September is for me baseball’s best month, even better than October, because it is so filled with possibility. Who will win the division title? The wild-card spots? The batting and pitching crowns? The World Series is for October, and the timing of the MVP and Cy Young awards, and Hall of Fame announcements, is designed to keep the hot stove league burning. But if in spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of Opening Day (oh yeah, and love, too), in these first days of fall, for veteran fans the topic is baseball, baseball, baseball.
With the approach of the regular season’s end, this will be the last Old News column for 2015.
1920: Behind Joe Jackson’s homer and two doubles, and the pitching of Lefty Williams‚ the White Sox beat host Cleveland 5-1‚ to shave the Indians’ lead to a half game. Jackson is hitting .387 and will finish with a mark of .382, the highest ever for a player in his final full season. Jackson, of course, like Williams and five others (Chick Gandil retired after the 1919 campaign), does not yet know that these will be his last days in Organized Baseball. For more, see: http://goo.gl/Vtd3SM
1929: Three days after turning the team over to coach Art Fletcher‚ Yankee manager Miller Huggins dies from blood poisoning at New York’s St. Vincent Hospital at age 49. After the Yankees learn of their skipper’s death, during the fifth inning at Fenway Park, both teams line up at home plate for a minute of silent prayer.
1956: At Ebbets Field‚ Sal Maglie of the Dodgers no-hits the Phils 5-0, keeping Brooklyn a half game behind the Braves, who beat Cincinnati 7-1. As David Nemec observed, “After seemingly having a fork stuck in him upon being released by the Indians in 1956, Sal Maglie was signed by the Dodgers and did not make his first start with them until June 4 at Milwaukee when he beat Burdette 3-0. Following that, he joined the Brooklyn rotation and was so instrumental in the Dodgers’ pennant win that he finished a relatively close second to teammate Don Newcombe in the MVP balloting.” Fans of Yoenis Cespedes, take note.
1961: In New York’s 159th game‚ Roger Maris rips a Jack Fisher fastball into the right-field seats at Yankee Stadium for his 60th home run, tying Babe Ruth’s mark set in 1927. Fewer than 8‚000 fans are on hand.
1964: Behind rookie Mel Stottlemyre’s two-hitter‚ the Yankees roll over the Senators‚ 7-0‚ for their eleventh win in a row on their way to another pennant (but their last one until 1976). Stottlemyre adds a record-tying five hits‚ the last MLB pitcher to collect that many.
1993: The Rockies set a season attendance record‚ reaching 4‚483‚350 as they defeat the Reds‚ 12-7. Don’t reach for that calculator: in 81 home dates, the Rockies averaged 55,350 fans per game.
1917: The Red Sox play a benefit game against an American League all-star team featuring Ty Cobb‚ Tris Speaker‚ and Joe Jackson. More than $14‚000 is raised for the family of sportswriter Tim Murnane‚ who died February 13. Babe Ruth (along with teammate Rube Foster) pitches for the Sox, Fanny Brice helps sell programs, and John L. Sullivan coaches at third base. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2013/05/08/tim-murnane-heart-of-the-game/
1924: Rookie Pedro Dibut (3-0) hurls the Reds to a 10-1 win over the Cardinals. Except for a brief relief appearance next year‚ that’s it in the majors for the chunky Cuban‚ who played in the Negro Leagues for the Cuban Stars (West), before the Reds. Gary Ashwill observes: “There were three players, all Cubans, who appeared in the organized Negro leagues 1920-1946 and also in the major leagues, all in the 1920s: Pedro Dibut; Ramón ‘Paito’ or ‘Mike’ Herrera; and Oscar Estrada…. If you want to go pre-1920, it depends on how you define ‘Negro league.’ Both Armando Marsans and Rafael Almeida played for All-Cubans/Cuban Stars teams on the blackball circuit in the 1900s … [and both] appeared in a predecessor league, the 1906 International League of Independent Professional Base Ball Clubs, which strictly speaking wasn’t a ‘Negro league,’ as it included a couple of white teams…. Bill Cadreau, a Native American who pitched one game for the Chicago White Sox in 1910 under the name ‘Chief Chouneau,’ also played for the Chicago Union Giants, a black professional team, in both 1911 and 1917…. In the 19th century Weldy Walker played for both the 1884 Toledo AA team and the 1887 Pittsburgh Keystones of the National Colored League (both very briefly).” For more, see: http://agatetype.typepad.com/agate_type/2014/06/bill-cadreau-1911-union-giants.html
1951: With the score tied at 3-3 in the eighth inning‚ umpire Frank Dascoli clears the entire Brooklyn bench after his call at home plate produces a violent protest. Future Hall of Fame NBA basketball player Bill Sharman‚ up from St. Paul (AA) at the end of the season‚ is one of the players thrown out. Sharman, who never gets into a game for the Dodgers, thus becomes the only man to be thrown out of a big-league game without ever having played in one.
1865: Four thousand spectators gather at Hoboken to watch the Mutuals lose to the Eckford Club 23-11. The Mutual Club meets after the game and charges catcher William Wansley with “willful and designed inattention” with the view of causing Eckford to defeat Mutual. A committee formed to investigate the matter later reports that gambler Kane McLoughlin paid $100 collectively to the three players to heave, in the favored term of the period, the game to the Eckfords. Wansley made so little attempt to hide his skullduggery (six passed balls, no hits in five at bats) that rumblings about something being rotten in Hoboken were aired in the press immediately. Confronted by the Mutual club’s president, Wansley confessed and implicated his partners in slime, Tom Devyr and Ed Duffy; all three were banned from play. Young Devyr, after a heartfelt confession, will be restored to good graces in 1867‚ Duffy in 1869‚ and Wansley in 1870.
1960: At Fenway in the bottom of the eighth inning, in his final big-league plate appearance Ted Williams picks out a 1-1 pitch from Baltimore’s Jack Fisher and drives it 450 feet into the seats behind the Boston bullpen. It is Williams’ 521st home run‚ placing him third on the all-time list. Williams stays in the dugout‚ ignoring the crowd’s cheers‚ but after trotting out to left in the ninth‚ he is replaced immediately by Carroll Hardy. The Splendid Splinter exits as a standing crowd roars.
1988: In his last start of the regular season‚ Orel Hershiser pitches 10 shutout innings to extend his consecutive scoreless inning streak to 59‚ breaking Dodger Don Drysdale’s record. Hershiser ends September with a 5-0 record and an ERA of 0.00. His streak started on August 30 with four shutout innings against Montreal.
1945: The Cubs clinch the NL flag on Hank Borowy’s 4-3 win over Pittsburgh in the first game of a doubleheader. Borowy, an All-Star with the Yankees in 1944, came to the Cubs on July 27, for a payment of $97,000. He had won 10 games for New York and would proceed to win 11 for the Cubs.
1954: In Game 1 of the World Series‚ Willie Mays of the Giants makes one of the greatest catches in history. Racing back to deep center field in the Polo Grounds to make an over-the-head catch of Indian Vic Wertz’s 440-foot drive in the eighth, he preserves the 2-2 score. In the tenth‚ Dusty Rhodes hits a pinch-hit‚ three-run home run to give the Giants the first of their four consecutive victories.
1959: The Milwaukee Braves knock Don Drysdale out of the game and take a 4-2 lead‚ but the Dodgers come back to win their second game of the playoff‚ 6-5‚ and win the NL pennant. The Dodgers, who had lost a three-run lead in the ninth of a playoff game only eight years before, now overcome a 5-2 ninth-inning deficit to tie the game. They win it in the 12th when Gil Hodges scores from second on Felix Mantilla’s throwing error on a Carl Furillo grounder.
1951: Jackie Robinson hits an upper deck HR in the 14th inning off Robin Roberts‚ who came on in the eighth‚ to give the Dodgers a n all-important 9-8 win over the Phils. Robbie saves the game in the 13th by making a great catch of an Eddie Waitkus line drive and throwing to second base for a DP. The Dodgers’ win sets the stage for a playoff with the Giants, who had won earlier today.
1927: With the score tied at 2-2 in the eighth‚ Mark Koenig triples and moments later Babe Ruth launches his historic No. 60 off Washington’s Tom Zachary for a 4-2 win. Ruth has hit 17 homers in September‚ the highest month’s output till Rudy York’s 18 in August 1937. The Babe is the first player to hit 30‚ 40‚ 50‚ and now 60 homers.
1907: An overflow crowd lines the field at Philadelphia’s Columbia Park for the showdown Monday doubleheader between the A’s and Tigers. In the first game‚ the home team gets off to a 7-1 lead against 25-game winner Bill Donovan. But Ty Cobb ties the game at 8-8 with a homer in the ninth. Both teams score once in the 11th. In the 14th an umpire’s ruling costs Philadelphia the game and precipitates a bit of a riot: Harry Davis hits a long fly into the crowd in left CF‚ ordinarily a ground-rule double. As Tiger CF Sam Crawford goes to the crowd’s edge‚ a policeman stands up and moves‚ either to interfere or to get out of the way. Home plate umpire Silk O’Loughlin says there is no interference‚ then reverses his ruling when base umpire Tom Connolly offers a different opinion. When play resumes‚ the Athletics’ Danny Murphy hits a long single that would have scored Davis. The game is called because of darkness in the 17th‚ a 9-9 tie. The second game is never played. The Tigers retain first place. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2013/01/02/ty-cobb-remembers/
1866: In Philadelphia‚ the largest crowd in baseball history‚ 30‚000‚ gather to watch the first match in a home-and-home series between the champion Atlantics from Brooklyn and the Athletics of Philadelphia. Batting first‚ the A’s score a pair but the press of the crowd makes play impossible and the game is called. Another attempt to play in Philadelphia is successful on October 22.
