinker. + +"Got the way to hit Matty, who had me looking as if I came from the home +for the blind out there to-day," answered Joe. + +"I should say he did," replied Evers. "But if you've found a way to hit +him, why, I'm from away out in Missouri near the Ozark Mountains." + +"Wait till he pitches again," said Tinker by way of conclusion, as he took +his diamond ring from the trainer and left the clubhouse. + +It was a four-game series in Chicago, and I had struck Tinker out three +times in the first contest. McGraw decided that I should pitch the last +game as well. Two men were on the bases and two were out when Tinker came +to the bat for the first time in this battle, and the outfielders moved in +closer for him, as he had always been what is known as a "chop" hitter. I +immediately noticed something different about his style as he set himself +at the plate, and then it struck me that he was standing back in the box +and had a long bat. Before this he had always choked his bat short and +stood up close. Now I observed that he had his stick way down by the +handle. + +Bresnahan was catching, and he signalled for the regular prescription for +Tinker. With a lot of confidence I handed him that old low curve. He +evidently expected it, for he stepped almost across the plate, and, with +that long bat, drove the ball to right field for two bases over the head +of George Browne, who was playing close up to the infield, scoring both +runs and eventually winning the game. + +"I've got your number now, Matty!" he shouted at me as he drew up at +second base. + +I admit that he has had it quite frequently since he switched his batting +style. Now the outfielders move back when Tinker comes to the plate, for, +if he connects, he hits "'em far" with that long bat. Ever since the day +he adopted the "pole" he has been a thorn in my side and has broken up +many a game. That old low curve is his favorite now, and he reaches for it +with the same cordiality as is displayed by an actor in reaching for his +pay envelope. The only thing to do is to keep them close and try to +outguess him, but Tinker is a hard man to beat at the game of wits. + +Many a heady hitter in the Big League could give the signs to the opposing +pitcher, for he realizes what his weakness is and knows that a twirler is +going to pitch at it. But, try as hard as he will, he cannot often cover +up his "groove," as Tinker did, and so he continues to be easy for the +twirler who can put the ball where he wants it. + +Fred Clarke, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me to fool on +account of his batting form. A hitter of his type cannot be deceived by a +change of pace, because he stands up close to the plate, chokes his bat +short, and swings left-handed. When a pitcher cannot deceive a man with a +change of pace, he has to depend on curves. Let me digress briefly to +explain why a change of pace will not make the ball miss Clarke's bat. He +is naturally a left-field hitter, and likes the ball on the outside corner +of the plate. That means he swings at the ball late and makes most of his +drives to left field. + +How is a batter fooled by a change of pace? A pitcher gives him a speedy +one and then piles a slow one right on top of it with the same motion. The +batter naturally thinks it is another fast ball and swings too soon--that +is, before the ball gets to him. But when a man like Clarke is at the bat +and a pitcher tries to work a change of pace, what is the result? He +naturally swings late and so hits a fast ball to left field. Then as the +slow one comes up to the plate, he strikes at it, granted he is deceived +by it, timing his swing as he would at a fast ball. If it had been a fast +ball, as he thought, he would have hit it to left field, being naturally a +late swinger. But on a slow one he swings clear around and pulls it to +right field twice as hard as he would have hit it to left field because +he has obtained that much more drive in the longer swing. Therefore, it is +a rule in the profession that no left-handed batter who hits late can be +deceived by a change of pace. + +"Rube" Ellis, a left-handed hitter of the St. Louis Club, entered the +League and heard complimentary stories about my pitching. Ellis came up to +bat the first day that I pitched against him wondering if he would get +even a foul. He was new to me and I was looking for his "groove." I gave +him one over the outside corner, and he jabbed it to left field. The next +time, I thought to work the change of pace, and, swinging late, he hauled +the ball around to right field, and it nearly tore Fred Tenny's head off +en route over first base. Five hits out of five times at bat he made off +me that day, and, when he went to the clubhouse, he remarked to his team +mates in this wise: + +"So that is the guy who has been burning up this League, huh? We've got +better 'n him in the coast circuit. He's just got the Indian sign on you. +That's all." + +I did a little thinking about Ellis's hitting. He used a long bat and held +it down near the end and "poled 'em." He was naturally a left-field +hitter and, therefore, swung late at the ball. I concluded that fast ones +inside would do for Mr. Ellis, and the next time we met he got just those. +He has been getting them ever since and now, when he makes a hit off me, +he holds a celebration. + +"Hans" Wagner, of Pittsburg, has always been a hard man for me, but in +that I have had nothing on a lot of other pitchers. He takes a long bat, +stands well back from the plate, and steps into the ball, poling it. He is +what is known in baseball as a free swinger, and there are not many free +swingers these days. This is what ailed the Giants' batting during the +world's series in 1911. They all attempted to become free swingers +overnight and were trying to knock the ball out of the lot, instead of +chopping it. + +In the history of baseball there have not been more than fifteen or twenty +free swingers altogether, and they are the real natural hitters of the +game, the men with eyes nice enough and accurate enough to take a long +wallop at the ball. "Dan" Brouthers was one, and so was "Cap" Anson. +Sherwood Magee and "Hans" Wagner are contemporary free swingers. Men of +this type wield a heavy bat as if it were a toothpick and step back and +forth in the box, hitting the ball on any end of the plate. Sometimes it +is almost impossible to pass a man of this sort purposely, for a little +carelessness in getting the ball too close to the plate may result in his +stepping up and hitting it a mile. Pitchers have been searching for +Wagner's "groove" for years, and, if any one of them has located it, he +has his discovery copyrighted, for I never heard of it. + +Only one pitcher, that I can recall, always had it on Wagner, and that man +was Arthur Raymond, sometimes called "Bugs." He seemed to upset the German +by his careless manner in the box and by his "kidding" tactics. I have +seen him make Wagner go after bad balls, a thing that "Hans" seldom can be +induced to do by other twirlers. + +I remember well the first time I pitched against Wagner. Jack Warner was +catching, and I, young and new in the League, had spent a lot of time with +him, learning the weaknesses of the batters and being coached as to how to +treat them. Wagner loomed up at the bat in a pinch, and I could not +remember what Warner had said about his flaw. I walked out of the box to +confer with the catcher. + +"What's his 'groove,' Jack?" I asked him. + +"A base on balls," replied Warner, without cracking a smile. + +That's always been Wagner's "groove." + +There used to be a player on the Boston team named Claude Ritchey who "had +it on me" for some reason or other. He was a left-handed hitter and +naturally drove the ball to left field, so that I could not fool him with +a change of pace. He was always able to outguess me in a pinch and seemed +to know by intuition what was coming. + +There has been for a long time an ardent follower of the Giants named Mrs. +Wilson, who raves wildly at a game, and is broken-hearted when the team +loses. The Giants were playing in Boston one day, and needed the game very +badly. It was back in 1905, at the time the club could cinch the pennant +by winning one contest, and the flag-assuring game is the hardest one to +win. Two men got on the bases in the ninth inning with the score tied and +no one out. The crowd was stamping its feet and hooting madly, trying to +rattle me. I heard Mrs. Wilson shrill loudly above the noise: + +"Stick with them, Matty!" + +Ritchey came up to the bat, and I passed him purposely, trying to get him +to strike at a bad ball. I wouldn't take a chance on letting him hit at a +good one. Mrs. Wilson thought I was losing my control, and unable to stand +it any longer she got up and walked out of the grounds. Then I fanned the +next two batters, and the last man hit a roller to Devlin and was thrown +out at first base. I was told afterwards that Mrs. Wilson stood outside +the ground, waiting to hear the crowd cheer, which would have told her it +was all over. + +She lingered at the gate until the fourteenth inning, fearing to return +because she expected to see us routed. At last she heard a groan from the +home crowd when we won in the fourteenth. Still she would not believe that +I had weathered the storm and won the game that gave the Giants a pennant, +but waited to be assured by some of the spectators leaving the grounds +before she came around to congratulate us. + +All batters who are good waiters, and will not hit at bad balls, are hard +to deceive, because it means a twirler has to lay the ball over, and then +the hitter always has the better chance. A pitcher will try to get a man +to hit at a bad ball before he will put it near the plate. + +Many persons have asked me why I do not use my "fade-away" oftener when it +is so effective, and the only answer is that every time I throw the +"fade-away" it takes so much out of my arm. It is a very hard ball to +deliver. Pitching it ten or twelve times in a game kills my arm, so I save +it for the pinches. + +Many fans do not know what this ball really is. It is a slow curve pitched +with the motion of a fast ball. But most curve balls break away from a +right-handed batter a little. The fade-away breaks toward him. + +Baker, of the Athletics, is one of the most dangerous hitters I have ever +faced, and we were not warned to look out for him before the 1911 world's +series, either. Certain friends of the Giants gave us some "inside" +information on the Athletics' hitters. Among others, the Cubs supplied us +with good tips, but no one spread the Baker alarm. I was told to watch out +for Collins as a dangerous man, one who was likely to break up a game any +time with a long drive. + +I consider Baker one of the hardest, cleanest hitters I have ever faced, +and he drives the ball on a line to any field. The fielders cannot play +for him. He did not show up well in the first game of the world's series +because the Athletics thought they were getting our signs, and we crossed +Baker with two men on the bases in the third inning. He lost a chance to +be a hero right there. + +The roughest deal that I got from Baker in the 1911 series was in the +third game, which was the second in New York. We had made one run and the +ninth inning rolled around with the Giants still leading, 1 to 0. The +first man at the bat grounded out and then Baker came up. I realized by +this time that he was a hard proposition, but figured that he could not +hit a low curve over the outside corner, as he is naturally a right-field +hitter. I got one ball and one strike on him and then delivered a ball +that was aimed to be a low curve over the outside corner. Baker refused to +swing at it, and Brennan, the umpire, called it a ball. + +I thought that it caught the outside corner of the plate, and that Brennan +missed the strike. It put me in the hole with the count two balls and one +strike, and I had to lay the next one over very near the middle to keep +the count from being three and one. I pitched a curve ball that was meant +for the outside corner, but cut the plate better than I intended. Baker +stepped up into it and smashed it into the grand-stand in right field for +a home run, and there is the history of that famous wallop. This tied the +score. + +A pitcher has two types of batters to face. One is the man who is always +thinking and guessing and waiting, trying to get the pitcher in the hole. +Evers, of the Cubs, is that sort. They tell me that "Ty" Cobb of Detroit +is the most highly developed of this type of hitter. I have never seen him +play. Then the other kind is the natural slugger, who does not wait for +anything, and who could not outguess a pitcher if he did. The brainy man +is the harder for a pitcher to face because he is a constant source of +worry. + +There are two ways of fooling a batter. One is literally to "mix 'em up," +and the other is to keep feeding him the same sort of a ball, but to +induce him to think that something else is coming. When a brainy man is at +the bat, he is always trying to figure out what to expect. If he knows, +then his chances of getting a hit are greatly increased. For instance, if +a batter has two balls and two strikes on him, he naturally concludes that +the pitcher will throw him a curve ball, and prepares for it. Big League +ball-players recognize only two kinds of pitched balls--the curve and the +straight one. + +When a catcher in the Big League signals for a curved ball, he means a +drop, and, after handling a certain pitcher for a time, he gets to know +just how much the ball is going to curve. That is why the one catcher +receives for the same pitcher so regularly, because they get to work +together harmoniously. "Chief" Meyers, the big Indian catcher on the +Giants, understands my style so well that in some games he hardly has to +give a sign. But, oddly enough, he could never catch Raymond because he +did not like to handle the spit ball, a hard delivery to receive, and +Raymond and he could not get along together as a battery. They would cross +each other. But Arthur Wilson caught Raymond almost perfectly. This +explains the loss of effectiveness of many pitchers when a certain catcher +is laid up or out of the game. + +"Cy" Seymour, formerly the outfielder of the Giants, was one of the +hardest batters I ever had to pitch against when he was with the +Cincinnati club and going at the top of his stride. He liked a curved +ball, and could hit it hard and far, and was always waiting for it. He was +very clever at out-guessing a pitcher and being able to conclude what was +coming. For a long time whenever I pitched against him I had "mixed 'em +up" literally, handing him first a fast ball and then a slow curve and so +on, trying to fool him in this way. But one day we were playing in +Cincinnati, and I decided to keep delivering the same kind of a ball, that +old fast one around his neck, and to try to induce him to believe that a +curve was coming. I pitched him nothing but fast ones that day, and he was +always waiting for a curve. The result was that I had him in the hole all +the time, and I struck him out three times. He has never gotten over it. +Only recently I saw Seymour, and he said: + +"Matty, you are the only man that ever struck me out three times in the +same game." + +He soon guessed, however, that I was not really mixing them up, and then I +had to switch my style again for him. + +Some pitchers talk to batters a great deal, hoping to get their minds off +the game in this way, and thus be able to sneak strikes over. But I find +that talking to a batter disconcerts me almost as much as it does him, and +I seldom do it. Repartee is not my line anyway. + +Bender talked to the Giant players all through that first game in the 1911 +world's series, the one in which he wore the smile, probably because he +was a pitcher old in the game and several of the younger men on the New +York team acted as if they were nervous. Snodgrass and the Indian kept up +a running fire of small talk every time that the Giants' centre-fielder +came to the plate. + +Snodgrass got hit by pitched balls twice, and this seemed to worry Bender. +When the New York centre-fielder came to the bat in the eighth inning, the +Indian showed his even teeth in the chronic grin and greeted Snodgrass in +this way: + +"Look out, Freddie, you don't get hit this time." + +Then Bender wound up and with all his speed drove the ball straight at +Snodgrass's head, and Bender had more speed in that first game than I ever +saw him use before. Snodgrass dodged, and the ball drove into Thomas's +glove. This pitching the first ball at the head of a batter is an old +trick of pitchers when they think a player intends to get hit purposely or +that he is crowding the plate. + +"If you can't push 'em over better than that," retorted Snodgrass, "I +won't need to get hit. Let's see your fast one now." + +"Try this one," suggested Bender, as he pitched another fast one that cut +the heart of the plate. Snodgrass swung and hit nothing but the air. The +old atmosphere was very much mauled by bats in that game anyway. + +"You missed that one a mile, Freddie," chuckled the Indian, with his grin. + +Snodgrass eventually struck out and then Bender broke into a laugh. + +"You ain't a batter, Freddie," exclaimed the Indian, as he walked to the +bench. "You're a backstop. You can never get anywhere without being hit." + +If a pitcher is going to talk to a batter, he must size up his man. An +irritable, nervous young player often will fall for the conversation, but +most seasoned hitters will not answer back. The Athletics, other than +Bender, will not talk in a game. We tried to get after them in the first +contest in 1911, and we could not get a rise out of one of them, except +when Snodgrass spiked Baker, and I want to say right here that this much +discussed incident was accidental. Baker was blocking Snodgrass out, and +the New York player had a perfect right to the base line. + +Sherwood Magee of the Philadelphia National League team is one of the +hardest batters that I ever have had to face, because he has a great eye, +and is of the type of free swingers who take a mad wallop at the ball, and +are always liable to break up a game with a long drive. Just once I talked +to him when he was at the bat, more because we were both worked up than +for any other reason, and he came out second best. It was while the Giants +were playing at American League Park in 1911 after the old Polo Grounds +had burned. Welchonce, who was the centre-fielder for the Phillies at the +time, hit a slow one down the first base line, and I ran over to field the +ball. I picked it up as the runner arrived and had no time to straighten +up to dodge him. So I struck out my shoulder and he ran into it. There was +no other way to make the play, but I guess it looked bad from the stand, +because Welchonce fell down. + +Magee came up to bat next, threw his hat on the ground, and started to +call me names. He is bad when irritated--and tolerably easy to irritate, +as shown by the way in which he knocked down Finnegan, the umpire, last +season because their ideas on a strike differed slightly. I replied on +that occasion, but remembered to keep the ball away from the centre of the +plate. That is about all I did do, but he was more wrought up than I and +hit only a slow grounder to the infield. He was out by several feet. He +took a wild slide at the bag, however, feet first, in what looked like an +attempt to spike Merkle. We talked some more after that, but it has all +been forgotten now. + +To be a successful pitcher in the Big League, a man must have the head and +the arm. When I first joined the Giants, I had what is known as the "old +round-house curve," which is no more than a big, slow outdrop. I had been +fooling them in the minor leagues with it, and I was somewhat chagrined +when George Davis, then the manager of the club, came to me and told me to +forget the curve, as it would be of no use. It was then that I began to +develop my drop ball. + +A pitcher must watch all the time for any little unconscious motion before +he delivers the ball. If a base runner can guess just when he is going to +pitch, he can get a much better start. Drucke used to have a little motion +with his foot just before he pitched, of which he himself was entirely +unconscious, but the other clubs got on to it and stole bases on him +wildly. McGraw has since broken him of it. + +The Athletics say that I make a motion peculiar to the fade-away. Some +spit-ball pitchers announce when they are going to throw a moist one by +looking at the ball as they dampen it. At other times, when they "stall," +they do not look at the ball. The Big League batter is watching for all +these little things and, if a pitcher is not careful, he will find a lot +of men who are hard to pitch to. There are plenty anyway, and, as a man +grows older, this number increases season by season. + + + + +II + +"Take Him Out" + + _Many a Pitcher's Heart has been Broken by the Cry from the Stands, + "Take Him Out"--Russell Ford of the New York Yankees was Once Beaten + by a Few Foolish Words Whispered into the Batter's Ear at a Critical + Moment--Why "Rube" Marquard Failed for Two Years to be a Big + Leaguer--The Art of Breaking a Pitcher into Fast Company._ + + +A pitcher is in a tight game, and the batter makes a hit. Another follows +and some fan back in the stand cries in stentorian tones: + +"Take him out!" + +It is the dirge of baseball which has broken the hearts of pitchers ever +since the game began and will continue to do so as long as it lives. +Another fan takes up the shout, and another, and another, until it is a +chorus. + +"Take him out! Take him out! Take him out!" + +The pitcher has to grin, but that constant cry is wearing on nerves strung +to the breaking point. The crowd is against him, and the next batter hits, +and a run scores. The manager stops the game, beckons to the pitcher from +the bench, and he has to walk away from the box, facing the crowd--not the +team--which has beaten him. It is the psychology of baseball. + +Some foolish words once whispered into the ear of a batter by a clever +manager in the crisis of one of the closest games ever played in baseball +turned the tide and unbalanced a pitcher who had been working like a +perfectly adjusted machine through seven terrific innings. That is also +the "psychology of pitching." The man wasn't beaten because he weakened, +because he lost his grip, because of any physical deficiency, but because +some foolish words--words that meant nothing, had nothing to do with the +game--had upset his mental attitude. + +The game was the first one played between the Giants and the Yankees in +the post-season series of 1910, the batter was Bridwell, the manager was +John McGraw, and the pitcher, Russell Ford of the Yankees. The cast of +characters having been named, the story may now enter the block. + +Spectators who recall the game will remember that the two clubs had been +battling through the early innings with neither team able to gain an +advantage, and the Giants came to bat for the eighth inning with the score +a tie. Ford was pitching perfectly with all the art of a master craftsman. +Each team had made one run. I was the first man up and started the eighth +inning with a single because Ford slackened up a little against me, +thinking that I was not dangerous. Devore beat out an infield hit, and +Doyle bunted and was safe, filling the bases. Then Ford went to work. He +struck out Snodgrass, and Hemphill caught Murray's fly far too near the +infield to permit me to try to score. It looked as if Ford were going to +get out of the hole when "Al" Bridwell, the former Giant shortstop, came +to the bat. Ford threw him two bad balls, and then McGraw ran out from the +bench, and, with an autocratic finger, held up the game while he whispered +into Bridwell's ear. + +"Al" nodded knowingly, and the whole thing was a pantomime, a wordless +play, that made _Sumurun_ look like a bush-league production. Bridwell +stepped back into the batter's box, and McGraw returned to the bench. On +the next pitch, "Al" was hit in the leg and went to first base, forcing +the run that broke the tie across the plate. That run also broke Ford's +heart. And here is what McGraw whispered into the attentive ear of +Bridwell: + +"How many quail did you say you shot when you were hunting last fall, Al?" + +John McGraw, the psychologist, baseball general and manager, had heard +opportunity knock. With his fingers on the pulse of the game, he had felt +the tenseness of the situation, and realized, all in the flash of an eye, +that Ford was wabbling and that anything would push him over. He stopped +the game and whispered into Bridwell's ear while Ford was feeling more and +more the intensity of the crisis. He had an opportunity to observe the +three men on the bases. He wondered what McGraw was whispering, what trick +was to be expected. Was he telling the batter to get hit? Yes, he must be. +Then he did just that--hit the batter, and lost the game. + +Why can certain pitchers always beat certain clubs and why do they look +like bush leaguers against others? To be concrete, why can Brooklyn fight +Chicago so hard and look foolish playing against the Giants? Why can the +Yankees take game after game from Detroit and be easy picking for the +Cleveland club in most of their games? Why does Boston beat Marquard when +he can make the hard Philadelphia hitters look like blind men with bats in +their hands? Why could I beat Cincinnati game after game for two years +when the club was filled with hard hitters? It is the psychology of +baseball, the mental attitudes of the players, some intangible thing that +works on the mind. Managers are learning to use this subtle, indescribable +element which is such a factor. + +The great question which confronts every Big League manager is how to +break a valuable young pitcher into the game. "Rube" Marquard came to the +Giants in the fall of 1908 out of the American Association heralded as a +world-beater, with a reputation that shimmered and shone. The newspapers +were crowded with stories of the man for whom McGraw had paid $11,000, who +had been standing them on their heads in the West, who had curves that +couldn't be touched, and was a bargain at the unheard-of price paid for +him. + +"Rube" Marquard came to the Giants in a burst of glory and publicity when +the club was fighting for the pennant. McGraw was up against it for +pitchers at that time, and one win, turned in by a young pitcher, might +have resulted in the Giants winning the pennant as the season ended. + +"Don't you think Marquard would win? Can't you put him in?" Mr. Brush, the +owner of the club, asked McGraw one day when he was discussing the +pitching situation with the manager. + +"I don't know," answered McGraw. "If he wins his first time out in the Big +Leagues, he will be a world-beater, and, if he loses, it may cost us a +good pitcher." But Mr. Brush was insistent. Here a big price had been paid +for a pitcher with a record, and pitchers were what the club needed. The +newspapers declared that the fans should get a look at this "$11,000 +beauty" in action. A double header was scheduled to be played with the +Cincinnati club in the month of September, in 1908, and the pitching staff +was gone. McGraw glanced over his collection of crippled and worked-out +twirlers. Then he saw "Rube" Marquard, big and fresh. + +"Go in and pitch," he ordered after Marquard had warmed up. + +McGraw always does things that way, makes up his mind about the most +important matters in a minute and then stands by his judgment. Marquard +went into the box, but he didn't pitch much. He has told me about it +since. + +"When I saw that crowd, Matty," he said, "I didn't know where I was. It +looked so big to me, and they were all wondering what I was going to do, +and all thinking that McGraw had paid $11,000 for me, and now they were to +find out whether he had gotten stuck, whether he had picked up a gold +brick with the plating on it very thin. I was wondering, myself, whether I +would make good." + +What Marquard did that day is a matter of record, public property, like +marriage and death notices. Kane, the little rightfielder on the +Cincinnati club, was the first man up, and, although he was one of the +smallest targets in the league, Marquard hit him. He promptly stole +second, which worried "Rube" some more. Up came Lobert, the man who broke +Marquard's heart. + +"Now we'll see," said Lobert to "Rube," as he advanced to the plate, +"whether you're a busher." Then Lobert, the tantalizing Teuton with the +bow-legs, whacked out a triple to the far outfield and stopped at third +with a mocking smile on his face which would have gotten the late Job's +goat. + +"You're identified," said "Hans"; "you're a busher." + +Some fan shouted the fatal "Take him out." Marquard was gone. Bescher +followed with another triple, and, after that, the official scorer got +writer's cramp trying to keep track of the hits and runs. The number of +hits, I don't think, ever was computed with any great amount of +exactitude. Marquard was taken out of the box in the fifth inning, and he +was two years recovering from the shock of that beating. McGraw had put +him into the game against his better judgment, and he paid for it dearly. + +Marquard had to be nursed along on the bench finishing games, starting +only against easy clubs, and learning the ropes of the Big Leagues before +he was able to be a winning pitcher. McGraw was a long time realizing +on his investment. All Marquard needed was a victory, a decisive win, over +a strong club. + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Ty Cobb and Hans Wagner + +"An American and National League star of the first magnitude. Fans of the +rival leagues never tire of discussing the relative merits of these two +great players. Both are always willing to take a chance, and seem to do +their best work when pressed hardest."] + + +The Giants played a disastrous series with the Philadelphia club early in +July, 1911, and lost four games straight. All the pitchers were shot to +pieces, and the Quakers seemed to be unbeatable. McGraw was at a loss for +a man to use in the fifth game. The weather was steaming hot, and the +players were dragged out, while the pitching staff had lost all its +starch. As McGraw's eye scanned his bedraggled talent, Marquard, reading +his thoughts, walked up to him. + +"Give me a chance," he asked. + +"Go in," answered McGraw, again making up his mind on the spur of the +moment. Marquard went into the game and made the Philadelphia batters, +whose averages had been growing corpulent on the pitching of the rest of +the staff, look foolish. There on that sweltering July afternoon, when +everything steamed in the blistering heat, a pitcher was being born again. +Marquard had found himself, and, for the rest of the season, he was +strongest against the Philadelphia team, for it had been that club which +restored his confidence. + +There is a sequel to that old Lobert incident, too. In one of the last +series in Philadelphia, toward the end of the season, Marquard and Lobert +faced each other again. Said Marquard: + +"Remember the time, you bow-legged Dutchman, when you asked me whether I +was a busher? Here is where I pay you back. This is the place where you +get a bad showing up." + +And he fanned Lobert--whiff! whiff! whiff!--like that. He became the +greatest lefthander in the country, and would have been sooner, except for +the enormous price paid for him and the widespread publicity he received, +which caused him to be over-anxious to make good. It's the psychology of +the game. + +"You can't hit what you don't see," says "Joe" Tinker of Marquard's +pitching. "When he throws his fast one, the only way you know it's past +you is because you hear the ball hit the catcher's glove." + +Fred Clarke, of the Pittsburg club, was up against the same proposition +when he purchased "Marty" O'Toole for $22,500 in 1911. The newspapers of +the country were filled with figures and pictures of the real estate and +automobiles that could be bought with the same amount of money, lined up +alongside of pictures of O'Toole, as when the comparative strengths of the +navies of the world are shown by placing different sizes of battleships in +a row, or when the length of the _Lusitania_ is emphasized by printing a +picture of it balancing gracefully on its stern alongside the Singer +Building. + +Clarke realized that he had all this publicity with which to contend, and +that it would do his expensive new piece of pitching bric-a-brac no good. +O'Toole, jerked out of a minor league where he had been pitching quietly, +along with his name in ten or a dozen papers, was suddenly a national +figure, measuring up in newspaper space with Roosevelt and Taft and J. +Johnson. + +When O'Toole joined the Pirates near the end of the season, Clarke knew +down in his heart the club had no chance of winning the pennant with +Wagner hurt, although he still publicly declared he was in the race. He +did not risk jumping O'Toole right into the game as soon as he reported +and taking the chance of breaking his heart. Opposing players, if they +are up in the pennant hunt, are hard on a pitcher of this sort and would +lose no opportunity to mention the price paid for him and connect it +pointedly with his showing, if that showing was a little wobbly. Charity +begins at home, and stays there, in the Big Leagues. At least, I never saw +any of it on the ball fields, especially if the club is in the race, and +the only thing that stands between it and a victory is the ruining of a +$22,500 pitcher of a rival. + +Clarke nursed O'Toole along on the bench for a couple of weeks until he +got to be thoroughly acclimated, and then he started him in a game against +Boston, the weakest club in the league, after he had sent for Kelly, +O'Toole's regular catcher, to inspire more confidence. O'Toole had an easy +time of it at his Big League debut, for the Boston players did not pick on +him any to speak of, as they were not a very hard bunch of pickers. The +Pittsburg team gave him a nice comfortable, cosy lead, and he was pitching +along ahead of the game all the way. In the fifth or sixth inning Clarke +slipped Gibson, the regular Pittsburg catcher, behind the bat, and O'Toole +had won his first game in the Big League before he knew it. He then +reasoned I have won here. I belong here. I can get along here. It isn't +much different from the crowd I came from, except for the name, and that's +nothing to get timid about if I can clean up as easily as I did to-day. + +Fred Clarke, also a psychologist and baseball manager, had worked a +valuable pitcher into the League, and he had won his first game. If he had +started him against some club like the Giants, for instance, where he +would have had to face a big crowd and the conversation and spirit of +players who were after a pennant and hot after it, he might have lost and +his heart would have been broken. Successfully breaking into the game an +expensive pitcher, who has cost a club a large price, is one of the +hardest problems which confronts a manager. Now O'Toole is all right if he +has the pitching goods. He has taken his initial plunge, and all he has to +do is to make good next year. The psychology element is eliminated from +now on. + +I have been told that Clarke was the most relieved man in seven counties +when O'Toole came through with that victory in Boston. + +"I had in mind all the time," said Fred, "what happened to McGraw when he +was trying to introduce Marquard into the smart set, and I was afraid the +same thing would happen to me. I had a lot of confidence in the nerve of +that young fellow though, because he stood up well under fire the first +day he got into Pittsburg. One of those lady reporters was down to the +club offices to meet him the morning he got into town, and they always +kind of have me, an old campaigner, stepping away from the plate. She +pulled her pad and pencil on Marty first thing, before he had had a chance +to knock the dirt out of his cleats, and said: + +"'Now tell me about yourself.' + +"He stepped right into that one, instead of backing away. + +"'What do you want me to tell?' he asks her. + +"Then I knew he was all right. He was there with the 'come-back.'" + +But the ideal way to break a star into the Big League is that which marked +the entrance of Grover Cleveland Alexander, of the Philadelphia club. The +Cincinnati club had had its eye on Alexander for some time, but "Tacks" +Ashenbach, the scout, now dead, had advised against him, declaring that he +would be no good against "regular batters." Philadelphia got him at the +waiver price and he was among the lot in the newspapers marked "Those who +also joined." He started out in 1911 and won two or three games before +anyone paid any attention to him. Then he kept on winning until one +manager was saying to another: + +"That guy, Alexander, is a hard one to beat." + +He had won ten or a dozen games before it was fully realized that he was a +star. Then he was so accustomed to the Big League he acted as if he had +been living in it all his life, and there was no getting on his nerves. +When he started, he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. If he +didn't last, the newspapers wouldn't laugh at him, and the people wouldn't +say: + +"$11,000, or $22,500, for a lemon." That's the dread of all ball players. + +Such is the psychology of introducing promising pitchers into the Big +Leagues. The Alexander route is the ideal one, but it's hard to get stars +now without paying enormous prices for them. Philadelphia was lucky. + +There is another element which enters into all forms of athletics. Tennis +players call it nervousness, and ball players, in the frankness of the +game, call it a "yellow streak." It is the inability to stand the gaff, +the weakening in the pinches. It is something ingrained in a man that +can't be cured. It is the desire to quit when the situation is serious. It +is different from stage fright, because a man may get over that, but a +"yellow streak" is always with him. When a new player breaks into the +League, he is put to the most severe test by the other men to see if he is +"yellow." If he is found wanting, he is hopeless in the Big League, for +the news will spread, and he will receive no quarter. It is the cardinal +sin in a ball player. + +For some time after "Hans" Wagner's poor showing in the world's series of +1903, when the Pittsburg club was defeated for the World's Championship by +the Boston American League club, it was reported that he was "yellow." +This grieved the Dutchman deeply, for I don't know a ball player in either +league who would assay less quit to the ton than Wagner. He is always +there and always fighting. Wagner felt the inference which his team mates +drew very keenly. This was the real tragedy in Wagner's career. +Notwithstanding his stolid appearance, he is a sensitive player, and this +hurt him more than anything else in his life ever has. + +When the Pittsburg club played Detroit in 1909 for the championship of the +world, many, even of Wagner's admirers, said, "The Dutchman will quit." It +was in this series he vindicated himself. His batting scored the majority +of the Pittsburg runs, and his fielding was little short of wonderful. He +was demonstrating his gameness. Many men would have quit under the +reflection. They would have been unable to withstand the criticism, but +not Wagner. + +Many persons implied that John Murray, the rightfielder on the Giants, was +"yellow" at the conclusion of the 1911 world's series because, after +batting almost three hundred in the season, he did not get a hit in the +six games. But there isn't a man on the team gamer. He hasn't any nerves. +He's one of the sort of ball players who says: + +"Well, now I've got my chew of tobacco in my mouth. Let her go." + +There is an interesting bit of psychology connected with Wagner and the +spit-ball. It comes as near being Wagner's "groove" as any curve that has +found its way into the Big Leagues. This is explained by the fact that +the first time Wagner ever faced "Bugs" Raymond he didn't get a hit with +Arthur using the spitter. Consequently the report went around the circuit +that Wagner couldn't hit the spit-ball. He disproved this theory against +two or three spit-ball pitchers, but as long as Raymond remained in the +League he had it on the hard-hitting Dutchman. + +"Here comes a 'spitter,' Hans. Look out for it," Raymond would warn +Wagner, with a wide grin, and then he would pop up a wet one. + +"Guess I'll repeat on that dose, Hans; you didn't like that one." + +And Wagner would get so worked up that he frequently struck out against +"Bugs" when the rest of his club was hitting the eccentric pitcher hard. +It was because he achieved the idea on the first day he couldn't hit the +spit-ball, and he wasn't able to rid his mind of the impression. Many fans +often wondered why Raymond had it on Wagner, the man whose only "groove" +is a base on balls. "Bugs" had the edge after that first day when Wagner +lost confidence in his ability to hit the spit-ball as served by Raymond. + +In direct contrast to this loss of confidence on Wagner's part was the +incident attendant upon Arthur Devlin's debut into the Big League. He had +joined the club a youngster, in the season of 1904, and McGraw had not +counted upon him to play third base, having planned to plant Bresnahan at +that corner. But Bresnahan developed sciatic rheumatism early in the +season, and Devlin was put on the bag in the emergency with a great deal +of misgiving. + +The first day he was in the game he came up to the bat with the bases +full. The Giants were playing Brooklyn at the Polo Grounds, and two men +had already struck out, with the team two runs behind. Devlin came out +from the bench. + +"Who is this youthful-looking party?" one fan asked another, as they +scanned their score cards. + +"Devlin, some busher, taking Bresnahan's place," another answered. + +"Well, it's all off now," was the general verdict. + +The crowd settled back, and one could feel the lassitude in the +atmosphere. But Devlin had his first chance to make good in a pinch. There +was no weariness in his manner. Poole, the Brooklyn pitcher, showing less +respect than he should have for the newcomer in baseball society, spilled +one over too near the middle, and Arthur drove out a home run, winning +the game. Those who had refused to place any confidence in him only a +moment before, were on their feet cheering wildly now. And Devlin played +third base for almost eight years after that, and none thought of +Bresnahan and his rheumatism until he began catching again. Devlin, after +that home run, was oozing confidence from every pore and burned up the +League with his batting for three years. He got the old confidence from +his start. The fans had expected nothing from him, and he had delivered. +He had gained everything. He had made the most dramatic play in baseball +on his first day, a home run with the bases full. + +When Fred Snodgrass first started playing as a regular with the Giants +about the middle of the season of 1910, he hit any ball pitched him hard +and had all the fans marvelling at his stick work. He believed that he +could hit anything and, as long as he retained that belief, he could. + +But the Chalmers Automobile Company had offered a prize of one nice, +mild-mannered motor car to the batter in either league who finished the +season with the biggest average. + +Snodgrass was batting over four hundred at one time and was ahead of them +all when suddenly the New York evening papers began to publish the daily +averages of the leaders for the automobile, boosting Snodgrass. It +suddenly struck Fred that he was a great batter and that to keep his place +in that daily standing he would have to make a hit every time he went to +the plate. These printed figures worried him. His batting fell off +miserably until, in the post season series with the Yankees, he gave one +of the worst exhibitions of any man on the team. The newspapers did it. + +"They got me worrying about myself," he told me once. "I began to think +how close I was to the car and had a moving picture of myself driving it. +That settled it." + +Many promising young players are broken in their first game in the Big +League by the ragging which they are forced to undergo at the hands of +veteran catchers. John Kling is a very bad man with youngsters, and +sometimes he can get on the nerves of older players in close games when +the nerves are strung tight. The purpose of a catcher in talking to a man +in this way is to distract his attention from batting, and once this is +accomplished he is gone. A favorite trick of a catcher is to say to a new +batter: + +"Look out for this fellow. He's got a mean 'bean' ball, and he hasn't any +influence over it. There's a poor 'boob' in the hospital now that stopped +one with his head." + +Then the catcher signs for the pitcher to throw the next one at the young +batter's head. If he pulls away, an unpardonable sin in baseball, the dose +is repeated. + +"Yer almost had your foot in the water-pail over by the bench that time," +says the catcher. + +Bing! Up comes another "beaner." Then, after the catcher has sized the new +man up, he makes his report. + +"He won't do. He's yellow." + +And the players keep mercilessly after this shortcoming, this ingrained +fault which, unlike a mechanical error, cannot be corrected until the new +player is driven out of the League. Perhaps the catcher says: + +"He's game, that guy. No scare to him." + +After that he is let alone. It's the psychology of batting. + +Once, when I first broke into the League, Jack Chesbro, then with +Pittsburg, threw a fast one up, and it went behind my head, although I +tried to dodge back. He had lots of speed in those days, too. It set me +wondering what would have happened if the ball had hit me. The more I +thought, the more it struck me that it would have greatly altered my face +had it gotten into the course of the ball. Ever afterwards, he had it on +me, and, for months, a fast one at the head had me backing away from the +plate. + +In contrast to this experience of mine was the curing of "Josh" Devore, +the leftfielder of the Giants, of being bat shy against left-handers. +Devore has always been very weak at the bat with a southpaw in the box, +dragging his right foot away from the plate. This was particularly the +case against "Slim" Sallee, the tenuous southpaw of the St. Louis +Nationals. Finally McGraw, exasperated after "Josh" had struck out twice +in one day, said: + +"That fellow hasn't got speed enough to bend a pane of glass at the home +plate throwing from the box, and you're pullin' away as if he was shooting +them out of a gun. It's a crime to let him beat you. Go up there the next +time and get hit, and see if he can hurt you. If you don't get hit, +you're fined $10." + +Devore, who is as fond of $10 as the next one, went to the bat and took +one of Sallee's slants in a place where it would do the least damage. He +trotted to first base smiling. + +"What'd I tell you?" asked McGraw, coaching. "Could he hurt you?" + +"Say," replied "Josh," "I'd hire out to let them pitch baseballs at me if +none could throw harder than that guy." + +Devore was cured of being bat shy when Sallee was pitching, right then and +there, and he has improved greatly against all left-handers ever since, so +much so that McGraw leaves him in the game now when a southpaw pitches, +instead of placing Beals Becker in left field as he used to. All Devore +needed was the confidence to stand up to the plate against them, to rid +his mind of the idea that, if once he got hit, he would leave the field +feet first. That slam in the slats which Sallee handed him supplied the +confidence. + +When Devore was going to Philadelphia for the second game of the world's +series in the fall of 1911, the first one in the other town, he was +introduced to "Ty" Cobb, the Detroit out-fielder, by some newspaper man +on the train, and, as it was the first time Devore had ever met Cobb, he +sat down with him and they talked all the way over. + +"Gee," said "Josh" to me, as we were getting off the train, "that fellow +Cobb knows a lot about batting. He told me some things about the American +League pitchers just now, and he didn't know he was doing it. I never let +on. But I just hope that fellow Plank works to-day, if they think that I +am weak against left-handers. Say, Matty, I could write a book about that +guy and his 'grooves' now, after buzzing Cobb, and the funny thing is he +didn't know he was telling me." + +Plank pitched that day and fanned Devore four times out of a possible +four. "Josh" didn't even get a foul off him. + +"Thought you knew all about that fellow," I said to Devore after the game. + +"I've learned since that Cobb and he are pretty thick," replied "Josh," +"and I guess 'Ty' was giving me a bad steer." + +It was evident that Cobb had been filling "Josh" up with misinformation +that was working around in Devore's mind when he went to the plate to +face Plank, and, instead of being open to impressions, these wrong +opinions had already been planted and he was constantly trying to confirm +them. Plank was crossing him all the time, and, being naturally weak +against left-handers, this additional handicap made Devore look foolish. + +In the well-worn words of Mr. Dooley, it has been my experience "to trust +your friends, but cut the cards." By that, I mean one ball player will +often come to another with a tip that he really thinks worth while, but +that avails nothing in the end. A man has to be a pretty smart ball player +to dispense accurate information about others, because the Big Leaguers +know their own "grooves" and are naturally trying to cover them up. Then a +batter may be weak against one pitcher on a certain kind of a ball, and +may whale the same sort of delivery, with a different twist to it, out of +the lot against another. + +That was the experience I had with "Ed" Delehanty, the famous slugger of +the old Philadelphia National League team, who is now dead. During my +first year in the League several well-meaning advisers came to me and +said: + +"Don't give 'Del' any high fast ones because, if you do, you will just +wear your fielders out worse than a George M. Cohan show does the chorus. +They will think they are in a Marathon race instead of a ball game." + +Being young, I took this advice, and the first time I pitched against +Delehanty, I fed him curved balls. He hit these so far the first two times +he came to bat that one of the balls was never found, and everybody felt +like shaking hands with Van Haltren, the old Giant outfielder, when he +returned with the other, as if he had been away on a vacation some place. +In fact, I had been warned against giving any of this Philadelphia team of +sluggers high fast ones, and I had been delivering a diet of curves to all +of them which they were sending to the limits of the park and further, +with great regularity. At last, when Delehanty came to the bat for the +third time in the game, Van Haltren walked into the box from the outfield +and handed the ball to me, after he had just gone to the fence to get it. +Elmer Flick had hit it there. + +"Matty," he pleaded, "for the love of Mike, slip this fellow a base on +balls and let me get my wind." + +Instead I decided to switch my style, and I fed Delehanty high fast ones, +the dangerous dose, and he struck out then and later. He wasn't expecting +them and was so surprised that he couldn't hit the ball. Only two of the +six balls at which he struck were good ones. I found out afterwards that +the tradition about not delivering any high fast balls to the Philadelphia +hitters was the outgrowth of the old buzzer tipping service, established +in 1899, by which the batters were informed what to expect by Morgan +Murphy, located in the clubhouse with a pair of field-glasses and his +finger on a button which worked a buzzer under the third-base coaching +box. The coacher tipped the batter off what was coming and the +signal-stealing device had worked perfectly. The hitters had all waited +for the high fast ones in those days, as they can be hit easier if a man +knows that they are coming, and can also be hit farther. + +But, after the buzzer had been discovered and the delivery of pitchers +could not be accurately forecast, this ability to hit high fast ones +vanished, but not the tradition. The result was that this Philadelphia +club was getting a steady diet of curves and hitting them hard, not +expecting anything else. When I first pitched against Delehanty, his +reputation as a hitter gave him a big edge on me. Therefore I was willing +to take any kind of advice calculated to help me, but eventually I had to +find out for myself. If I had taken a chance on mixing them up the first +time he faced me, I still doubt if he would have made those two long hits, +but it was his reputation working in my mind and the idea that he ate up +high fast balls that prevented me from taking the risk. + +Each pitcher has to find out for himself what a man is going to hit. It's +all right to take advice at first, but, if this does not prove to be the +proper prescription, it's up to him to experiment and not continue to feed +him the sort of balls that he is hitting. + +Reputations count for a great deal in the Big Leagues. Cobb has a record +as being a great base runner, and I believe that he steals ten bases a +season on this reputation. The catcher knows he is on the bag, realizes +that he is going to steal, fears him, hurries his throw, and, in his +anxiety, it goes bad. Cobb is safe, whereas, if he had been an ordinary +runner with no reputation, he would probably have been thrown out. +Pitchers who have made names for themselves in the Big Leagues, have a +much easier time winning as a consequence. + +"All he's got to do is to throw his glove into the box to beat that club," +is an old expression in baseball, which means that the opposing batters +fear the pitcher and that his reputation will carry him through if he has +nothing whatever on the ball. + +Newspapers work on the mental attitude of Big League players. This has +been most marked in Cincinnati, and I believe that the local newspapers +have done as much as anything to keep a pennant away from that town. When +the team went south for the spring practice, the newspapers printed +glowing reports of the possibilities of the club winning the pennant, but, +when the club started to fall down in the race, they would knock the men, +and it would take the heart out of the players. Almost enough good players +have been let go by the Cincinnati team to make a world's championship +club. There are Donlin, Seymour, Steinfeldt, Lobert and many more. Ball +players inhale the accounts printed in the newspapers, and a correspondent +with a grouch has ruined the prospects of many a good player and club. The +New York newspapers, first by the great amount of publicity given to his +old record, and then by criticising him for not making a better showing, +had a great deal to do with Marquard failing to make good the first two +years he was in New York, as I have shown. + +A smart manager in the Big League is always working to keep his valuable +stars in the right frame of mind. On the last western trip the Giants made +in the season of 1911, when they won the pennant by taking eighteen games +out of twenty-two games, McGraw refused to permit any of the men to play +cards. He realized that often the stakes ran high and that the losers +brooded over the money which they lost and were thinking of this rather +than the game when on the ball field. It hurt their playing, so there were +no cards. He also carried "Charley" Faust, the Kansas Jinx killer, along +to keep the players amused and because it was thought that he was good +luck. It helped their mental attitude. + +The treatment of a new player when he first arrives is different now from +what it was in the old days. Once there was a time when the veteran looked +upon the recruit with suspicion and the feeling that he had come to take +his job and his bread and butter from him. If a young pitcher was put +into the box, the old catcher would do all that he could to irritate him, +and many times he would inform the batters of the other side what he was +going to throw. + +"He's tryin' to horn my friend Bill out of a job," I have heard catchers +charge against a youngster. + +This attitude drove many a star ball player back to the minors because he +couldn't make good under the adverse circumstances, but nothing of the +sort exists now. Each veteran does all that he can to help the youngster, +realizing that on the younger generation depends the success of the club, +and that no one makes any money by being on a loser. Travelling with a +tail-end ball club is the poorest pastime in the world. I would rather +ride in the first coach of a funeral procession. + +The youngster is treated more courteously now when he first arrives. In +the old days, the veterans of the club sized up the recruit and treated +him like a stranger for days, which made him feel as if he were among +enemies instead of friends, and, as a result, it was much harder for him +to make good. Now all hands make him a companion from the start, unless +he shows signs of being unusually fresh. + +There is a lot to baseball in the Big Leagues besides playing the game. No +man can have a "yellow streak" and last. He must not pay much attention to +his nerves or temperament. He must hide every flaw. It's all part of the +psychology of baseball. But the saddest words of all to a pitcher are +three--"Take Him Out." + + + + +III + +Pitching in a Pinch + + _Many Pitchers Are Effective in a Big League Ball Game until that + Heart-Breaking Moment Arrives Known as the "Pinch"--It Is then that + the Man in the Box is Put to the Severest Test by the Coachers and + the Players on the Bench--Victory or Defeat Hangs on his Work in that + Inning--Famous "Pinches."_ + + +In most Big League ball games, there comes an inning on which hangs +victory or defeat. Certain intellectual fans call it the crisis; college +professors, interested in the sport, have named it the psychological +moment; Big League managers mention it as the "break," and pitchers speak +of the "pinch." + +This is the time when each team is straining every nerve either to win or +to prevent defeat. The players and spectators realize that the outcome of +the inning is of vital importance. And in most of these pinches, the real +burden falls on the pitcher. It is at this moment that he is "putting all +he has" on the ball, and simultaneously his opponents are doing everything +they can to disconcert him. + +Managers wait for this break, and the shrewd league leader can often time +it. Frequently a certain style of play is adopted to lead up to the pinch, +then suddenly a slovenly mode of attack is changed, and the team comes on +with a rush in an effort to break up the game. That is the real test of a +pitcher. He must be able to live through these squalls. + +Two evenly matched clubs have been playing through six innings with +neither team gaining any advantage. Let us say that they are the Giants +and the Chicago Cubs. Suddenly the Chicago pitcher begins to weaken in the +seventh. Spectators cannot perceive this, but McGraw, the Giants' manager, +has detected some crack. All has been quiet on the bench up to this +moment. Now the men begin to fling about sweaters and move around, one +going to the water cooler to get a drink, another picking up a bat or two +and flinging them in the air, while four or five prospective hitters are +lined up, swinging several sticks apiece, as if absolutely confident that +each will get his turn at the plate. + +The two coachers on the side lines have become dancing dervishes, waving +sweaters and arms wildly, and shouting various words of discouragement to +the pitcher which are calculated to make his job as soft as a bed of +concrete. He has pitched three balls to the batter, and McGraw vehemently +protests to the umpire that the twirler is not keeping his foot on the +slab. The game is delayed while this is discussed at the pitcher's box and +the umpire brushes off the rubber strip with a whisk broom. + +There is a kick against these tactics from the other bench, but the damage +has been done. The pitcher passes the batter, forgets what he ought to +throw to the next man, and cannot get the ball where he wants it. A base +hit follows. Then he is gone. The following batter triples, and, before +another pitcher can be warmed up, three or four runs are across the plate, +and the game is won. That explains why so many wise managers keep a +pitcher warming up when the man in the box is going strong. + +It is in the pinch that the pitcher shows whether or not he is a Big +Leaguer. He must have something besides curves then. He needs a head, and +he has to use it. It is the acid test. That is the reason so many men, who +shine in the minor leagues, fail to make good in the majors. They cannot +stand the fire. + +A young pitcher came to the Giants a few years ago. I won't mention his +name because he has been pitching good minor-league ball since. He was a +wonder with the bases empty, but let a man or two get on the sacks, and he +wouldn't know whether he was in a pitcher's box or learning aviation in +the Wright school, and he acted a lot more like an aviator in the crisis. +McGraw looked him over twice. + +"He's got a spine like a charlotte russe," declared "Mac," after his +second peek, and he passed him back to the bushes. + +Several other Big League managers, tempted by this man's brilliant record +in the minors, have tried him out since, but he has always gone back. +McGraw's judgment of the man was correct. + +On the other hand, Otis Crandall came to the New York club a few years ago +a raw country boy from Indiana. I shall never forget how he looked the +first spring I saw him in Texas. The club had a large number of recruits +and was short of uniforms. He was among the last of the hopefuls to arrive +and there was no suit for him, so, in a pair of regular trousers with his +coat off, he began chasing flies in the outfield. His head hung down on +his chest, and, when not playing, a cigarette drooped out of the corner of +his mouth. But he turned out to be a very good fly chaser, and McGraw +admired his persistency. + +"What are you?" McGraw asked him one day. + +"A pitcher," replied Crandall. Two words constitute an oration for him. + +"Let's see what you've got," said McGraw. + +Crandall warmed up, and he didn't have much of anything besides a sweeping +outcurve and a good deal of speed. He looked less like a pitcher than any +of the spring crop, but McGraw saw something in him and kept him. The +result is he has turned out to be one of the most valuable men on the +club, because he is there in a pinch. He couldn't be disturbed if the +McNamaras tied a bomb to him, with a time fuse on it set for "at once." He +is the sort of pitcher who is best when things look darkest. I've heard +the crowd yelling, when he has been pitching on the enemy's ground, so +that a sixteen-inch gun couldn't have been heard if it had gone off in the +lot. + +"That crowd was making some noise," I've said to Crandall after the +inning. + +"Was it?" asked Otie. "I didn't notice it." + +One day in 1911, he started a game in Philadelphia and three men got on +the bases with no one out, along about the fourth or fifth inning. He shut +them out without a run. It was the first game he had started for a long +while, his specialty having been to enter a contest, after some other +pitcher had gotten into trouble, with two or three men on the bases and +scarcely any one out. After he came to the bench with the threatening +inning behind him, he said to me: + +"Matty, I didn't feel at home out there to-day until a lot of people got +on the bases. I'll be all right now." And he was. I believe that Crandall +is the best pitcher in a pinch in the National League and one of the most +valuable men to a team, for he can play any position and bats hard. +Besides being a great pinch pitcher, he can also hit in a crush, and won +many games for the Giants in 1911 that way. + +Very often spectators think that a pitcher has lost his grip in a pinch, +when really he is playing inside baseball. A game with Chicago in Chicago +back in 1908 (not the famous contest that cost the Giants a championship; +I did not have any grip at all that day; but one earlier in the season) +best illustrates the point I want to bring out. Mordecai Brown and I were +having a pitchers' duel, and the Giants were in the lead by the score of 1 +to 0 when the team took the field for the ninth inning. + +It was one of those fragile games in which one run makes a lot of +difference, the sort that has a fringe of nervous prostration for the +spectators. Chance was up first in the ninth and he pushed a base hit to +right field. Steinfeldt followed with a triple that brought Chance home +and left the run which would win the game for the Cubs on third base. The +crowd was shouting like mad, thinking I was done. I looked at the hitters, +waiting to come up, and saw Hofman and Tinker swinging their bats in +anticipation. Both are dangerous men, but the silver lining was my second +look, which revealed to me Kling and Brown following Hofman and Tinker. + +Without a second's hesitation, I decided to pass both Hofman and Tinker, +because the run on third base would win the game anyway if it scored, and +with three men on the bags instead of one, there would be a remote chance +for a triple play, besides making a force out at the plate possible. +Remember that no one was out at this time. Kling and Brown had always been +easy for me. + +When I got two balls on Hofman, trying to make him hit at a bad one, the +throng stood up in the stand and tore splinters out of the floor with its +feet. And then I passed Hofman. The spectators misunderstood my motive. + +"He's done. He's all in," shouted one man in a voice which was one of the +carrying, persistent, penetrating sort. The crowd took the cry up and +stamped its feet and cheered wildly. + +Then I passed Tinker, a man, as I have said before, who has had a habit of +making trouble for me. The crowd quieted down somewhat, perhaps because it +was not possible for it to cheer any louder, but probably because the +spectators thought that now it would be only a matter of how many the Cubs +would win by. The bases were full, and no one was out. + +But that wildly cheering crowd had worked me up to greater effort, and I +struck Kling out and then Brown followed him back to the bench for the +same reason. Just one batter stood between me and a tied score now. He was +John Evers, and the crowd having lost its chortle of victory, was begging +him to make the hit which would bring just one run over the plate. They +were surprised by my recuperation after having passed two men. Evers +lifted a gentle fly to left field and the three men were left on the +bases. The Giants eventually won that game in the eleventh inning by the +score of 4 to 1. + +But that system doesn't always work. Often I have passed a man to get a +supposedly poor batter up and then had him bang out a base hit. My first +successful year in the National League was 1901, although I joined the +Giants in the middle of the season of 1900. The Boston club at that time +had a pitcher named "Kid" Nichols who was a great twirler. The first two +games I pitched against the Boston club were against this man, and I won +the first in Boston and the second in New York, the latter by the score of +2 to 1. + +Both teams then went west for a three weeks' trip, and when the Giants +returned a series was scheduled with Boston at the Polo Grounds. There was +a good deal of speculation as to whether I would again beat the veteran +"Kid" Nichols, and the newspapers, discussing the promised pitching duel, +stirred up considerable enthusiasm over it. Of course, I, the youngster, +was eager to make it three straight over the veteran. Neither team had +scored at the beginning of the eighth inning. Boston runners got on second +and third bases with two out, and Fred Tenney, then playing first base on +the Boston club, was up at the bat. He had been hitting me hard that day, +and I decided to pass him and take a chance on "Dick" Cooley, the next +man, and a weak batter. So Tenney got his base on balls, and the sacks +were full. + +Two strikes were gathered on Cooley, one at which he swung and the other +called, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on my excellent +judgment, which was really counting my chickens while they were still in +the incubator. I attempted to slip a fast one over on Cooley and got the +ball a little too high. The result was that he stepped into it and made a +three base hit which eventually won the game by the score of 3 to 0. That +was once when passing a man to get a weak batter did not work. + +I have always been against a twirler pitching himself out, when there is +no necessity for it, as so many youngsters do. They burn them through for +eight innings and then, when the pinch comes, something is lacking. A +pitcher must remember that there are eight other men in the game, drawing +more or less salary to stop balls hit at them, and he must have confidence +in them. Some pitchers will put all that they have on each ball. This is +foolish for two reasons. + +In the first place, it exhausts the man physically and, when the pinch +comes, he has not the strength to last it out. But second and more +important, it shows the batters everything that he has, which is +senseless. A man should always hold something in reserve, a surprise to +spring when things get tight. If a pitcher has displayed his whole +assortment to the batters in the early part of the game and has used all +his speed and his fastest breaking curve, then, when the crisis comes, he +"hasn't anything" to fall back on. + +Like all youngsters, I was eager to make a record during my first year in +the Big League, and in one of the first games I pitched against Cincinnati +I made the mistake of putting all that I had on every ball. We were +playing at the Polo Grounds, and the Giants had the visitors beaten 2 to +0, going into the last inning. I had been popping them through, trying to +strike out every hitter and had not held anything in reserve. The first +man to the bat in the ninth got a single, the next a two bagger, and by +the time they had stopped hitting me, the scorer had credited the +Cincinnati club with four runs, and we lost the game, 4 to 2. + +I was very much down in the mouth over the defeat, after I had the game +apparently won, and George Davis, then the manager of the Giants, noticed +it in the clubhouse. + +"Never mind, Matty," he said, "it was worth it. The game ought to teach +you not to pitch your head off when you don't need to." + +It did. I have never forgotten that lesson. Many spectators wonder why a +pitcher does not work as hard as he can all through the game, instead of +just in the pinches. If he did, they argue, there would be no pinches. But +there would be, and, if the pitcher did not conserve his energy, the +pinches would usually go against him. + +Sometimes bawling at a man in a pinch has the opposite effect from that +desired. Clarke Griffith, recently of Cincinnati, has a reputation in the +Big Leagues for being a bad man to upset a pitcher from the coacher's box. +Off the field he is one of the decentest fellows in the game, but, when +talking to a pitcher, he is very irritating. I was working in a game +against the Reds in Cincinnati one day, just after he had been made +manager of the club, and Griffith spent the afternoon and a lot of breath +trying to get me going. The Giants were ahead, 5 to 1, at the beginning of +the seventh. In the Cincinnati half of that inning, "Mike" Mitchell +tripled with the bases full and later tallied on an outfield fly which +tied the score. The effect this had on Griffith was much the same as that +of a lighted match on gasolene. + +"Now, you big blond," he shouted at me, "we've got you at last." + +I expected McGraw to take me out, as it looked in that inning as if I was +not right, but he did not, and I pitched along up to the ninth with the +score still tied and with Griffith, the carping critic, on the side +lines. We failed to count in our half, but the first Cincinnati batter got +on the bases, stole second, and went to third on a sacrifice. He was there +with one out. + +"Here's where we get you," chortled Griffith. "This is the point at which +you receive a terrible showing up." + +I tried to get the next batter to hit at bad balls, and he refused, so +that I lost him. I was afraid to lay the ball over the plate in this +crisis, as a hit or an outfield fly meant the game. Hoblitzell and +Mitchell, two of Griffith's heaviest batters, were scheduled to arrive at +the plate next. + +"You ought to be up, Mike," yelled the Cincinnati manager at Mitchell, who +was swinging a couple of sticks preparatory to his turn at the bat. "Too +bad you won't get a lick, old man, because Hobby's going to break it up +right here." + +Something he said irritated me, but, instead of worrying me, it made me +feel more like pitching. I seldom talk to a coacher, but I turned to +Griffith and said: + +"I'll bring Mike up, and we'll see what he can do." + +I deliberately passed Hoblitzell without even giving him a chance to hit +at a single ball. It wasn't to make a grand stand play I did this, but +because it was baseball. One run would win the game anyway, and, with more +men on the bases, there were more plays possible. Besides Hoblitzell is a +nasty hitter, and I thought that I had a better chance of making Mitchell +hit the ball on the ground, a desirable thing under the conditions. + +"Now, Mike," urged Griffith, as Mitchell stepped up to the plate, "go as +far as you like. Blot up the bases, old boy. This blond is gone." + +That sort of talk never bothers me. I had better luck with Mitchell than I +had hoped. He struck out. The next batter was easy, and the Giants won the +game in the tenth inning. According to the newspaper reports, I won +twenty-one or twenty-two games before Cincinnati beat me again, so it can +be seen that joshing in pinches is not effective against all pitchers. A +manager must judge the temperament of his victim. But Griffith has never +stopped trying to rag me. In 1911, when the Giants were west on their +final trip, I was warming up in Cincinnati before a game, and he was +batting out flies near me. He would talk to me between each ball he hit +to the outfield. + +"Got anything to-day, Matty?" he asked. "Guess there ain't many games left +in you. You're getting old." + +When I broke into the National League, the Brooklyn club had as bad a +bunch of men to bother a pitcher as I ever faced. The team had won the +championship in 1900, and naturally they were all pretty chesty. When I +first began to play in 1901, this crowd--Kelly, Jennings, Keeler and +Hanlon--got after me pretty strong. But I seemed to get pitching +nourishment out of their line of conversation and won a lot of games. At +last, so I have been told, Hanlon, who was the manager, said to his +conversational ball players: + +"Lay off that Mathewson kid. Leave him alone. He likes the chatter you +fellows spill out there." + +They did not bother me after that, but this bunch spoiled many a promising +young pitcher. + +Speaking of sizing up the temperament of batters and pitchers in a pinch, +few persons realize that it was a little bit of carelessly placed +conversation belonging to "Chief" Bender, the Indian pitcher on the +Athletics, that did as much as anything to give the Giants the first game +in the 1911 world's series. + +"Josh" Devore, the left-fielder on the New York team, is an in-and-out +batter, but he is a bulldog in a pinch and is more apt to make a hit in a +tight place than when the bases are empty. And he is quite as likely to +strike out. He is the type of ball player who cannot be rattled. With +"Chief" Myers on second base, the score tied, and two out, Devore came to +the bat in the seventh inning of the first game. + +"Look at little 'Josh,'" said Bender, who had been talking to batters all +through the game. + +Devore promptly got himself into the hole with two strikes and two balls +on him, but a little drawback like that never worries "Josh." + +"I'm going to pitch you a curved ball over the outside corner," shouted +Bender as he wound up. + +"I know it, Chief," replied "Josh," and he set himself to receive just +that sort of delivery. + +Up came the predicted curve over the outside corner. "Josh" hit it to left +field for two bases, and brought home the winning run. Bender evidently +thought that, by telling Devore what he was actually going to pitch, he +would make him think he was going to cross him. + +"I knew it would be a curve ball," Devore told me after the game. "With +two and two, he would be crazy to hand me anything else. When he made that +crack, I guessed that he was trying to cross me by telling the truth. +Before he spoke, I wasn't sure which corner he was going to put it over, +but he tipped me." + +Some batters might have been fooled by those tactics. It was taking a +chance in a pinch, and Bender lost. + +Very few of the fans who saw this first game of the 1911 world's series +realize that the "break" in that contest came in the fifth inning. The +score was tied, with runners on second and third bases with two out, when +"Eddie" Collins, the fast second baseman of the Athletics, and a dangerous +hitter, came to the bat. I realized that I was skating on thin ice and was +putting everything I had on the ball. Collins hit a slow one down the +first base line, about six feet inside the bag. + +With the hit, I ran over to cover the base, and Merkle made for the ball, +but he had to get directly in my line of approach to field it. Collins, +steaming down the base line, realized that, if he could get the decision +at first on this hit, his team would probably win the game, as the two +other runners could score easily. In a flash, I was aware of this, too. + +"I'll take it," yelled Merkle, as he stopped to pick up the ball. + +Seeing Merkle and me in front of him, both heavy men, Collins knew that he +could not get past us standing up. When still ten or twelve feet from the +bag, he slid, hoping to take us unawares and thus avoid being touched. He +could then scramble to the bag. As soon as he jumped, I realized what he +hoped to do, and, fearing that Merkle would miss him, I grabbed the first +baseman and hurled him at Collins. It was an old-fashioned, football +shove, Merkle landing on Collins and touching him out. A great many of the +spectators believed that I had interfered with Merkle on the play. As a +matter of fact, I thought that it was the crisis of the game and knew +that, if Collins was not put out, we would probably lose. That football +shove was a brand new play to me in baseball, invented on the spur of the +second, but it worked. + +In minor leagues, there are fewer games in which a "break" comes. It does +not develop in all Big League contests by any means. Sometimes one team +starts to win in the first inning and simply runs away from the other club +all the way. But in all close games the pinch shows up. + +It happens in many contests in the major leagues because of the almost +perfect baseball played. Depending on his fielders, a manager can play for +this "break." And when the pinch comes, it is a case of the batter's nerve +against the pitcher's. + + + + +IV + +Big League Pitchers and Their Peculiarities. + + _Nearly Every Pitcher in the Big Leagues Has Some Temperamental or + Mechanical Flaw which he is Constantly Trying to Hide, and which + Opposing Batters are always Endeavoring to Uncover--The Giants Drove + Coveleski, the Man who Beat them out of a Pennant, Back to the Minor + Leagues by Taunting him on One Sore Point--Weaknesses of Other + Stars._ + + +Like great artists in other fields of endeavor, many Big League pitchers +are temperamental. "Bugs" Raymond, "Rube" Waddell, "Slim" Sallee, and +"Wild Bill" Donovan are ready examples of the temperamental type. The +first three are the sort of men of whom the manager is never sure. He does +not know, when they come into the ball park, whether or not they are in +condition to work. They always carry with them a delightful atmosphere of +uncertainty. + +In contrast to this eccentric group, there are those with certain +mechanical defects in their pitching of which opposing clubs take +advantage. Last comes the irritable, nervous box artist who must have +things just so, even down to the temperature, before he can work +satisfactorily. + +"As delicate as prima donnas," says John McGraw of this variety. + +He speaks of the man who loses his love for his art when his shirt is too +tight or a toe is sore. This style, perhaps, is the most difficult for a +manager to handle, unless it is the uncertain, eccentric sort. + +As soon as a new pitcher breaks into the Big Leagues, seven clubs are +studying him with microscopic care to discover some flaw in his physical +style or a temperamental weakness on which his opponents can play. +Naturally, if the man has such a "groove," his team mates are endeavoring +to hide it, but it soon leaks out and becomes general gossip around the +circuit. Then the seven clubs start aiming at this flaw, and oftentimes +the result is that a promising young pitcher, because he has some one +definite weakness, goes back to the minors. A crack in the temperament is +the worst. Mechanical defects can usually be remedied when discovered. + +Few baseball fans know that the Giants drove a man back to the minor +leagues who once pitched them out of a pennant. The club was tipped off to +a certain, unfortunate circumstance in the twirler's early life which left +a lasting impression on his mind. The players never let him forget this +when he was in a game, and it was like constantly hitting him on a boil. + +Coveleski won three games for the Philadelphia National League club from +the Giants back in 1908, when one of these contests would have meant a +pennant to the New York club and possibly a world's championship. That was +the season the fight was decided in a single game with the Chicago Cubs +after the regular schedule had been played out. Coveleski was hailed as a +wonder for his performance. + +Just after the season closed, "Tacks" Ashenbach, the scout for the +Cincinnati club, now dead, and formerly a manager in the league where +Coveleski got his start, came to McGraw and laughed behind his hand. + +"Mac," he said, "I'm surprised you let that big Pole beat you out of a +championship. I can give you the prescription to use every time that he +starts working. All you have to do is to imitate a snare drum." + +"What are you trying to do--kid me?" asked McGraw, for he was still +tolerably irritable over the outcome of the season. + +"Try it," was Ashenbach's laconic reply. + +The result was that the first game Coveleski started against the Giants +the next season, there was a chorus of "rat-a-tat-tats" from the bench, +with each of the coachers doing a "rat-a-tat-tat" solo, for we decided, +after due consideration, this was the way to imitate a snare drum. We +would have tried to imitate a calliope if we had thought that it would +have done any good against this pitcher. + +"I'll hire a fife and drum corps if the tip is worth anything," declared +McGraw. + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" came the chorus as Coveleski wound up to +pitch the first ball. It went wide of the plate. + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" it was repeated all through the inning. +When Coveleski walked to the Philadelphia bench at the end of the first +round, after the Giants had made three runs off him, he looked over at us +and shouted: + +"You think you're smart, don't you?" + +"Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" was the only reply. But now we knew we had +him. When a pitcher starts to talk back, it