1924: Only three years after Commissioner Landis banned the eight Black Sox for life, another bribery scandal clouds the October landscape. Landis bars Giants outfielder Jimmy O’Connell and coach Cozy Dolan from the impending World Series with Washington after they admit an attempt to bribe Phils shortstop Heinie Sand to “go easy” in their season-ending series against the Giants. O’Connell implicates Frank Frisch‚ George Kelly‚ and Ross Youngs‚ who deny everything and are cleared by Landis. O’Connell is out of baseball at 23. AL President Ban Johnson‚ an enemy of the Giants John McGraw‚ proclaims that the World Series should be canceled because of the betting scandal‚ a pronouncement that the owners will ignore.
1967: Boston, a ninth-place club in 1966, clinches the American League pennant with a 5-3 win over Minnesota‚ Jim Lonborg besting Dean Chance. Carl Yastrzemski goes 4-for-4. His 10 hits in his final 13 at bats secure the Triple Crown (.326‚ 44‚ 121). Detroit‚ which could tie for the lead with a sweep on this day‚ beats California in the opener 6-4 but drops the nightcap 8-5.
At left is an Ebbets Field Flannels replica of the jacket Robert Redford wore when he played Roy Hobbs, the thirty-five-year-old rookie from nowhere, an item which may prompt postmodernists to question what it means to replicate the frankly fake. The 1984 film The Natural has become a litmus test for baseball savants and film critics. Either it was horrible, a comic-book parody of Bernard Malamud’s excellent 1952 novel; or it was grand and mythopoeic, a tour de force by director Barry Levinson that was vastly superior to the book on which it was based. The battle was pitched anew on Facebook yesterday, with some hating the book and loving the film, others the opposite.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in the world who hated the film,” Tara Krieger wrote. “It just felt incredibly overwrought.”
“One thing that kinda bugged me about the movie,” said Ron Bolton,” was Hobbs did two things at the plate – he either hit a home run or he struck out.”
“If you’re looking for realism,” I replied to my friends, “yes. I like the film as fable.”
The Natural was not a movie about baseball, the critics charged. Overly simplistic, they said, it was instead an allegory about the eternal battle between good and evil, between our past and our future, between what could have been and what is. (Sounds like baseball to me.) The film was chock full of allusions to baseball players and events–Babe Ruth, Jim Creighton, Eddie Waitkus–and to classic legends: Faust, King Arthur, the Serpent in the Garden, Prometheus. It gave us a dazzlingly visual ending–the famous homer into the light stanchion that explodes into a brilliant fireworks display. Bull Durham and Field of Dreams touched new sets of nerves about baseball, life, love, and myth, and Moneyball was complicated fun, but for me, The Natural is the long ball of baseball movies.
A League of Their Own was based on the real All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (AAGPBL), whose story has grown larger in death than it was during its twelve-year life in 1943-1954. Once a lightweight item for morning talk shows in the early 1980s, the AAGPBL would have retreated into the anonymity of academic theses had it not been for director Penny Marshall and actors Tom Hanks, Geena Davis, Madonna, Lori Petty, and Rosie O’Donnell. The film, released in 1992, was a huge hit and brought renewed attention to the women’s league. As a feminist rallying cause, the film reversed the classic paradigm in which art imitates life; Geena Davis imitating LIFE puts an additional spin on the ball.
A League of Their Own rekindled interest in the AAGPBL and in its players, giving them a well-deserved second chance at honor and fame. But the film’s impact extended further than that. The Women in Baseball exhibit at the Hall of Fame became vastly popular, and today such organizations as Baseball for All (http://www.baseballforall.com/) are taking the next step, empowering girls to play the game and imagine themselves as big leaguers too. As to the whole question of whether a woman could one day play major-league baseball, reasonable people, myself included, believe that a female equivalent to Jackie Robinson will break the gender line.
This week’s dose of old news is chock full of near misses, from Dave Stieb in 1988 to the Phils of 1964 to Fred Merkle in 1908. Heroes and goats, goats and heroes, they all swirl in the memory of older baseball fans—and for young fans with a sense of the game’s glorious past. Fame and infamy may be opposites, but away from the heat of the moment both may claim a place of fame and, indeed honor. Because just like life, baseball is more about dashed hopes than it is about exultation.
1899: After losing 24 games in a row‚ Cleveland defeats Washington 5-4. The Spiders will go on to lose their next 16 games (for a stretch of 1-40!), on their way to a final mark of 20 wins and 134 losses. When measured against the Spiders, the 1962 Mets were a powerhouse. For more, see: http://www.si.com/vault/1999/04/19/259642/hard-to-believe-how-bad-they-were-the-1899-cleveland-spiders-make-the-1962-mets-seem-like-world-beaters
1903: In the absence of official league sanction‚ the presidents of the pennant-winning clubs sign an agreement to meet in a best-of-nine series for the championship. The National Commission, baseball’s ruling body before the advent of the commissioner system, did not mandate a World Series until 1905, after owner John Brush and manager John McGraw declined to pit their victorious Giants against the American League champs in 1904. The Pirates—the only National League team not devastated by defections to the upstart American League—clinch the pennant tomorrow. Some say the Pirates lost few of their stars to the rival circuit because Buc owner Barney Dreyfuss was such an honest and fair fellow that his players were exceptionally loyal (the story goes that Honus Wagner turned down $10,000 in cash to jump); others say that Ban Johnson and the American League owners figured that a strong team in Pittsburgh meant weaker opposition in the five cities where the leagues met head-to-head (New York, Boston, Philadelphia, St. Louis, and Chicago).
1905: Nearly fifty years before Eddie Gaedel will make his appearance with the St. Louis Browns, little person Jerry Sullivan pinch hits in an Eastern League game for Buffalo. Bison manager George Stallings, who had met Sullivan, a vaudeville performer, in the Bisons’ Baltimore hotel the night before, invites him out to the game against the Orioles. He even provides a small uniform. As Baltimore takes a 10–2 lead into the final frame, Sullivan goes in as a Buffalo pinch hitter. Fred Burchell’s first pitch is high and his second is a lob that the diminutive fellow loops for a single. In James Thurber’s 1941 story “You Could Look It Up,” a midget named Pearl du Monville was sent up to walk but, enticed by a fat pitch, grounded out. Thurber could not have based his tale on Gaedel … but he might have known of Sullivan.
1920: In New York‚ Babe Ruth’s movie Headin’ Home opens at Madison Square Garden. It has been financed in part by Abe Attell with his winnings from the Black Sox Scandal of the year before.
1954: Before a sparse crowd of 1‚715‚ the A’s play their final game at Shibe Park‚ losing to the Yankees‚ 4-2. The A’s are off to Kansas City for the 1955 season.
1964: The Dodger-Phils matchup in Los Angeles goes fifteen innings‚ when with 2 outs in the bottom of the 16th‚ Willie Davis singles‚ steals second‚ and takes third on a wild pitch. With lefty reliever Morrie Steevens making one of his four big-league appearances this year‚ Davis swipes home to give the Dodgers the 4-3 win. The Phils, on their way to an epic slide from first place, now lead by 5-1/2. For more, see: http://bleacherreport.com/articles/870583-the-top-10-biggest-and-worst-collapses-in-baseball-history
1903: A bad day for the Poughkeepsie Giants (Class D Hudson River League) as they drop a quadruple header to Hudson by the scores of 2-1‚ 6-4‚ 3-1‚ and 4-2. This is the only quadrupleheader of the 20th century. For more, see: http://research.sabr.org/journals/1903-hudson-river-league
1932: Hoping to boast attendance‚ the Sacramento Senators and Oakland Oaks open their final Coast League series here by starting two Asian American pitchers: for the Senators, Kenso Nushida‚ a Japanese-American; for the Oaks, Lee Gum Hong‚ a Chinese-American. For more, see: http://goo.gl/exnZNp
1958: Baltimore’s Hoyt Wilhelm‚ in a rare start, pitches a 1-0 no-hitter‚ the first in O’s history‚ against Don Larsen of the Yankees‚ fanning eight. The Orioles had acquired Wilhelm on waivers in August. (Thought to be washed up at age 35, Wilhelm pitched another 14 years.) The win‚ his first complete game‚ improves his season record to 3-10.
1934: The Deans shut out the Dodgers in a doubleheader. After Dizzy gives up just three hits in a 13-0 victory‚ allowing no hits until the eighth‚ Paul tosses a no-hitter‚ 3-0. Diz says: “If’n Paul had told me he was gonna pitch a no-hitter‚ I’d of throwed one‚ too.”