is a cinch that he is +irritated. So the deadly chorus was kept up in volleys, until the umpire +stopped us, and then it had to be in a broken fire, but always there was +the "Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!" When Coveleski looked at McGraw +coaching on third base, the manager made as if to beat a snare drum, and +as he glanced at Latham stationed at first, "Arlie" would reply with the +"rat-a-tat-tat." + +The team on the bench sounded like a fife and drum corps without the +fifes, and Coveleski got no peace. In the fourth inning, after the game +had been hopelessly lost by the Philadelphia club, Coveleski was taken +out. We did not understand the reason for it, but we all knew that we had +found Coveleski's "groove" with that "rat-a-tat-tat" chorus. The man who +had beaten the New York club out of a pennant never won another game +against the Giants. + +"Say," said McGraw to "Tacks" Ashenbach the next time the club was in +Cincinnati, "there are two things I want to ask you. First, why does that +'rat-a-tat-tat' thing get under Coveleski's skin so badly, and, second, +why didn't you mention it to us when he was beating the club out of a +championship last fall?" + +"Never thought of it," asserted Ashenbach. "Just chanced to be telling +stories one day last winter about the old times in the Tri-State, when +that weakness of Coveleski's happened to pop into my mind. Thought maybe +he was cured." + +"Cured!" echoed McGraw. "Only way he could be cured of that is to poison +him. But tip me. Why is it?" + +"Well, this is the way I heard it," answered Ashenbach. "When he was a +coal miner back in Shamokin, Pennsylvania, he got stuck on some Jane who +was very fond of music. Everybody who was any one played in the Silver +Cornet Band down in Melodeon Hall on Thursday nights. The girl told +Coveleski that she couldn't see him with an X-ray unless he broke into the +band. + +"'But I can't play any instrument,' said the Pole. + +"'Well, get busy and learn, and don't show around here until you have,' +answered the girl. + +"Now Coveleski had no talent for music, so he picked out the snare drum as +his victim and started practising regularly, getting some instruction from +the local bandmaster. After he had driven all the neighbors pretty nearly +crazy, the bandmaster said he would give him a show at the big annual +concert, when he tried to get all the pieces in his outfit that he could. +Things went all right until it was time for Coveleski to come along with a +little bit on the snare drum, and then he was nowhere in the neighborhood. +He didn't even swing at it. But later, when the leader waved for a solo +from the fiddle, Coveleski mistook it for his hit-and-run sign and came in +so strong on the snare drum that no one could identify the fiddle in the +mixup. + +"The result was that the leader asked for waivers on old Coveleski very +promptly, and the girl was not long in following suit. That snare drum +incident has been the sore point in his makeup ever since." + +"I wish I'd known it last fall about the first of September," declared +McGraw. + +But the real snapper came later when the Cincinnati club was whipsawed on +the information. In a trade with Philadelphia, Griffith got Coveleski for +Cincinnati along with several other players. Each game he started against +us he got the old "rat-a-tat-tat." Griffith protested to the umpires, but +it is impossible to stop a thing of that sort even though the judges of +play did try. + +The Pole did not finish another game against the Giants until his last in +the Big League. One day we were hitting him near and far, and the +"rat-a-tat-tat" chorus was only interrupted by the rattle of the bats +against the ball, when he looked in at the bench to see if Griffith wanted +to take him out, for it was about his usual leaving time. + +"Stay in there and get it," shouted back Griff. + +Coveleski did. He absorbed nineteen hits and seventeen runs at the hands +of the Giants, this man who had taken a championship of the National +League away from us. + +That night Griffith asked for waivers on him, and he left the Big Leagues +for good. He was a good twirler, except for that one flaw, which cost him +his place in the big show. There is little mercy among professional ball +players when a game is at stake, especially if the man has taken a +championship away from a team by insisting upon working out of his turn, +so he can win games that will benefit his club not a scintilla. + +Mordecai Brown, the great pitcher of the Chicago Cubs and the man who did +more than any other one player to bring four National League pennants and +two world's championships to that club, has a physical deformity which has +turned out to be an advantage. Many years ago, Brown lost most of the +first finger of his right hand in an argument with a feed cutter, said +finger being amputated at the second joint; while his third finger is +shorter than it should be, because a hot grounder carried part of it away +one day. In some strange way, Brown has achieved wonders with this +crippled hand. It is on account of the missing finger that he is called +"Three Fingered" Brown, and he is better known by that appellation than by +his real name. + +Brown beat the Giants a hard game one day in 1911, pitching against me. He +had a big curve, lots of speed, and absolute control. The Giants could +not touch him. Next day McGraw was out warming up with Arthur Wilson, the +young catcher on the club. + +"Wonder if he gets any new curve with that short first finger?" said +McGraw, and thereupon crooked his own initial digit and began trying to +throw the ball in different ways off it to see what the result would be. +Finally he decided: + +"No, I guess he doesn't get anything extra with the abbreviated finger, +but that's lucky for you fellows, because, if I thought he did, I'd have a +surgeon out here to-morrow operating on the first fingers of each of you +pitchers." + +Brown is my idea of the almost perfect pitcher He is always ready to work. +It is customary for most managers in the Big Leagues to say to a man on +the day he is slated to pitch: + +"Well, how do you feel to-day? Want to work?" + +Then if the twirler is not right, he has a chance to say so. But Brown +always replies: + +"Yes, I'm ready." + +He likes to pitch and is in chronic condition. It will usually be found at +the end of a season that he has taken part in more games than any other +pitcher in the country. He held the Chicago pitching staff together in +1911. + +"Three Fingered" Brown is a finished pitcher in all departments of the +game. Besides being a great worker, he is a wonderful fielder and sure +death on bunts. He spends weeks in the spring preparing himself to field +short hits in the infield, and it is fatal to try to bunt against him. He +has perfected and used successfully for three years a play invented by +"Joe" McGinnity, the former Giant pitcher. This play is with men on first +and second bases and no one out or one out. The batter tries to sacrifice, +but instead of fielding the ball to first base, which would advance the +two base runners as intended, Brown makes the play to third and thus +forces out the man nearest the plate. This is usually successful unless +the bunt is laid down perfectly along the first base line, so that the +ball cannot be thrown to third base. + +The Cubs have always claimed it was this play which broke the Detroit +club's heart in the world's series in 1908, and turned the tide so that +the Cubs took the championship. The American League team was leading in +the first game, and runners were on first and second bases, "Ty" Cobb +being on the middle sack. It was evident that the batter would try to +sacrifice. Brown walked over to Steinfeldt, playing third base, pulling +out a chew of tobacco as he went. + +"No matter what this guy does or where he hits it, stick to your bag," +ordered Brown. + +Then he put the chew of tobacco in his mouth, a sign which augurs ill for +his opponents, and pitched a low one to the batter, a perfect ball to +bunt. He followed the pitch through and was on top of the plate as the +batter laid it down. The ball rolled slowly down the third base line until +Brown pounced on it. He whirled and drove the ball at Steinfeldt, getting +Cobb by a foot. That play carried Detroit off its feet, as a sudden +reversal often will a ball club, when things are apparently breaking for +it. Cobb, the Tigers' speed flash, had been caught at third base on an +attempted sacrifice, an unheard of play, and, from that point on, the +American Leaguers wilted, according to the stories of Chance and his men. + +It is Brown's perfect control that has permitted catchers like Kling and +Archer to make such great records as throwers. This pitcher can afford to +waste a ball--that is, pitch out so the batter cannot hit it, but putting +the catcher in a perfect position to throw--and then he knows he can get +the next one over. A catcher's efficiency as a thrower depends largely on +the pitcher's ability to have good enough control of the ball to be able +to pitch out when it is necessary. Brown helps a catcher by the way in +which he watches the bases, not permitting the runners to take any lead on +him. All around, I think that he is one of the most finished pitchers of +the game. + +Russell Ford, of the New York American League club, has a hard pitching +motion because he seems to throw a spit ball with a jerk. He cannot pitch +more than one good game in four or five days. McGraw had detected this +weakness from watching the Highlanders play before the post-season series +in 1910, and took advantage of it. + +"If Ford pitches to-day," said McGraw to his team in the clubhouse before +the first game, "wait everything out to the last minute. Make him pitch +every ball you can." + +McGraw knew that the strain on Ford's arm would get him along toward the +end of the game. In the eighth inning the score was tied when Devore came +to the bat. No crack in Ford was perceptible to the rest of us, but McGraw +must have detected some slight sign of weakening. He stopped "Josh" on the +way to the plate and ordered: + +"Now go ahead and get him." + +By the time the inning was over, the Giants had made four runs, and +eventually won the game by the score of 5 to 1. McGraw just played for +this flaw in Ford's pitching, and hung his whole plan of battle on the +chance of it showing. + +"Old Cy" Young has the absolutely perfect pitching motion. When he jumped +from the National League to the Boston American League club some years +ago, during the war times, many National League players thought that he +was through. + +"What," said Fred Clarke, the manager of the Pittsburg club, "you American +Leaguers letting that old boy make good in your set? Why, he was done when +he jumped the National. He'd lost his speed." + +"But you ought to see his curve ball," answered "Bill" Dineen, then +pitching for the Boston Americans. + +"Curve ball," echoed Clarke. "He never had any curve that it didn't take a +microscope to find. He depended on his speed." + +"Well, he's got one now," replied Dineen. + +Clarke had a chance to look at the curve ball later, for, with Dineen, +Young did a lot toward winning the world's championship for Boston from +Pittsburg in 1903. The old pitcher was wise enough to realize, when he +began to lose his speed, that he would have to develop a curve ball or go +back to the minors, and he set to work and produced a peach. He is still +pitching--for the National League now--and he will win a lot of games yet. +When he came back in 1911, the American Leaguers said: + +"What, going to let that old man in your show again? He's done." + +Maybe he will yet figure in another world's championship. One never can +tell. Anyway, he has taken a couple of falls out of Pittsburg just for +good luck since he came back to the National League. + +Some pitchers depend largely on their motions to fool batters. "Motion +pitchers" they might be called. Such an elaborate wind-up is developed +that it is hard for a hitter to tell when and from where the ball is +coming. "Slim" Sallee of the St. Louis Nationals hasn't any curve to +mention and he lacks speed, but he wins a lot of ball games on his motion. + +"It's a crime," says McGraw, "to let a fellow like that beat you. Why, he +has so little on the ball that it looks like one of those Salome dancers +when it comes up to the plate, and actually makes me blush." + +But Sallee will take a long wind-up and shoot one off his shoe tops and +another from his shoulder while he is facing second base. He has good +control, has catalogued the weaknesses of the batters, and can work the +corners. With this capital, he was winning ball games for the Cardinals in +1911 until he fell off the water wagon. He is different from Raymond in +that respect. When he is on the vehicle, he is on it, and, when he is off, +he is distinctly a pedestrian. + +The way the Giants try to beat Sallee is to get men on the bases, because +then he has to cut down his motion or they will run wild on him. As soon +as a runner gets on the bag with Sallee pitching, he tries to steal to +make "Slim" reduce that long winding motion which is his greatest asset. +But Sallee won several games from the Giants last season because we could +not get enough men on the bases to beat him. He only gave us four or five +hits per contest. + +For a long time, "Josh" Devore, the Giants' left-fielder, was "plate shy" +with left-handers--that is, he stepped away--and all the pitchers in the +League soon learned of this and started shooting the first ball, a fast +one, at his head to increase his natural timidity. Sallee, in particular, +had him scared. + +"Stand up there," said McGraw to "Josh" one day when Sallee was pitching, +"and let him hit you. He hasn't speed enough to hurt you." + +"Josh" did, got hit, and found out that what McGraw said was true. It +cured him of being afraid of Sallee. + +As getting men on the bases decreases Sallee's effectiveness, even if he +is a left-hander, so it increases the efficiency of "Lefty" Leifield of +Pittsburg. The Giants never regard Sallee as a left-hander with men on the +bases. Most southpaws can keep a runner close to the bag because they are +facing first base when in a position to pitch, but Sallee cannot. On the +other hand, Leifield uses almost exactly the same motion to throw to first +base as to pitch to the batter. These two are so nearly alike that he can +change his mind after he starts and throw to the other place. + +He keeps men hugging the bag, and it is next to impossible to steal bases +on him. If he gets his arm so far forward in pitching to the batter that +he cannot throw to the base, he can see a man start and pitch out so the +catcher has a fine chance to get the runner at second. If the signal is +for a curved ball, he can make it a high curve, and the catcher is in +position to throw. Leifield has been working this combination pitch either +to first base or the plate for years, and the motion for each is so +similar that even the umpires cannot detect it and never call a balk on +him. + +A busher broke into the League with the Giants one fall and was batting +against Pittsburg. There was a man on first base and Leifield started to +pitch to the plate, saw by a quick glance that the runner was taking too +large a lead, and threw to first. The youngster swung at the ball and +started to run it out. Every one laughed. + +"What were you trying to do?" asked McGraw. + +"I hit the ball," protested the bush leaguer. That is how perfect +Leifield's motion is with men on the bases. But most of his effectiveness +resides in that crafty motion. + +Many New York fans will remember "Dummy" Taylor, the deaf and dumb pitcher +of the Giants. He won ball games for the last two years he was with the +club on his peculiar, whirling motion, but as soon as men got on the bases +and he had to cut it down, McGraw would take him out. That swing and his +irresistible good nature are still winning games in the International +League, which used to be the Eastern. + +So if a pitcher expects to be a successful Big Leaguer, he must guard +against eccentricities of temperament and mechanical motion. As I have +said, Drucke of the Giants for a long time had a little movement with his +foot which indicated to the runner when he was going to pitch, and they +stole bases wildly on him. But McGraw soon discovered that something was +wrong and corrected it. The armor of a Big Leaguer must be impenetrable, +for there are seven clubs always looking for flaws in the manufacture, and +"every little movement has a meaning of its own." + + + + +V + +Playing the Game from the Bench + + _Behind Every Big League Ball Game there Is a Master Mind which + Directs the Moves of the Players--How McGraw Won Two Pennants for the + Giants from the "Bench" and Lost One by Giving the Players Too Much + Liberty--The Methods of "Connie" Mack and Other Great Leaders_ + + +The bench! To many fans who see a hundred Big League ball games each +season, this is a long, hooded structure from which the next batter +emerges and where the players sit while their club is at bat. It is also +the resort of the substitutes, manager, mascot and water cooler. + +But to the ball player it is the headquarters. It is the place from which +the orders come, and it is here that the battle is planned and from here +the moves are executed. The manager sits here and pulls the wires, and +his players obey him as if they were manikins. + +"The batteries for to-day's game," says the umpire, "will be Sallee and +Bresnahan for St. Louis; Wiltse and Meyers for New York." + +"Bunt," says McGraw as his players scatter to take their positions on the +field. He repeats the order when they come to the bat for the first +inning, because he knows that Sallee has two weaknesses, one being that he +cannot field bunts and the other that a great deal of activity in the box +tires him out so that he weakens. A bunting game hits at both these flaws. +As soon as Bresnahan observes the plan of battle, he arranges his players +to meet the attack; draws in his third baseman, shifts the shortstop more +down the line toward third base, and is on the alert himself to gather in +slow rollers just in front of the plate. The idea is to give Sallee the +minimum opportunity to get at the ball and reduce his fielding +responsibilities to nothing or less. There is one thing about Sallee's +style known to every Big League manager. He is not half as effective with +men on the bases, for he depends largely on his deceptive motion to fool +the batters, and when he has to cut this down because runners are on the +bases, his pitching ability evaporates. + +After the old Polo Grounds had been burned down in the spring of 1911, we +were playing St. Louis at American League Park one Saturday afternoon, and +the final returns of the game were about 19 to 5 in our favor, as near as +I can remember. We made thirteen runs in the first inning. Many spectators +went away from the park talking about a slaughter and a runaway score and +so on. That game was won in the very first inning when Sallee went into +the box to pitch, and McGraw had murmured that mystic word "Bunt!" + +The first batters bunted, bunted, bunted in monotonous succession. Sallee +not yet in very good physical condition because it was early in the +season, was stood upon his head by this form of attack. Bresnahan redraped +his infield to try to stop this onslaught, and then McGraw switched. + +"Hit it," he directed the next batter. + +A line drive whistled past Mowrey's ears, the man who plays third base on +the Cardinals. He was coming in to get a bunt. Another followed. The break +had come. Bresnahan removed Sallee and put another pitcher into the box, +but once a ball club starts to hit the ball, it is like a skidding +automobile. It can't be stopped. The Giants kept on and piled up a +ridiculous and laughable score, which McGraw had made possible in the +first inning by directing his men to bunt. + +The Giants won the championship of the National League in 1904 and the New +York fans gave the team credit for the victory. It was a club of young +players, and McGraw realized this fact when he started his campaign. Every +play that season was made from the bench, made by John McGraw through his +agents, his manikins, who moved according to the wires which he pulled. +And by the end of the summer his hands were badly calloused from pulling +wires, but the Giants had the pennant. + +When the batter was at the plate in a critical stage, he would stall and +look to the "bench" for orders to discover whether to hit the ball out or +lay it down, whether to try the hit and run, or wait for the base runner +to attempt to steal. By stalling, I mean that he would tie his shoe or fix +his belt, or find any little excuse to delay the game so that he could get +a flash at the "bench" for orders. A shoe lace has played an important +role in many a Big League battle, as I will try to show later on in this +story. If it ever became the custom to wear button shoes, the game would +have to be revised. + +As the batter looked toward the bench, McGraw might reach for his +handkerchief to blow his nose, and the batter knew it was up to him to hit +the ball out. Some days in that season of 1904 I saw McGraw blow his nose +during a game until it was red and sore on the end, and then another day, +when he had a cold in his head, he had to do without his handkerchief +because he wanted to play a bunting game. Until his cold got better, he +had to switch to another system of signs. + +During that season, each coacher would keep his eye on the bench for +orders. Around McGraw revolved the game of the Giants. He was the game. +And most of that summer he spent upon the bench, because from there he +could get the best look at the diamond, and his observations were not +confined to one place or to one base runner. He was able to discover +whether an out-fielder was playing too close for a batter, or too far +out, and rearrange the men. He could perhaps catch a sign from the +opposing catcher and pass it along to the batter. And he won the pennant +from the bench. He was seldom seen on the coaching lines that year. + +Many fans wonder why, when the Giants get behind in a game, McGraw takes +to the bench, after having been out on the coaching lines inning after +inning while the club was holding its own or winning. Time and again I +have heard him criticised for this by spectators and even by players on +other clubs. + +"McGraw is 'yellow,'" players have said to me. "Just as soon as his club +gets behind, he runs for cover." + +The crime of being "yellow" is the worst in the Big Leagues. It means that +a man is afraid, that he lacks the nerve to face the music. But McGraw and +"yellow" are as far apart as the poles, or Alpha and Omega, or Fifth +Avenue and the Bowery, or any two widely separated and distant things. I +have seen McGraw go on to ball fields where he is as welcome as a man with +the black smallpox and face the crowd alone that, in the heat of its +excitement, would like to tear him apart. I have seen him take all sorts +of personal chances. He doesn't know what fear is, and in his bright +lexicon of baseball there is no such word as "fear." His success is partly +due to his indomitable courage. + +There is a real reason for his going to the bench when the team gets +behind. It is because this increases the club's chances of winning. From +the bench he can see the whole field, can note where his fielders are +playing, can get a peek at the other bench, and perhaps pick up a tip as +to what to expect. He can watch his own pitcher, or observe whether the +opposing twirler drops his throwing arm as if weary. He is at the helm +when "on the bench," and, noting any flaw in the opposition, he is in a +position to take advantage of it at a moment's notice, or, catching some +sign of faltering among his own men, he is immediately there to strengthen +the weakness. Many a game he has pulled out of the fire by going back to +the bench and watching. So the idea obtained by many spectators that he is +quitting is the wrong one. He is only fighting harder. + +The Giants were playing Pittsburg one day in the season of 1909, and +Clarke and McGraw had been having a great guessing match. It was one of +those give-and-take games with plenty of batting, with one club forging +ahead and then the other. Clarke had saved the game for Pittsburg in the +sixth inning by a shoe-string. Leifield had been pitching up to this +point, and he wasn't there or even in the neighborhood. But still the +Pirates were leading by two runs, having previously knocked Ames out of +the box. Doyle and McCormick made hits with no one out in our half of the +sixth. + +It looked like the "break," and McGraw was urging his players on to even +up the score, when Clarke suddenly took off his sun glasses in left field +and stooped down to tie his shoe. When he removes his sun-glasses that is +a sign for a pitcher to warm up in a hurry, and "Babe" Adams sprinted to +the outfield with a catcher and began to heat up. Clarke took all of five +minutes to tie that shoe, McGraw violently protesting against the delay in +the meantime. Fred Clarke has been known to wear out a pair of shoe laces +in one game tying and untying them. After the shoe was fixed up, he jogged +slowly to the bench and took Leifield out of the box. In the interim, +Adams had had an opportunity to warm up, and Clarke raised his arm and +ordered him into the box. He fanned the next two men, and the last batter +hit an easy roller to Wagner. We were still two runs to the bad after that +promising start in the sixth, and Clarke, for the time being, had saved +the game by a shoe string. + +McGraw, who had been on the coaching lines up to this point, retired to +the bench after that, and I heard one of those wise spectators, sitting +just behind our coop, who could tell Mr. Rockefeller how to run his +business but who spends his life working as a clerk at $18 a week, remark +to a friend: + +"It's all off now. McGraw has laid down." + +Watching the game through eyes half shut and drawn to a focus, McGraw +waited. In the seventh inning Clarke came to bat with two men on the +bases. A hit would have won the game beyond any doubt. In a flash McGraw +was on his feet and ran out to Meyers, catching. He stopped the game, and, +with a wave of his arm, drew Harry McCormick, playing left field, in close +to third base. The game went on, and Wiltse twisted a slow curve over the +outside corner of the plate to Clarke, a left-handed hitter. He timed his +swing and sent a low hit singing over third base. McCormick dashed in and +caught the ball off his shoe tops. That made three outs. McGraw had saved +our chances of victory right there, for had McCormick been playing where +he originally intended before McGraw stopped the contest, the ball would +have landed in unguarded territory and two runs would have been scored. + +But McGraw had yet the game to win. As his team came to the bat for the +seventh, he said: + +"This fellow Adams is a youngster and liable to be nervous and wild. +Wait." + +The batters waited with the patience of Job. Each man let the first two +balls pass him and made Adams pitch himself to the limit to every batter. +It got on Adams's nerves. In the ninth he passed a couple of men, and a +hit tied the score. Clarke left him in the box, for he was short of +pitchers. On the game went to ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, innings. The +score was still tied and Wiltse was pitching like a machine. McGraw was on +the bench, leaving the coaching to his lieutenants. The club was still +waiting for the youngster to weaken. At last, in the thirteenth, after one +man had been put out, the eye of McGraw saw Adams drop his pitching arm to +his side as if tired. It was only a minute motion. None of the spectators +saw it, none of the players. + +"Now hit it, boys," came the order from the "bench." The style was +switched, and the game won when three hits were rattled out. McGraw alone +observed that sign of weakening and took advantage of it at the opportune +time. He won the game from the bench. That is what makes him a great +manager, observing the little things. Anyone can see the big ones. If he +had been on the coaching lines, he would not have had as good an +opportunity to study the young pitcher, for he would have had to devote +his attention to the base runners. He might have missed this sign of +wilting. + +McGraw is always studying a pitcher, particularly a new one in the League. +The St. Louis club had a young pitcher last fall, named Laudermilk, who +was being tried out. He had a brother on the team. In his first game +against the Giants, played in St. Louis, he held us to a few scattered +hits and gave us a terrific battle, only losing the game because one of +his fielders made a costly error behind him. The papers of St. Louis +boosted him as another "Rube" Waddell. He was left-handed. McGraw laughed. + +"All I want," he said, "is another crack at that Buttermilk after what I +learned about him this afternoon. He can't control his curve, and all you +fellows have got to do is wait for his fast one. He gave you that fight +to-day because he had you all swinging at bad curve balls." + +Laudermilk made another appearance against the Giants later, and he made +his disappearance in that game in the fourth inning, when only one was out +to be exact, after we had scored five runs off him by waiting for his fast +one, according to McGraw's orders. + +After winning the pennant in 1904 by sitting on the bench, keeping away +from the coaching lines, and making every play himself, McGraw decided +that his men were older and knew the game and that he would give them more +rein in 1905. He appeared oftener on the coaching lines and attended more +to the base runners than to the game as a whole. But in the crises he was +the man who decided what was to be done. The club won the pennant that +year and the world's championship. The players got very chesty immediately +thereafter, and the buttons on their vests had to be shifted back to make +room for the new measure. They knew the game and had won two pennants, +besides a championship of the world. + +So in the season of 1906 McGraw started with a team of veterans, and it +was predicted that he would repeat. But these men, who knew the game, were +making decisions for themselves because McGraw was giving them more +liberty. The runners went wild on the bases and tried things at the wrong +stages. They lost game after game. At last, after a particularly +disastrous defeat one day, McGraw called his men together in the clubhouse +and addressed them in this wise: + +"Because you fellows have won two championships and beaten the Athletics +is no reason for you all to believe that you are fit to write a book on +how to play baseball. You are just running wild on the bases. You might as +well not have a manager. Now don't any one try to pull anything without +orders. We will begin all over again." + +But it is hard to teach old ball-players new tricks, and several fines +had to be imposed before the orders were obeyed. The club did not win the +championship that year. + +When McGraw won the pennant in 1911, he did it with a club of youngsters, +many of them playing through their first whole season as regulars in the +company. There were Snodgrass and Devore and Fletcher and Marquard. Every +time a batter went to the plate, he had definite orders from the "bench" +as to what he was to attempt--whether to take two, or lay the ball down, +or swing, or work the hit and run. Each time that a man shot out from +first base like a catapulted figure and slid into second, he had been +ordered by McGraw to try to steal. If players protested against his +judgment, his invariable answer was: + +"Do what I tell you, and I'll take the blame for mistakes." + +One of McGraw's laments is, "I wish I could be in three places at once." + +I never heard him say it with such a ring to the words as after Snodgrass +was touched out in the third game of the 1911 world's series, in the tenth +inning, when his life might have meant victory in that game anyway. I +have frequently referred to the incident in these stories, so most of my +readers are familiar with the situation. Snodgrass was put out trying to +get to third base on a short passed ball, after he had started back for +second to recover some of the ground he had taken in too long a lead +before the ball got to Lapp. McGraw's face took on an expression of agony +as if he were watching his dearest friend die. + +"If I could only have been there!" he said. "I wish I could be in three +places at once." + +He meant the bench, the first base coaching line, and the third base line. +At this particular time he was giving the batters orders from the bench. +It was one of those incidents which come up in a ball game and have to be +decided in the drawing of a breath, so that a manager cannot give orders +unless he is right on the spot. + +It is my opinion that it is a big advantage to a team to have the manager +on the bench rather than in the game. Frank Chance of the Chicago Cubs is +a great leader, but I think he would be a greater one if he could find one +of his mechanical ability to play first base, and he could sit on the +bench as the director general. He is occupied with the duties of his +position and often little things get by him. I believe that we beat the +Cubs in two games in 1909 because Chance was playing first base instead of +directing the game from the bench. + +In the first contest Ames was pitching and Schlei catching. Now, Schlei +was no three hundred hitter, but he was a good man in a pinch and looked +like Wagner when compared to Ames as a swatter. Schlei came up to the bat +with men on second and third bases, two out, and a chance to win or put us +ahead if he could make a hit. The first time it happened, McGraw unfolded +his arms and relaxed, which is a sign that he is conceding something for +the time being. + +"No use," he said. "All those runners are going to waste. We'll have to +make another try in the next inning. They will surely pass Schlei to take +a chance on Ames." + +Then Overall, who was pitching, whistled a strike over the plate and +McGraw's body tightened and the old lines around the mouth appeared. Here +was a chance yet. + +"They're going to let him hit," he cried joyfully. + +Schlei made a base hit on the next pitch and scored both men. Almost the +same thing happened later on in the season with men on second and third +bases, and Raymond, another featherweight hitter, pitching. It struck me +as being an oversight on the part of Chance on both occasions, probably +because he was so busy with his own position and watching the players on +the field that he didn't notice the pitcher was the next batter. He let +Schlei hit each time, which probably cost him two games. + +The Giants were playing St. Louis at the Polo Grounds in 1910, and I was +pitching against Harmon. I held the Cardinals to one hit up to the ninth +inning, and we had the game won by the score of 1 to 0, when their first +batter in the ninth walked. Then, after two had been put out, another +scratched a hit. It looked as if we still had the game won, since only one +man was left to be put out and the runners were on first and second bases. +Mowrey, the red-headed third baseman, came to the bat. + +"Murray's playing too near centre field for this fellow," remarked McGraw +to some of the players on the bench. + +Hardly had he said it when Mowrey shoved a long fly to right field, which +soared away toward the stand. Murray started to run with the ball. For a +minute it looked as if he were going to get there, and then it just tipped +his outstretched hands as it fell to the ground. It amounted to a +three-base hit and won the game for the Cardinals by the score of 2 to 1. + +"I knew it," said McGraw, one of whose many roles is as a prophet of evil. +"Didn't I call the turn? I ought to have gone out there and stopped the +game and moved Murray over. I blame myself for that hit." + +That was a game in which the St. Louis batters made three hits and won it. +It isn't the number of hits, so much as when they come, that wins ball +games. + +Frequently, McGraw will stop a game--bring it to a dead standstill--by +walking out from the bench as the pitcher is about to wind up. + +"Stop it a minute, Meyers," he will shout. "Pull Snodgrass in a little bit +for this fellow." + +The man interested in statistics would be surprised at how many times +little moves of this sort have saved games. But for the McGraw system to +be effective, he must have working for him a set of players who are +taking the old look around for orders all the time. He has a way of +inducing the men to keep their heads up which has worked very well. If a +player has been slow or has not taken all the distance McGraw believes is +possible on a hit, he often finds $10 less in his pay envelope at the end +of the month. And the conversation on the bench at times, when men have +made errors of omission, would not fit into any Sunday-school room. + +During a game for the most part, McGraw is silent, concentrating his +attention on the game, and the players talk in low tones, as if in church, +discussing the progress of the contest. But let a player make a bad break, +and McGraw delivers a talk to him that would have to be written on +asbestos paper. + +Arthur Wilson was coaching at third base in one of the games in a series +played in Philadelphia the first part of September, 1911. There were +barely enough pitchers to go around at the time, and McGraw was very +careful to take advantage of every little point, so that nothing would be +wasted. He feels that if a game is lost because the other side is better, +there is some excuse, but if it goes because some one's head should be +used for furniture instead of thinking baseball, it is like losing money +that might have been spent. Fletcher was on second base when Meyers came +to bat. The Indian pushed the ball to right field along the line. Fletcher +came steaming around third base and could have rolled home safely, but +Wilson, misjudging the hit, rushed out, tackled him, and threw him back on +the bag. Even the plodding Meyers reached second on the hit and McGraw was +boiling. He promptly sent a coacher out to relieve Wilson, and his oratory +to the young catcher would have made a Billingsgate fishwife sore. We +eventually won the game, but at this time there was only a difference of +something like one, and it would have been a big relief to have seen that +run which Wilson interrupted across the plate. + +McGraw is always on Devore's hip because he often feels that this +brilliant young player does not get as much out of his natural ability as +he might. He is frequently listless, and, often, after a good hit, he will +feel satisfied with himself and fan out a couple of times. So McGraw does +all that he can to discourage this self-satisfaction. "Josh" is a great +man in a pinch, for he hangs on like a bulldog, and instead of getting +nervous, works the harder. If the reader will consult past history, he +will note that it was a pinch hit by Devore which won the first +world-series game, and one of his wallops, combined with a timely bingle +by Crandall, was largely instrumental in bringing the second victory to +the Giants. McGraw has made Devore the ball-player that he is by skilful +handling. + +The Giants were having a nip and tuck game with the Cubs in the early part +of last summer, when Devore came to the bat in one of those pinches and +shot a three bagger over third base which won the game. As he slid into +third and picked himself up, feeling like more or less of a hero because +the crowd was announcing this fact to him by prolonged cheers, McGraw +said: + +"Gee, you're a lucky guy. I wish I had your luck. You were shot full of +horseshoes to get that one. When I saw you shut your eyes, I never thought +you would hit it." + +This was like pricking a bubble, and "Josh's" chest returned to its normal +measure. + +Marquard is another man whom McGraw constantly subjects to a +conversational massage. Devore and Marquard room together on the road, +and they got to talking about their suite at the hotel during a close game +in Philadelphia one day. It annoys McGraw to hear his men discussing +off-stage subjects during a critical contest, because it not only +distracts their attention, but his and that of the other players. + +"Ain't that room of ours a dandy, Rube?" asked Devore. + +"Best in the lot," replied Marquard. + +"It's got five windows and swell furniture," said Devore. + +"Solid mahogany," said McGraw, who apparently had been paying no attention +to the conversation. "That is, judging by some of the plays I have seen +you two pull. Now can the conversation." + +Devore went down into Cuba with the Giants, carrying quite a bank roll +from the world's series, and the idea that he was on a picnic. He started +a personally conducted tour of Havana on his first night there and we lost +the game the next day, "Josh" overlooking several swell opportunities to +make hits in pinches. In fact he didn't even get a foul. + +"You are fined $25," said McGraw to him after the game. + +"You can't fine me," said Devore. "I'm not under contract." + +"Then you take the next boat home," replied the manager. "I didn't come +down here to let a lot of coffee-colored Cubans show me up. You've got to +either play ball or go home." + +Devore made four hits the next day. + +In giving his signs from the bench to the players, McGraw depends on a +gesture or catch word. When "Dummy" Taylor, the deaf and dumb twirler, was +with the club, all the players learned the deaf and dumb language. This +medium was used for signing for a time, until smart ball players, like +Evers and Leach, took up the study of it and became so proficient they +could converse fluently on their fingers. But they were also great +"listeners," and we didn't discover for some time that this was how they +were getting our signs. Thereafter we only used the language for social +purposes. + +Evers and McGraw got into a conversation one day in the deaf and dumb +language at long range and "Johnny" Evers threw a finger out of joint +replying to McGraw in a brilliant flash of repartee. + +Every successful manager is a distinct type. Each plays the game from the +bench. "Connie" Mack gives his men more liberty than most. Chance rules +for the most part with an iron hand. Bresnahan is ever spurring his men +on. Chance changes his seat on the bench, and there is a double steal. +"Connie" Mack uncrosses his legs, and the hit and run is tried. + +Most managers transmit their signs by movements or words. Jennings is +supposed to have hidden in his jumble of jibes some catch words. + +The manager on the bench must know just when to change pitchers. He has to +decide the exact time to send in a substitute hitter, when to install +another base runner. All these decisions must be made in the "batting" of +an eye. It takes quick and accurate judgment, and the successful manager +must be right usually. That's playing the game from the bench. + + + + +VI + +Coaching Good and Bad + + _Coaching is Divided into Three Parts: Offensive, Defensive, and the + Use of Crowds to Rattle Players--Why McGraw Developed Scientific + Coaching--The Important Role a Coacher Plays in the Crisis of a Big + League Ball Game when, on his Orders, Hangs Victory or Defeat._ + + +Critical moments occur in every close ball game, when coaching may win or +lose it. "That wasn't the stage for you to try to score," yelled John +McGraw, the manager of the Giants, at "Josh" Devore, as the New York +left-fielder attempted to count from second base on a short hit to left +field, with no one out and the team one run behind in a game with the +Pirates one day in 1911, when every contest might mean the winning or +losing of the pennant. + +"First time in my life I was ever thrown out trying to score from second +on a base hit to the outfield," answered Devore, "and besides the coacher +sent me in." + +"I don't care," replied McGraw, "that was a two out play." + +As a matter of fact, one of the younger players on the team was coaching +at third base at the time and made an error of judgment in sending Devore +home, of which an older head would not have been guilty. And the Pirates +beat us by just that one run the coacher sacrificed. The next batter came +through with an outfield fly which would have scored Devore from third +base easily. + +Probably no more wily general ever crouched on the coaching line at third +base than John McGraw. His judgment in holding runners or urging them on +to score is almost uncanny. Governed by no set rules himself, he has +formulated a list of regulations for his players which might be called the +"McGraw Coaching Curriculum." He has favorite expressions, such as "there +are stages" and "that was a two out play," which mean certain chances are +to be taken by a coacher at one point in a contest, while to attempt such +a play under other circumstances would be nothing short of foolhardy. + +With the development of baseball, coaching has advanced until it is now an +exact science. For many years the two men who stood at first and third +bases were stationed there merely to bullyrag and abuse the pitchers, +often using language that was a disgrace to a ball field. When they were +not busy with this part of their art, they handed helpful hints to the +runners as to where the ball was and whether the second baseman was +concealing it under his shirt (a favorite trick of the old days), while +the pitcher pretended to prepare to deliver it. But as rules were made +which strictly forbade the use of indecent language to a pitcher, and as +the old school of clowns passed, coaching developed into a science, and +the sentries stationed at first and third bases found themselves occupying +important jobs. + +For some time McGraw frowned down upon scientific coaching, until its +value was forcibly brought home to him one day by an incident that +occurred at the Polo Grounds, and since then he has developed it until his +knowledge of advising base runners is the pinnacle of scientific +coaching. + +A few years ago, the Giants were having a nip and tuck struggle one day, +when Harry McCormick, then the left-fielder, came to the plate and knocked +the ball to the old centre-field ropes. He sped around the bases, and when +he reached third, it looked as if he could roll home ahead of the ball. +"Cy" Seymour was coaching and surprised everybody by rushing out and +tackling McCormick, throwing him down and trying to force him back to +third base. But big McCormick got the best of the struggle, scrambled to +his feet, and finally scored after overcoming the obstacle that Seymour +made. That run won the game. + +"What was the matter with you, Cy?" asked McGraw as Seymour came to the +bench after he had almost lost the game by his poor coaching. + +"The sun got in my eyes, and I couldn't see the ball," replied Seymour. + +"You'd better wear smoked glasses the next time you go out to coach," +replied the manager. The batter was hitting the ball due east, and the +game was being played in the afternoon, so Seymour had no alibi. From the +moment "Cy" made that mistake, McGraw realized the value of scientific +coaching, which means making the most of every hit in a game. + +I have always held that a good actor with a knowledge of baseball would +make a good coacher, because it is the acting that impresses a base +runner, not the talking. More often than not, the conversation of a +coacher, be it ever so brilliant, is not audible above the screeching of +the crowd at critical moments. And I believe that McGraw is a great actor, +at least of the baseball school. + +The cheering of the immense crowds which attend ball games, if it can be +organized, is a potent factor in winning or losing them. McGraw gets the +most out of a throng by his clever acting. Did any patron of the Polo +Grounds ever see him turn to the stands or make any pretence that he was +paying attention to the spectators? Does he ever play to the gallery? Yet +it is admitted that he can do more with a crowd, make it more malleable, +than any other man in baseball to-day. + +The attitude of the spectators makes a lot of difference to a ball club. A +lackadaisical, half-interested crowd often results in the team playing +slovenly ball, while a lively throng can inject ginger into the men and +put the whole club on its toes. McGraw is skilled in getting the most out +of the spectators without letting them know that he is doing it. + +Did you ever watch the little manager crouching, immovable, at third base +with a mitt on his hand, when the New York club goes to bat in the seventh +inning two runs behind? The first hitter gets a base on balls. McGraw +leaps into the air, kicks his heels together, claps his mitt, shouts at +the umpire, runs in and pats the next batter on the back, and says +something to the pitcher. The crowd gets it cue, wakes up and leaps into +the air, kicking its heels together. The whole atmosphere inside the park +is changed in a minute, and the air is bristling with enthusiasm. The +other coacher, at first base, is waving his hands and running up and down +the line, while the men on the bench have apparently gained new hope. They +are moving about restlessly, and the next two hitters are swinging their +bats in anticipation with a vigor which augurs ill for the pitcher. The +game has found Ponce de Leon's fountain of youth, and the little, silent +actor on the third base coaching line is the cause of the change. + +"Nick" Altrock, the old pitcher on the Chicago White Sox, was one of the +most skilful men at handling a crowd that the game has ever developed. As +a pitcher, Altrock was largely instrumental in bringing a world's +championship to the American League team in 1906, and, as a coacher, after +his Big League pitching days were nearly done, he won many a game by his +work on the lines in pinches. Baseball has produced several comedians, +some with questionable ratings as humorists. There is "Germany" Schaefer +of the Washington team, and there were "Rube" Waddell, "Bugs" Raymond and +others, but "Nick" Altrock could give the best that the game has brought +out in the way of comic-supplement players a terrible battle for the +honors. + +At the old south side park in Chicago, I have seen him go to the lines +with a catcher's mitt and a first-baseman's glove on his hands and lead +the untrained mob as skilfully as one of those pompadoured young men with +a megaphone does the undergraduates at a college football game. + +My experience as a pitcher has been that it is not the steady, unbroken +flood of howling and yelling, with the incessant pounding of feet, that +gets on the nerves of a ball-player, but the broken, rhythmical waves of +sound or the constant reiteration of one expression. A man gets accustomed +to the steady cheering. It becomes a part of the game and his +surroundings, as much as the stands and the crowd itself are, and he does +not know that it is there. Let the coacher be clever enough to induce a +crowd to repeat over and over just one sentence such as "Get a hit," "Get +a hit," and it wears on the steadiest nerves. Nick Altrock had his +baseball chorus trained so that, by a certain motion of the arm, he could +get the crowd to do this at the right moment. + +But the science of latter-day coaching means much more than using the +crowd. All coaching, like all Gaul and four or five other things, is +divided into three parts, defensive coaching, offensive coaching and the +use of the crowd. Offensive coaching means the handling of base runners, +and requires quick and accurate judgment. The defensive sort is the advice +that one player on the field gives another as to where to throw the ball, +who shall take a hit, and how the base runner is coming into the bag. +There is a sub-division of defensive coaching which might be called the +illegitimate brand. It is giving "phoney" advice to a base runner by the +fielders of the other side that may lead him, in the excitement of the +moment, to make a foolish play. This style has developed largely in the +Big Leagues in the last three or four years. + +Offensive coaching, in my opinion, is the most important. For a man to be +a good coacher he must be trained for the work. The best coachers are the +seasoned players, the veterans of the game. A man must know the throwing +ability of each outfielder on the opposing club, he must be familiar with +the speed of the base runner whom he is handling, and he must be so +closely acquainted with the game as a whole that he knows the stages at +which to try a certain play and the circumstances under which the same +attempt would be foolish. Above all things, he must be a quick thinker. + +Watch McGraw on the coaching lines some day. As he crouches, he picks up a +pebble and throws it out of his way, and two base runners start a double +steal. "Hughie" Jennings emits his famous "Ee-Yaah!" and the third +baseman creeps in, expecting Cobb to bunt with a man on first base and no +one out. The hitter pushes the ball on a line past the third baseman. The +next time Jennings shrieks his famous war-cry, it has a different +intonation, and the batter bunts. + +"Bill" Dahlen of the Brooklyn club shouts, "Watch his foot," and the base +runner starts while the batter smashes the ball on a hit and run play. +Again the pitcher hears that "Watch his foot." He "wastes one," so that +the batter will not get a chance at the ball and turns to first base. He +is surprised to find the runner anchored there. Nothing has happened. So +it will be seen that the offensive coacher controls the situation and +directs the plays, usually taking his orders from the manager, if the boss +himself is not on the lines. + +In 1911 the Giants led the National League by a good margin in stealing +bases, and to this speed many critics attributed the fact that the +championship was won by the club. I can safely say that every base which +was pilfered by a New York runner was stolen by the direct order of +McGraw, except in the few games from which he was absent. Then his +lieutenants followed his system as closely as any one can pursue the +involved and intricate style that he alone understands. If it was the base +running of the Giants that won the pennant for the club, then it was the +coaching of McGraw, employing the speed of his men and his opportunities, +which brought the championship to New York. + +The first thing that every manager teaches his players now is to obey +absolutely the orders of the coacher, and then he selects able men to give +the advice. The brain of McGraw is behind each game the Giants play, and +he plans every move, most of the hitters going to the plate with definite +instructions from him as to what to try to do. In order to make this +system efficient, absolute discipline must be assured. If a player has +other ideas than McGraw as to what should be done, "Mac's" invariable +answer to him is: + +"You do what I tell you, and I'll take the responsibility if we lose." + +For two months at the end of 1911, McGraw would not let either "Josh" +Devore or John Murray swing at a first ball pitched to them. Murray did +this one day, after he had been ordered not to, and he was promptly fined +$10 and sat down on the bench, while Becker played right field. Many fans +doubtless recall the substitution of Becker, but could not understand the +move. + +Murray and Devore are what are known in baseball as "first-ball hitters." +That is, they invariably hit at the first one delivered. They watch a +pitcher wind up and swing their bats involuntarily, as a man blinks his +eyes when he sees a blow started. It is probably due to slight +nervousness. The result was that the news of this weakness spread rapidly +around the circuit by the underground routes of baseball, and every +pitcher in the League was handing Devore and Murray a bad ball on the +first one. Of course, each would miss it or else make a dinky little hit. +They were always "in the hole," which means that the pitcher had the +advantage in the count. McGraw became exasperated after Devore had fanned +out three times one day by getting bad starts, hitting at the first ball. + +"After this," said McGraw to both Murray and Devore in the clubhouse, "if +either of you moves his bat off his shoulder at a first ball, even if it +cuts the plate, you will be fined $10 and sat down." + +Murray forgot the next day, saw the pitcher wind up, and swung his bat at +the first one. He spent the rest of the month on the bench. But Devore's +hitting improved at once because all the pitchers, expecting him to swing +at the first one, were surprised to find him "taking it" and, as it was +usually bad, he had the pitcher constantly "in the hole," instead of being +at a disadvantage himself. For this reason he was able to guess more +accurately what the pitcher was going to throw, and his hitting +consequently improved. So did Murray's after he had served his term on the +bench. The right-fielder hit well up to the world's series and then he +just struck a slump that any player is liable to encounter. But so +dependent is McGraw's system on absolute discipline for its success that +he dispensed with the services of a good player for a month to preserve +his style. + +In contrast, "Connie" Mack, the manager of the Athletics, and by many +declared to be the greatest leader in the country (although each private, +of course, is true to his own general), lets his players use their own +judgment largely. He seldom gives a batter a direct order unless the pinch +is very stringent. + +The most difficult position to fill as a coacher is at third base, the +critical corner. There a man's judgment must be lightning fast and always +accurate. He encourages runners with his voice, but his orders are given +primarily with his hands, because often the noise made by the crowd drowns +out the shouted instructions. Last, he must be prepared to handle all +sorts of base running. + +On nearly every ball club, there are some players who are known in the +frank parlance of the profession as "hog wild runners." + +The expression means that these players are bitten by a sort of "bug" +which causes them to lose their heads when once they get on the bases. +They cannot be stopped, oftentimes fighting with a coacher to go on to the +next base, when it is easy to see that if the attempt is made, the runner +is doomed. + +New York fans have often seen McGraw dash out into the line at third base, +tackle Murray, and throw him back on the bag. He is a "hog wild" runner, +and with him on the bases, the duties of a coacher become more arduous. He +will insist on scoring if he is not stopped or does not drop dead. + +Some youngster was coaching on third base in a game with Boston in the +summer of 1911 and the Giants had a comfortable lead of several runs. +Murray was on second when the batter hit clearly and sharply to left +field. Murray started, and, with his usual intensity of purpose, rounded +third base at top speed, bound to score. The ball was already on the way +home when Murray, about ten feet from the bag, tripped and fell. He +scrambled safely back to the cushion on all fours. There was nothing else +to do. + +"This is his third year with me," laughed McGraw on the bench, "and that's +the first time he has ever failed to try to score from second base on a +hit unless he was tackled." + +All ball clubs have certain "must" motions which are as strictly observed +as danger signals on a railroad. A coacher's hand upraised will stop a +base runner as abruptly as the uplifted white glove of a traffic policeman +halts a row of automobiles. A wave of the arm will start a runner going at +top speed again. + +Many times a quick-witted ball-player wins a game for his club by his snap +judgment. Again McGraw is the master of that. He took a game from the +Cubs in 1911, because, always alert for flaws in the opposition, he +noticed the centre-fielder drop his arm after getting set to throw the +ball home. Devore was on second base, and one run was needed to win the +game. Doyle hit sharply to centre field, and Devore, coming from second, +started to slow up as he rounded third. Hofman, the Chicago +centre-fielder, perceiving this slackening of pace, dropped his arm. +McGraw noticed this, and, with a wave of his arm, notified Devore to go +home. With two strides he was at top speed again, and Hofman, taken by +surprise, threw badly. + +The run scored which won the game. + +The pastime of bullyragging the pitcher by the coachers has lost its +popularity recently. The wily coacher must first judge the temperament of +a pitcher before he dares to undertake to get on his nerves. Clarke +Griffith, formerly the manager of Cincinnati, has a reputation for being +able to ruin young pitchers just attempting to establish themselves in the +Big League. Time and again he has forced youngsters back to the minors by +his constant cry of "Watch his foot" or "He's going to waste this one." + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Baker out at the plate trying to stretch a triple into a home run. This +picture shows Catcher Easterly of Cleveland waiting with the ball to touch +Baker. The home-run hero of the Athletics is shown in the picture starting +the fall-away slide in an effort to get away from Easterly. Harry Davis is +approaching the plate, and Jack Sheridan is awaiting the outcome at the +plate.] + + +The rules are very strict now about talking to pitchers, but, if a +complaint is made, Griffith declares that he was warning the batter that +it was to be a pitchout, which is perfectly legitimate. The rules permit +the coacher to talk to the batter and the base runners. + +Griffith caught a Tartar in Grover Cleveland Alexander, the sensational +pitcher of the Philadelphia club. It was at his first appearance in +Cincinnati that the young fellow got into the hole with several men on the +bases, and "Mike" Mitchell coming up to the bat. + +"Now here is where we get a look at the 'yellow,'" yelled Griffith at +Alexander. + +The young pitcher walked over toward third base. + +"I'm going to make that big boob up at the bat there show such a 'yellow +streak' that you won't be able to see any white," declared Alexander, and +then he struck Mitchell out. Griffith had tried the wrong tactics. + +A story is told of Fred Clarke and "Rube" Waddell, the eccentric twirler. +Waddell was once one of the best pitchers in the business when he could +concentrate his attention on his work, but his mind wandered easily. + +"Now pay no attention to Clarke," warned his manager before the game. + +Clarke tried everything from cajolery to abuse on Waddell with no effect, +because the eccentric "Rube" had been tipped to fight shy of the Pittsburg +manager. Suddenly Clarke became friendly and walked with Waddell between +innings, chatting on trivial matters. At last he said: + +"Why don't you come out on my ranch in Kansas and hunt after the season, +George? I've got a dog out there you might train." + +"What kind of a dog?" asked Waddell at once interested. + +"Just a pup," replied Clarke, "and you can have him if he takes a fancy to +you." + +"They all do," replied Waddell. "He's as good as mine." + +The next inning the big left-hander was still thinking of that dog, and +the Pirates made five runs. + +In many instances defensive coaching is as important as the offensive +brand, which simply indorses the old axiom that any chain is only as +strong as its weakest link or any ball club is only as efficient as its +most deficient department. When Roger Bresnahan was on the Giants, he was +one of those aggressive players who are always coaching the other fielders +and holding a team together, a type so much desired by a manager. If a +slow roller was hit between the pitcher's box and third base, I could +always hear "Rog" yelling, "You take it, Matty," or, "Artie, Artie," +meaning Devlin, the third baseman. He was in a position to see which man +would be better able to make the play, and he gave this helpful advice. +His coaching saved many a game for the Giants in the old days. "Al" +Bridwell, the former shortstop, was of the same type, and, if you have +ever attended a ball game at the Polo Grounds, you have doubtless heard +him in his shrill, piercing voice, shouting: + +"I've got it! I've got it!" or, "You take it!" + +This style of coaching saves ball-players from accidents, and accidents +have lost many a pennant. I have always held that it was a lack of the +proper coaching that sent "Cy" Seymour, formerly the Giant centre-fielder, +out of the Big Leagues and back to the minors. Both Murray and he +attempted to catch the same fly in the season of 1909 and came into +collision. Seymour went down on the field, but later got up and played +the game out. However, he hurt his leg so badly that it never regained its +strength. + +Then there is that other style of defensive coaching which is the shouting +of misleading advice by the fielders to the base runners. Collins and +Barry, the second baseman and shortstop on the Athletics, worked a clever +trick in one of the games of the 1911 world's series which illustrates my +point. The play is as old as the one in which the second baseman hides the +ball under his shirt so as to catch a man asleep off first base, but often +the old ones are the more effective. + +Doyle was on first base in one of the contests played in Philadelphia, and +the batter lifted a short foul fly to Baker, playing third base. The crowd +roared and the coacher's voice was drowned by the volume of sound. "Eddie" +Collins ran to cover second base, and Barry scrabbled his hand along the +dirt as if preparing to field a ground ball. + +"Throw it here! Throw it here!" yelled Collins, and Doyle, thinking that +they were trying for a force play, increased his efforts to reach second. +Baker caught the fly, and Larry was doubled up at first base so far that +he looked foolish. Yet it really was not his fault. The safest thing for a +base runner to do under those circumstances is to get one glimpse of the +coacher's motions and then he can tell whether to go back or to go on. + +"Johnnie" Kling, the old catcher of the Chicago Cubs, used to work a +clever piece of defensive coaching with John Evers, the second baseman. +This was tried on young players and usually was successful. The victim was +picked out before the game, and the play depended upon him arriving at +second base. Once there the schemers worked it as follows: + +When the "busher" was found taking a large lead, Evers would dash to the +bag and Kling would make a bluff to throw the ball, but hold it. The +runner naturally scampered for the base. Then, seeing that Kling had not +thrown, he would start to walk away from it again. + +"If the Jew had thrown that time, he would have had you," Evers would +carelessly hurl over his shoulder at the intended victim. The man usually +turned for a fatal second to reply. Tinker, who was playing shortstop, +rushed in from behind, Kling whipped the ball to the bag, and the man, +caught off his guard, was tagged out. The play was really made before the +game, when the victim was selected. + +It was this same Evers-Kling combination that turned the tide in the first +inning of the most famous game ever played in baseball, the extra one +between the Giants and the Cubs in the season of 1908. The Chicago club +was nervous in the first inning. Tenney was hit by a pitched ball, and +Herzog walked. It looked as if Pfeister, the Chicago pitcher, was losing +his grip. Bresnahan struck out, and Kling, always alert, dropped the third +strike, but conveniently at his feet. Thinking that here was an +opportunity the crowd roared. Evers, playing deep, almost behind Herzog, +shouted, "Go on!" + +Herzog took the bait in the excitement of the moment and ran--and was +nipped many yards from first base. + +There are many tricks to the coacher's trade, both offensive and +defensive, and it is the quickest-witted man who is the best coacher. The +sentry at first yells as the pitcher winds up, "There he goes!" imitating +the first baseman as nearly as possible, in the hope that the twirler +will waste one by pitching out and thus give the batter an advantage. The +coacher on third base will shout at the runner on a short hit to the +outfield, "Take your turn!" in the dim hope that the fielder, seeing the +man rounding third, will throw the ball home, and the hitter can thus make +an extra base. And the job of coaching is no sinecure. McGraw has told me +after directing a hard game that he is as tired as if he had played. + + + + +VII + +Honest and Dishonest Sign Stealing + + _Everything Fair in Baseball except the Dishonest Stealing of + Signals--The National Game More a Contest of the Wits than Most + Onlookers Imagine._ + + +When the Philadelphia Athletics unexpectedly defeated the Chicago Cubs in +the world's series of 1910, the National League players cried that their +signals had been stolen by the American League team, and that, because +Connie Mack's batters knew what to expect, they had won the championship. + +But were the owners or any member of the Philadelphia club arrested +charged with grand larceny in stealing the baseball championship of the +world? No. Was there any murmur against the methods of Connie Mack's men? +No, again. By a strange kink in the ethics of baseball John Kling, the +Chicago catcher, was blamed by the other players on the defeated team for +the signs being stolen. They charged that he had been careless in covering +his signals and that the enemy's coachers, particularly Topsy Hartsell, a +clever man at it, had seen them from the lines. This was really the cause +of Kling leaving the Cubs and going to Boston in 1911. + +After the games were over and the series was lost, many of the players, +and especially the pitchers, would hardly speak to Kling, the man who had +as much as any one else to do with the Cubs winning four championships, +and the man who by his great throwing had made the reputations of a lot of +their pitchers. But the players were sore because they had lost the series +and lost the extra money which many of them had counted as their own +before the games started, and they looked around for some one to blame and +found Kling. One of the pitchers complained after he had lost a game: + +"Can't expect a guy to win with his catcher giving the signs so the +coachers can read 'em and tip the batters." + +"And you can't expect a catcher to win a game for you if you haven't got +anything on the ball," replied Kling, for he is quick tempered and cannot +stand reflections on his ability. But the pitcher's chance remark had +given the other players an excuse for fixing the blame, and it was put on +Kling. + +I honestly do not believe that Kling was in any way responsible for the +rout of the proud Cubs. The Chicago pitchers were away off form in the +series and could not control the ball, thus getting themselves "into the +hole" all the time. Shrewd Connie Mack soon realized this and ordered his +batters to wait everything out, to make the twirlers throw every ball +possible. The result was that, with the pitcher continually in the hole, +the batters were guessing what was coming and frequently guessing right, +as any smart hitter could under the circumstances. This made it look as if +the Athletics were getting the Cubs' signals. + +"Why, I changed signs every three innings, Matty," Kling told me +afterwards in discussing the charge. "Some of the boys said that I gave +the old bended-knee sign for a curve ball. Well, did you ever find +anything to improve on the old ones? That's why they are old." + +But the Cubs still point the finger of scorn at Kling, for it hurts to +lose. I know it, I have lost myself. Even though the Athletics are charged +with stealing the signs whether they did or not, it is no smirch on the +character of the club, for they stole honestly--which sounds like a +paradox. + +"You have such jolly funny morals in this bally country," declared an +Englishman I once met. "You steal and rob in baseball and yet you call it +fair. Now in cricket we give our opponents every advantage, don't cher +know, and after the game we are all jolly good fellows at tea together." + +This brings us down to the ethics of signal stealing. Each game has its +own recognized standards of fairness. For instance, no tricks are +tolerated in tennis, yet the baseball manager who can devise some scheme +by which he disconcerts his opponents is considered a great leader. I was +about to say that all is fair in love, war, and baseball, but will modify +that too comprehensive statement by saying all is fair in love, war, and +baseball except stealing signals dishonestly, which listens like another +paradox. Therefore, I shall divide the subject of signal stealing into +half portions, the honest and the dishonest halves, and, since we are +dealing in paradoxes, take up the latter first. + +Dishonest signal stealing might be defined as obtaining information by +artificial aids. The honest methods are those requiring cleverness of eye, +mind, and hand without outside assistance. One of the most flagrant and +for a time successful pieces of signal stealing occurred in Philadelphia +several years ago. + +Opposing players can usually tell when the batsman is getting the signs, +because he steps up and sets himself for a curve with so much confidence. +During the season of 1899 the report went around the circuit that the +Philadelphia club was stealing signals, because the batters were popping +them all on the nose, but no one was able to discover the transmitter. The +coachers were closely watched and it was evident that these sentinels were +not getting the signs. + +It was while the Washington club, then in the National League, was playing +Philadelphia that there came a rainy morning which made the field very +wet, and for a long time it was doubtful whether a game could be played +in the afternoon, but the Washington club insisted on it and overruled the +protests of the Phillies. Arlie Latham, now the coacher on the Giants', +was playing third base for the Senators at the time. He has told me often +since how he discovered the device by which the signs were being stolen. +He repeated the story to me recently when I asked him for the facts to use +in this book. + +"There was a big puddle in the third base coaching box that day," said +Latham. "And it was in the third inning that I noticed Cupid Childs, the +Philadelphia second baseman, coaching. He stood with one foot in the +puddle and never budged it, although the water came up to his shoe-laces. +He usually jumped around when on the lines, and this stillness surprised +me. + +"'Better go get your rubbers if you are goin' to keep that trilby there,' +I said to him. 'Charley horse and the rheumatism have no terrors for you.' + +"But he kept his foot planted in the puddle just the same, and first thing +the batter cracked out a base hit. + +"'So that's where you're gettin' the signs?' I said to him, not guessing +that it really was. Then he started to jump around and we got the next +two batters out right quick, there being a big slump in the Philadelphia +hitting as soon as he took his foot out of that puddle. + +"When the Washington club went to bat I hiked out to the third base line +and started to coach, putting my foot into the puddle as near the place +where Childs had had his as I could. + +"'Here's where we get a few signs,' I yelled, 'and I ain't afraid of +Charley horse, either.' + +"I looked over at the Philadelphia bench, and there were all the extra +players sitting with their caps pulled down over their eyes, so that I +couldn't see their faces. The fielders all looked the other way. Then I +knew I was on a warm scent. + +"When the Washington players started back for the field I told Tommy +Corcoran that I thought they must be getting the signs from the third base +coaching box, although I hadn't been able to feel anything there. He went +over and started pawing around in the dirt and water with his spikes and +fingers. Pretty soon he dug up a square chunk of wood with a buzzer on the +under side of it. + +"'That ought to help their hitting a little,' he remarked as he kept on +pulling. Up came a wire, and when he started to pull on it he found that +it was buried about an inch under the soil and ran across the outfield. He +kept right on coiling it up and following it, like a hound on a scent, the +Philadelphia players being very busy all this time and nervous like a +busher at his debut into Big League society. One of the substitutes +started to run for the clubhouse, but I stopped him. + +"Tommy was galloping by this time across the outfield and all the time +pulling up this wire. It led straight to the clubhouse, and there sitting +where he could get a good view of the catcher's signs with a pair of +field-glasses was Morgan Murphy. The wire led right to him. + +"'What cher doin'?' asked Tommy. + +"'Watchin' the game,' replied Murphy. + +"'Couldn't you see it easier from the bench than lookin' through those +peepers from here? And why are you connected up with this machine?' +inquired Tommy, showin' him the chunk of wood with the buzzer attached. + +"'I guess you've got the goods,' Murphy answered with a laugh, and all the +newspapers laughed at it then, too. But the batting averages of the +Philadelphia players took an awful slump after that. + +"'Why didn't they tip me?' asked Murphy as he put aside his field-glasses +and went to the bench and watched the rest of the game from there. And we +later won that contest, our first victory of the series, which was no +discredit to us, since it was like gamblin' against loaded dice," +concluded "Arlie." + +The newspapers may have laughed at the incident in those days, but since +that time the National Commission has intimated that if there was ever a +recurrence of such tactics, the club caught using them would be subjected +to a heavy fine and possibly expulsion from the League. So much have +baseball standards improved. + +The incident is a great illustration of the unfair method of obtaining +signs. Since then, there have come from time to time reports of teams +taking signals by mechanical devices. The Athletics once declared that the +American League team in New York had a man stationed behind the fence in +centre field with a pair of glasses and that he shifted a line in the +score board slightly, so as to tip off the batters, but this charge was +never confirmed. It was said a short time ago that the Athletics +themselves had a spy located in a house outside their grounds and that he +tipped the batters by raising and lowering an awning a trifle. When the +Giants went to Philadelphia in 1911 for the first game of the world's +series in the enemy's camp, I kept watching the windows of the houses just +outside of the park for suspicious movements, but could discover none. +Once in Pittsburg I thought that the Pirates were getting the Giants' +signals and I kept my eyes glued to the score board in centre field, +throughout one whole series, to see if any of the figures moved or changed +positions, as that seemed to be the only place from which a batter could +be tipped. But I never discovered anything wrong. + +There are many fair ways to steal the signs of the enemy, so many that the +smart ball-player is always kept on the alert by them. Baseball geniuses, +some almost magicians, are constantly looking for new schemes to find out +what the catcher is telling the pitcher, what the batter is tipping the +base runner to, or what the coacher's instructions are. The Athletics have +a great reputation as being a club able to get the other team's signs if +they are obtainable. This is their record all around the American League +circuit. + +Personally I do not believe that Connie Mack's players steal as much +information as they get the credit for, but the reputation itself, if they +never get a sign, is valuable. If a prizefighter is supposed to have a +haymaking punch in his left hand, the other fellow is going to be +constantly looking out for that left. If the players on a club have great +reputations as signal stealers, their opponents are going to be on their +guard all the time, which gives the team with the reputation just that +much advantage. If a pitcher has a reputation, he has the percentage on +the batter. Therefore, this gossip about the signal-stealing ability of +the Athletics has added to their natural strength. + +"Bill," I said to Dahlen, the Brooklyn manager, one day toward the end of +the season of 1911, when the Giants were playing their schedule out after +the pennant was sure, "see if you can get the Chief's signs." + +Dahlen coached on first base and then went to third, always looking for +Meyers's signals. Pretty soon he came to me. + +"I can see them a little bit, Matty," he reported. + +"Chief," I said to Meyers that night as I buttonholed him in the +clubhouse, "you've got to be careful to cover up your signs in the Big +Series. The Athletics have a reputation of being pretty slick at getting +them. And to make sure we will arrange a set of signs that I can give if +we think they are 'hep' to yours." + +So right there Meyers and I fixed up a code of signals that I could give +to him, the Chief always to use some himself which would be "phoney" of +course, and might have the desirable effect of "crossing them." + +In the first championship game at the Polo Grounds, Topsy Hartsell was out +on the coaching lines looking for signals, and the Chief started giving +the real ones until Davis stepped into a curve ball and cracked it to left +field for a single, scoring the only run made by the Athletics. Right here +Meyers stopped, and I began transmitting the private information, although +the Chief continued to pass out signals that meant nothing. The Athletics +were getting the Indian's and could not understand why the answers seemed +invariably to be wrong, for a couple of them struck out swinging at bad +balls, and one batter narrowly avoided being hit by a fast one when +apparently he had been tipped off to a curve and was set ready to swing at +it. They did not discover that I was behind the signals, although to make +this method successful the catcher must be a clever man. If he makes it +too obvious that his signals are "phoney" and are meant to be seen, then +the other club will look around for the source of the real ones. Meyers +carefully concealed his misleading wig-wags beneath his chest protector, +under his glove and behind his knee, as any good catcher does his real +signs, so they would not look at my head. + +Many persons argue: if a man sees the signs, what good does it do him if +he does not know what they mean? It is easy for a smart ball-player to +deduce the answers, because there are only three real signs passed between +a pitcher and catcher, the sign for the fast one, for the curve ball and +for the pitchout. If a coacher sees a catcher open his hand behind his +glove and then watches the pitcher throw a fast one, he is likely to guess +that the open palm says "Fast one." + +After a coacher has stolen the desired information, he must be clever to +pass it along to the batter without the other club being aware that he is +doing it. He may straighten up to tell the batter a curve ball is coming, +and bend over to forecast a fast one, and turn his back as a neutral +signal, meaning that he does not know what is coming. If a coacher is +smart enough to pass the meanings to the batter without the other team +getting on, he may go through the entire season as a transmitter of +information. To steal signs fairly requires quickness of mind, eye and +action. Few players can do it successfully. Perhaps that is why it is +considered fair. + +If a team is going to make a success of signal stealing it must get every +sign that is given, for an occasional crumb of information picked up at +random is worse than none at all. First, it is dangerous. A batter, tipped +off that a curved ball is coming, steps up to the plate and is surprised +to meet a fast one, which often he has not time to dodge. Many a