1940: Against the Reds‚ Pittsburgh’s Debs Garms laces five hits in a doubleheader to sew up the National League batting title with a .355 average. Garms has only 358 at bats but has appeared in 103 games‚ thus qualifying him for the crown. Bubbles Hargrave had won a batting title in 1926 under similar guidelines (with 326 at bats in 105 games, 12 of these as a pinch hitter). It was not until 1951 that the requirement was changed to 400 at-bats (and even later to 502 plate appearances).
1970: In his second major-league start, the A’s Vida Blue no-hits the Twins 6-0‚ becoming the youngest pitcher to perform the feat since Paul Dean‚ 36 years ago to the day (see above). The only base runner against Blue is Harmon Killebrew‚ who walks in the fourth inning.
1911: The Boston Rustlers’ Cy Young, returning to the National League for his last big-league campaign, shuts out Pittsburgh and Babe Adams 1-0 for his final career victory‚ number 511.
1953: The Brooklyn Dodgers tie the NL record for the most wins in a home park‚ beating Pittsburgh 5-4. They go an incredible 60-17 at Ebbets Field‚ equaling the mark of the St. Louis Cardinals in 1942. The top five home records since 1900 are all from the American League.
1932 Yankees 62-15 .805
1961 Yankees 65-16 .802
1931 Athletics 60-15 .800
1949 Red Sox 61-16 .792
1946 Red Sox 61-16 .792
1963: For the first time‚ all three Alou brothers share the outfield. In the seventh inning‚ Matty is in left‚ Felipe replaces Willie Mays in center‚ and Jesus is in right. In the eighth inning‚ the three are retired in order.
1845: The Knickerbocker Base Ball Club of New York is formally organized after season-long recruitment efforts encouraged by Alexander J. Cartwright. Charles A. Peverelly credited him thus in his Book of American Pastimes (1866): “In the spring of 1845 Mr. Alex. J. Cartwright, who had become an enthusiast in the game, one day upon the field proposed a regular organization, promising to obtain several recruits. His proposal was acceded to, and Messrs. W. R. Wheaton, Cartwright, D. F. Curry, E. R. Dupignac Jr., and W. H. Tucker, formed themselves into a board of recruiting officers, and soon obtained names enough to make a respectable show.” Strangely, Cartwright is not elected as one of the KBBC’s first officers.
1908: The Giants’ Christy Mathewson and the Cubs’ Three Finger Brown battle in the most controversial game ever played. The score is 1-1‚ with two outs in the last of the ninth. The Giants’ Harry McCormick is on third base‚ and Fred Merkle (19‚ subbing for the sore-legged regular Fred Tenney)‚ is on first. Al Bridwell singles‚ scoring McCormick and winning the game … except that halfway to second‚ Merkle turns toward the outfield and runs to the clubhouse. Cubs second sacker Johnny Evers secures a ball (perhaps not the ball that Bridwell hit) and touches the bag as the crowd overruns the field. Umpire Hank O’Day claims he didn’t see the play‚ but that evening he rules the run does not count‚ and the game thus ended with a tie score. When the two clubs ended the season in a deadlock, they met in a one-game playoff. The Cubs prevailed, and went on to win what is today their World Series title.
1957: The Milwaukee Braves clinch the pennant by beating the Cardinals 4-2 on Hank Aaron’s 11th-inning home run. Billy Muffett serves up the pitch‚ his only gopher ball all season. The homer‚ Aaron’s 43rd‚ comes with two outs and Johnny Logan on base. For more, see: http://mlb.mlb.com/memorylab/memories/selig.jsp
1929: The Yankees celebrate Babe Ruth Day at Fenway by winning‚ 5-3 over Boston. Ruth is 2-for-3 with a double. Lefty Tom Zachary wins his 12th without a loss: his 12-0 season record remains the record for most wins without a loss. Two years earlier Zachary, then with the Senators, had thrown the pitch that the Babe walloped for his 60th home run.
1988: Toronto’s Dave Stieb is one strike away from a no-hitter when Julio Franco’s apparent game-ending grounder takes a bad hop over second baseman Manny Lee’s head and Stieb is forced to settle for a 1-0 one-hitter. Six days later, in his next home start, Stieb again will lose a no-hitter in the ninth with only one strike remaining.
1998: The Yanks win‚ 5-2‚ over the Devil Rays and post their 111th win of the year‚ surpassing the club record of 110‚ set by the 1927 team (these Yanks play eight more games of course). Shane Spencer, precursor of Yoenis Cespedes, pounds a grand slam‚ his eighth homer in 57 at bats.
“Pity the Poor Umpire!” Cries One Who Knows – A Few of the Rules by Which That Unpopular Official is Supposed to Be Governed and Some of His Experiences with an Outlaw League.
Whenever I go to a ball game and hear the wolves in the bleachers howling “Kill the umpire!” I feel like crawling into the nearest hole and pulling the hole in after me. I can see the air as thick with stones as with raindrops, and I can still feel that old familiar “bupp!” as when some well-directed dornick [cited in the Oxford English Dictionary as a dialectal US term originating in the mid-19th century, meaning “pebble, stone or small boulder” –jt] used to knock me from under my hat. Umpiring is a great life, so it is—not.
When an umpire gets into a city, bowed down with the weight of the armor plate which he uses on the field of carnage, he can say with truth, “I haven’t got a friend in this city. There’s not a man here would loan me a nickel. I’m an outcast.”
I’ve been an umpire in a good many leagues in my day—from the Land League down to the Spinster’s League, where they bat .911 and never catch anything but a cold—and I’ve noticed a few things. I’ve felt things too. I wouldn’t look nearly so old if it hadn’t been for umpiring. I’m considerably over fifty, and I look all of forty-five. It’s terrible!
Well, anyway, one of the things I’ve noticed is that the further an umpire gets into the business the more particular the club owners get. In the big leagues the umpire is supposed to know what to do, and he does it—sometimes. But when he gets over his head in the sticks, he’s handed a list of rules and regulations that he’d have to go to college to learn. And when he’d have them learned his eyes would be ruined from overstudy, so that he wouldn’t be able to tell a strike from a June bug.
“An umpire should not dine with the players—nor on them.
“An umpire should always use his own toothbrush when possible. He should always carry one clean collar.
“He should never bandy words with the spectators. If they should crown him with a pop-bottle, let him remember that it is the only their way of expressing the joy in their innocent hearts.
“He should never use abusive language to a ball player. If he rules a player off the grounds, and the player refuses to go, let him call a policeman to eject him. If the policeman cannot eject the player, let him call the reserves. He’ll need them for his own protection.
“He must not try to borrow money from players or club managers. He would not get it, anyhow.”
Everyone likes to ride the poor ump, and those that have the least ability do it most. I’ve seen good men—pitchers who had everything but a mustache—get along fine with the umpires. And I’ve seen bushers with nothing on the ball but the stitches, and others who couldn’t hit a barrel if it were rolled at them, crabbing the umpires every game they played.
Sometimes the ump is to blame—but not always. And that reminds me.
One Sunday, back in Cincinnati, we were playing a game before a crowd of about eleven thousand people. McQuaid was the man slated to umpire, but he got sick and couldn’t show up. Bancroft, business manager of the club, and Patsy Tebeau, the then manager of the Cleveland club, finally decided on an umpire who lived in Covington, Ky.
Well, for about five innings everything was rosy. Crowd in good humor, players full of pepper. But about the fifth inning the ump began to blow, and put reverse English on his decisions. At last, after one particularly raw decision, the spectators began to climb out of the stands onto the field. Some of them started to throw things, and the whole mob surged toward the umpire. Two men who worked around the grounds got hold of a very long rope and ran out with it in order to head the crowd off and drive it back to the stands.
That’s where they made their fatal mistake. When the ump saw that rope he thought they were going to hang him. He turned tail and got out so fast that his feet only hit the high places. The last thing seen of him he was passing through Cumingsville [today spelled Cumminsville—jt], seven miles away, his ears pointed up wind, and his coat tails standing straight out behind. And at that time he was just settling down to run. The chief of police found him next day, and took him home in an airship.
But what happened to me was worse. Listen to this and you’ll laugh. But judge if I laughed at the time.
About eight years ago I was umpiring in the South Atlantic League. One day I was officiating in Augusta, Ga., and made a decision that I know was correct. The manager of one of the teams didn’t think so, however, and he swore for five minutes without repeating. Well, I said to myself, I’ll fix you, mister. You to the stable. So I ordered him to the club house.
“What!” he yelled. “Why, you big blank-blank-blank”—and he went off in another spasm.
When he wouldn’t go of his own accord I ordered two specials to assist him. They did, and he bucked like a billygoat all the way off the field. Before the game was over I had to put five of his men in the manger with him.
Unfortunately, the very next game I umpired this gentleman and his brood were along. They started trouble right off the bat. Things got so bad eventually that I had to have him up before the President of the league, where, I may say, he nearly lost his job.
One day when I was about disgusted I got a telegram from the Tri-State League, offering me $500 a month if I’d come there and umpire. The Tri-State at that time was an outlaw league, and it meant that I’d have to do the loop-the-loop act. I went to a friend of mine and asked him what I’d better do.