good +ball-player has been injured in this way, and an accident to a star has +cost more than one pennant. + +"Joe" Kelley, formerly manager of the Reds, was coaching in Cincinnati one +day several years ago, and "Eagle Eye Jake" Beckley, the old first +baseman and a chronic three hundred hitter, was at the bat. I had been +feeding him low drops and Kelley, on the third base line, thought he was +getting the signals that Jack Warner, the Giant catcher in a former cast +of characters, was giving. I saw Kelley apparently pass some information +to Beckley, and the latter stepped almost across the plate ready for a +curve. He encountered a high, fast one, close in, and he encountered it +with that part of him between his neck and hat band. "Eagle Eye" was +unconscious for two days after that and in the hospital several weeks. +When he got back into the game he said to me one day: + +"Why didn't you throw me that curve, Matty, that 'Joe' tipped me to?" + +"Were you tipped off?" I asked. "Then it was 'Joe's' error, not mine." + +"Say," he answered, "if I ever take another sign from a coacher I hope the +ball kills me." + +"It probably will," I replied. "That one nearly did." + +It is one of the risks of signal stealing. Beckley had received the wrong +information and I felt no qualms at hitting him, for it was not a wild +pitch but a misinterpreted signal which had put him out of the game. His +manager, not I, was to blame. For this reason many nervous players refuse +to accept any information from a coacher, even if the coacher thinks he +knows what is going to be pitched, because they do not dare take the risk +of getting hit by a fast one, against which they have little protection if +set for a curve. On this account few National League clubs attempt to +steal signs as a part of the regular team work, but many individuals make +a practice of it for their own benefit and for the benefit of the batter, +if he is not of the timid type. + +As soon as a runner gets on second base he is in an excellent position to +see the hands of the catcher, and it is then that the man behind the bat +is doing all that he can cover up. Jack Warner, the old Giant, used +sometimes to give his signals with his mouth in this emergency, because +they were visible from the pitcher's box, but not from second base. The +thieves were looking at his hands for them. In the National League, Leach, +Clarke, Wagner, Bresnahan, Evers, Tinker and a few more of the sort are +dangerous to have on second. Wagner will get on the middle sack and watch +the catcher until he thinks that he has discovered the pitchout sign, +which means a ball is to be wasted in the hope that a base runner can be +caught. Wagner takes a big lead, and the catcher, tempted, gives the +"office" to waste one, thinking to nail "Hans" off second. The Dutchman +sees it, and instead of running back to second dashes for third. He starts +as the catcher lets go of the ball to throw to second and can usually make +the extra base. + +Many coachers, who do not attempt to get the signs for fast and curved +balls, study the catcher to get his pitchout sign, because once this is +recognized it gives the team at the bat a great advantage. If a coacher +sees the catcher give the pitchout signal he can stop the runner from +trying to steal and the pitcher has wasted a ball and is "in the hole." +Then if his control is uncertain the result is likely to be disastrous. + +Several players in the National League are always trying to get the +batter's signs. Bresnahan, the manager and catcher of the St. Louis club, +devotes half his time and energy to looking for the wireless code employed +by batter and base runner. If he can discover the hit and run sign, then +he is able to order a pitchout and catch the man who has started to run in +response to it several feet at second base. He is a genius at getting this +information. + +Once late in 1911, when the New York club was in St. Louis on the last +trip West, I came up to the bat with Fletcher on first base. I rubbed the +end of my stick with my hand and Roger exclaimed: + +"Why, that's your old hit and run, Matty! What are you trying to do, kid +me?" + +"I forgot you knew it, Rog," I answered, "but it goes." + +He thought I was attempting to cross him and did not order a pitchout. The +sign had been given intentionally. I hit the ball and had the laugh on +him. If a catcher can get a pitchout on a hit and run sign he upsets the +other team greatly. Take a fast man on first base and the batter signs him +that he is going to hit the next ball. The runner gets his start and the +ball comes up so wide that the batter could not half reach it with a +ten-foot bat. The runner is caught easily at second base and it makes him +look foolish. That is why so many catchers devote time to looking for +this signal. It is a great fruit bearer. + +Many of the extra players on the bench are always on the alert for the hit +and run sign. This is a typical situation: + +The Giants were playing the Pittsburg club one day in 1911. Byrne was on +first base. Fred Clarke was at bat and Byrne started for second while +Clarke hit the ball to right field, Byrne reaching third base on the play. + +"What did he do?" asked Ames. + +"Did you get it, Matty?" inquired Wiltse. + +"No," I answered. "Did you?" + +"I think he tapped his bat on the plate," replied Wiltse. The next time +Clarke came up we were all looking to see if he tapped his bat on the +plate. Byrne was again on first base. The Pirates' manager fixed his cap, +he stepped back out of the box and knocked the dirt out of his cleats, and +he did two or three other natural things before the pitch, but nothing +happened. Then he tapped his bat on the plate. + +"Make him put them over, Chief," yelled Wiltse which, translated, meant, +"Order a pitch-out, Chief. He just gave Byrne the hit and run sign." + +Meyers signed for a pitchout, and Byrne was caught ten feet from second. +Wiltse on the bench had really nailed the base runner. As soon as a sign +is discovered it is communicated to the other players, and they are always +watching for it, but try to conceal the fact that they recognize it, +because, as soon as a batter discovers that his messages are being read, +he changes his code. + +From these few facts about signals and sign stealing some idea of the +battle of wits that is going on between two ball clubs in a game may be +obtained. That is why so few men without brains last in the Big Leagues +nowadays. A young fellow broke in with the Giants a few years ago and was +very anxious to make good. He was playing shortstop. + +"Watch for the catcher's signs and then shift," McGraw told him one day. +It is well known in baseball that a right-handed hitter will naturally +push a curve over the outside corner of the plate toward right field and +over the inside he will pull it around toward third base. But this +youngster was overanxious and would shift before the pitcher started to +deliver the ball. Some smart player on another club noticed this and +tipped the batters off to watch the youngster for the signs. When he +shifted toward second base the batter set himself for a ball over the +outside corner. For a long time McGraw could not understand how the other +teams were getting the Giants' signs, especially as it was on our home +grounds. At last he saw the new infielder shift one day and the batter +prepare for an inside ball. + +"Say," he said to the player, rushing on the field after he had stopped +the pitcher, "do you know you are telegraphing the signs to the batters by +moving around before the pitcher throws the ball?" + +Bill Dahlen, formerly a shortstop on the Giants, used to shift, but he was +clever enough to wait until the pitcher had started his motion, when it +was too late for the batter to look at him. + +Ball-players are always looking to steal some sign so that they may +"cross" the enemy. In the language of the Big Leagues it is "signs," never +"signals." And in conclusion I reiterate my former sentiments that all is +fair in love, war and baseball except stealing signs dishonestly. + + + + +VIII + +Umpires and Close Decisions + + _Ball-players and Umpires are Regarded by the Fans as Natural + Enemies, and the Fans Are about Right--Types of Arbiters and how the + Players Treat them--"Silk" O'Loughlin, "Hank" O'Day, "Tim" Hurst, + "Bob" Emslie, and Others, and Close Ones they have Called--Also Some + Narrow Escapes which have Followed._ + + +When the Giants were swinging through the West in 1911 on the final trip, +the club played three games in Pittsburg, with the pennant at that time +only a possibility more or less remote. The Pirates still had a chance, +and they were fighting hard for every game, especially as they were +playing on their home grounds. + +The first contest of the series was on Saturday afternoon before a crowd +that packed the gigantic stands which surrounded Forbes Field. The throng +wanted to see the Pirates win because they were the Pirates, and the +Giants beaten because they were the Giants, and were sticking their heads +up above the other clubs in the race. I always think of the horse show +when I play in Pittsburg, for they have the diamond horse-shoe of boxes +there, you know. No; I'm wrong--it's at the Metropolitan Opera House they +have the diamond horse-shoe. Any way, the diamond horse-shoe of boxes was +doing business at Forbes Field that Saturday afternoon. + +This story is going to be about umpires, but the reader who has never seen +the Forbes Field folks must get the atmosphere before I let the yarn into +the block. Once, on a bright, sunny day there, I muffed fly after fly +because the glint of Sol's rays on the diamonds blinded me. Always now I +wear smoked glasses. "Josh" Devore is so afraid that he will lose social +caste when he goes to Pittsburg that he gets his finger-nails manicured +before he will appear on the field. And the lady who treated him one day +polished them to such an ultimate glossiness that the sun flashed on them, +and he dropped two flies in left field. + +"Look here, Josh," warned McGraw after the game, "I hire you to play ball +and not to lead cotillions. Get some pumice stone and rub it on your +finger-nails and cut out those John Drew manicures after this." + +This crowd is worse after umpires than the residents of the bleachers. The +game on that Saturday worked out into a pitchers' battle between Marty +O'Toole, the expensive exponent of the spit ball, and "Rube" Marquard, the +great left-hander. Half of "Who's Who in Pittsburg" had already split +white gloves applauding when, along about the fourth or fifth inning, Fred +Clarke got as far as third base with one out. The score was nothing for +either side as yet, and of such a delicate nature was the contest that one +run was likely to decide it. + +"Hans" Wagner, the peerless, and the pride of Pittsburg, was at the bat. +He pushed a long fly to Murray in right field, and John caught it and +threw the ball home. Clarke and the ball arrived almost simultaneously. +There was a slide, a jumble of players, and a small cloud of dust blew +away from the home plate. + +"Ye're out!" bawled Mr. Brennan, the umpire, jerking his thumb over his +shoulder with a conclusiveness that forbade argument. Clarke jumped up and +stretched his hands four feet apart, for he recognizes no conclusiveness +when "one is called against him." + +"Safe! that much!" he shouted in Brennan's ear, showing him the four-foot +margin with his hands. + +There was a roar from the diamond horse-shoe that, if it could have been +canned and put on a phonograph, would have made any one his fortune +because it could have been turned on to accompany moving pictures of lions +and other wild beasts to make them realistic. + +"Say," said Clarke to Brennan, "I know a pickpocket who looks honest +compared to you, and I'd rather trust my watch to a second-story worker." + +Brennan was dusting off the plate and paid no attention to him. But Clarke +continued to snap and bark at the umpire as he brushed himself off, +referring with feeling to Mr. Brennan's immediate family, and weaving into +his talk a sketch of the umpire's ancestors, for Clarke is a great master +of the English language as fed to umpires. + +"Mr. Clarke," said Brennan, turning at last, "you were out. Now beat it to +the bench before you beat it to the clubhouse." + +Clarke went grumbling and all the afternoon was after Brennan for the +decision, his wrath increasing because the Pirates lost the game finally, +although they would not have won it had they been given that decision. And +the crowd was roaring at Brennan, too, throughout the remainder of the +contest, asking him pointed questions about his habits and what his +regular business was. + +It takes a man with nerve to make a decision like that--one that could be +called either way because it was so close--and to make it as he sees it, +which happened in this particular case to be against the home team. + +Many times have I, in the excitement of the moment, protested against the +decision of an umpire, but fundamentally I know that the umpires are +honest and are doing their best, as all ball-players are. The umpires make +mistakes and the players make errors. Many arbiters have told me that when +they are working they seldom know what inning it is or how many are out, +and sometimes, in their efforts to concentrate their minds on their +decisions, they say they even forget what clubs are playing and which is +the home team. + +The future of the game depends on the umpire, for his honesty must not be +questioned. If there is a breath of suspicion against a man, he is +immediately let go, because constant repetition of such a charge would +result in baseball going the way of horse racing and some other sports. No +scandal can creep in where the umpire is concerned, for the very +popularity of baseball depends on its honesty. + +"The only good umpire is a dead umpire," McGraw has declared many times +when he has been disgruntled over some decision. + +"I think they're all dead ones in this League," replied Devore one day, +"considering the decisions that they are handing me down there at second +base. Why, I had that bag by three feet and he called me out." + +Many baseball fans look upon an umpire as a sort of necessary evil to the +luxury of baseball, like the odor that follows an automobile. + +"Kill him! He hasn't got any friends!" is an expression shouted from the +stands time and again during a game. + +But I know differently. I have seen umpires with friends. It is true that +most ball-players regard umpires as their natural enemies, as a boy does a +school teacher. But "Bill" Klem has friends because I have seen him with +them, and besides he has a constant companion, which is a calabash pipe. +And "Billy" Evans of the American League has lots of friends. And most all +of the umpires have some one who will speak to them when they are off the +field. + +These men in blue travel by themselves, live at obscure hotels apart from +those at which the teams stop, and slip into the ball parks unobtrusively +just before game time. They never make friends with ball-players off the +field for fear that there might be a hint of scandal. Seldom do they take +the same train with a club unless it cannot be avoided. "Hank" O'Day, the +veteran of the National League staff, and Brennan took the same train out +of Chicago with the Giants in the fall of 1911 because we stopped in +Pittsburg for one game, and they had to be there to umpire. It was the +only available means of transportation. But they stayed by themselves in +another Pullman until some one told them "Charley" Faust, the official +jinx-killer of the Giants, was doing his stunt. Then they both came back +into the Giants' car and for the first time in my life I saw "Hank" O'Day +laugh. His face acted as if it wasn't accustomed to the exercise and broke +all in funny new wrinkles, like a glove when you put it on for the first +time. + +There are several types of umpires, and ball-players are always studying +the species to find out the best way to treat each man to get the most out +of him. There are autocrats and stubborn ones and good fellows and +weak-kneed ones, almost as many kinds as there are human beings. The +autocrat of the umpire world is "Silk" O'Loughlin, now appearing with a +rival show. + +"There are no close plays," says "Silk." "A man is always out or safe, or +it is a ball or a strike, and the umpire, if he is a good man and knows +his business, is always right. For instance, I am always right." + +He refuses to let the players discuss a decision with him, maintaining +that there is never any room for argument. If a man makes any talk with +him, it is quick to the shower bath. "Silk" has a voice of which he is +proud and declares that he shares the honors with Caruso and that it is +only his profession as an umpire that keeps him off the grand-opera +circuit. I have heard a lot of American League ball-players say at various +times that they wished he was on the grand-opera circuit or some more +calorific circuit, but they were mostly prejudiced at those moments by +some sentiments which "Silk" had just voiced in an official capacity. + +As is well known in baseball, "Silk" is the inventor of "Strike Tuh!" and +the creased trousers for umpires. I have heard American League players +declare that they are afraid to slide when "Silk" is close down over a +play for fear they will bump up against his trousers and cut themselves. +He is one of the kind of umpires who can go through a game on the hottest +summer day, running about the bases, and still keep his collar unwilted. +At the end he will look as if he were dressed for an afternoon tea. + +Always he wears on his right hand, which is his salary or decision wing, a +large diamond that sparkles in the sunlight every time he calls a man +out. Many American League players assert that he would rather call a man +out than safe, so that he can shimmer his "cracked ice," but again they +are usually influenced by circumstances. Such is "Silk," well named. + +Corresponding to him in the National League is "Billy" Klem. He always +wears a Norfolk jacket because he thinks it more stylish, and perhaps it +is, and he refuses to don a wind pad. Ever notice him working behind the +bat? But I am going to let you in on a secret. That chest is not all his +own. Beneath his jacket he carries his armor, a protector, and under his +trousers' legs are shin guards. He insists that all players call him "Mr." +He says that he thinks maybe soon his name will be in the social register. + +"Larry" Doyle thought that he had received the raw end of a decision at +second base one day. He ran down to first, where Klem had retreated after +he passed his judgment. + +"Say, 'Bill,'" exploded "Larry," "that man didn't touch the bag--didn't +come within six feet of it." + +"Say, Doyle," replied Klem, "when you talk to me call me 'Mr. Klem.'" + +"But, Mr. Klem--" amended "Larry." + +Klem hurriedly drew a line with his foot as Doyle approached him +menacingly. + +"But if you come over that line, you're out of the game, Mr. Doyle," he +threatened. + +"All right," answered "Larry," letting his pugilistic attitude evaporate +before the abruptness of Klem as the mist does before the classic noonday +sun, "but, Mr. Klem, I only wanted to ask you if that clock in centre +field is right by your watch, because I know everything about you is +right." + +"Larry" went back, grinning and considering that he had put one over on +Klem--Mr. Klem. + +For a long time "Johnny" Evers of the Chicago club declared that Klem owed +him $5 on a bet he had lost to the second baseman and had neglected to +pay. Now John, when he was right, could make almost any umpirical goat +leap from crag to crag and do somersaults en route. He kept pestering Klem +about that measly $5 bet, not in an obtrusive way, you understand, but by +such delicate methods as holding up five fingers when Klem glanced down on +the coaching lines where he was stationed, or by writing a large "5" in +the dirt at the home plate with the butt of his bat as he came up when +Klem was umpiring on balls and strikes, or by counting slowly and casually +up to five and stopping with an abruptness that could not be misconstrued. + +One day John let his temper get away from him and bawled Klem out in his +most approved fashion. + +"Here's your five, Mr. Evers," said Klem, handing him a five dollar bill, +"and now you are fined $25." + +"And it was worth it," answered Evers, "to bawl you out." + +Next comes the O'Day type, and there is only one of them, "Hank." He is +the stubborn kind--or perhaps _was_ the stubborn kind, would be better, as +he is now a manager. He is bull-headed. If a manager gets after him for a +decision, he is likely to go up in the air and, not meaning to do it, call +close ones against the club that has made the kick, for it must be +remembered that umpires are only "poor weak mortals after all." O'Day has +to be handled with shock absorbers. McGraw tries to do it, but shock +absorbers do not fit him well, and the first thing that usually occurs is +a row. + +"Let me do the kicking, boys," McGraw always warns his players before a +contest that O'Day is going to umpire. He does not want to see any of his +men put out of the game. + +"Bill" Dahlen always got on O'Day's nerves by calling him "Henry." For +some reason, O'Day does not like the name, and "Bill" Dahlen discovered +long ago the most irritating inflection to give it so that it would rasp +on O'Day's ears. He does not mind "Hank" and is not a "Mister" umpire. But +every time Dahlen would call O'Day "Henry" it was the cold shower and the +civilian's clothes for his. + +Dahlen was playing in St. Louis many years ago when the race track was +right opposite the ball park. "Bill" had a preference in one of the later +races one day and was anxious to get across the street and make a little +bet. He had obtained a leave of absence on two preceding days by calling +O'Day "Henry" and had lost money on the horses he had selected as fleet of +foot. But this last time he had a "sure thing" and was banking on some +positive information which had been slipped to him by a friend of the +friend of the man who owned the winner, and "Bill" wanted to be there. +Along about the fifth inning, "Bill" figured that it was time for him to +get a start, so he walked up to O'Day and said: + +"Henry, do you know who won the first race?" + +"No, and you won't either, Mr. Dahlen," answered "Hank." "You are fined +$25, and you stay here and play the game out." + +Some one had tipped "Hank" off. And the saddest part of the story is that +"Bill's" horse walked home, and he could not get a bet down on him. + +"First time it ever failed to work," groaned "Bill" in the hotel that +night, "and I said 'Henry' in my meanest way, too." + +Most clubs try to keep an umpire from feeling hostile toward the team +because, even if he means to see a play right, he is likely to call a +close one against his enemies, not intending to be dishonest. It would +simply mean that you would not get any close ones from him, and the close +ones count. Some umpires can be reasoned with, and a good fair protest +will often make a man think perhaps he has called it wrong, and he will +give you the edge on the next decision. A player must understand an umpire +to know how to approach him to the best advantage. O'Day cannot be +reasoned with. It is as dangerous to argue with him as it is to try to +ascertain how much gasoline is in the tank of an automobile by sticking +down the lighted end of a cigar or a cigarette. + +Emslie will listen to a reasonable argument. He is one of the finest +umpires that ever broke into the League, I think. He is a good fellow. Far +be it from me to be disloyal to my manager, for I think that he is the +greatest that ever won a pennant, but Emslie put one over on McGraw in +1911 when it was being said that Emslie was getting so old he could not +see a play. + +"I'll bet," said McGraw to him one day after he had called one against the +Giants, "that I can put a baseball and an orange on second base, and you +can't tell the difference standing at the home plate, Bob." + +Emslie made no reply right then, but when the eye test for umpires was +established by Mr. Lynch, the president of the League, "Bob" passed it at +the head of the list and then turned around and went up to Chatham in +Ontario, Canada, and made a high score with the rifle in a shooting match +up there. After he had done that, he was umpiring at the Polo Grounds one +day. + +"Want to take me on for a shooting go, John?" he asked McGraw as he passed +him. + +"No, Bob, you're all right. I give it to you," answered McGraw, who had +long forgotten his slur on Emslie's eyesight. + +Emslie is the sort of umpire who rules by the bond of good fellowship +rather than by the voice of authority. "Old Bob" has one "groove" and it +is a personal matter about which he is very sensitive. He is under cover. +It is no secret, or I would not give way on him. But that luxuriant growth +of hair, apparent, comes off at night like his collar and necktie. It used +to be quite the fad in the League to "josh" "Bob" about his wig, but that +pastime has sort of died out now because he has proven himself to be such +a good fellow. + +I had to laugh to myself, and not boisterously, in the season of 1911 when +Mr. Lynch appointed "Jack" Doyle, formerly a first baseman and a +hot-headed player, an umpire and scheduled him to work with Emslie. I +remembered the time several seasons ago when Doyle took offence at one of +"Bob's" decisions and wrestled him all over the infield trying to get his +wig off and show him up before the crowd. And then Emslie and he worked +together like Damon and Pythias. This business makes strange bed-fellows. + +Emslie was umpiring in New York one day in the season of 1909, when the +Giants were playing St. Louis. A wild pitch hit Emslie over the heart and +he wilted down, unconscious. The players gathered around him, and +Bresnahan, who was catching for St. Louis at the time, started to help +"Bob." Suddenly the old umpire came to and began to fight off his +first-aid-to-the-injured corps. No one could understand his attitude as he +struggled to his feet and strolled away by himself, staggering a little +and apparently dizzy. At last he came back and gamely finished the +business of the day. I never knew why he fought with the men who were +trying to help him until several weeks later, when we were playing in +Pittsburg. As I came out from under the stand on my way to the bench, +Emslie happened to be making his entrance at the same time. + +"Say, Matty," he asked me, "that time in New York did my wig come off? Did +Bresnahan take my wig off?" + +"No, Bob," I replied, "he was only trying to help you." + +"I thought maybe he took it off while I was down and out and showed me up +before the crowd," he apologized. + +"Listen, Bob," I said. "I don't believe there is a player in either League +who would do that, and, if any youngster tried it now, he would probably +be licked." + +"I'm glad to hear you say that, Matty," answered the old man, as he picked +up his wind pad and prepared to go to work. And he called more bad ones on +me that day than he ever had in his life before, but I never mentioned the +wig to him. + +Most umpires declare they have off days just like players, when they know +that they are making mistakes and cannot help it. If a pitcher of Mordecai +Brown's kind, who depends largely on his control for his effectiveness, +happens to run up against an umpire with a bad day, he might just as well +go back to the bench. Brown is a great man to work the corners of the +plate, and if the umpire is missing strikes, he is forced to lay the ball +over and then the batters whang it out. Johnstone had an off day in +Chicago in 1911, when Brown was working. + +"What's the use of my tryin' to pitch, Jim," said Brown, throwing down his +glove and walking to the bench disgusted, "if you don't know a strike when +you see one?" + +Sometimes an umpire who has been good will go into a long slump when he +cannot call things right and knows it. Men like that get as discouraged as +a pitcher who goes bad. There used to be one in the National League who +was a pretty fair umpire when he started and seemed to be getting along +fine until he hit one of those slumps. Then he began calling everything +wrong and knew it. At last he quit, and the next time I saw him was in +Philadelphia in the 1911 world's series. He was a policeman. + +"Hello, Matty," he shouted at me as we were going into Shibe Park for the +first game there. "I can call you by your first name now," and he waved +his hand real friendly. The last conversation I had with that fellow, +unless my recollection fails me entirely, was anything but friendly. + +Umpires have told me that sometimes they see a play one way and call it +another, and, as soon as the decision is announced, they realize that +they have called it wrong. This malady has put more than one umpire out. A +man on the National League staff has informed me since, that he called a +hit fair that was palpably two feet foul in one of the most important +games ever played in baseball, when he saw the ball strike on foul ground. + +"I couldn't help saying 'Fair ball,'" declared this man, and he is one of +the best in the National League. "Luckily," he added, "the team against +which the decision went won the game." + +Many players assert that arbiters hold a personal grudge against certain +men who have put up too strenuous kicks, and for that reason the wise ones +are careful how they talk to umpires of this sort. Fred Tenney has said +for a long time that Mr. Klem gives him a shade the worst of it on all +close ones because he had a run in with that umpire one day when they came +to blows. Tenney is a great man to pick out the good ones when at the bat, +and Fred says that if he is up with a three and two count on him now, Klem +is likely to call the next one a strike if it is close, not because he is +dishonest, but because he has a certain personal prejudice which he +cannot overcome. And the funny part about it is that Tenney does not hold +this up against Klem. + +Humorous incidents are always occurring in connection with umpires. We +were playing in Boston one day a few years ago, and the score was 3 to 0 +against the Giants in the ninth inning. Becker knocked a home run with two +men on the bases, and it tied the count. With men on first and third bases +and one out in the last half of the ninth, a Boston batter tapped one to +Merkle which I thought he trapped, but Johnstone, the umpire, said he +caught it on the fly. It was simplicity itself to double the runner up off +first base who also thought Merkle had trapped the ball and had started +for second. That retired the side, and we won the game in the twelfth +inning, whereas Boston would have taken it in the ninth if Johnstone had +said the ball was trapped instead of caught on the fly. + +It was a very hot day, and those extra three innings in the box knocked me +out. I was sick for a week with stomach trouble afterwards and could not +pitch in Chicago, where we made our next stop. That was a case of where a +decision in my favor "made me sick." + +"Tim" Hurst, the old American League umpire, was one of the most +picturesque judges that ever spun an indicator. He was the sort who would +take a player at his word and fight him blow for blow. "Tim" was umpiring +in Baltimore in the old days when there was a runner on first base. + +"The man started to steal," says "Tim." He was telling the story only the +other day in McGraw's billiard room in New York, and it is better every +time he does it. "As he left the bag he spiked the first baseman and that +player attempted to trip him. The second baseman blocked the runner and, +in sliding into the bag, the latter tried to spike 'Hugh' Jennings, who +was playing shortstop and covering, while Jennings sat on him to knock the +wind out. The batter hit Robinson, who was catching, on the hands with his +bat so that he couldn't throw, and 'Robbie' trod on my toes with his +spikes and shoved his glove into my face so that I couldn't see to give +the decision. It was one of the hardest that I have ever been called upon +to make." + +"What did you do?" I asked him. + +"I punched 'Robbie' in the ribs, called it a foul and sent the runner +back," replied "Tim." + + + + +IX + +The Game that Cost a Pennant + + _The Championship of the National League was Decided in 1908 in One + Game between the Giants and Cubs--Few Fans Know that it Was Mr. Brush + who Induced the Disgruntled New York Players to Meet Chicago--This is + the "Inside" Story of the Famous Game, Including "Fred" Merkle's Part + in the Series of Events which Led up to it._ + + +The New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs played a game at the Polo Grounds +on October 8, 1908, which decided the championship of the National League +in one afternoon, which was responsible for the deaths of two spectators, +who fell from the elevated railroad structure overlooking the grounds, +which made Fred Merkle famous for not touching second, which caused +lifelong friends to become bitter enemies, and which, altogether, was the +most dramatic and important contest in the history of baseball. It stands +out from every-day events like the battle of Waterloo and the +assassination of President Lincoln. It was a baseball tragedy from a New +York point of view. The Cubs won by the score of 4 to 2. + +Behind this game is some "inside" history that has never been written. Few +persons, outside of the members of the New York club, know that it was +only after a great deal of consultation the game was finally played, only +after the urging of John T. Brush, the president of the club. The Giants +were risking, in one afternoon, their chances of winning the pennant and +the world's series--the concentration of their hopes of a season--because +the Cubs claimed the right on a technicality to play this one game for the +championship. Many members of the New York club felt that it would be +fighting for what they had already won, as did their supporters. This made +bad feeling between the teams and between the spectators, until the whole +dramatic situation leading up to the famous game culminated in the climax +of that afternoon. The nerves of the players were rasped raw with the +strain, and the town wore a fringe of nervous prostration. It all burst +forth in the game. + +Among other things, Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, had a cartilage +in his neck broken when some rooter hit him with a handy pop bottle, +several spectators hurt one another when they switched from conversational +to fistic arguments, large portions of the fence at the Polo Grounds were +broken down by patrons who insisted on gaining entrance, and most of the +police of New York were present to keep order. They had their clubs +unlimbered, too, acting more as if on strike duty than restraining the +spectators at a pleasure park. Last of all, that night, after we had lost +the game, the report filtered through New York that Fred Merkle, then a +youngster and around whom the whole situation revolved, had committed +suicide. Of course it was not true, for Merkle is one of the gamest +ball-players that ever lived. + +My part in the game was small. I started to pitch and I didn't finish. The +Cubs beat me because I never had less on the ball in my life. What I can't +understand to this day is why it took them so long to hit me. Frequently +it has been said that "Cy" Seymour started the Cubs on their victorious +way and lost the game, because he misjudged a long hit jostled to centre +field by "Joe" Tinker at the beginning of the third inning, in which +chapter they made four runs. The hit went for three bases. + +Seymour, playing centre field, had a bad background against which to judge +fly balls that afternoon, facing the shadows of the towering stand, with +the uncertain horizon formed by persons perched on the roof. A baseball +writer has said that, when Tinker came to the bat in that fatal inning, I +turned in the box and motioned Seymour back, and instead of obeying +instructions he crept a few steps closer to the infield. I don't recall +giving any advice to "Cy," as he knew the Chicago batters as well as I did +and how to play for them. + +Tinker, with his long bat, swung on a ball intended to be a low curve over +the outside corner of the plate, but it failed to break well. He pushed +out a high fly to centre field, and I turned with the ball to see Seymour +take a couple of steps toward the diamond, evidently thinking it would +drop somewhere behind second base. He appeared to be uncertain in his +judgment of the hit until he suddenly turned and started to run back. That +must have been when the ball cleared the roof of the stand and was visible +above the sky line. He ran wildly. Once he turned, and then ran on again, +at last sticking up his hands and having the ball fall just beyond them. +He chased it and picked it up, but Tinker had reached third base by that +time. If he had let the ball roll into the crowd in centre field, the Cub +could have made only two bases on the hit, according to the ground rules. +That was a mistake, but it made little difference in the end. + +All the players, both the Cubs and the Giants, were under a terrific +strain that day, and Seymour, in his anxiety to be sure to catch the ball, +misjudged it. Did you ever stand out in the field at a ball park with +thirty thousand crazy, shouting fans looking at you and watch a ball climb +and climb into the air and have to make up your mind exactly where it is +going to land and then have to be there, when it arrived, to greet it, +realizing all the time that if you are not there you are going to be +everlastingly roasted? It is no cure for nervous diseases, that +situation. Probably forty-nine times out of fifty Seymour would have +caught the fly. + +"I misjudged that ball," said "Cy" to me in the clubhouse after the game. +"I'll take the blame for it." + +He accepted all the abuse the newspapers handed him without a murmur and I +don't think myself that it was more than an incident in the game. I'll try +to show later in this story where the real "break" came. + +Just one mistake, made by "Fred" Merkle, resulted in this play-off game. +Several newspaper men have called September 23, 1908, "Merkle Day," +because it was on that day he ran to the clubhouse from first base instead +of by way of second, when "Al" Bridwell whacked out the hit that +apparently won the game from the Cubs. Any other player on the team would +have undoubtedly done the same thing under the circumstances, as the +custom had been in vogue all around the circuit during the season. It was +simply Fred Merkle's misfortune to have been on first base at the critical +moment. The situation which gave rise to the incident is well known to +every follower of baseball. Merkle, as a pinch hitter, had singled with +two out in the ninth inning and the score tied, sending McCormick from +first base to third. "Al" Bridwell came up to the bat and smashed a single +to centre field. McCormick crossed the plate, and that, according to the +customs of the League, ended the game, so Merkle dug for the clubhouse. +Evers and Tinker ran through the crowd which had flocked on the field and +got the ball, touching second and claiming that Merkle had been forced out +there. + +Most of the spectators did not understand the play, as Merkle was under +the shower bath when the alleged put-out was made, but they started after +"Hank" O'Day, the umpire, to be on the safe side. He made a speedy +departure under the grand-stand and the crowd got the put-out unassisted. +Finally, while somewhere near Coogan's Bluff, he called Merkle out and the +score a tie. When the boys heard this in the clubhouse, they laughed, for +it didn't seem like a situation to be taken seriously. But it turned out +to be one of those things that the farther it goes the more serious it +becomes. + +"Connie" Mack, the manager of the Athletics, says: + +"There is no luck in Big League baseball. In a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-four games, the lucky and unlucky plays break about even, except in +the matter of injuries." + +But Mack's theory does not include a schedule of one hundred and +fifty-five games, with the result depending on the one hundred and +fifty-fifth. Chicago had a lot of injured athletes early in the season of +1908, and the Giants had shot out ahead in the race in grand style. In the +meantime the Cubs' cripples began to recuperate, and that lamentable event +on September 23 seemed to be the turning-point in the Giants' fortunes. + +Almost within a week afterwards, Bresnahan had an attack of sciatic +rheumatism and "Mike" Donlin was limping about the outfield, leading a +great case of "Charley horse." Tenney was bandaged from his waist down and +should have been wearing crutches instead of playing first base on a Big +League club. Doyle was badly spiked and in the hospital. McGraw's daily +greeting to his athletes when he came to the park was: + +"How are the cripples? Any more to add to the list of identified dead +to-day?" + +Merkle moped. He lost flesh, and time after time begged McGraw to send him +to a minor league or to turn him loose altogether. + +"It wasn't your fault," was the regular response of the manager who makes +it a habit to stand by his men. + +We played on with the cripples, many double-headers costing the pitchers +extra effort, and McGraw not daring to take a chance on losing a game if +there were any opportunity to win it. He could not rest any of his men. +Merkle lost weight and seldom spoke to the other players as the Cubs crept +up on us day after day and more men were hurt. He felt that he was +responsible for this change in the luck of the club. None of the players +felt this way toward him, and many tried to cheer him up, but he was +inconsolable. The team went over to Philadelphia, and Coveleski, the +pitcher we later drove out of the League, beat us three times, winning the +last game by the scantiest of margins. The result of that series left us +three to play with Boston to tie the Cubs if they won from Pittsburg the +next day, Sunday. If the Pirates had taken that Sunday game, it would +have given them the pennant. We returned to New York on Saturday night +very much downhearted. + +"Lose me. I'm the jinx," Merkle begged McGraw that night. + +"You stick," replied the manager. + +While we had been losing, the Cubs had been coming fast. It seemed as if +they could not drop a game. At last Cincinnati beat them one, which was +the only thing that made the famous season tie possible. There is an +interesting anecdote connected with that Cincinnati contest which goes to +prove the honesty of baseball. Two of the closest friends in the game are +"Hans" Lobert, then with the Reds, and Overall, the former Chicago +pitcher. It looked as if Chicago had the important game won up to the +ninth inning when Lobert came to the bat with two men out and two on the +bases. Here he had a chance to overcome the lead of one run which the Cubs +had gained, and win the contest for the home club, but he would beat his +best friend and maybe put the Cubs out of the running for the pennant. + +Lobert had two balls and two strikes when he smashed the next pitch to +center field, scoring both the base runners. The hit came near beating the +Cubs out of the championship. It would have if we had taken one of those +close games against Philadelphia. Lobert was broken-hearted over his hit, +for he wanted the Cubs to win. On his way to the clubhouse, he walked with +Overall, the two striding side by side like a couple of mourners. + +"I'm sorry, 'Orvie,'" said Lobert. "I would not have made that hit for my +year's salary if I could have helped it." + +"That's all right, 'Hans,'" returned Overall. "It's all part of the +game." + +Next came the famous game in Chicago on Sunday between the Cubs and the +Pittsburg Pirates, when a victory for the latter club would have meant the +pennant and the big game would never have been played. Ten thousand +persons crowded into the Polo Grounds that Sunday afternoon and watched a +little electric score board which showed the plays as made in Chicago. For +the first time in my life I heard a New York crowd cheering the Cubs with +great fervor, for on their victory hung our only chances of ultimate +success. The same man who was shouting himself hoarse for the Cubs that +afternoon was for taking a vote on the desirability of poisoning the whole +Chicago team on the following Thursday. Even the New York players were +rooting for the Cubs. + +The Chicago team at last won the game when Clarke was called out at third +base on a close play, late in the contest. With the decision, the Pirates' +last chance went glimmering. The Giants now had three games to win from +Boston on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, to make the deciding game on +Thursday necessary. We won those, and the stage was cleared for the big +number. + +The National Commission gave the New York club the option of playing three +games out of five for the championship or risking it all on one contest. +As more than half of the club was tottering on the brink of the hospital, +it was decided that all hope should be hung on one game. By this time, +Merkle had lost twenty pounds, and his eyes were hollow and his cheeks +sunken. The newspapers showed him no mercy, and the fans never failed to +criticise and hiss him when he appeared on the field. He stuck to it and +showed up in the ball park every day, putting on his uniform and +practising. It was a game thing to do. A lot of men, under the same fire, +would have quit cold. McGraw was with him all the way. + +But it was not until after considerable discussion that it was decided to +play that game. All the men felt disgruntled because they believed they +would be playing for something they had already won. Even McGraw was so +wrought up, he said in the clubhouse the night before the game: + +"I don't care whether you fellows play this game or not. You can take a +vote." + +A vote was taken, and the players were not unanimous, some protesting it +ought to be put up to the League directors so that, if they wanted to rob +the team of a pennant, they would have to take the blame. Others insisted +it would look like quitting, and it was finally decided to appoint a +committee to call upon Mr. Brush, the president of the club, who was ill +in bed in the Lambs club at the time. Devlin, Bresnahan, Donlin, Tenney, +and I were on that committee. + +"Mr. Brush," I said to my employer, having been appointed the spokesman, +"McGraw has left it up to us to decide whether we shall meet the Chicago +team for the championship of the National League to-morrow. A lot of the +boys do not believe we ought to be forced to play over again for something +we have already won, so the players have appointed this committee of five +to consult with you and get your opinion on the subject. What we decide +goes with them." + +Mr. Brush looked surprised. I was nervous, more so than when I am in the +box with three on the bases and "Joe" Tinker at the bat. Bresnahan fumbled +with his hat, and Devlin coughed. Tenney leaned more heavily on his cane, +and Donlin blew his nose. We five big athletes were embarrassed in the +presence of this sick man. Suddenly it struck us all at the same time that +the game would have to be played to keep ourselves square with our own +ideas of courage. Even if the Cubs had claimed it on a technicality, even +if we had really won the pennant once, that game had to be played now. We +all saw that, and it was this thin, ill man in bed who made us see it even +before he had said a word. It was the expression on his face. It seemed to +say, "And I had confidence in you, boys, to do the right thing." + +"I'm going to leave it to you," he answered "You boys can play the game +or put it up to the directors of the League to decide as you want. But I +shouldn't think you would stop now after making all this fight." + +The committee called an executive session, and we all thought of the crowd +of fans looking forward to the game and of what the newspapers would say +if we refused to play it and of Mr. Brush lying there, the man who wanted +us to play, and it was rapidly and unanimously decided to imitate "Steve" +Brodie and take a chance. + +"We'll play," I said to Mr. Brush. + +"I'm glad," he answered. "And, say, boys," he added, as we started to file +out, "I want to tell you something. Win or lose, I'm going to give the +players a bonus of $10,000." + +That night was a wild one in New York. The air crackled with excitement +and baseball. I went home, but couldn't sleep for I live near the Polo +Grounds, and the crowd began to gather there early in the evening of the +day before the game to be ready for the opening of the gates the next +morning. They tooted horns all night, and were never still. When I +reported at the ball park, the gates had been closed by order of the +National Commission, but the streets for blocks around the Polo Grounds +were jammed with persons fighting to get to the entrances. + +The players in the clubhouse had little to say to one another, but, after +the bandages were adjusted, McGraw called his men around him and said: + +"Chance will probably pitch Pfiester or Brown. If Pfiester works there is +no use trying to steal. He won't give you any lead. The right-handed +batters ought to wait him out and the left-handers hit him when he gets in +a hole. Matty is going to pitch for us." + +Pfiester is a left-hand pitcher who watches the bases closely. + +Merkle had reported at the clubhouse as usual and had put on his uniform. +He hung on the edge of the group as McGraw spoke, and then we all went to +the field. It was hard for us to play that game with the crowd which was +there, but harder for the Cubs. In one place, the fence was broken down, +and some employees were playing a stream of water from a fire hose on the +cavity to keep the crowd back. Many preferred a ducking to missing the +game and ran through the stream to the lines around the field. A string +of fans recklessly straddled the roof of the old grand-stand. + +Every once in a while some group would break through the restraining ropes +and scurry across the diamond to what appeared to be a better point of +vantage. This would let a throng loose which hurried one way and another +and mixed in with the players. More police had to be summoned. As I +watched that half-wild multitude before the contest, I could think of +three or four things I would rather do than umpire the game. + +I had rested my arm four days, not having pitched in the Boston series, +and I felt that it should be in pretty good condition. Before that +respite, I had been in nine out of fifteen games. But as I started to warm +up, the ball refused to break. I couldn't get anything on it. + +"What's the matter, Rog?" I asked Bresnahan. "They won't break for me." + +"It'll come as you start to work," he replied, although I could see that +he, too, was worried. + +John M. Ward, the old ball-player and now one of the owners of the Boston +National League club, has told me since that, after working almost every +day as I had been doing, it does a pitcher's arm no good to lay off for +three or four days. Only a week or ten days will accomplish any results. +It would have been better for me to continue to work as often as I had +been doing, for the short rest only seemed to deaden my arm. + +The crowd that day was inflammable. The players caught this incendiary +spirit. McGinnity, batting out to our infield in practice, insisted on +driving Chance away from the plate before the Cubs' leader thought his +team had had its full share of the batting rehearsal. "Joe" shoved him a +little, and in a minute fists were flying, although Chance and McGinnity +are very good friends off the field. + +Fights immediately started all around in the stands. I remember seeing two +men roll from the top to the bottom of the right-field bleachers, over the +heads of the rest of the spectators. And they were yanked to their feet +and run out of the park by the police. + +"Too bad," I said to Bresnahan, nodding my head toward the departing +belligerents, "they couldn't have waited until they saw the game, anyway. +I'll bet they stood outside the park all night to get in, only to be run +out before it started." + +I forgot the crowd, forgot the fights, and didn't hear the howling after +the game started. I knew only one thing, and that was my curved ball +wouldn't break for me. It surprised me that the Cubs didn't hit it far, +right away, but two of them fanned in the first inning and Herzog threw +out Evers. Then came our first time at bat. Pfiester was plainly nervous +and hit Tenney. Herzog walked and Bresnahan fanned out, Herzog being +doubled up at second because he tried to advance on a short passed ball. +"Mike" Donlin whisked a double to right field and Tenney counted. + +For the first time in almost a month, Merkle smiled. He was drawn up in +the corner of the bench, pulling away from the rest of us as if he had +some contagious disease and was quarantined. For a minute it looked as if +we had them going. Chance yanked Pfiester out of the box with him +protesting that he had been robbed on the decisions on balls and strikes. +Brown was brought into the game and fanned Devlin. That ended the inning. + +We never had a chance against Brown. His curve was breaking sharply, and +his control was microscopic. We went back to the field in the second with +that one run lead. Chance made the first hit of the game off me in the +second, but I caught him sleeping at first base, according to Klem's +decision. There was a kick, and Hofman, joining in the chorus of protests, +was sent to the clubhouse. + +Tinker started the third with that memorable triple which gave the Cubs +their chance. I couldn't make my curve break. I didn't have anything on +the ball. + +"Rog," I said to Bresnahan, "I haven't got anything to-day." + +"Keep at it, Matty," he replied. "We'll get them all right." + +I looked in at the bench, and McGraw signalled me to go on pitching. Kling +singled and scored Tinker. Brown sacrificed, sending Kling to second, and +Sheckard flied out to Seymour, Kling being held on second base. I lost +Evers, because I was afraid to put the ball over the plate for him, and he +walked. Two were out now, and we had yet a chance to win the game as the +score was only tied. But Schulte doubled, and Kling scored, leaving men +on second and third bases. Still we had a Mongolian's chance with them +only one run ahead of us. Frank Chance, with his under jaw set like the +fender on a trolley car, caught a curved ball over the inside corner of +the plate and pushed it to right field for two bases. That was the most +remarkable batting performance I have ever witnessed since I have been in +the Big Leagues. A right-handed hitter naturally slaps a ball over the +outside edge of the plate to right field, but Chance pushed this one, on +the inside, with the handle of his bat, just over Tenney's hands and on +into the crowd. The hit scored Evers and Schulte and dissolved the game +right there. It was the "break." Steinfeldt fanned. + +None of the players spoke to one another as they went to the bench. Even +McGraw was silent. We knew it was gone. Merkle was drawn up behind the +water cooler. Once he said: + +"It was my fault, boys." + +No one answered him. Inning after inning, our batters were mowed down by +the great pitching of Brown, who was never better. His control of his +curved ball was marvellous, and he had all his speed. As the innings +dragged by, the spectators lost heart, and the cowbells ceased to jingle, +and the cheering lost its resonant ring. It was now a surly growl. + +Then the seventh! We had our one glimmer of sunshine. Devlin started with +a single to centre, and McCormick shoved a drive to right field. Recalling +that Bridwell was more or less of a pinch hitter, Brown passed him +purposely and Doyle was sent to the bat in my place. As he hobbled to the +plate on his weak foot, said McGraw: + +"Hit one, Larry." + +The crowd broke into cheers again and was stamping its feet. The bases +were full, and no one was out. Then Doyle popped up a weak foul behind the +catcher. His batting eye was dim and rusty through long disuse. Kling went +back for it, and some one threw a pop bottle which narrowly missed him, +and another scaled a cushion. But Kling kept on and got what he went +after, which was the ball. He has a habit of doing that. Tenney flied to +Schulte, counting Devlin on the catch, and Tinker threw out Herzog. The +game was gone. Never again did we have a chance. + +It was a glum lot of players in the clubhouse. Merkle came up to McGraw +and said: + +"Mac, I've lost you one pennant. Fire me before I can do any more harm." + +"Fire you?" replied McGraw. "We ran the wrong way of the track to-day. +That's all. Next year is another season, and do you think I'm going to let +you go after the gameness you've shown through all this abuse? Why you're +the kind of a guy I've been lookin' for many years. I could use a carload +like you. Forget this season and come around next spring. The newspapers +will have forgotten it all then. Good-by, boys." And he slipped out of the +clubhouse. + +"He's a regular guy," said Merkle. + +Merkle has lived down that failure to touch second and proved himself to +be one of the gamest players that ever stood in a diamond. Many times +since has he vindicated himself. He is a great first baseman now, and +McGraw and he are close friends. That is the "inside" story of the most +important game ever played in baseball and Merkle's connection with it. + + + + +X + +When the Teams Are in Spring Training + + _The Hardships of the Preliminary Practice in Limbering up Muscles + and Reducing Weight for the Big Campaign--How a Ball Club is Whipped + into Playing Shape--Trips to the South Not the Picnics they Seem to + Be--The Battle of the Bushers to Stay in the Big Show--Making a + Pitcher--Some Fun on the Side, including the Adventure of the Turkish + Bath._ + + +Spring training! The words probably remind the reader of the sunny South +and light exercise and good food and rubs and other luxuries, but the +reader perhaps has never been with a Big League ball club when it is +getting ready to go into a six months' campaign. + +All I can ever remember after a training trip is taking off and putting on +a uniform, and running around the ball park under the inspiration of John +McGraw, and he is some inspirer. + +The heavier a man gets through the winter, the harder the routine work is +for him, and a few years ago I almost broke down and cried out of sympathy +for Otis Crandall, who arrived in camp very corpulent. + +"What have you been doing this winter, Otie?" McGraw asked him after +shaking hands in greeting, "appearing with a show as the stout lady? +You'll have to take a lot of that off." + +"Taking it off" meant running several miles every day so bundled up that +the Indiana agriculturist looked like the pictures published of "Old Doc" +Cook which showed him discovering the north pole. Ever since, Crandall's +spring training, like charity, has begun at home, and he takes exercise +night and morning throughout the winter, so that when he comes into camp +his weight will be somewhere near normal. In 1911 he had the best year of +his career. He is the type of man who cannot afford to carry too much +weight. He is stronger when he is slimmer. + +In contrast to him is George Wiltse, who maps out a training course with +the idea of adding several pounds, as he is better with all the real +weight he can put on. By that I do not mean any fat. + +George came whirling and spinning and waltzing and turkey-trotting and +pirouetting across the field at Marlin Springs, Texas, the Giants' spring +training headquarters, one day in the spring of 1911, developing steps +that would have ruled him off any cotillion floor in New York in the days +of the ban on the grizzly bear and kindred dances. Suddenly he dove down +with his left hand and reached as far as he could. + +"What's that one, George?" I yelled as he passed me. + +"Getting ready to cover first base on a slow hit, Matty," he replied, and +was off on another series of hand springs that made him look more like a +contortionist rehearsing for an act which he was going to take out for the +"big time" than a ball-player getting ready for the season. + +But perhaps some close followers of baseball statistics will recall a game +that Wiltse took from the Cubs in 1911 by a wonderful one-hand reaching +catch of a low throw to first base. Two Chicago runners were on the bags +at the time and the loss of that throw would have meant that they both +scored. Wiltse caught the ball, and it made the third out, and the Giants +won the game. Thousands of fans applauded the catch, but the play was not +the result of the exigencies of the moment. It was the outcome of +forethought used months before. + +Spectators at ball games who wonder at the marvellous fielding of Wiltse +should watch him getting ready during the spring season at Marlin. He is a +tireless worker, and when he is not pitching he is doing hand springs and +other acrobatic acts to limber up all his muscles. It is torture then, but +it pays in the end. + +When I was a young fellow and read about the Big League clubs going South, +I used to think what a grand life that must be. Riding in Pullmans, some +pleasant exercise which did not entail the responsibility of a ball game, +and plenty of food, with a little social recreation, were all parts of my +dream. A young ball-player looks on his first spring training trip as a +stage-struck young woman regards the theatre. She cannot wait for her +first rehearsal, and she thinks only of the lobster suppers and the +applause and the lights and the life, but nowhere in her dream is there a +place for the raucous voice of the stage manager and the long jumps of +"one night stands" with the loss of sleep and the poor meals and the cold +dressing rooms. As actors begin to dread the drudgery of rehearsing, so do +baseball men detest the drill of the spring training. The only thing that +I can think of right away which is more tiresome and less interesting is +signal practice with a college football team. + +About the time that the sap starts up in the trees and the young man's +fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love and baseball, the big trek starts. +Five hundred ball-players, attached more or less firmly to sixteen major +league clubs, spread themselves out over the southern part of the United +States, from Florida to California, and begin to prepare for the campaign +that is to furnish the answer to that annual question, "Which is the best +baseball club in the world?" + +In the case of the Giants, McGraw, with a flock of youngsters, has already +arrived when the older men begin to drift into camp. The youngsters, who +have come from the bushes and realize that this is their one big chance to +make good, to be a success or a failure in their chosen profession--in +short, to become a Big Leaguer or go back to the bushes for good--have +already been working for ten days and are in fair shape. They stare at +the regulars as the veterans straggle in by twos and threes, and McGraw +has a brief greeting for each. He could use a rubber stamp. + +"How are you, Matty? What kind of shape are you in? Let's see you in a +uniform at nine o'clock to-morrow morning." + +When I first start South, for the spring trip, after shivering through a +New York winter, I arouse myself to some enthusiasm over the prospect, but +all this has evaporated after listening to that terse speech from McGraw, +for I know what it means. Nothing looms on the horizon but the hardest +five weeks' grind in the world. + +The next day the practice begins, and for the first time in five months, a +uniform is donned. I usually start my work by limbering up slowly, and on +the first day I do not pitch at all. With several other players, I help to +form a large circle and the time is spent in throwing the ball at +impossible and unreachable points in the anatomy. The man next to you +shoots one away up over your head and the next one at your feet and off to +the side while he is looking at the third man from you. This is great for +limbering up, but the loosening is torture. After about fifteen minutes +of that, the winter-logged player goes over on the bench and drops down +exhausted. But does he stay there? Not if McGraw sees him, and he is one +of the busiest watchers I have ever met. + +"Here, Matty," he will shout, "lead this squad three times around the park +and be careful not to cut the corners." + +By the time that little formality is finished, a man's tongue is hanging +out and he goes to get a drink of water. The spring training is just one +darned drink after another and still the player is always thirsty. + +After three hours of practice, McGraw may say: + +"All right, Matty. Go back to the hotel and get a bath and a rub and cut +it out for to-day." + +Or he may remark: + +"You're looking heavy this year. Better take another little workout this +afternoon." + +And so ends the first day. That night I flex the muscles in my salary wing +and wonder to myself if it is going to be _very_ sore. I get the answer +next day. And what always makes me maddest is that the fans up North +imagine that we are having some kind of a picnic in Marlin Springs, +Texas. My idea of no setting for a pleasure party is Marlin Springs, +Texas. + + +[Illustration: Photo by L. Van Oeyen, Cleveland, Ohio + +Close Play at the Plate + +This picture illustrates how easily the base runner, with his deceptive +slide, can get away from the catcher, who has the ball waiting for him. It +is always a hard decision for the umpire. Shown in the picture are, left +to right, Conroy of Washington, Umpire Evans, and Catcher Land of +Cleveland.] + + +The morning of the second day is always a pleasant occasion. The muscles +which have remained idle so long begin to rebel at the unaccustomed +exercise, and the players are as pleasant as a flock of full-grown grizzly +bears. I would not be a waiter for a ball club on a spring tour if they +offered me a contract with a salary as large as J. P. Morgan's income. + +Each year the winter kinks seem to have settled into the muscles more +permanently and are harder to iron out. Of course, there comes a last time +for each one of us to go South, and every season I think, on the morning +of the second day, when I try to work my muscles, that this one is my +last. + +The bushers lend variety to the life in a spring camp. Many of them try +hard to "horn in" with the men who have made good as Big Leaguers. When a +young player really seems to want to know something, any of the older men +will gladly help him, but the trouble with most of them is that they think +they are wonders when they arrive. + +"How do you hold a curve?" a young fellow asked me last spring. + +I showed him. + +"Do you think Hans Wagner is as good as Ty Cobb?" he asked me next. + +"Listen!" I answered. "Did you come down here to learn to play ball or +with the idea that you are attending some sort of a conversational +soiree?" + +Many recruits think that, if they can get friendly with the veterans, they +will be retained on account of their social standing, and I cannot "go" +young ball-players who attempt to become the bootblacks for the old ones. + +I have seen many a youngster ruin himself, even for playing in the minors, +through his too vigorous efforts to make good under the large tent. He +will come into camp, and the first day out put everything he has on the +ball to show the manager "he's got something." The Giants had a young +pitcher with them in 1911, named Nagle, who tried to pick up the pace, on +the first day in camp, at which he had left off on the closing day of the +previous year. He started to shoot the ball over to the batters with big, +sharp breaking curves on it. He had not been South three days before he +developed a sore arm that required a sling to help him carry it around, +and he never was able to twirl again before he was shunted back into the +lesser leagues. + +But hope springs eternal in the breast of the bush leaguer in the spring, +and many a young fellow, when he gets his send-off from the little, old +home town, with the local band playing at the station, knows that the next +time the populace of that place hears of him, it will be through seeing +his name in the headlines of the New York papers. And then along about the +middle of April, he comes sneaking back into the old burg, crestfallen and +disappointed. There are a lot of humor and some pathos in a spring +training trip. Many a busher I have seen go back who has tried hard to +make good and just could not, and I have felt sorry for him. It is just +like a man in any other business getting a chance at a better job than the +one he is holding and not being big enough to fit it. It is the one time +that opportunity has knocked, and most of the bush leaguers do not know +the combination to open the door, and, as has been pointed out, +opportunity was never charged with picking locks. Many are called in the +spring, but few get past. Most of them are sincere young fellows, too, +trying to make good, and I have seen them work until their tongues were +hanging out and the perspiration was starting all over them, only to hear +McGraw say: + +"I'm sorry, but you will have to go back again. I've let you out to +Kankakee." + +"Steve Evans", who now plays right field on the St. Louis club, was South +with the Giants one season and worked hard to stick. But McGraw had a lot +of young out-fielders, and some minor league magnate from Montreal came +into camp one day who liked "Steve's" action. McGraw started for the +outfield where Evans was chasing flies and tried to get to "Steve," but +every time the manager approached him with the minor league man, Evans +would rush for a ball on another corner of the field, and he became +suddenly hard of hearing. Finally McGraw abandoned the chase and let +another out-fielder go to Montreal, retaining Evans. + +"Say, 'Steve,'" said "Mac," that night, "why didn't you come, when I +called you out on the field there this afternoon?" + +"Because I could hear the rattle of the tin can you wanted to tie to me, +all over the lot," replied Evans. And eventually, by that subtle dodging, +he landed in the Big League under Bresnahan and has made good out there. + +I believe that a pitcher by profession has the hardest time of any of the +specialists who go into a spring camp. His work is of a more routine +nature than that which attaches to any of the other branches of the +baseball art. It is nothing but a steady grind. + +The pitcher goes out each morning and gets a catcher with a big mitt and a +loud voice and, with a couple of his fellow artists, starts to warm up +with this slave-driver. The right sort of a catcher for spring rehearsing +is never satisfied with anything you do. I never try to throw a curve for +ten days at least after I get South, for a misplaced curve early in the +season may give a man a sore arm for the greater part of the summer, and +Big League clubs are not paying pitchers for wearing crippled whips. + +After warming up for an hour or so, three or four pitchers throw slow ones +to a batter and try to get the ball on the half bounce and compete as to +the number of fumbles. This is great for limbering up. + +Then comes the only real enjoyment of the day. It is quick in passing, +like a piece of great scenery viewed out of the window of a railroad coach +going sixty miles an hour. Each afternoon the regulars play the Yannigans +(the spring name of the second team) a game of six innings, and each +pitcher has a chance to work about one inning. The batters are away off +form and are missing the old round-house curve by two feet that they would +hit out of the lot in mid-season. This makes you think for a few minutes +that you are a good pitcher. But there is even a drawback to this brief +bit of enjoyment, for the diamond at Marlin is skinned--that is, made of +dirt, although it is billed as a grass infield, and the ball gets "wingy." +Little pieces of the cover are torn loose by contact with the rough dirt, +and it is not at all like the hard, smooth, grass-stained ball that is +prevalent around the circuit in mid-season. Grass seed has been planted on +this infield, but so far, like a lot of bushers, it has failed to make +good its promises. + +After that game comes the inevitable run around the park which has been a +headliner in spring training ever since the institution was discovered. A +story is told of "Cap" Anson and his famous old White Stockings. +According to the reports I have heard, training with the "Cap" when he was +right was no bed of roses. After hours of practice, he would lead the men +in long runs, and the better he felt, the longer the runs. One hot day, so +the story goes, Anson was toiling around the park, with his usual +determination, at the head of a string of steaming, sweating players, when +"Bill" Dahlen, a clever man at finding an opening, discovered a loose +board in the fence on the back stretch, pulled it off, and dived through +the hole. On the next lap two more tired athletes followed him, and at +last the whole squad was on the other side of the fence, watching their +leader run on tirelessly. But "Cap" must have missed the "plunk, plunk" of +the footsteps behind him, for he looked around and saw that his players +were gone. He kept grimly on, alone, until he had finished, and then he +pushed his red face through the hole in the fence and saw his men. + +"Your turn now, boys," he said, and while he sat in the grand-stand as the +sole spectator, he made that crowd of unfortunate athletes run around the +track twice as many times as he himself had done. + +"Guess I won't have to nail up that hole in the fence, boys," "Cap" +remarked when it was all over. + +Speaking of the influence of catchers on pitchers during the training +trip, there is the well-known case of Wilbert Robinson, the old catcher, +and "Rube" Marquard, the great left-handed pitcher of the Giants. "Robbie" +devoted himself almost entirely in the spring of 1911 to the training of +the then erratic "Rube," and he handed back to McGraw at the end of the +rehearsal the man who turned out to be the premier pitcher of his League, +according to the official figures, and figures are not in the habit of +lying. + +"Robbie" used to take Marquard off into some corner every day and talk to +him for hours. Draw up close, for I am going to tell you the secret of how +Marquard became a great pitcher and that, too, at just about the time the +papers were mentioning him as the "$11,000 lemon," and imploring McGraw to +let him go to some club in exchange for a good capable bat boy. + +"Now 'Rube,'" would be "Robbie's" first line in the daily lecture, "you've +got to start on the first ball to get the batter. Always have something +on him and never let him have anything on you. This is the prescription +for a great pitcher." + +One of the worst habits of Marquard's early days was to get a couple of +strikes on a batter and then let up until he got himself "into a hole" and +could not put the ball over. Robinson by his coaching gave him the +confidence he lacked. + +"'Rube,' you've got a lot of stuff to-day," "Robbie" would advise, "but +don't try to get it all on the ball. Mix it with a little control, and it +will make a great blend. Now, this guy is a high ball hitter. Let's see +you keep it low for him. He waits, so you will have to get it over." + +And out there in the hot Texas sun, with much advice and lots of patience, +Wilbert Robinson was manufacturing a great pitcher out of the raw +material. One of Marquard's worst faults, when he first broke into the +League, was that he did not know the batters and their grooves, and these +weaknesses Robinson drilled into his head--not that a drill was required +to insert the information. Robinson was the coacher, umpire, catcher and +batter rolled into one, and as a result look at the "Rube." + +When Marquard began to wabble a little toward the end of 1911 and to show +some of his old shyness while the club was on its last trip West, Robinson +hurried on to Chicago and worked with him for two days. The "Rube" had +lost the first game of the series to the Cubs, but he turned around after +Robinson joined us and beat them to death in the last contest. + +Pitchers, old and young, are always trying for new curves in the spring +practice, and out of the South, wafted over the wires by the fertile +imaginations of the flotilla of correspondents, drift tales each spring of +the "fish" ball and the new "hook" jump and the "stop" ball and many more +eccentric curves which usually boil down to modifications of the old ones. +I worked for two weeks once on a new, slow, spit ball that would wabble, +but the trouble was that I could never tell just when or where it was +going to wabble, and so at last I had to abandon it because I could not +control it. + +After sending out fake stories of new and wonderful curves for several +years, at last the correspondents got a new one when the spit ball was +first discovered by Stricklett, a Brooklyn pitcher, several seasons ago. +One Chicago correspondent sent back to his paper a glowing tale of the +wonderful new curve called the "spit ball," which was obtained by the use +of saliva, only to get a wire from his office which read: + +"It's all right to 'fake' about new curves, but when it comes to being +vulgar about it, that's going too far. Either drop that spit ball or mail +us your resignation." + +The paper refused to print the story and a real new curve was born without +its notice. As a matter of fact, Bowerman, the old Giant catcher, was +throwing the spit ball for two or three years before it was discovered to +be a pitching asset. He used to wet his fingers when catching, and as he +threw to second base the ball would take all sorts of eccentric breaks +which fooled the baseman, and none could explain why it did it until +Stricklett came through with the spit ball. + +Many good pitchers, who feel their arms begin to weaken, work on certain +freak motions or forms of delivery to make themselves more effective or +draw out their baseball life in the Big Leagues for a year or two. A story +is told of "Matty" Kilroy, a left-hander, who lived for two years through +the development of what he called the "Bazzazaz" balk, and it had the +same effect on his pitching as administering oxygen often has on a patient +who is almost dead. + +"My old soup bone," says Kilroy, "was so weak that I couldn't break a pane +of glass at fifty feet. So one winter I spent some time every day out in +the back yard getting that balk motion down. I had a pretty fair balk +motion when my arm was good, but I saw that it had to be better, so I put +one stone in the yard for a home plate and another up against the fence +for first base. Then I practised looking at the home plate stone and +throwing at first base with a snap of the wrist and without moving my +feet. It was stare steady at the batter, then the arm up to about my ear, +and zip, with a twist of the wrist at first base, and you've got him! + +"I got so I could throw 'em harder to the bag with that wrist wriggle than +I could to the batter, and I had them stickin' closer to the base for two +years than a sixteen-year-old fellow does to his gal when they've just +decided they would do for each other." + +As a rule McGraw takes charge of the batters and general team work at +spring practice, and he is one of the busiest little persons in seven +counties, for he says a lot depends on the start a club gets in a league +race. He always wants the first jump because it is lots easier falling +back than catching up. + +After a week or so of practice, the team is divided up into two squads, +and one goes to San Antonio and the other to Houston each Saturday and +Sunday to play games. One of the older men takes charge of the younger +players, and there is a lot of rivalry between the two teams to see which +one will make the better record, I remember one year I was handling the +youngsters, and we went to Houston to play the team there and just managed +to nose out a victory. McGraw thought that for the next Saturday he had +better strengthen the Yannigans up a bit, so he sent Roger Bresnahan along +to play third base instead of Henderson, the young fellow we had the week +before. Playing third base could not exactly have been called a habit with +"Rog" at that time. He was still pretty fat, and bending over quick after +grounders was not his regular line. He booted two or three and finally +managed to lose the game for us. We sent McGraw the following telegram +that night: + +"John McGraw, manager of the Giants, San Antonio, Texas: + +"Will trade Bresnahan for Henderson. Rush answer." + +McGraw does not like to have any of his clubs beaten by the minor +leaguers, because the bushers are inclined to imitate pouter pigeons right +away after beating the Big Leaguers. + +The social side of a training trip consists of kicking about the grub, +singing songs at night, and listening to the same old stories that creep +out of the bushes on crutches year after year. Last spring the food got so +bad that some of the newspaper men fixed up a fake story they said they +were going to send to New York, displayed it to the proprietor, and he +came through with beefsteak for three nights in succession, thus +establishing a record and proving the power of the press. The trouble with +the diet schedule on a spring trip is that almost invariably those hotels +on the bush-league circuits serve dinner in the middle of the day, just +when a ball-player does not feel like eating anything much. Then at night +they have a pick-up supper when one's stomach feels as if it thought a +fellow's throat had been cut. + +The Giants had an umpire with them in the spring of 1911, named Hansell, +who enlivened the long, weary, training season some. Like a lot of the +recruits who thought that they were great ball-players, this Hansell +firmly believed he was a great umpire. He used to try to put players who +did not agree with his decisions out of the game and, of course, they +would not go. + +"Why don't you have them arrested if they won't leave?" McGraw asked him +one day. "I would." + +So the next afternoon Hansell had a couple of the local constables out at +the grounds and tried to have Devore pinched for kicking on a decision. +"Josh" got sore and framed it up to have a camera man at the park the next +day to take a moving picture of a mob scene, Hansell, the umpire, to be +the hero and mobbed. Hansell fell for it until he saw all the boys picking +up real clods and digging the dirt out of their spikes, and then he made a +run for it and never came back. That is how we lost a great umpire. + +"You boys made it look too realistic for him," declared McGraw. + +Hansell had a notion that he was a runner and offered to bet Robinson, +who is rather corpulent now, that he could beat him running across the +field. Robinson took him, and walked home ahead of the umpire in the race. + +"I don't see where I get off on this deal," complained McGraw when it was +over. "I framed up this race for you two fellows, and then Hansell comes +to me and borrows the ten to pay 'Robbie.'" + +Somebody fixed up a Turkish bath in the hotel one day by stuffing up the +cracks in one of the bathrooms and turning the hot water into the tub and +the steam into the radiator full blast. + +Several towels were piled on the radiator and the players sat upon this +swathed in blankets to take off weight. They entered the impromptu Turkish +bath, wearing only the well-known smile. McGraw still maintains that it +was "Bugs" Raymond who pulled out the towels when it came the manager's +turn to sit on the radiator, and, if he could have proved his case, +Raymond would not have needed a doctor. It would have been time for the +undertaker. + +Finally comes the long