“Why, you big dub,” he said, “jump!”
I did; and a few days afterward I found myself with the outlaws. The first game I umpired in that league went seventeen innings. Fine! Not a kick. The second game went fourteen innings. Great! Not a whisper. I was going along in that league like a house afire. The league owners congratulated me. What do you think of that? The league owners congratulated the poor umpire. I felt like a rookie who has just struck out Ty Cobb. But it didn’t fool me out of a sense of my position.
“Don’t,” I told them. “Never congratulate an umpire. To-day he’s a prince, and to-morrow he’s a bum.”
I was elated over it, though, and I think I had cause to be. But pride goeth before a fall, as the good Book says. And the next game—bing!
The game was at Williamsport, Pa., and before a big crowd. Williamsport had a fast team in those days, and a great many of the players afterward became famous in baseball. Well, along about the middle of the game the visiting team was leading by a few runs. Williamsport got a few men on bases about the fourth or fifth inning, and Jim Delahanty came to bat. He picked one and sent it sizzling down the third-base line. It went foul by about a foot and a half. I called “Foul!” but the players and crowd began to howl “Run! Run!” and Jim continued around the bases like a race horse. When he got to third base I headed him off and sent him back. Wow! What a roar! The wolves began to ride me, the players began to crab, and it looked as though the seething mixture was going to explode right there.
I got them started again at last, but I was afraid to take my station behind the catcher. I knew he’d let a high fast one go by, and I knew when he did I’d get it right in the teeth. Smack! How do you do? Not for me. I went behind the pitcher. Even at that the catcher threw them back with all his speed, and the pitcher was letting them slip through his hands. But I was too wise. I ducked, and let them go by too.
The game was over at last. Williamsport had lost, and I prepared to leave the field. The crowd stuck. I could see them winding up to deliver their famous fast one. I could feel my head getting bumpy already. When I went into the little shelter at one side of the field to change my shoes five policemen surrounded me to escort me from the field.
The action started; and as usual I was one the receiving end. A fellow with a big auto drove up and told me to get in. I did. So did the cops. They surrounded me. The fellow driving the auto ran it out into the middle of the field and stalled it. What the rocks did to that auto was a shame. The driver ordered us to get out. He said the machine had broken down.
“You got us here,” said one of the cops, “and now you get us out of here, or I’ll pound your head in.” The rocks were pretty thick by this time, and some of them landed in the car with a smack that would rattle your teeth. Finally we got under way and made for the gate licketty-split. The gate was jammed with autos and carriages and we couldn’t get through. This was a home run for us, though, and we made the complete circuit. We didn’t dare stop, so round and round the field we went, sometimes on two wheels and sometimes on four. When we’d come round to the gate we’d take one look at the jam, and then away we’d go again around the field. The mob was running after, and scattering before us, and the rocks were “bupping” into that machine speedier than Matty’s fast one.
Finally the gate was cleared and we zipped through it. Outside was a rockpile, and the gang was waiting with their arms full. The rocks came so fast they looked like a shower. They flew over our heads, they pinged into the sides of the car, they crashed into the radiator. We simply roared along that road, and suddenly we were safe. But the car looked as though it had been through the mill. And the poor cops—oh, how do you do! But the man they were out to get—me—I didn’t have a scratch!
But just the same, I say, pity the poor umpire.
“It is only their way of expressing the joy in their innocent hearts.”
This week’s installment of Old News has several entries that focus not only on what happened and when but also how it came to be counted in later years—from the celebrated walks-as-hits year in 1887 to the bounce home run to Ty Cobb’s career hit total. Maybe the coming conclusion of the regular season prompts such musings, but MLB has evolved in more than its styles of play. Many have sought to conform the practices and underlying reasoning of the past with those of the present by simply disregarding the scoring conventions of the early game. I think it is worthwhile to attempt to understand the past in its own context rather than “update” it. Why was Fred Dunlap’s game-ending home run in 1880, with a man on base, at first denied and then accepted? How could Al Lopez, in 1930, get credit for a home run on a hit that bounced over the fence? Read on.
1923: After Yankee leadoff hitter Whitey Witt reaches first base on a bobbled grounder to third base that is ruled a single‚ Boston’s submarine pitcher Howard Ehmke retires the next 27 batters for a 3-0 win. The Yankee crowd exhorts the scorer Fred Lieb to reverse his call on the hard grounder that 3B Howard Shanks booted‚ but Lieb stands fast. Thus is Ehmke denied a chance to pre-empt Johnny Vander Meer in the record books, for he had pitched a no-hitter in his previous appearance. For more, see: http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/753ebff0
1985: Pete Rose becomes baseball’s all-time hit leader‚ singling to left center off Eric Show in the first inning of the Reds’ 2-0 win over San Diego. His 4‚192nd career hit breaks Ty Cobb’s record before 47‚237 fans at Cincinnati’s Riverfront Stadium … or did it? Because Cobb’s hit total had been padded by a double-counted game in 1910, Rose had actually topped the record at Wrigley Field on September 8. For more, see: http://www.cincinnati.com/story/sports/mlb/reds/redsblog/2015/09/08/sept-8-1985–day-pete-rose-really-broke-ty-cobbs-record/71873560/
2001: All major league baseball games are canceled due to the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center‚ United Airlines Flight 93‚ and the Pentagon. With commercial air traffic on lockdown, the Blue Jays take a 12-hour bus ride from Baltimore back to Toronto, while the White Sox go home via a 15-hour bus trip from New York.
1874: The Boston Red Stockings’ return home after an eight-week English is spoiled by a 6-5 victory for their shipmates, the Philadelphia Athletics. The two clubs had departed in the midst of the National Association regular season, suspending their schedules from July 15, when they played each other in Philadelphia, to September 10, when they squared off in Philadelphia again.
1930: Brooklyn catcher Al Lopez drives a ball over the head of Cincinnati left fielder Bob Meusel; it bounces into the bleachers at Ebbets Field. It will be the last recorded bounce home run‚ as NL rules for 1931 will rule that such a hit will be a double. The AL had made the change after the 1929 season. Oddly, Babe Ruth never had a bounce home run.
1962: Washington’s Tom Cheney sets a big-league record mark with 21 strikeouts in a complete-game victory. You thought that record belonged to others, with 20 (Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson, Kerry Wood)? Cheney’s record came in 16-inning game at Baltimore.
1880: National League secretary Nick Young rules that the final score of the July 10 game in which Cleveland’s Fred Dunlap hit an over-the-fence home run in the bottom of the ninth should be 2-0‚ not 1-0‚ as originally accounted. Young declares that it would be a “gross injustice” to deprive Dunlap of his dinger, yet such deprivation was the norm until 1920. “Sudden-death” home runs with a winning run on base came in for review by the Special Baseball Records Committee prior to publication of the Macmillan/ICI encyclopedia of 1969: Its ruling read: “The committee originally voted that before 1920 any ball hit outside the park in a sudden death situation should be counted as a home run. However, after the committee had a further opportunity to review their ruling and [realizing that this would alter Ruth’s career total to 715] … they reversed their decision on May 5, 1969.” For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2015/05/04/why-is-the-national-association-not-a-major-league-and-other-records-issues/
1887: Jimmy Ryan goes 6-for-6 for Chicago with a single, double, home run, and three walks, which are counted as hits in this year. He also pitches the final five innings in relief to get the win, becoming the only man to pitch in a game in which he hits for a cycle. You don’t think this deserves to be counted as a cycle? Ryan did it again on July 28 of the following year, taking the pitcher’s box with two out in the second and apparently finishing out the game against Detroit. Ryan, recalled today as a center fielder, hit for the cycle again in 1891. Tom Parrott was a pitcher who also hit for the cycle, on September 28, 1894 against the New York Giants, but on this day he was positioned at second base. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2015/09/07/over-the-plate-arlie-lathams-own-baseball-stories-no-3/
1908: On closing day of the Ohio State League‚ Walter “Smoke” Justis of Lancaster pitches a 3-0 no-hitter against Marion. It’s his fourth of the year. The others came on July 19 against Mansfield‚ August 2 against Portsmouth‚ and September 8 over Lima. Justis pitched in two games for the 1905 Tigers. For more, see: http://baseballhistorydaily.com/tag/walter-justis/%5D
1943: At Memphis‚ Pete Gray has a triple‚ double‚ and three singles to lead Memphis to a 7-6‚ 12-inning win over Nashville in the Southern Association playoffs. The one-armed Gray is named the league MVP and plays outfield for the St. Louis Browns in 1944.
1968: Denny McLain becomes the first 30-game winner since Dizzy Dean in 1934‚ as the Tigers beat the A’s 5-4, as the Tigers push across two in the ninth to win. Al Kaline‚ pinch hitting for McLain‚ walks and scores the tying run. Denny (30-5; he will finish 31-6, winning both the CY Young and the Most Valuable Player awards) gives up six hits and fans ten.
1978: After some years in retirement and others in the minors, Jim Bouton‚ 39‚ earns a 4-1 win for the Atlanta Braves over the San Francisco Giants. It is his first big-league victory since 1970‚ and the last of his career.