wending of the way up North. "Bugs" Raymond always +depends on his friends for his refreshments, and as he had few friends in +Marlin in 1911, he got few drinks. But when we got to Dallas cocktails +were served with the dinner and all the ball-players left them untouched, +McGraw enforcing the old rule that lips that touch "licker" shall never +moisten a spit ball for him. "Bugs" was missed after supper and some one +found him out in the kitchen licking up all the discarded Martinis. That +was the occasion of his first fine of the season, and after that, as +"Bugs" himself admitted, "life for him was just one fine after another." + +At last, after the long junket through the South, on which all managers +are Simon Legrees, is ended, comes a welcome day, when the new uniforms +are donned and the band plays and "them woids" which constitute the +sweetest music to the ears of a ball-player, roll off the tongue of the +umpire: + +"The batteries for to-day are Rucker and Bergen for Brooklyn, Marquard and +Meyers for New York. Play ball!" + +The season is on. + + + + +XI + +Jinxes and What They Mean to a Ball-Player + + _A Load of Empty Barrels, Hired by John McGraw, once Pulled the + Giants out of a Losing Streak--The Child of Superstition Appears to + the Ball-Player in Many Forms--Various Ways in which the Influence of + the Jinx can be Overcome--The True Story of "Charley" Faust--The + Necktie that Helped Win a Pennant._ + + +A friend of mine, who took a different fork in the road when we left +college from the one that I have followed, was walking down Broadway in +New York with me one morning after I had joined the Giants, and we passed +a cross-eyed man. I grabbed off my hat and spat in it. It was a new hat, +too. "What's the matter with you, Matty?" he asked, surprised. + +"Spit in your hat quick and kill that jinx," I answered, not thinking for +the minute, and he followed my example. + +I forgot to mention, when I said he took another fork in the road, that he +had become a pitcher, too, but of a different kind. He had turned out to +be sort of a conversational pitcher, for he was a minister, and, as luck +would have it, on the morning we met that cross-eyed man he was wearing a +silk hat. I was shocked, pained, and mortified when I saw what I had made +him do. But he was the right sort, and wanted to go through with the thing +according to the standards of the professional man with whom he happened +to be at the time. + +"What's the idea?" he asked as he replaced his hat. + +"Worst jinx in the world to see a cross-eyed man," I replied. "But I hope +I didn't hurt your silk hat," I quickly apologized. + +"Not at all. But how about these ball-players who masticate the weed? Do +they kill jinxes, too?" he wanted to know. And I had to admit that they +were the main exterminators of the jinx. + +"Then," he went on, "I'm glad that the percentage of wearers of cross eyes +is small." + +I have just looked into one of my favorite works for that word "jinx," and +found it not. My search was in Webster's dictionary. But any ball-player +can give a definition of it with his hands tied behind him--that is, any +one except "Arlie" Latham, and, with his hands bound, he is deaf and dumb. +A jinx is something which brings bad luck to a ball-player, and the +members of the profession have built up a series of lucky and unlucky +omens that should be catalogued. And besides the common or garden variety +of jinxes, many stars have a series of private or pet and trained ones +that are more malignant in their forms than those which come out in the +open. + +A jinx is the child of superstition, and ball-players are among the most +superstitious persons in the world, notwithstanding all this conversation +lately about educated men breaking into the game and paying no attention +whatever to the good and bad omens. College men are coming into both the +leagues, more of them each year, and they are doing their share to make +the game better and the class of men higher, but they fall the hardest for +the jinxes. And I don't know as it is anything to be ashamed of at that. + +A really true, on-the-level, honest-to-jiminy jinx can do all sorts of +mean things to a professional ball-player. I have seen it make a bad +pitcher out of a good one, and a blind batter out of a three-hundred +hitter, and I have seen it make a ball club, composed of educated men, +carry a Kansas farmer, with two or three screws rattling loose in his +dome, around the circuit because he came as a prophet and said that he was +accompanied by Miss Fickle Fortune. And that is almost a jinx record. + +Jinx and Miss Fickle Fortune never go around together. And ball-players +are always trying to kill this jinx, for, once he joins the club, all hope +is gone. He dies hard, and many a good hat has been ruined in an effort to +destroy him, as I have said before, because the wearer happened to be +chewing tobacco when the jinx dropped around. But what's a new hat against +a losing streak or a batting slump? + +Luck is a combination of confidence and getting the breaks. Ball-players +get no breaks without confidence in themselves, and lucky omens inspire +this confidence. On the other hand, unlucky signs take it away. The lucky +man is the one who hits the nail on the head and not his fingers, and the +ability to swat the nail on its receptive end is a combination of +self-confidence and an aptitude for hammering. Good ball-playing is the +combination of self-confidence and the ability to play. + +The next is "Red" Ames, although designated as "Leon" by his family when a +very small boy before he began to play ball. (He is still called "Leon" in +the winter.) Ames is of Warren, Ohio, and the Giants, and he is said to +hold the Marathon record for being the most unlucky pitcher that ever +lived, and I agree with the sayers. For several seasons, Ames couldn't +seem to win a ball game, no matter how well he pitched. In 1909, "Red" +twirled a game on the opening day of the season against Brooklyn that was +the work of a master. For nine innings he held his opponents hitless, only +to have them win in the thirteenth. Time and again Ames has pitched +brilliantly, to be finally beaten by a small score, because one of the men +behind him made an error at a critical moment, or because the team could +not give him any runs by which to win. No wonder the newspapers began to +speak of Ames as the "hoodoo" pitcher and the man "who couldn't win." + +There was a cross-eyed fellow who lived between Ames and the Polo Grounds, +and "Red" used to make a detour of several blocks en route to the park to +be sure to miss him in case he should be out walking. But one day in 1911, +when it was his turn to pitch, he bumped into that cross-eyed man and, in +spite of the fact that he did his duty by his hat and got three or four +small boys to help him out, he failed to last two innings. When it came +time to go West on the final trip of the 1911 season, Ames was badly +discouraged. + +"I don't see any use in taking me along, Mac," he said to McGraw a few +days before we left. "The club can't win with me pitching if the other +guys don't even get a foul." + +The first stop was in Boston, and on the day we arrived it rained. In the +mail that day, addressed to Leon Ames, came a necktie and a four-leaf +clover from a prominent actress, wishing Ames good luck. The directions +were inside the envelope. The four-leaf clover, if the charm were to work, +must be worn on both the uniform and street clothes, and the necktie was +to be worn with the street clothes and concealed in the uniform, if that +necktie could be concealed anywhere. It would have done for a headlight +and made Joseph's coat of many colors look like a mourning garment. + +"Might as well wish good luck to a guy on the way to the morgue," murmured +Ames as he surveyed the layout, but he manfully put on the necktie, taking +his first dose of the prescription, as directed, at once, and he tucked +the four-leaf clover away carefully in his wallet. + +"You've got your work cut out for you, old boy," he remarked to the charm +as he put it away, "but I'd wear you if you were a horseshoe." + +The first day that Ames pitched in Boston he won, and won in a stroll. + +"The necktie," he explained that night at dinner, and pointed to the +three-sheet, colored-supplement affair he was wearing around his collar, +"I don't change her until I lose." + +_And he didn't lose a game on that trip._ Once he almost did, when he was +taken out in the sixth inning, and a batter put in for him, but the Giants +finally pulled out the victory and he got the credit for it. He swept +through the West unbeatable, letting down Pittsburg with two or three +hits, cleaning up in St. Louis, and finally breaking our losing streak in +Chicago after two games had gone against us. And all the time he wore that +spectrum around his collar for a necktie. As it frayed with the wear and +tear, more colors began to show, although I didn't think it possible. If +he had had occasion to put on his evening clothes, I believe that tie +would have gone with it. + +For my part, I would almost rather have lost a game and changed the +necktie, since it gave one the feeling all the time that he was carrying +it around with him because he had had the wrong end of an election bet, or +something of the sort. But not Ames! He was a game guy. He stuck with the +necktie, and it stuck with him, and the combination kept right on winning +ball games. Maybe he didn't mind it because he could not see it himself, +unless he looked in a mirror, but it was rough on the rest of the team, +except that we needed the games the necktie won, to take the pennant. + +Columns were printed in the newspapers about that necktie, and it became +the most famous scarf in the world. Ames used to sleep with it under his +pillow alongside of his bank roll, and he didn't lose another game until +the very end of the season, when he dropped one against Brooklyn. + +"I don't hardly lay that up against the tie," he said afterwards. "You +see, Mac put all those youngsters into it, and I didn't get any support." + +Analyzing is a distasteful pastime to me, but let's see what it was that +made Ames win. Was it the necktie? Perhaps not. But some sliver of +confidence, which resulted from that first game when he was dressed up in +the scarf and the four-leaf clover, got stuck in his mind. And after that +the rest was easy. + +Frank Chance, the manager of the Cubs, has a funny superstition which is +of the personal sort. Most ball-players have a natural prejudice against +the number "13" in any form, but particularly when attached to a Pullman +berth. But Chance always insists, whenever possible, that he have "lower +13." He says that if he can just crawl in under that number he is sure of +a good night's rest, a safe journey, and a victory the next day. He has +been in two or three minor railroad accidents, and he declares that all +these occurred when he was sleeping on some other shelf besides "lower +13." He can usually satisfy his hobby, too, for most travellers steer +clear of the berth. + +McGraw believes a stateroom brings him good luck, or at least he always +insists on having one when he can get it. + +"Chance can have 'lower 13,'" says "Mac," "but give me a stateroom for +luck." + +Most ball-players nowadays treat the superstitions of the game as jokes, +probably because they are a little ashamed to acknowledge their +weaknesses, but away down underneath they observe the proprieties of the +ritual. Why, even I won't warm up with the third baseman while I am +waiting for the catcher to get on his mask and the rest of his +paraphernalia. Once, when I first broke in with the Giants, I warmed up +with the third baseman between innings and in the next round they hit me +hard and knocked me out of the box. Since then I have had an uncommon +prejudice against the practice, and I hate to hear a man even mention it. +Devlin knows of my weakness and never suggests it when he is playing the +bag, but occasionally a new performer will drill into the box score at +third base and yell: + +"Come on, Matty! Warm up here while you're waiting." + +It gets me. I'll pitch to the first baseman or a substitute catcher to +keep warm, but I would rather freeze to death than heat up with the third +baseman. That is one of my pet jinxes. + +And speaking of Arthur Devlin, he has a few hand-raised jinxes of his own, +too. For instance, he never likes to hear a player hum a tune on the +bench, because he thinks it will keep him from getting a base hit. He +nearly beat a youngster to death one day when he kept on humming after +Devlin had told him to stop. + +"Cut that out, Caruso," yelled Arthur, as the recruit started his melody. +"You are killing base hits." + +The busher continued with his air until Devlin tried another form of +persuasion. + +Arthur also has a favorite seat on the bench which he believes is luckier +than the rest, and he insists on sitting in just that one place. + +But the worst blow Devlin ever had was when some young lady admirer of his +in his palmy days, who unfortunately wore her eyes crossed, insisted on +sitting behind third base for each game, so as to be near him. Arthur +noticed her one day and, after that, it was all off. He hit the worst +slump of his career. For a while no one could understand it, but at last +he confessed to McGraw. + +"Mac," he said one night in the club-house, "it's that jinx. Have you +noticed her? She sits behind the bag every day, and she has got me going. +She has sure slid the casters under me. I wish we could bar her out, or +poison her, or shoot her, or chloroform her, or kill her in some nice, +mild way because, if it isn't done, this League is going to lose a +ball-player. How can you expect a guy to play with that overlooking him +every afternoon?" + +McGraw took Devlin out of the game for a time after that, and the +newspapers printed several yards about the cross-eyed jinx who had ruined +the Giants' third baseman. + +With the infield weakened by the loss of Devlin, the club began to lose +with great regularity. But one day the jinxess was missing and she never +came back. She must have read in the newspapers what she was doing to +Devlin, her hero, and quit the national pastime or moved to another part +of the stand. With this weight off his shoulders, Arthur went back into +the game and played like mad. + +"If she'd stuck much longer," declared McGraw, joyous in his rejuvenated +third baseman, "I would have had her eyes operated on and straightened. +This club couldn't afford to keep on losing ball games because you are +such a Romeo, Arthur, that even the cross-eyed ones fall for you." + +Ball-players are very superstitious about the bats. Did you ever notice +how the clubs are all laid out in a neat, even row before the bench and +are scrupulously kept that way by the bat boy? If one of the sticks by any +chance gets crossed, all the players will shout: + +"Uncross the bats! Uncross the bats!" + +It's as bad as discovering a three-alarm fire in an excelsior factory. +Don't believe it? Then listen to what happened to the Giants once because +a careless bat boy neglected his duty. The team was playing in Cincinnati +in the season of 1906 when one of the bats got crossed through the +carelessness of the boy. What was the result? "Mike" Donlin, the star +slugger of the team, slid into third base and came up with a broken +ankle. + +Ever since that time we have carried our own boy with us, because a club +with championship aspirations cannot afford to take a chance with those +foreign artists handling the bats. They are likely to throw you down at +any time. + +The Athletics have a funny superstition which is private or confined to +their team as far as I know. When luck seems to be breaking against them +in a game, they will take the bats and throw them wildly into the air and +let them lie around in front of their bench, topsy-turvy. They call this +changing the luck, but any other club would consider that it was the worst +kind of a jinx. It is the same theory that card-players have about +shuffling the deck vigorously to bring a different run of fortune. Then, +if the luck changes, the Athletics throw the bats around some more to keep +it. This act nearly cost them one of their best ball-players in the third +game of the 1911 world's series. + +The Philadelphia players had tossed their bats to break their run of luck, +for the score was 1 to 0 against them, when Baker came up in the ninth +inning. He cracked his now famous home run into the right-field bleachers, +and the men on the bench hurled the bats wildly into the air. In jumping +up and reaching for a bat to throw, Jack Barry, the shortstop, hit his +head on the concrete roof of the structure and was stunned for a minute. +He said that little black specks were floating in front of his eyes, but +he gamely insisted on playing the contest out. "Connie" Mack was so +worried over his condition that he sent Ira Thomas out on the field to +inquire if he were all right, and this interrupted the game in the ninth +inning. A lot of the spectators thought that Thomas was out there, bearing +some secret message from "Connie" Mack. None knew that he was ascertaining +the health of a player who had almost killed himself while killing a jinx. + +The Athletics, for two seasons, have carried with them on all their trips +a combination bat boy and mascot who is a hunchback, and he outjinxed our +champion jinx killer, Charley Faust, in the 1911 world's series. A +hunchback is regarded by ball-players as the best luck in the world. If a +man can just touch that hump on the way to the plate, he is sure to get a +hit, and any observant spectator will notice the Athletics' hitters +rubbing the hunchback boy before leaving the bench. So attached to this +boy have the players become that they voted him half a share of the prize +money last year after the world's series. Lots of ball-players would tell +you that he deserved it because he has won two world's pennants for them. + +Another great piece of luck is for a ball-player to rub a colored kid's +head. I've walked along the street with ball-players and seen them stop a +young negro and take off his hat and run their hands through his kinky +hair. Then I've seen the same ball-player go out and get two or three hits +that afternoon and play the game of his life. Again, it is the confidence +inspired, coupled with the ability. + +Another old superstition among ball-players is that a load of empty +barrels means base hits. If an athlete can just pass a flock of them on +the way to the park, he is sure to step right along stride for stride with +the three-hundred hitters that afternoon. + +McGraw once broke up a batting slump of the Giants with a load of empty +barrels. That is why I maintain he is the greatest manager of them all. He +takes advantage of the little things, even the superstitions of his men, +and turns them to his account. He played this trick in one of the first +years that he managed the New York club. The batting of all the players +had slumped at the same time. None could hit, and the club was losing game +after game as a result, because the easiest pitchers were making the best +batters look foolish. One day Bowerman came into the clubhouse with a +smile on his face for the first time in a week. + +"Saw a big load of empty barrels this afternoon, boys," he announced, "and +just watch me pickle the pill out there to-day." + +Right at that point McGraw got an idea, as he frequently does. Bowerman +went out that afternoon and made four hits out of a possible five. The +next day three or four more of the players came into the park, carrying +smiles and the announcement that fortunately they, too, had met a load of +empty barrels. They, then, all went out and regained their old batting +strides, and we won that afternoon for the first time in a week. More saw +a load of barrels the next day and started to bat. At last all the members +of the team had met the barrels, and men with averages of .119 were +threatening to chisel into the three-hundred set. With remarkable +regularity the players were meeting loads of empty barrels on their way to +the park, and, with remarkable regularity and a great deal of expedition, +the pitchers of opposing clubs were being driven to the shower bath. + +"Say," asked "Billy" Gilbert, the old second baseman, of "Bill" Lauder, +formerly the protector of the third corner, one day, "is one of that team +of horses sorrel and the other white?" + +"Sure," answered "Bill." + +"Sure," echoed McGraw. "I hired that load of empty barrels by the week to +drive around and meet you fellows on the way to the park, and you don't +think I can afford to have them change horses every day, do you?" + +Everybody had a good laugh and kept on swatting. McGraw asked for waivers +on the load of empty barrels soon afterwards, but his scheme had stopped a +batting slump and put the club's hitters on their feet again. He plays to +the little personal qualities and superstitions in the men to get the most +out of them. And just seeing those barrels gave them the idea that they +were bound to get the base hits, and they got them. Once more, the old +confidence, hitched up with ability. + +What manager would have carried a Kansas farmer around the circuit with +him besides McGraw? I refer to Charles Victor Faust of Marion, Kansas, the +most famous jinx killer of them all. Faust first met the Giants in St. +Louis on the next to the last trip the club made West in the season of +1911, when he wandered into the Planter's Hotel one day, asked for McGraw +and announced that a fortune teller of Marion had informed him he would be +a great pitcher and that for $5 he could have a full reading. This +pitching announcement piqued Charles, and he reached down into his jeans, +dug out his last five, and passed it over. The fortune teller informed +Faust that all he had to do to get into the headlines of the newspapers +and to be a great pitcher was to join the New York Giants. He joined, and, +after he once joined, it would have taken the McNamaras in their best form +to separate him from the said Giants. + +"Charley" came out to the ball park and amused himself warming up. +Incidentally, the Giants did not lose a game while he was in the +neighborhood. The night the club left for Chicago on that trip, he was +down at the Union Station ready to go along. + +"Did you get your contract and transportation?" asked McGraw, as the lanky +Kansan appeared. + +"No," answered "Charley." + +"Pshaw," replied McGraw. "I left it for you with the clerk at the hotel. +The train leaves in two minutes," he continued, glancing at his watch. "If +you can run the way you say you can, you can make it and be back in time +to catch it." + +It was the last we saw of "Charley" Faust for a time--galloping up the +platform in his angular way with that contract and transportation in +sight. + +"I'm almost sorry we left him," remarked McGraw as "Charley" disappeared +in the crowd. We played on around the circuit with indifferent luck and +got back to New York with the pennant no more than a possibility, and +rather a remote one at that. The first day we were in New York "Charley" +Faust entered the clubhouse with several inches of dust and mud caked on +him, for he had come all the way either by side-door special or blind +baggage. + +"I'm here, all right," he announced quietly, and started to climb into a +uniform. + +"I see you are," answered McGraw. + +"Charley" stuck around for two or three days, and we won. Then McGraw +decided he would have to be dropped and ordered the man on the door of the +clubhouse to bar this Kansas kid out. Faust broke down and cried that day, +and we lost. After that he became a member of the club, and we won game +after game until some busy newspaper man obtained a vaudeville engagement +for him at a salary of $100 a week. We lost three games the week he was +absent from the grounds, and Faust saw at once he was not doing the right +thing by the club, so, with a wave of his hand that would have gone with +J. P. Morgan's income, he passed up some lucrative vaudeville contracts, +much to the disgust of the newspaper man, who was cutting the remuneration +with him, and settled down to business. The club did not lose a game after +that, and it was decided to take Faust West with us on the last and famous +trip in 1911. Daily he had been bothering McGraw and Mr. Brush for his +contract, for he wanted to pitch. The club paid him some money from time +to time to meet his personal expenses. + +The Sunday night the club left for Boston, a vaudeville agent was at the +Grand Central Station with a contract offering Faust $100 a week for five +weeks, which "Charley" refused in order to stick with the club. It was the +greatest trip away from home in the history of baseball. Starting with the +pennant almost out of reach, the Giants won eighteen and lost four games. +One contest that we dropped in St. Louis was when some of the newspaper +correspondents on the trip kidnapped Faust and sat him on the St. Louis +bench. + +Another day in St. Louis the game had gone eleven innings, and the +Cardinals needed one run to win. They had several incipient scores on the +bases and "Rube" Marquard, in the box, was apparently going up in the air. +Only one was out. Faust was warming up far in the suburbs when, under +orders from McGraw, I ran out and sent him to the bench, for that was the +place from which his charm seemed to be the most potent. "Charley" came +loping to the bench as fast as his long legs would transport him and St. +Louis didn't score and we won the game. It was as nice a piece of pinch +mascoting as I ever saw. + +The first two games that "Charley" really lost were in Chicago. And all +through the trip, he reiterated his weird prophecies that "the Giants +with Manager McGraw were goin' ta win." The players believed in him, and +none would have let him go if it had been necessary to support him out of +their own pockets. And we did win. + +"Charley," with his monologue and great good humor, kept the players in +high spirits throughout the journey, and the feeling prevailed that we +couldn't lose with him along. He was advertised all over the circuit, and +spectators were going to the ball park to see Faust and Wagner. "Charley" +admitted that he could fan out Hans because he had learned how to pitch +out there in Kansas by correspondence school and had read of "Hans's" +weakness in a book. His one "groove" was massages and manicures. He would +go into the barber shop with any member of the team who happened to be +getting shaved and take a massage and manicure for the purposes of +sociability, as a man takes a drink. He easily was the record holder for +the manicure Marathon, hanging up the figures of five in one day in St. +Louis. He also liked pie for breakfast, dinner and supper, and a small +half before retiring. + +But, alas! "Charley" lost in the world's series. He couldn't make good. +And a jinx killer never comes back. He is gone. And his expansive smile +and bump-the-bumps slide are gone with him. That is, McGraw hopes he is +gone. But he was a wonder while he had it. And he did a great deal toward +giving the players confidence. With him on the bench, they thought they +couldn't lose, and they couldn't. It has long been a superstition among +ball-players that when a "bug" joins a club, it will win a championship, +and the Giants believed it when "Charley" Faust arrived. Did "Charley" +Faust win the championship for the Giants? + + * * * * * + +Another time-honored superstition among ball-players is that no one must +say to a pitcher as he goes to the box for the eighth inning: + +"Come on, now. Only six more men." + +Or for the ninth: + +"Pitch hard, now. Only three left." + +Ames says that he lost a game in St. Louis once because McGraw forgot +himself and urged him to pitch hard because only three remained to be put +out. Those three batters raised the mischief with Ames's prospects; he was +knocked out of the box in that last inning, and we lost the game. That +was before the days of the wonder necktie. + +Ames won the third game played in Chicago on the last trip West. Coming +into the ninth inning, he had the Cubs beaten, when McGraw began: + +"Come on, 'Red,' only----" + +"Nix, Mac," cut in Ames, "for the love of Mike, be reasonable." + +And then he won the game. But the chances are that if McGraw had got that +"only three more" out, he would have lost, because it would have been +working on his strained nerves. + + + + +XII + +Base Runners and How They Help a Pitcher to Win + + _The Secret of Successful Base Running is Getting the Start--A Club + Composed of Good Base Runners Is Likely to do More to Help a Pitcher + Win Games than a Batting Order of Hard Hitters--Stealing Second Is an + Art in Taking Chances--The Giants Stole their Way to a Pennant, but + "Connie" Mack Stopped the Grand Larceny when it Came to a World's + Championship._ + + +Many times have the crowds at the Polo Grounds seen a man get on first +base in a close game, and, with the pitcher's motion, start to steal +second, only to have the catcher throw him out. The spectators groan and +criticise the manager. + +"Why didn't he wait for the hitters to bat him around?" is the cry. + +Then, again, a man starts for the base, times his get-away just right, and +slides into the bag in a cloud of dust while the umpire spreads out his +hands indicating that he is safe. The crowd cheers and proclaims McGraw a +great manager and the stealer a great base runner. Maybe the next batter +comes along with a hit, and the runner scores. It wins the game, and +mention is made in the newspapers the next morning of the fast base +running of the club. A man has covered ninety feet of ground while the +ball is travelling from the pitcher to the catcher and back to the fielder +who is guarding second base. It is the most important ninety feet in +baseball. From second base just one hit scores the runner. Stealing +second, one of the most picturesque plays of the game, is the gentle art +of taking a chance. + +In 1911, the Giants stole more bases than any other Big League club has +had to its credit since the Pirates established the record in 1903. +Devore, Snodgrass, Murray, Merkle and Doyle, once they got on the bases +were like loose mercury. They couldn't be caught. And McGraw stole his way +to a pennant with this quintet of runners, not alone because of the number +of bases they pilfered, but because of the edge it gave the Giants on the +rest of the clubs, with the men with base-stealing reputations on the +team. I should say that holding these runners up on the bases and worrying +about what they were going to do reduced the efficiency of opposing +pitchers one-third. + +It wasn't the speed of the men that accounted for the record. A sprinter +may get into the Big League and never steal a base. But it was the McGraw +system combined with their natural ability. + +"Get the start," reiterates McGraw. "Half of base stealing is leaving the +bag at the right time. Know when you have a good lead and then never stop +until you have hit the dirt." + +It is up to the pitcher as much as the catcher to stop base stealing, for +once a club begins running wild on another, the bats might as well be +packed up and the game conceded. Pitchers make a study of the individual +runners and their styles of getting starts. In my mind, I know just how +much of a lead every base runner in the National League can take on me +with impunity. + +"Bob" Bescher of the Cincinnati club was the leading, bright, particular +base-stealing star of the National League in the season of 1911, and the +secret of his success was in his start. He tries to get as big a lead as +possible with each pitch, and then, when he intends to leave, edges a +couple of feet farther than usual, catching the pitcher unawares. With the +two extra feet, Bescher is bound to get to second base at the same time as +the ball, and no catcher in the world can stop him. Therefore, it is up to +the pitcher to keep him from getting this start--the two more feet he +seeks. I know that Bescher can take ten feet from the bag when I am +pitching and get back safely. But, I am equally sure that, if he makes his +lead twelve feet and I notice it, I can probably catch him. As a good +ribbon salesman constantly has in his mind's eye the answer to the +question, "How far is a yard?" so I know at a glance exactly how far +Bescher can lead and get back safely, when he is on first base. If I +glance over and see him twelve feet away from the bag and about to start, +I turn and throw and catch him flat-footed. The crowd laughs at him and +says: + +"Bescher asleep at the switch again!" + +The real truth is that Bescher was not asleep, but trying to get that old +jump which would have meant the stolen base. Again, he takes the twelve +feet, and I don't perceive it. He gets started with my arm and goes into +the bag ahead of the ball. + +"Great base runner," comments the fickle crowd. + +Bescher has only accomplished what he was trying to do before, but he has +gotten away with it this time. Being a great ball-player is the gentle art +of getting away with it. + +Spectators often wonder why a pitcher wearies them with throwing over to +the first base many times, when it is plain to see that he has no chance +of catching his quarry. "Bill" Dahlen used to be one of the best men in +the game for getting back in some way when on base, employing a straddle +slide and just hooking the bag with his toe, leaving "a shoe-string to +touch." The result was that he was always handing the pitcher the laugh as +he brushed himself off, for none can say Dahlen was not an immaculate +ball-player. + +But the pitchers found out that they could tire Dahlen out by repeatedly +throwing over to the bag, and that, after five throws, which required +five dashes and slides back to the base, he was all in and could not steal +because he didn't have the physical strength left. Thus, as soon as Dahlen +got on, a pitcher began throwing over until he had him tired out, and then +he pitched to the batter. So "Bill" crossed them by living on the bag +until he thought he saw his opportunity to get the jump, and then he would +try to steal. + +Few good base runners watch the ball after they have once left the bag. +They look at the baseman to see how he is playing and make the slide +accordingly. If Devore sees Huggins of St. Louis behind the base, he +slides in front and pulls his body away from the bag, so that he leaves +the smallest possible area to touch. If he observes the baseman cutting +inside to block him off, he goes behind and hooks it with just one toe, +again presenting the minimum touching surface. If the ball is hit while +the runner is en route, he takes one quick glance at the coacher on the +third base line and can tell by his motions whether to turn back or to +continue. + +McGraw devotes half his time and energy in the spring to teaching his men +base running and the art of sliding, which, when highly cultivated, means +being there with one toe and somewhere else with the rest of the body. But +most of all he impresses on the athletes the necessity of getting the +start before making the attempt to steal. As long as I live I shall +believe that if Snodgrass had known he had the jump in the third game of +the world's series in 1911, when he really had it, and if he had taken +advantage of it, we would have won the game and possibly the championship. +It was in the contest that Baker balanced by banging the home run into the +right field bleachers in the ninth inning, when I was pitching. That tied +the score, 1 to 1. + +For nine innings I had been pitching myself out, putting everything that I +had on every ball, because the team gave me no lead to rest on. When Baker +pushed that ball into the bleachers with only two more men to get out to +win the game, I was all in. But I managed to live through the tenth with +very little on the ball, and we came to the bat. Snodgrass got a base on +balls and journeyed to second on a sacrifice. He was taking a big lead off +the middle base with the pitcher's motion, and running back before the +catcher got the ball, because a quick throw would have caught him. It was +bad baseball, but he was nervous with the intense strain and over-eager to +score. + +Then came the time when he took a longer lead than any other, and Lapp, +the Athletics' catcher, seeing him, was sure he was going to steal, and in +his hurry to get the ball away and save the game, let it past him. +Snodgrass had the jump, and probably would have made the base had he kept +on going, but he had no orders to steal and had turned and taken a step or +two back toward second when he saw Lapp lose the ball. Again he turned and +retraced his steps, and I never saw a man turn so slowly, simply because I +realized how important a turn that was going to be. Next I looked at Lapp +and saw him picking up the ball, which had rolled only about three feet +behind him. He snapped it to third and had Snodgrass by several feet. +Snodgrass realized this as he plunged down the base line, but he could not +stop and permit himself to be tagged and he could not go back, so he made +that historic slide which was heard almost around the world, cut off +several yards of Frank Baker's trousers, and more important than the +damage to the uniform, lost us the game. + +Snodgrass had the jump in his first start, and if he had kept right on +going he would have made the bag without the aid of the passed ball, in my +opinion. But he did not know that he had this advantage and was on his way +back, when it looked for a minute as if the Athletics' catcher had made a +mistake. This really turned out to be the "break" in the game, for it was +on that passed ball that Snodgrass was put out. He would probably have +scored the run which would have won the game had he lived either on second +or third base, for a hit followed. + +After losing the contest after watching the opportunity thrown away, some +fan called me on the telephone that night, when I was feeling in anything +but a conversational mood, and asked me: + +"Was that passed ball this afternoon part of the Athletics' inside game? +Did Lapp do it on purpose?" + +In passing I want to put in a word for Snodgrass, not because he is a +team-mate of mine, but on account of the criticism which he received for +spiking Baker, and which was not deserved. And in that word I do not want +to detract from Baker's reputation a scintilla, if I could, for he is a +great ball-player. But I want to say that if John Murray had ever been +called upon to slide into that bag with Baker playing it as he did, Baker +would probably have been found cut in halves, and only Murray's own style +of coasting would have been responsible for it. If Fred Clarke of +Pittsburg had been the man coming in, Baker would probably have been +neatly cut into thirds, one third with each foot. + +Clarke is known as one of the most wicked sliders in the National League. +He jumps into the air and spreads his feet apart, showing his spikes as he +comes in. The Giants were playing in Pittsburg several years ago, before I +was married, and there was a friend of mine at the ball park with whom I +was particularly eager to make a hit. The game was close, as are all +contests which lend themselves readily to an anecdote, and Clarke got as +far as third base in the eighth inning, with the score tied and two out. +Warner, the Giants' catcher, let one get past him and I ran in to cover +the plate. Clarke came digging for home and, as I turned to touch him, he +slid and cut my trousers off, never touching my legs. It was small +consolation to me that my stems were still whole and that the umpire had +called Clarke out and that the game was yet saved. My love for my art is +keen, but it stops at a certain point, and that point is where I have to +send a hurry call for a barrel and the team's tailor. The players made a +sort of group around me while I did my Lady Godiva act from the plate to +the bench. + +Murray has the ideal slide for a base gatherer, but one which commands the +respect of all the guardians of the sacks in the National League. When +about eight feet from the bag, he jumps into the air, giving the fielder a +vision of two sets of nicely honed spikes aimed for the base. As Murray +hits the bag, he comes up on his feet and is in a position to start for +the next station in case of any fumble or slip. He is a great man to use +this slide to advantage against young players, who are inclined to be +timid when they see those spikes. It's all part of the game as it is +played in the large leagues. + +The Boston team was trying out a young player two years ago. Murray +remarked to McGraw before the game: + +"The first time I get on, I bet I can make that fellow fumble and pick up +an extra base." + +"Theatre tickets for the crowd on Saturday night?" inquired McGraw. + +"You've said it," answered Murray. + +Along about the second or third inning John walked, and started for second +on the first ball pitched. The busher came in to cover the base, and +Murray leaped clear of the ground and yelled: + +"Look out!" + +The newcomer evidently thought that Murray had lost control of his legs, +got one look at those spikes, and bent all his energies toward dodging +them, paying no attention whatever to the ball, which continued its +unmolested journey to centre field. The new man proved to be one of the +best little dodgers I ever saw. John was in a perfect position to start +and went along to third at his leisure. + +"Didn't I call the turn?" Murray yelled at McGraw as he came to the bench. + +"What show do you want to see?" asked McGraw. + +But on an old campaigner this show of spikes has no effect whatever. The +capable basemen in the League know how to cover the bag so as to get the +runner out and still give him room to come in without hurting any one. In +spite of an impression that prevails to the contrary, ball-players never +spike a man on purpose. At present, I don't believe there is a runner in +the National League who would cut down another