1912: In the second game of twin bill, Boston’s Joe Wood wins his 16th straight game as he tops the Browns 2-1 in a game called after eight innings because of darkness. Earlier in the year‚ Walter Johnson had also posted a streak of 16 straight wins. To keep his streak alive, Smoky Joe had to defeat Johnson, 1-0, earlier this month before a packed house at Fenway. For more, see: http://research.sabr.org/journals/war-of-1912
1952: In a Cold War challenge to America’s national game, scholars in the Soviet Union offer up their own game of lapta as being the progenitor of baseball. If one wished to trace bat-and-ball games back to their antecedents, one might cite the game of seker-hemat, played along the banks of the Nile in 2400 BCE. In a wall relief at the shrine of Hathor, the goddess of love and joy, in Hatshepsut’s temple at Deir-el-Bahari, Thutmose III is seen holding a ball in one hand and a stick in the other. The hieroglyph reads: “Striking the ball for Hathor who is foremost in Thebes.”
1969: Steve Carlton of the Cardinals fans a record 19 batters and still loses. Ron Swoboda hits a pair of two-run homers‚ and the New York Mets, team of destiny in this year, beats St. Louis 4-3.
1937: Martin Dihigo pitches the first no-hit‚ no-run game in Mexican pro ball, a 4-0 victory against Nogales at Veracruz. Next year, Dihigo will lead the Mexican League in ERA (0.90)‚ wins (18-2)‚ strikeouts (184) … and batting (.387). Only Guy Hecker in MLB annals came close.
1958: Frank Lary becomes the third pitcher to beat the Yankees seven or more times in one season‚ as the Tiger righthander defeats them‚ 4-2. Ed Walsh (9-1 in 1908) and Ed Cicotte (7-1 in 1916) were the others—but Lary sets the AL record for most wins in a season against the pennant winner. (The NL record is eight‚ by Bob Buhl over the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1956.)
1975: Pittsburgh second baseman Rennie Stennett ties Wilbert Robinson’s record‚ set June 10‚ 1892‚ by going 7-for-7 in a nine-inning game. (Cesar Gutierrez of Detroit went 7-for-7 in an extra-inning contest in 1970.) The Pirates top the Cubs 22-0.
1866: The Excelsiors of Brooklyn play the first match of their Southern tour against the National team in Washington‚ winning 33-28. The game starts at 4 p.m. on the White Lot, behind the White House. President Andrew Johnson watches the game for a brief time.
1900: Cincinnati shortstop Tommy Corcoran‚ coaching at third base in a doubleheader at Philadelphia‚ uncovers a wire in the coaching box that leads across the outfield to the Phillies’ locker room. There‚ reserve catcher Morgan Murphy reads the opposing catcher’s signs and relays them to the Phils’ coach “What’s the Use” Chiles by a buzzer hidden in the dirt. It seems nothing in baseball is truly new.
1912: Casey Stengel breaks in with Brooklyn and has four singles, a walk‚ two steals‚ and two RBIs in the 7-3 win over Pittsburgh. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2012/05/07/young-casey/
No. 3 – Old “Tacks” Parrot, Star Pitcher in the Early ’90s, Certainly Was the Real, Official, League Double-Stitched Article of an Eccentric – Played Cornet All the Time He Wasn’t Playing Ball and Wore Oregon Whiskers That Kept the Whole Team Guessing – Could “Ketch” Ball Some, Too. [Today the record books render his name as Parrott, but here we will preserve Latham’s spelling.]
In this, number three of the series which the famous baseball comedian is “twirling in the big Magazine league,” as he characteristically expresses it, we have some racy reminiscences of another of those old, bygone individualities of the game, so conspicuous in their day, so completely forgotten shortly after….
Old “Tacks” Parrot was a character. No one ever quite knew what Tom was capable of, and no one ever knew what he was going to do next. I’ve seen a good many bugs when I was in the game militant—from fellows who would go fishing in a mud puddle with a safety pin, a piece of thread and a limb of a tree, to eccentric gentlemen who would steal anything from second base to your best girl. But for the real, official, league, double-stitched article I never knew any one that had it on Tom Parrot.
Tom was a pitcher in the early nineties, and when he wasn’t playing ball he was playing first cornet, or something, in a bush orchestra back in his home town. Before a game Tom used to pitch up in practice for more than half an hour, and when he thought he was pretty well warmed up he’d go out into centerfield and shag flies until his tongue got sunburned. Then he’d come in and pitch his head off in a game. When the game was over Tom would run for a hogshead of ice water and thrust his pitching arm into it. He said that sort of treatment kept the salary wing in condition. I never could figure out whether he had a good whip because of this treatment or in spite of it.
Well, along in the early nineties, before I developed gum-hoof and umpire’s crouch, I was playing with the Cincinnati team. We trained in those days in Dallas, Tex. On the day I speak of there were a lot of rookies upsetting the pepper box around the infield and whooping things up generally. The grounds were open, and pretty soon in strolled a big, lanky six-footer, with a full set of bushes and a build like a bunch of coach whips.
He strolled over to one of the ballplayers and asked him “if he could borry his glove and ketch a few.” The player asked him if he could play any ball.
“Why, I’m a right smart ballplayer, I am.”
The player looked hard at the other’s whiskers for a second, and then said: “I’ll bet I know who you are. You’re Pete Bush of the Alfalfa League.”
“No, I hain’t,” replied the other; “I’m a local boy.”
Well, the player gave him his glove, which was a lefthand one, and the busher put it on his right hand. Then he moved over to first base and yelled for some “hot ones.” He got them. And he got a hot reception, too. The minute the players spotted those whiskers they started to ride him.
“Get out from behind that bush!”
“Take off those rabbit nests!”
“Who’s the guy with the steel wool on his map?”
“That’s Herr Shoot!”
“Don’t throw the ball into that alfalfa – he’ll lose it!”
The big fellow never batted an eye at all this; he simply stood there waiting, with his arms stretched straight out before him, the heels of his palms closed and his fingers stuck out at all angles like the blades of a jack-knife.
And they let him have it. Every one that got the ball picked it up and let drive at the busher with enough force to send the ball clean through him. And there was old “Brush” on first, making all sorts of stabs at them and, somehow or other, stopping them. And the more success he had in stopping the balls the harder the players threw. In about ten minutes there wasn’t a man on the field that did not have a sore arm.
After a time the big first baseman changed his glove to his left hand and started to “ketch” them in earnest. He speared them from all angles. He grabbed them out of the air, and picked them up from his shoe-laces. And he shot them back at the other players so fast that when they hit you could hear the smack all over the field.
Then they tumbled. The fellow with the sedge grass on his chin was “Tacks” Parrot!
You see, “Tacks” lived up in Oregon, where it was so cold that you could sharpen a piece of ice and use it for a razor all winter, and so he used to grow those whiskers to protect his throat. Knowing he’d have a little fun, he left them on when he came to Dallas.
I remember another funny incident connected with Tom. I was playing with the Cincinnati team at the time, and was living in one of those very quiet, refined sections of the city where the tradesman deliver their orders through the basement, where the people all bat .300 in the Finance League, and where you never hear a stray cat singing to his love or an organ grinder playing “Sweet Rosie O’Grady.” Before the season actually had started I awoke one morning about 5 o’clock and lay abed half awake, thinking idly of one thing and another.
Suddenly, somewhere in the neighborhood, the notes of a cornet rang out. This was at 5 o’clock in the morning. The fellow that played the cornet ran all the way down the scale, and then he ran all the way back again. Then he came down again and stopped in the middle as though he had made only a two-base hit. He hung around second for a while, blowing on the same note; then he made a break for third, got there and, without slackening speed, made for home. The last note was a sharp, snappy one, so I guess he slid and was called safe.
Well, that fellow blew everything out of a cornet that was in it except the hole.
This sort of thing continued every morning until the season opened. All the time we were wondering where Tom Parrot was. Up to the time the season opened no one had seen him. On the opening day we were all dressed and ready to go to the grounds, but still no Tom Parrot.
I might have suspected that the cornetist that bothered me in the morning was Tom; but somehow I didn’t. As I say, on the day the season opened we were all ready and waiting for Tom. Not a sign of him. Finally along came the conveyance that was to take us to the grounds. We all climbed aboard and expected to see Tom come running up at any minute. But he didn’t.
At last we were about to start, and had given “Tacks” up for lost, when a brass band on its way to the grounds swung around a corner and headed for us full blare. But it wasn’t the band that caused us to nearly fall off the tallyho; it was something else. There, at the head of the musicians, dressed in a long linen duster and sombrero, and blowing a cornet so hard that his face came to a point at his mouth, was the missing Tom Parrot! And then I knew who the morning soloist was.
When we took trips on trains Tom never bothered to waste his time talking or playing cards; he’d just take the mouthpiece of his cornet out of his grip and practice making his lips flexible until we came to our destination.
On boat trips Tom was as good as a play. First he’d take a seat near the orchestra and watch the cornetist. Little by little he’d edge up to him until he looked as though he belonged to the orchestra. Then Tom would pull one hand from behind his back and there would be the cornet. And the next thing we knew Tom would be playing away for dear life and paying attention to nothing else.
I can very well remember the trips we used to take to Washington when old “Tacks” was along with us. After we had dressed in our hotel we proceeded to the ball grounds in a tally-ho. (That word “proceeded” always reminds me of a vacationist’s diary – “we proceeded from the lake to the next village and thence took the eight-sixty-three airship back to the boarding house” – you know.)
After we had climbed to the top of the conveyance, Tom would bring his cornet from under his duster and begin to wet his lips. Next he’d straighten up, throw out his chest and then stretch his arms out in front of him. By this time Tom was all warmed up and ready to go on the mound.
Ladies and gentlemen! Tom Parrot is now about to pitch (his cornet), and if necessary, to play any position, or tune, in the musical field.
After Tom had made a few preliminary passes through the air with the cornet he’d put it to his lips and let her go. People in the street would look in amazement after the tally-ho, and those in front of us would line up along the curb, thinking that a circus or a band was coming down the street.
Tom would keep this up all the way to the grounds; he never paid any attention to the people on the street, but kept his eyes rolled up at the sky, as though there wasn’t anything on earth, except the cornet, worth looking at. Tom wasn’t a slouch with the stick, but he used to make bigger and more hits on the way to the grounds than he ever did in them.
When we’d get to the grounds someone would have to jog his arm to make him quit playing. If this were not done he would continue to play until there wasn’t a note left in the cornet.
I don’t know what Tom is doing now; but I think it is very probably he is the owner, manager and captain combined of some bush league orchestra up in Portland, Ore., and throwing them over with a good, free (musical) delivery, holding his opponents hitless and getting a few blows (out of his cornet) himself.
Labor Day is upon us. Time to toss that straw hat onto the field, or put it away until next year. Gentlemen will cease to wear white. Pitchers will come to dominate the game once more, as they did before the summer heat set in. Opponents Sandy Koufax and Bob Hendley will combine to yield one hit. Rube Waddell will come back from the grave top Bob Feller’s seemingly new strikeout record. Bull Durham will pitch and win both ends of five consecutive doubleheaders. And Three Finger Brown and Christy Mathewson will square off one last time.
1916: To help draw a Labor Day crowd‚ and because of their longtime rivalry—25 games since 1903, almost evenly split—Christy Mathewson and Three Finger Brown agree to close out their careers in the same game. Matty‚ now the manager of the Reds‚ wins 10-8 as the Reds rack up 19 hits off Brown while the Cubs record 15 off Mathewson. Both pitchers stagger all the way to the end, registering complete games in their final big-league appearances. After several decades the significance of this game became apparent. The annals showed that when Mathewson retired he had accumulated 372 victories, a National League record. Grover Cleveland Alexander subsequently won 373, consigning Mathewson’s mark to second place. But a statistician later discovered that a May 1902 Mathewson 4-2 victory over Pittsburgh had been erroneously entered in the record books as a loss.
1935: Babe Ruth receives a lifetime pass for all National League games from NL president Ford Frick. His sad comment at the time: “It is nice to know that the National League has a heart.” Ruth, who had spent nearly his entire career in the American League, had to pay his way into ballgames in his longtime league until 1936, when both leagues combine to create a program of such passes for ten-year veterans.
1945: Long-time Yankee batting practice pitcher Paul Schreiber‚ 43‚ who last pitched in the big leagues in 1923, relieves for the Yanks in a Tiger rout, allowing no hits in 3-1/3 innings. The 22 years between major league appearances is a record.
1791: At a town meeting in Pittsfield‚ MA‚ a bylaw is passed making it illegal to play baseball and other sports within eighty yards of the town hall to prevent the breaking of windows. The existence of the bylaw was rediscovered in 2003 by yours truly, and its physical location was established in the following year by, among others, Jim Bouton. The bylaw reads as follows: “Be it ordained by the said Inhabitants that no person or Inhabitant of said Town‚ shall be permitted to play at any game called Wicket‚ Cricket‚ Baseball‚ Batball‚ Football‚ Cats‚ Fives or any other games played with Ball‚ within the Distance of eighty yards from said Meeting House – And every such Person who shall play at any of the said games or other games with Ball within the distance aforesaid‚ shall for every Instance thereof‚ forfeit the Sum of five shillings….” For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2011/08/03/pittsfield/
1914: Pitching for Providence (IL) against the Maple Leafs in Toronto, 19-year-old Babe Ruth hurls a one-hitter and hits his only minor league home run‚ a three-run blast off Ellis Johnson. A plaque marks the site of the former ballpark at Hanlan’s Point.
1954: Joe Bauman of the Roswell Rockets (Class C Longhorn League) clouts his 70th‚ 71st‚ and 72nd homers‚ at this time a record in Organized Baseball (later topped by Barry Bonds). Bauman ends the season with a .400 batting average‚ a .916 slugging average, and 224 RBIs. For more, see: http://research.sabr.org/journals/joe-bauman-hit-72-home-runs
1953: The Chicago Cubs win a doubleheader from Cincinnati by scores of 7-6 and 7-2. In the first game, Cubs first baseman Dee Fondy hits one of his team’s four homers and then scores the game-winning run with a two-out, two-strike steal of home in the ninth inning.
1963: Baseball historian Lee Allen says the Indians-Senators game is the 100‚000th in ML history. Bennie Daniels celebrates by beating the Tribe 7-2. Until 1969, MLB and its encyclopedias recognized the National Association as its point of origin; but since 1969, MLB has recognized its onset as 1876, the year of the National League’s founding. Omitting the 1,086 National Association games meant that MLB celebrated its 200,000th game not in July 2011 but in September. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2011/09/24/mlbs-200000th-game/
1995: Cal Ripken plays in his 2‚131st consecutive game‚ breaking Lou Gehrig’s long-standing record. The record becomes official after the Angels are retired in the top of the fifth and play is stopped for 22 minutes as Ripken takes a lap around Camden Yards.
1916: At the Polo Grounds‚ the Giants Ferdie Schupp beats Brooklyn’s Nap Rucker‚ 4-1‚ to launch New York’s record 26-game winning streak. The Giants also had a 17-game winning streak in May. So how will they manage to finish in fourth place, seven games behind the pennant-winning Dodgers? You could look it up.
1993: Mark Whiten ties the major-league record for RBIs in a game with 12 in St. Louis’ 15-2 win over the Reds. Whiten hits a record-tying four homers, including a first inning grand slam. Before today‚ Whiten had not homered in four weeks.
1998: Mark McGwire hits his record-tying 61st home run of the year in the first inning off the Cubs’ Mike Morgan. Nine more will follow, as the great race between McGwire (70) and Sammy Sosa (66) results in both surpassing Roger Maris’s single-season record.
1897: Louisville unveils a new battery in catcher Ossee Schreckengost and 20-year-old Rube Waddell. Ossee goes 0-for-3 and Waddell loses his big-league debut to the first-place Orioles‚ 5-1. Rube and Ossee will reunite as roommates—when the practice was to bunk two players to the bed—as well as batterymates with the Philadelphia A’s. During one salary negotiation with Connie Mack, Schreckengost had a clause written into his contract that barred Waddell from eating crackers in bed.
1945: President Truman tosses out the first ball and then cheers the Senators to their fifth win in six games against the Browns. The second place Nats win 4-1 behind the 5-hit pitching of Pete Appleton‚ recently released by the Browns. It is his last win, but his career had seemed over once before, when as Pete Jablonowski he washed out of the majors in 1933, only to return three years later as Pete Appleton. As baseball’s original player to be named later, Appleton proved to be a better pitcher than Jablonowski.
1946: With the Red Sox running away with the AL race‚ attention focuses on Bob Feller’s strikeout total. In the nitecap of a twin bill, Feller tops the Browns‚ 3-2‚ on six hits and 8 strikeouts and reaches 300 today‚ a number reached by Walter Johnson and Rube Waddell twice each in the twentieth century. Can Feller beat Waddell’s 347 of 1904? As the season comes to an end, statisticians discover an error in the Aug. 24 box score that shorted Feller one strikeout against the A’s. Counting that one‚ Feller ends with 348, setting a new record … he thinks. Alas! Waddell’s old record of 347 was apparently based on the compilations of George Moreland‚ an early baseball historian‚ and listed in Little Red Book. TSN researchers led by my old friend Cliff Kachline later up Waddell’s total to 349—still the mark for AL lefthanders.
1858: The first game under “New York rules” is played in New England‚ on the Boston Common. The Tri-Mountain Club of Boston—formed by New Yorkers to play their version of the game—loses to the visiting club from Portland‚ Maine club‚ 47-42. “The Boston people, although obliged to accept defeat, were pleased with the new game. The evening was spent in jollification around the board at the Cummings House.” For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2012/07/06/early-baseball-in-boston/
1945: In his first start since his return from three years in the Canadian Army, The A’s Dick Fowler pitches a no-hitter against the St. Louis Browns‚ winning 1-0.