man if he had the +opportunity. If one man does spike another accidentally, he is heartily +sorry, and often such an event affects his own playing and his base +running ability. + +The feet-first slide is now more in vogue in the Big Leagues than the old +head-first coast, and I attribute this to two causes. One is that the show +of the spikes is a sort of assurance the base runner is going to have room +to come into the bag, and the second is that the great amount of armor +which a catcher wears in these latter days makes some such formidable +slide necessary when coming into the plate. + +If a base runner hits a catcher squarely with his shin guards on, he is +likely to be badly injured, and he must be sure that the catcher is going +to give him a clear path. Some catchers block off the plate so that a man +has got to shoot his spikes at them to get through, and I'm not saying +that it's bad catching, because that is the way to keep a man from +scoring. Make him go around if possible. + +But the game has changed in the last few years as far as intentional +spiking goes. Many a time, when I first started with the Giants, I heard a +base runner shout at a fielder: + +"Get out of the way there or I'll cut you in two!" + +And he would not have hesitated to do it, either. That was part of the +game. But nowadays, if a player got the reputation of cutting men down and +putting star players out of the game intentionally, he would soon be +driven out of the League, probably on a stretcher. + +When John Hummel of the Brooklyn club spiked Doyle in 1908, and greatly +lessened the Giants' chances of winning the pennant, which the club +ultimately lost, he came around to our clubhouse after the game and +inquired for Larry. When he found how badly Doyle was cut, he was as +broken up as any member of our team. + +"If I'd known I was goin' to cut you, Larry, I wouldn't have slid," he +said. + +"That's all right," answered Doyle. "I guess I was blockin' you." + +Ball-players don't say much in a situation of that kind. But each one who +witnessed the incident knew that when Doyle doubled down, spiked, most of +our chances of the pennant went down with him, for it broke up the infield +of the team at a most important moment. It takes some time for a new part +to work into a clock so that it keeps perfect time again, no matter how +delicate is the workmanship of the new part. So the best infielder takes +time to fit into the infield of a Big League club and have it hit on all +four cylinders again. + +Fred Merkle is one of the few ball-players who still prefers the +head-first slide, and he sticks to it only on certain occasions. He is the +best man to steal third base playing ball to-day. He declares that, when +he is going into the bag, he can see better by shooting his head first and +that he can swing his body away from the base and just hook it with one +finger nail, leaving just that to touch. And he keeps his nails clipped +short in the season, so that there is very little exposed to which the +ball can be applied. If he sees that the third baseman is playing inside +the bag, he goes behind it and hooks it with his finger, and if the man is +playing back, he cuts through in front, pulling his body away from the +play. But the common or garden variety of player will take the hook slide, +feet first, because he can catch the bag with one leg, and the feet aren't +as tender a portion of the anatomy to be roughly touched as the head and +shoulders. + +A club of base runners will do more to help a pitcher win than a batting +order of hard hitters, I believe. Speed is the great thing in the baseball +of to-day. By speed I do not mean that good men must be sprinters alone. +They must be fast starters, fast runners and fast thinkers. Remember that +last one--fast thinkers. + +Harry McCormick, formerly the left-fielder on the Giants, when he joined +the club before his legs began to go bad, was a sprinter, one of the +fastest men who ever broke into the League. Before he took up baseball as +a profession, he had been a runner in college. But McCormick was never a +brilliant base stealer because he could not get the start. + +When a man is pitching for a club of base runners he knows that every +time a player with a stealing reputation gets on and there is an outside +chance of his scoring, the run is going to be hung up. The tallies give a +pitcher confidence to proceed. Then, when the club has the reputation of +possessing a great bunch of base runners, the other pitcher is worried all +the time and has to devote about half his energies to watching the bases. +This makes him easier to hit. + +But put a hard hitter who is a slow base runner on the club, and he does +little good. There used to be a man on the Giants, named "Charley" +Hickman, who played third base and then the outfield. He was one of the +best natural hitters who ever wormed his way into baseball, but when he +got on, the bases were blocked. He could not run, and it took a hit to +advance him a base. Get a fast man on behind him and, because the rules of +the game do not permit one runner to pass another, it was like having a +freight train preceding the Twentieth Century Limited on a single track +road. Hickman was not so slow when he first started, but after a while his +legs went bad and his weight increased, so that he was built like a box +car, to carry out the railroad figure. + +Hickman finally dropped back into the minor leagues and continued to bat +three hundred, but he had to lose the ball to make the journey clear +around the bases on one wallop. Once he hit the old flag pole in centre +field at the Polo Grounds on the fly, and just did nose the ball out at +the plate. It was a record hit for distance. At last, while still +maintaining the three-hundred pace, Hickman was dropped by the Toledo club +of the American Association. + +"Why did you let Charley Hickman go?" I asked the manager one day. + +"Because he was tyin' up traffic on the bases," he replied. + +Merkle is not a particularly fast runner, but he is a great base stealer +because he has acquired the knack of "getting away." He never tries to +steal until he has his start. He is also a good arriver, as I have pointed +out. It was like getting a steamroller in motion to start Hickman. + +Clever ball-players and managers are always trying to evolve new +base-running tactics that will puzzle the other team, but "there ain't no +new stuff." It is a case of digging up the old ones. Pitchers are also +earnest in their endeavors to discover improved ways to stop base +running. Merkle and I worked out a play during the spring training season +in 1911 which caught perhaps a dozen men off first base before the other +teams began to watch for the trick. And it was not original with me. I got +the idea from "Patsy" Flaherty, a Boston pitcher who has his salary wing +fastened to his left side. + +Flaherty would pitch over to first base quickly, and the fielder would +shoot the ball back. Then Flaherty would pop one through to the batter, +often catching him off his guard, and sneaking a strike over besides +leaving the runner flat on the ground in the position in which he had been +when he slid back to the bag. If the batter hit the ball, the runner was +in no attitude to get a start, and, on an infield tap, it was easy to make +a double play. + +The next time that the man got on base, Flaherty would shoot the ball over +to first as before, and the runner would be up on his feet and away from +the bag, expecting him to throw it to the plate. But as the first baseman +whipped it back quickly Flaherty returned the ball and the runner was +caught flat footed and made to look foolish. Ball-players do certainly +hate to appear ridiculous, and the laugh from the crowd upsets a Big +Leaguer more than anything else, even a call from McGraw, because the +crowd cannot hear that and does not know the man is looking foolish. + +It was almost impossible to steal bases on "Patsy" Flaherty because he +had the men hugging the bag all the time, and if he had had other +essentials of a pitcher, he would have been a great one. He even lived in +the Big League for some time with this quick throw as his only asset. I +adopted the Flaherty movement, but it is harder for a right-hander to use, +as he is not in such a good position to whip the ball to the bag. Merkle +and I rehearsed it in spring practice. As soon as a man got on first base, +I popped the ball over to Merkle, and without even making a stab at the +runner, he shot it to me. Then back again, just as the runner had let go +of the bag and was getting up. The theoretical result: He was caught +flat-footed. Sometimes it worked. Then they began to play for me. + +Another play on which the changes have often been rung is the double steal +with men on first and third bases. That is McGraw's favorite situation in +a crisis. + +"Somebody's got to look foolish on the play," says "Mac," "and I don't +want to furnish any laughs." + +The old way to work it was to have the man on first start for second, as +if he were going to make a straight steal. Then as soon as the catcher +drew his arm back to throw, the runner on third started home. No Big +League club can have a look into the pennant set without trying to +interrupt the journey of that man going to second in a tight place, +because if no play is made for him and a hit follows, it nets the club two +runs instead of one. + +Most teams try to stop this play by having the shortstop or second baseman +come in and take a short throw, and if the man on third breaks for home, +the receiver of the ball whips it back. If both throws are perfect, the +runner is caught at the plate. + +But the catchers found that certain clubs were making this play in routine +fashion, the runner on first starting with the pitch, and the one on third +making his break just as soon as the catcher drew back his arm. Then the +backstops began making a bluff throw to second and whipping the ball to +third, often getting the runner by several feet, as he had already +definitely started for the plate. + +"Tommy" Leach of the Pittsburg club was probably caught oftener on this +bluff throw than any other man in baseball. For some time he had been +making the play against clubs which used the short throw, and starting as +the catcher drew back his arm, as that was the only chance he had to +score. One day in the season of 1908, when the Pirates were playing +against the Giants, Clarke was on first and Leach on third, with one run +required to balance the game. McGraw knew the double steal was to be +expected, as two were out. Bresnahan was aware of this, too. + +McGinnity was pitching, and with his motion, Clarke got his start. +Bresnahan drew back his arm as if to throw to second, and true to form, +Leach was on his way to the plate. But Bresnahan had not let go of the +ball, and he shot it to Devlin, Leach being run down in the base line and +the Pittsburg club eventually losing the game. + +Again and again Leach fell for this bluff throw, until the news spread +around the circuit that once a catcher drew back his arm with a man on +first base and "Tommy" Leach on third, there would be no holding him on +the bag. He was caught time and again--indeed as frequently as the play +came up. It was his "groove." He could not be stopped from making his +break. At last Clarke had to order him to abandon the play until he could +cure himself of this self-starting habit. + +"What you want to do on that play is cross 'em," is McGraw's theory, and +he proceeded to develop the delayed steal with this intent. + +Put the men back on first and third bases. Thank you. The pitcher has the +ball. The runner on first intentionally takes too large a lead. The +pitcher throws over, and he moves a few steps toward second. Then a few +more. All that time the man on third is edging off an inch, two inches, a +foot. The first baseman turns to throw to second to stop that man. The +runner on third plunges for the plate, and usually gets there. It's a hard +one to stop, but that's its purpose. + +Then, again, it can be worked after the catcher gets the ball. The runner +starts from first slowly and the catcher hesitates, not knowing whether to +throw to first or second. Since the runner did not start with the pitch, +theoretically no one has come in to take a short throw, and the play +cannot be made back to the plate if the ball is thrown to second. This +form of the play is usually successful. Miller Huggins is one of the +hardest second basemen in the League to work it against successfully. With +men on first and third, he always comes in for the short throw on the +chance, and covers himself up. + +After we had stolen our way to a pennant in the National League in the +season of 1911, and after our five leading base runners had been "mugged" +by the police in St. Louis so that the catchers would know them, many fans +expected to see us steal a world's championship, and we half expected it +ourselves. + +But so did "Connie" Mack, and there lies the answer. He knew our strong +point, and his players had discussed and rehearsed ways and means to break +up our game. Mack had been watching the Giants for weeks previous to the +series and had had his spies taking notes. + +"We've got to stop them running bases," he told his men before the first +game, I have learned since. And they did. Guess the St. Louis police must +have sent Thomas and Lapp copies of those pictures. + +Mack's pitchers cut their motions down to nothing with men on the bases, +microscopic motions, and they watched the runners like hawks. Thomas had +been practising to get the men. The first time that Devore made a break to +steal, he was caught several feet from the bag. + +"And you call yourself fast!" commented Collins as he threw the ball back +to the pitcher and jogged to his job. "You remind me of a cop on a fixed +post," he flung over his shoulder. + +Pitchers have a great deal to do with the defensive efficiency of the +club. If they do not hold the runners up, the best catcher in the world +cannot stop them at their destination. That is the reason why so many +high-class catchers have been developed by the Chicago Cubs. The team has +always had a good pitching staff, and men like Overall, Brown and Reulbach +force the runners to stick to the oases of safety. + +The Giants stole their way to a pennant in 1911, and it wasn't on account +of the speedy material, but because McGraw had spent days teaching his men +to slide and emphasizing the necessity of getting the jump. Then he picked +the stages of the game when the attempts to steal were to be made. But +McGraw, with his all-star cast of thieves, was stopped in the world's +series by one Cornelius McGillicuddy. + + + + +XIII + +Notable Instances Where the "Inside" Game Has Failed + + _The "Inside" Game is of Little Avail when a Batter Knocks a Home Run + with the Bases Full--Many Times the Strategies of Managers have + Failed because Opposing Clubs "Doctored" their Grounds--"Rube" + Waddell Once Cost the Athletics a Game by Failing to Show up after + the Pitcher's Box had been Fixed for Him--But, although the "Inside" + Game Sometimes Fails, no Manager Wants a Player who will Steal Second + with the Bases Full._ + + +There is an old story about an altercation which took place during a +wedding ceremony in the backwoods of the Virginia mountains. The +discussion started over the propriety of the best man holding the ring, +and by the time that it had been finally settled the bride gazed around on +a dead bridegroom, a dead father, and a dead best man, not to mention +three or four very dead ushers and a clergyman. + +"Them new fangled self-cockin' automatic guns has sure raised hell with my +prospects," she sighed. + +That's the way I felt when John Franklin Baker popped that home run into +the right-field stand in the ninth inning of the third game of the 1911 +world's series with one man already out. For eight and one-third innings +the Giants had played "inside" ball, and I had carefully nursed along +every batter who came to the plate, studying his weakness and pitching at +it. It looked as if we were going to win the game, and then zing! And also +zowie! The ball went into the stand on a line and I looked around at my +fielders who had had the game almost within their grasp a minute before. +Instantly, I realized that I had been pitching myself out, expecting the +end to come in nine innings. My arm felt like so much lead hanging to my +side after that hit. I wanted to go and get some crape and hang it on my +salary whip. Then that old story about the wedding popped into my head, +and I said to myself: + +"He has sure raised hell with your prospects." + +"Sam" Strang, the official pinch hitter of the Giants a few seasons ago, +was one of the best in the business. McGraw sent him to the bat in the +ninth inning of a game the Giants were playing in Brooklyn. We were two +runs behind and two were already out, with one runner on the bases, and he +was only as far as second. "Doc" Scanlon was pitching for Brooklyn, and, +evidently intimidated by Sam's pinch-hitting reputation or something, +suddenly became wild and gave the Giant batter three balls. With the count +three and nothing, McGraw shouted from the bench: + +"Wait it out, Sam!" + +But Sam did not hear him, and he took a nice masculine, virile, full-armed +swing at the ball and fouled it out of the reach of all the local +guardians of the soil. + +"Are you deaf?" barked McGraw. "Wait it out, I tell you." + +As a matter of fact, Strang was a little deaf and did not hear the shouted +instructions the second time. But "Doc" Scanlon was sensitive as to +hearing and, feeling sure Strang would obey the orders of McGraw, thought +he would be taking no chances in putting the next ball over the centre of +the plate. It came up the "groove," and Strang admired it as it +approached. Then he took his swing, and the next place the ball touched +was in the Italian district just over the right field fence. The hit tied +the score. + +McGraw met Strang at the plate, and instead of greeting him with shouts of +approbation, exclaimed: + +"I ought to fine you $25, and would, except for those two runs and the few +points' difference the game will make in the percentage. Come on now, +boys. Let's win this one." And we did in the eleventh inning. + +That was a case of the "inside" game failing. Any Big League pitcher with +brains would have laid the ball over after hearing McGraw shout earnest +and direct orders at the batter to "wait it out." Scanlon was playing the +game and Strang was not, but it broke for Sam. It was the first time in +his life that he ever hit the ball over the right field fence in Brooklyn, +and he has never done it since. If he had not been lucky in connecting +with that ball and lifting it where it did the most good, his pay envelope +would have been lighter by $25 at the end of the month, and he would have +obtained an accurate idea of McGraw's opinion of his intellectuality. + +In the clubhouse after the victory, McGraw said: + +"Honest, Sam, why did you swing at that ball after I had told you not to?" + +"I didn't hear you," replied Strang. + +"Well, it's lucky you hit it where they weren't," answered McGraw, +"because if any fielder had connected with the ball, there would have been +a rough greeting waiting for you on the bench. And as a tip, Sam, direct +from me: You got away with it once, but don't try it again. It was bad +baseball." + +"But that straight one looked awful good to me coming up the 'groove,'" +argued Sam. + +"Don't fall for all the good lookers, Sam," suggested McGraw, the +philosopher. + +Strang is now abroad having his voice cultivated and he intends to enter +the grand-opera field as soon as he can finish the spring training in +Paris and get his throat into shape for the big league music circuit. But +I will give any orchestra leader who faces Sam a tip. If he doesn't want +him to come in strong where the music is marked "rest," don't put one in +the "groove," because Strang just naturally can't help swinging at it. He +is a poor waiter. + +The Boston club lost eighteen straight games in the season of 1910, and as +the team was leaving the Polo Grounds after having dropped four in a row, +making the eighteen, I said to Tenney: + +"How does it seem, Fred, to be on a club that has lost eighteen straight?" + +"It's what General Sherman said war is," replied Tenney, who seldom +swears. "But for all-around entertainment I would like to see John McGraw +on a team which had dropped fifteen or sixteen in a row." + +As if Tenney had put the curse on us, the Giants hit a losing streak the +next day that totalled six games straight. Everything that we tried broke +against us. McGraw would attempt the double steal, and both throws would +be accurate, and the runner caught at the plate. A hit and a run sign +would be given, and the batter would run up against a pitch-out. + +McGraw was slowly going crazy. All his pet "inside" tricks were worthless. +He, the king of baseball clairvoyants, could not guess right. It began to +look to me as if Tenney would get his entertainment. After the sixth one +had gone against us and McGraw had not spoken a friendly word to any one +for a week, he called the players around him in the clubhouse. + +"I ought to let you all out and get a gang of high-school boys in here to +defend the civic honor of this great and growing city whose municipal +pride rests on your shoulders," he said. "But I'm not going to do it. +Hereafter we will cut out all 'inside' stuff and play straight baseball. +Every man will go up there and hit the ball just as you see it done on the +lots." + +Into this oration was mixed a judicious amount of sulphur. The Cubs had +just taken the first three of a four-game series from us without any +trouble at all. The next day we went out and resorted to the wallop, +plain, untrimmed slugging tactics, and beat Chicago 17 to 1. Later we +returned to the hand-raised, cultivated hot-house form of baseball, but +for a week we played the old-fashioned game with a great deal of success. +It changed our luck. + +Another method which has upset the "inside" game of many visiting teams +is "doping" the grounds. + +The first time in my baseball career that I ever encountered this was in +Brooklyn when Hanlon was the manager. Every time he thought I was going to +pitch there, he would have the diamond doctored for me in the morning. The +ground-keeper sank the pitcher's box down so that it was below the level +of all the bases instead of slightly elevated as it should be. + +Hanlon knew that I used a lot of speed when I first broke into the League, +getting some of it from my elevation on the diamond. He had a team of fast +men who depended largely on a bunting game and their speed in getting to +first base to win. With me fielding bunts out of the hollow, they had a +better chance of making their goal. Then pitching from the lower level +would naturally result in the batters getting low balls, because I would +be more apt to misjudge the elevation of the plate. Low ones were made to +bunt. Finally, Hanlon always put into the box to work against me a little +pitcher who was not affected as much as I by the topographical changes. + +"Why," I said to George Davis, the Giants' manager, the first time I +pitched out of the cellar which in Brooklyn was regarded as the pitcher's +box, "I'm throwing from a hollow instead of off a mound." + +"Sure," replied Davis. "They 'doped' the grounds for you. But never mind. +When we are entertaining, the box at the Polo Grounds will be built up the +days you are going to pitch against Brooklyn, and you can burn them over +and at their heads if you like." + +The thing that worried the Athletics most before the last world's series +was the reputation of the Giants as base stealers. When we went to +Philadelphia for the first game, I was surprised at the heavy condition of +the base lines. + +"Did it rain here last night?" I inquired from a native. + +"No," he answered. + +Then I knew that the lines had been wet down to slow up our fast runners +and make it harder for them to steal. As things developed, this precaution +was unnecessary, but it was an effort to break up what was known to be our +strongest "inside" play. + +Baseball men maintain that the acme of doctoring grounds was the work of +the old Baltimore Orioles. The team was composed of fast men who were +brilliant bunters and hard base runners. The soil of the infield was mixed +with a form of clay which, when wet and then rolled, was almost as hard as +concrete. The ground outside the first and third base lines was built up +slightly to keep well placed bunts from rolling foul, while toward first +base there was a distinct down grade to aid the runner in reaching that +station with all possible expedition. Toward second there was a gentle +slope, and it was down hill to third. But coming home from third was +up-hill work. A player had to be a mountain climber to make it. This all +benefited fast men like Keeler, McGraw, Kelley and Jennings whose most +dangerous form of attack was the bunt. + +The Orioles did not stop at doctoring the infield. The grass in the +outfield was permitted to grow long and was unkempt. Centre and left +fields were kept level, but in right field there was a sharp down grade to +aid the fast Keeler. He had made an exhaustive study of all the possible +angles at which the ball might bound and had certain paths that he +followed, but which were not marked out by sign posts for visiting +right-fielders. He was sure death on hits to his territory, while usually +wallops got past visiting right-fielders. And so great was the grade that +"Wee Willie" was barely visible from the batter's box. A hitting team +coming to Baltimore would be forced to fall into the bunting game or be +entirely outclassed. And the Orioles did not furnish their guests with +topographical maps of the grounds either. + +The habit of doctoring grounds is not so much in vogue now as it once was. +For a long time it was considered fair to arrange the home field to the +best advantage of the team which owned it, for otherwise what was the use +in being home? It was on the same principle that a general builds his +breastworks to best suit the fighting style of his army, for they are his +breastworks. + +But lately among the profession, sentiment and baseball legislation have +prevailed against the doctoring of grounds, and it is done very little. +Occasionally a pitching box is raised or lowered to meet the requirements +of a certain man, but they are not altered every day to fit the pitcher, +as they once were. Such tactics often hopelessly upset the plan of battle +of the visiting club unless this exactly coincided with the habits of the +home team. Many strategic plans have been wasted on carefully arranged +grounds, and many "inside" plays have gone by the boards when the field +was fixed so that a bunt was bound to roll foul if the ball followed the +laws of gravitation, as it usually does, because the visiting team was +known to have the bunting habit. + +A good story of doctored grounds gone wrong is told of the Philadelphia +Athletics. The eccentric "Rube" Waddell had bundles of speed in his early +days, and from a slightly elevated pitcher's box the batter could scarcely +identify "Rube's" delivery from that of a cannon. He was scheduled to +pitch one day and showed around at morning practice looking unusually fit +for George. + +"How are you feeling to-day, George?" asked "Connie" Mack, his boss. + +"Never better," replied the light-hearted "Rube." + +"Well, you work this afternoon." + +"All right," answered Waddell. + +Then the ground-keeper got busy and built the pitcher's box up about two +feet, so that Waddell would have a splendid opportunity to cut loose all +his speed. At that time he happened to be the only tall man on the +pitching staff of the Philadelphia club, and, as a rule, the box was kept +very low. The scheme would probably have worked out as planned, if it had +not been that Waddell, in the course of his noon-day wanderings, met +several friends in whose society he became so deeply absorbed that he +neglected to report at the ball park at all. He also forgot to send word, +and here was the pitcher's box standing up out of the infield like one of +the peaks of the Alps. + +As the players gathered, and Waddell failed to show up, the manager +nervously looked at his watch. At last he sent out scouts to the "Rube's" +known haunts, but no trace of the temperamental artist could be found. The +visitors were already on the field, and it was too late to lower the box. +A short pitcher had to work in the game from this peak of progress, while +the opposing team installed a skyscraper on the mound. The Philadelphia +club was badly beaten and Waddell heavily fined for his carelessness in +disrupting the "inside" play of his team. + +An old and favorite trick used to be to soap the soil around the pitcher's +box, so that when a man was searching for some place to dry his +perspiring hands and grabbed up this soaped earth, it made his palm +slippery and he was unable to control the ball. + +Of course, the home talent knew where the good ground lay and used it or +else carried some unadulterated earth in their trousers' pockets, as a +sort of private stock. But our old friend "Bugs" Raymond hit on a scheme +to spoil this idea and make the trick useless. Arthur always perspired +profusely when he pitched, and several managers, perceiving this, had made +it a habit to soap the dirt liberally whenever it was his turn to work. +While he was pitching for St. Louis, he went into the box against the +Pirates one day in Pittsburg. His hands were naturally slippery, and +several times he had complained that he could not dry them in the dirt, +especially in Pittsburg soil. + +As Raymond worked in the game in question, he was noticed, particularly by +the Pittsburg batters and spectators, to get better as he went along. +Frequently, his hand slipped into his back pocket, and then his control +was wonderful. Sometimes, he would reach down and apparently pick up a +handful of earth, but it did no damage. After the game, he walked over to +Fred Clarke, and reached into his back pocket. His face broke into a grin. + +"Ever see any of that stuff, Fred?" he asked innocently, showing the +Pittsburg manager a handful of a dark brown substance. "That's rosin. It's +great--lots better than soaped ground. Wish you'd keep a supply out there +in the box for me when I'm going to work instead of that slippery stuff +you've got out there now. Will you, as a favor to me?" + +Thereafter, all the pitchers got to carrying rosin or pumice stone in +their pockets, for the story quickly went round the circuit, and it is +useless to soap the soil in the box any more. There are many tricks by +which the grounds or ball are "fixed," but for nearly all an antidote has +been discovered, and these questionable forms of the "inside" game have +failed so often that they have largely been abandoned. + +One Big League manager used always to give his men licorice or some other +dark and adhesive and juicy substance to chew on a dingy day. The purpose +was to dirty the ball so that it was harder for the batters to see when +the pitcher used his fast one. As soon as a new ball was thrown into the +game, it was quickly passed around among the fielders, and instead of +being the lily-white thing that left the umpire's hands, when it finally +got to the pitcher's box it was a very pronounced brunette. But some +eagle-eyed arbiter detected this, and kept pouring new balls into the game +when the non-licorice chewers were at the bat, while he saved the +discolored ones for the consumption of the masticators. It was another +trick that failed. + +Frequently, backgrounds are tampered with if the home club is notably weak +at the bat. The best background for a batter is a dull, solid green. Many +clubs have painted backgrounds in several contrasting, broken colors so +that the sunlight, shining on them, blinds the batter. The Chicago White +Sox are said to have done this, and for many years the figures showed that +the batting of both the Chicago players and the visitors at their park was +very light. The White Sox's hitting was weak anywhere, so that the poor +background was an advantage to them. + +Injuries have often upset the "inside" play of a club. Usually a team's +style revolves around one or two men, and the taking of them out of the +game destroys the whole machine. The substitute does not think as quickly; +neither does he see and grasp the opportunities as readily. This was true +of the Cubs last season. Chance and Evers used to be the "inside" game of +the team. Evers was out of the game most of the summer and Chance was +struck in the head with a pitched ball and had to quit. The playing of the +Chicago team fell down greatly as a result. + +Chance is the sort of athlete who is likely to get injured. When he was a +catcher he was always banged up because he never got out of the way of +anything. He is that kind of player. If he has to choose between accepting +a pair of spikes in a vital part of his anatomy and getting a put-out, or +dodging the spikes and losing the put-out, he always takes the put-out and +usually the spikes. He never dodges away from a ball when at bat that may +possibly break over the plate and cost him a strike. That is why he was +hit in the head. He lingered too long to ascertain whether the ball was +going to curve and found out that it was not, which put him out of the +game, the Cubs practically out of the pennant race, and broke up their +"inside" play. + +Roger Bresnahan is the same kind of a man. He thinks quickly, and is a +brilliant player, but he never dodges anything. He is often hurt as a +result. Once, when he was with the Giants, he was hit in the face with a +pitched ball, and McGraw worried while he was laid up, for fear that it +would make him bat shy. After he came back, he was just as friendly with +the plate as ever. The injury of men like Chance and Bresnahan, whose +services are of such vital importance to the "inside" play of a team, +destroys the effectiveness of the club. + +Once, in 1908, when we were fighting the Cubs for the pennant at every +step, McGraw planned a bunting game against Overall, who is big and not +very fast in covering the little rollers. Bresnahan and O'Day had been +having a serial argument through two games, and Roger, whose nerves were +worn to a frazzle, like those of the rest of us at that time, thought +"Hank" had been shading his judgment slightly toward the Cubs. In another +story I have pointed out that O'Day, the umpire, was stubborn and that +nothing could be gained by continually picking on him. When the batteries +were announced for that game, McGraw said as the team went to the field: + +"We can beat this guy Overall by bunting." + +Bresnahan went out to put on his chest protector and shin guards. O'Day +happened to be adjusting his makeup near him. Roger could not resist the +temptation. + +"Why don't you put on a Chicago uniform, 'Hank', instead of those duds?" +he asked. "Is it true, if the Cubs win the pennant, they've promised to +elect you alderman in Chicago?" + +"Get out of the game and off the field," said O'Day. + +Bresnahan had to obey the injunction and Needham, the only other available +catcher, went behind the mat. "Tom" Needham never beat out a bunt in his +life, and he destroyed all McGraw's plans because, with him in the game +instead of Bresnahan, the style had to be switched. We lost. Bresnahan, a +fast man and a good bunter batted third and would have been valuable in +the attack best adapted to beat Overall. But his sudden demise and the +enforced substitution of the plodding Needham ruined the whole plan of +campaign. Therefore, frequently umpires upset a team's "inside" game. + +One of McGraw's schemes back-fired on him when Luderus, the hard-hitting +Philadelphia first baseman, broke into the League. Some one had tipped +"Mac" off, and tipped him wrong, that this youngster could be disconcerted +in a pinch by the catcher discussing signs and what-not with him, thus +distracting his attention. + +"Chief," said McGraw before the game, "if this Luderus gets up in a tight +place, slip him a little talk." + +The situation came, and Meyers obeyed instructions. The game was in +Philadelphia, and three men were on the bases with two out. Ames was +pitching. + +"What are you bringing the bat up with you for?" asked the "Chief" as +Luderus arranged himself at the plate. + +No answer. + +Then Meyers gave Ames his sign. Next he fixed his fingers in a fake signal +and addressed the young batter. + +"The best hitters steal signs," said the "Chief." "Just look down in my +glove and see the signals." + +But Luderus was not caught and kept his eyes glued on Ames. He hit the +next ball over the right field wall and won the game. As he crossed the +plate, he said to the "Chief": + +"It's too easy. I don't need your signs. They pulled that one on me in the +bushes long ago." + +"After this, when that fellow bats," said McGraw to Meyers later, "do as +exact an imitation of the sphinx as you know how. The tip was no good." + +The trick of talking to the hitter is an old one. The idea is for the +catcher to give a wrong sign, for his benefit, after having flashed the +right one, induce the batter, usually a youngster, to look down at it, and +then have the pitcher shoot one over the plate while he is staring in the +glove. + +"Steve" Evans, the St. Louis right-fielder, tells a story of a fan who sat +in the same box at the Cardinals' park every day and devoted most of his +time to roasting him (S. Evans). His favorite expressions in connection +with Evans were "bone dead," "wooden head," and so on. He loudly claimed +that "Steve" had no knowledge of the game and spoiled every play that +Bresnahan tried to put through. One day, when the Giants were playing in +St. Louis, some one knocked up a high foul which landed in this orator's +box. He saw it coming, tried to dodge, used poor judgment, and, realizing +that the ball was going to strike him, snatched his hat off, and took it +full on an immodestly bald head. "Steve" Evans was waiting to go to the +bat. He shifted his chew to his other cheek and exclaimed in a voice that +could not have been heard more than two miles away: + +"That's the 'gink' who has been calling me a 'bone head.'" + +"Steve" got a great laugh from the crowd, but right there the St. Louis +club lost a patron, for the bald-headed one has never been seen at the +grounds since, according to Evans, and his obituary has not been printed +yet, either. + +"Al" Bridwell, formerly the Giants' shortstop, was one of the cleverest +men at the "inside" game that ever broke into the Big Leagues, and it was +this that made him valuable. Then suddenly his legs went bad, and he +slowed up. It was his speed and his ability to bunt and his tireless +waiting at the plate to make all toilers in the box pitch that had made +him a great player. He seldom swung at a bad ball. As soon as he slowed +up, McGraw knew he would have to go if the Giants were to win the pennant. +He deeply regretted letting the gritty, little shortstop, whose legs had +grown stiff in his service, leave the club, but sentiment never won any +pennants. + +"Al," he said to Bridwell, "I'm going to let you go to Boston. Your legs +will be all right eventually, but I've got to have a fast man now while +you are getting back your old speed." + +"That's all right, 'Mac,'" replied Bridwell. "It's all part of the game." + +He did not rave and swear that he had been double-crossed, as many players +do under the same circumstances. I never heard Bridwell swear, and I never +found any one else who did. He had been playing for weeks, when every time +he moved it pained him, because he thought he might have a share of the +money that winning a pennant would mean. It was a staggering blow to him, +this sending him from a pennant possibility to a hopeless tail-ender, but +he took it gamely. + +"I guess I was 'gumming' the inside stuff," he said. + +And he did get some of the prize money. The boys voted him a share. + +It will be seen that the "inside" game sometimes fails. Many a time I have +passed a catcher or good batter to take a chance on a pitcher, and then +have had him make a hit just when hits were not at all welcome. I walked a +catcher once and had the pitcher shove the ball over first base for a +single, when he closed his eyes and dodged back in an effort to get his +head out of the line he thought it was pursuing before it curved. In +ducking, he got his bat in front of the ball, a result he had never +obtained with his eyes open. + +Once I started to pass "Hans" Wagner in a pinch to take a chance on the +next batter, and was a little careless in throwing the ball too close to +the plate. He reached out and slapped it for a single. Again the "inside" +game had failed. + +Speaking pretty generally, most managers prefer to use this "inside" game, +though, and there are few vacancies in the Big Leagues right now for the +man who is liable to steal second with the bases full. + + + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. + +Punctuation has been corrected without note. + +The following misprints have been corrected: + "Crounds" corrected to "Grounds" (page 65) + "temperameut" corrected to "temperament" (page 69) + "penant" corrected to "pennant" (page 205) + "te ephone" corrected to "telephone" (page 263) + "innnings" corrected to "innings" (page 282) + +Other than the corrections listed above, inconsistencies in hyphenation +have been retained from the original. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Pitching in a Pinch, by Christy Mathewson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PITCHING IN A PINCH *** + +***** This file should be named 33291.txt or 33291.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/9/33291/ + +Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Archive/American +Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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