1965: When the Dodgers’ Lou Johnson draws a walk in the fifth inning from the Cubs’ Bob Hendley, he becomes the game’s first baserunner for either side. Following a sacrifice‚ Johnson steals third and scores on the catcher’s wild throw. Johnson later gets the game’s only hit‚ a seventh-inning single. Sandy Koufax throws his fourth no-hitter in four years, and this one is a perfect game. The one hit by two clubs is a record‚ as is the one runner left on base.
1881: In a game played in Albany as an alternative home site for the Haymakers of Troy, Roger Connor hits the first grand slam in major-league history. The blow‚ with his team three runs down with two outs in the ninth‚ comes off Worcester’s Lee Richmond; today we would term it a walk-off or ultimate grand slam.
1908: Louis “Bull” Durham of the Indianapolis Browns pitches and wins both ends of a doubleheader against the Toledo Mud Hens. This is the fifth time this season he has accomplished this feat. Durham enjoyed little success in the majors but became a darling of SABR as one of its “missing persons.” For more, see: http://research.sabr.org/journals/in-pursuit-of-bull-durham
1918: Before Game 5 of this year’s World Series—played in September because the regular season was shortened as part of the war effort—players on both sides threaten to strike unless they are guaranteed the World Series shares they were promised. The Red Sox and Cubs back off‚ however‚ when told they will appear greedy while their countrymen are fighting a war. On the field‚ the Cubs’ Hippo Vaughn blanks the Red Sox, who rebound to win Game 6 and the championship.
Pennant races are heating up, with clubs long absent from contention stealing the scene. But in the shadow world of the past, baseball presents great stories, too. Faded stars revive for a last hurrah; home run heroes are brought low; and a perfect game is spoiled with only one strike to go. Only in baseball among all our sports does the past vibrate silently alongside the present, not competing for attention but enriching the life of the fan.
1889: The second place New York Giants defeat the last-place Washington Senators twice, winning, 16-3 and 7-5. Playing for the Statesmen in the opener is Harry Corson Clarke, a long-time thespian, who is 0-for-3 in his lone big-league appearance. Clarke is in the circle of DeWolf Hopper, Francis Wilson, and Digby Bell, among other baseball-loving actors who played for the Actors’ Amateur Athletic Association of America—or the 5A team, for short. For more, see: http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/43a21ee5
1926: The Indians use the same lineup in 2 victories over the Red Sox‚ including Emil Levsen‚ who pitches the 6-1 and 5-1 sweep. After allowing only four hits in the opener, he offers to pitch the nightcap, too, and manager Tris Speaker lets him. Levsen again allows four hits and no walks‚ becoming the last pitcher to throw two complete games in a day. For more, see: http://research.sabr.org/journals/iron-man-pitching
1969: At a press conference in New York‚ Commissioner Bowie Kuhn announces the publication of The Baseball Encyclopedia, the first such encyclopedia offering complete player statistics—and the first book ever typeset by computer. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2014/07/24/major-league-baseball-record-keeping-part-2/
1887: Denny Lyons of the Athletics is held hitless for the first time since May 23‚ ending a 52-game hitting streak. In two of those games—July 22 and August 19—however‚ Lyons’s only hits were actually bases on balls‚ which are counted as hits this year. When Joe DiMaggio topped Willie Keeler’s mark off 44 straight games in 1941, no one thought to bring up Lyons.
1925: After a night on the town‚ Babe Ruth shows up late for batting practice. Miller Huggins suspends Ruth and slaps a $5‚000 fine on him. In the ensuing battle of wills, owner Jacob Ruppert backs up his manager. Ruth is forced to apologize to the team before he is reinstated.
1985: The Reds trade veteran Cesar Cedeno to the Cardinals for minor leaguer Mark Jackson. An MVP candidate at age 21, Cedeno’s star soon dimmed, but flared again for St. Louis in his 16th year in the majors. Cedeno helped the Cards to the NL East title by batting .434 in 28 games.
1905: Ty Cobb makes his American League debut‚ doubling off Jack Chesbro as Detroit defeats New York‚ 5-3.
1918: In the fastest NL game to this time, the Giants beat Brooklyn 1-0 in 57 minutes behind the pitching of Pol Perritt‚ scoring their lone run in the ninth. Veteran Jack Coombs takes the loss and after the game announces his retirement. The Giants will play a game against the Phillies next year on September 28 in just 51 minutes‚ a record that stands to this day.
1972: In Pittsburgh‚ announcer Bob Prince turns the mike over to Harold Arlin. On August 5‚ 1921‚ Arlin was the first announcer to broadcast a live play-by-play game‚ on KDKA. Today he calls a few innings while his grandson‚ Steve‚ is on the mound for the Pirates against San Diego. For more, see: http://goo.gl/AFf7VF
1906: Beset by injuries‚ the Tigers call 46-year-old Sam Thompson out of retirement; he plays his old position of right field and bats cleanup, driving in two runs in a 5-1 win over the Browns. Thompson‚ who last played in the majors in 1898‚ appears in eight games for the Tabby Cats.
1950: Gil Hodges of the Brooklyn Dodgers hits four home runs and a single‚ driving in nine runs in the Dodgers 19-3 rout of the Boston Braves in Ebbets Field. Hodges’ 17 total bases are the most since 1894.
1990: Ken Griffeys—Jr. in center field and Sr. in left field—become the first father-and-son combination to play as teammates in the big leagues. Each goes 1-for-4 in Seattle’s 5-2 win over the Royals.
1872: Albert Thake‚ 22-year-old left fielder of the Brooklyn Atlantics‚ drowns off Fort Hamilton‚ in New York Harbor‚ while fishing. A benefit game is arranged by Bob Ferguson between the old Brooklyn Atlantics and members of the 1869 Cincinnati Red Stockings. Thake becomes the second man in professional league play to have died. Only Elmer White, cousin of Hall of Famer Deacon White, preceded him in death.
1964: Southpaw reliever Masanori Murakami becomes the first major-league player from Japan. He debuts in a 4-1 San Francisco loss at New York. His first 11 innings will be scoreless ones. For more, see: http://goo.gl/0RdYHF
1987: Williamsport (Eastern League) Bills catcher Dave Bresnahan introduces something new to baseball—the hidden-potato trick. With a Reading runner‚ Rick Rudblad‚ on third base‚ Bresnahan returns from a time out with a shaved potato hidden in his mitt. On the next pitch he throws the potato wildly on a pickoff attempt. When the runner trots home‚ Bresnahan tags him out with the real ball. The umpire‚ unamused‚ rules the runner safe‚ gives the catcher an error‚ and fines him $50. Tomorrow, the parent Indians release him.
1880: The first night baseball game is attempted at Nantasket Beach‚ MA‚ between teams from two Boston department stores‚ Jordan Marsh and R. H. White. The Boston Post reports the next day that “A clear‚ pure‚ bright light was produced‚ very strong and yet very pleasant to the sight,” by the 12 carbon-arc electric lamps. The game ends in a 16-16 tie.
1972: Milt Pappas of the Cubs hurls a no-hit game in beating the Padres 8–0. Pappas has a perfect game until pinch hitter Larry Stahl walks with two outs in the ninth. Pappas later commented on the plate umpire Bruce Froemming, “He had a chance to become famous as the umpire in the twelfth perfect game in baseball history, but he blew it.”
2001: The Yankees defeat the Red Sox‚ 1-0‚ as Mike Mussina comes within a strike of hurling a perfect game. Pinch hitter Carl Everett’s two-out‚ two-strike single in the ninth inning ruins Mussina’s gem. It is the 3rd time in his career that the righty has taken a perfect game into at least the eighth inning.
1881: Veteran center fielder Lip Pike makes three errors in the final frame to give Boston two runs and a 3-2 victory over Worcester. The losing club immediately accuses Pike of throwing the game and suspends him.
1955: Sandy Koufax seems to have the hang of it, as he hurls his second consecutive shutout‚ topping the Pirates 4-0 on 5 hits. But five more years of control woes will hold him back until catcher Norm Sherry convinces him that he can throw a bit less hard and still be overpowering—with control.
1972: Steve Carlton shuts out the Braves 8-0 for his eighth whitewash of the season. This is the most for a Phillies’ pitcher since Grover C. Alexander in 1917. Carlton will go to win 27 games for the last-place Phils, who will win only 32 games all year that were not Carlton’s.
No. 2—In Baseball, a Great Deal Depends on What You Can Get Away With—Charlie Frank of the New Orleans Team Used to Hand Out “Punk” or Rubber Balls, According to Circumstances, and “Umps” Could Do Nothing, Even After Getting Wise to the Trick.
This is the second of a series of unusual entertaining stories told by Arlie Latham, reminiscent of the old days of baseball, and of some of the things, ludicrous and whimsical, that go to make up a player’s life. Arlie—who was christened Walter Arlington—will be remembered with the Giants of late years as coach and scout.
He played his first professional ball in 1882 with the Philadelphia team of the Alliance League. [The latter is today termed the League Alliance, and it was not Arlie’s first appearance in pro ball: he began with Springfield of the National Association in 1879, moved up to Buffalo of the National League in 1880, and back down to Philly in the Eastern Championship Association in 1881.] Later he joined the St. Louis “Browns,” with whom he remained nine years [in fact seven, from 1883-89, then another few games with St. Louis of the NL in 1896, Washington in 1899, and the Giants in 1909]. Subsequently he played in Chicago, Cincinnati, and then back to St. Louis. He was one of the best third baseman and baserunners the game ever turned out, and was known the country over as baseball’s foremost comedian.
It is estimated that while he was under Chris von der Ahe, in St. Louis, he was fined an aggregate of $1,000,000 for his pranks. But Chris never collected the money. Recently Latham opened a delicatessen store in New York City, and failing to see any great future in it, he went umpiring in the Colonial League.
The “ways that are dark” of the heathen Chinee have nothing on the ways of some ball players I have known. They could fox Solomon in all his glory, and he’d have to acknowledge that he was not as wise as the least of these.
And they were none of your smart youngsters, either. They were old hands: fellows who had broken into baseball about the time of the Franco-Prussian Serious and who had grown gray in their old tobacco-stained unis. They knew more tricks than a circus monkey: and if the other side gave them the slightest opportunity to “do” them—well, that other side was done.
I’m not breaking into the Muck-Raking League in giving these things away, because they are pretty well known to the profession. Besides, in baseball a lot depends on what you can get away with. If the ump isn’t looking you can cut fifteen feet inside third base on the way home; and if you get away with it, all right. If you don’t, just smile it off, hitch your pants, and sit down—after you’ve called the umpire a blind bum. Of course we know that here are some managers who wouldn’t do anything that looked like trickery; but there are others who don’t think o any more of losing a game than they do of their right eye.
Some years ago a man named Charlie Frank managed the New Orleans team [1905-13]. Charlie was the greatest hand for throwing dust in an umpire’s eye (or anyone else’s, for that matter) that I ever saw. And he had the neatest little device for doing it with.
Charlie came out to the game every day with a little valise like the one Dr. Pill used to carry. He kept that valise under his hand always; and if anyone came near it Charlie would hop around like a hen whose eggs are threatened. You’d think he carried bombs in it, or dope to inject into his players. Yet he only carried baseballs!
In that valise were for rows of baseballs. The first row consisted of new, good baseballs. The second row of new, punk balls. Those in the third row were balls that had been dirtied and which had an abnormal amount of rubber in them. The fourth row also held dirty balls, but they were as dead as Caesar. And according as Charlie’s team was in the lead or behind, he would throw out those balls.
The scheme Charlie worked with the new balls was this: He’d break the seal of the box of course, take out the balls, tie a piece of cord around them and hang them up in a dry refrigerator for a few days. At the end of that time you could slam them on the ground with all your might and they wouldn’t bounce half an inch. The fourth row of balls he had in his valise was of the same sort.
Now if a ball were fouled over the grand stand, naturally the umpire would ask Charlie for a new ball. If his team was winning and the other side was at bat, Charlie would throw in a good ball and take his chances. But if they were behind, out would come a punk, new ball. Of course, it is customary for the umpire to examine the cover of the new balls to see that the seal is not broken. But Frank had a way of getting around that, too. Instead of handing the ball to the umpire, he’d take it out of his valise and slam it in the ground. The box would burst open, the ball would roll out and the ump, suspecting nothing, would hand it to the pitcher.
The pitcher would then wind up and shoot a fast, straight one across. The batter would see it coming, get set for it and lean against it with enough force to tear the stitches off it.
There was no stinging smack to that ball. It sounded as though the batter had hit a bag of mud.
And instead of breaking a board in the outfield fence with it, he wouldn’t knock it out of the infield. It couldn’t be dome. If Samson himself had hit that ball with a telephone pole he couldn’t have broken a pane of glass with it.
But when his team came to the bat Charlie worked another ball. He generally had one of those rubber skyrockets on tap and when he needed runs he’d use it. Crack! When a batter hit one of those things he sent it into the next county. Talk about artillery practice! Why, when that ball was passing over the centerfield fence it was only just getting under way. I don’t know whether they ever stopped.
Sometimes a batter would get wise to the “punks,” and after he’d been thrown out a city block at first he’d ask to see the ball. Charlie’s second baseman generally had a good new ball stuck somewhere in his shirt, and after a punk was hit like that, it was always thrown from the first to the second baseman. Then, of course, the second baseman would stick it in his shirt and throw in the good ball.
“There’s somtehin’ phony about that pill,” the batter would say. “I hit hard enough to knock it over the fence.”
Charlie always got sore when they began to talk like that. If there was anything that hurt Charlie’s feelings it was an implication that he was crooked. He couldn’t hit that sort of delivery at all. It was too low.
“Lay off that stuff!” he’d yell. “What’re you trying to do? Show someone up around here?”
Then he’d bounce the good ball on the ground, and, of course, it would rebound in great shape.
“There. Are you satisfied? You’ve got some crust, you have. You’re some fresh busher. Because you can’t hit don’t try to make a crook out o’ me. Next time you get up, keep your bat in the bat bag. It’ll be just as much use to you there as in your hands.”
And it would, too. A man never had a chance with Charlie Frank.
But if all these things failed, old Charlie had another deck up his sleeve from which he could slip a card any time he wanted one.
On top of the grand stand he had a kid stationed that no one but himself and his team knew of. When a ball was fouled off and landed on top of the grand stand it was the duty of the kid to throw it back. And so he did. But not always the same ball that went up.
He had a peep hole up there, and before he threw back a ball he’d take a glance at Charlie through the hole and wait for a sign. If Charlie’s team was leading, he’d throw in a good ball. If they were behind, out came a new “punk.” Even at that Charlie wouldn’t give the other team an even break for their money, because as soon as it became a little dark, instead of throwing in a new “punk,” he’d sign the kid to throw in a dirty one, which they barely could see coming at them. Fat chance a team had of winning a game from that gent, if he could help it.
One day the umpire got suspicious of the ball He grabbed it and put it in his pocket. Then he took out his knife to cut it open. As soon as Charlie saw it was all up, he made a run at him. His team followed him, got around the poor ump and started to push him all over the field. Oh, they were a foxy bunch! In the scuffle Charlie got the “punk” out of the ump’s pocket and put in a good ball. Then when the ump got away he cut open the ball—and found it O.K.!
But when the umpires got wise to Charlie’s game at last, what could they do? Nothing. He’d got away with it and that’s all there was to it. They had a good laugh and put Charlie down as an old fox. And so he was.
Charlie wasn’t alone in his glory in those days. Old Buck Ewing was his equal any time. And the peculiar thing about both of them was that they both pulled the same stuff. Buck was managing Cincinnati at the time. I was umpiring in the National League and it was I who finally gummed up his cards.
Buck used to hand out his punks from the bench, all the while looking as innocent as a pet billygoat. You’d never suspect him in the world. He was a wonder. His favorite pastime was reading the standing of the clubs in the Land League in the Irish World.
One day I took one of the ”punks” out of his hands just as he was about to throw it on the ground. I saw that the seal was broken.
“Nix on this stuff,” I said, “give me a new ball.”
Buck was indignant.
“What d’you—Hah! What d’you know?”
I told him I was onto his little game, and if he wanted me to tell someone about it, why, I’d be glad to do it. That killed Buck, and, a far as I know, he never threw another “punk” into the diamond.
There are all sorts of ways of giving the other team less than is coming to them, from getting their signs (which used to be a science with one club I could mention) to shining a mirror into the batters’ eyes. I don’t know that the latter mentioned trick has ever been pulled, so I suppose it isn’t feasible. If it were it would have been pulled long before this. But as I have said, it’s not what you do in baseball but what you get away with.
Pitchers and catchers are the first to report in spring training and the first to wilt in the heat of August. What else besides addlepated heat prostration could explain a catcher’s idea to await a ball dropped from the Washington Monument? Or another catcher, typically leaden-footed, to steal home with the bases full in extra innings? Or a pitcher’s brainstorm to issue an intentional base on balls with the sacks already loaded? Or a reliever’s notion that baserunners were a mere nuisance, to be dealt with via three successive pickoffs? Not only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun.
1881: The first instance of an intentional base on balls (though not by that name) with the bases loaded occurs when Buffalo’s Jack Lynch walks Abner Dalrymple of Chicago in the eighth inning. The Chicago Tribune reports: “At one time, when the bases were full, Lynch deliberately sent in seven balls [the rule at the time to provide a base on balls] rather than take the chances of a hit by Dalrymple, who was at bat, and in this way forced a run upon Chicago. But all to no purpose, for Gore followed with a terrific drive for two bases, and three men came in on the hit.” [Reader Nathan Bierma of Grand Rapids, MI alerted me to a likely error here.He found in the Chicago Tribune, and I corroborated with the Chicago Inter-Ocean, mention of this ploy on 8/3, referencing the game of 8/2. Clearly someone in recent times typed 8/21 when they meant 8/2. I could delete this entry but, as 8/2 is past for purposes of this column, I choose to retain it as an interesting story with the caveat that the date cited here (8/21) is wrong.] The earliest printed reference to an intentional walk occurs in the Washington Post on May 2, 1894 in an account of a game between the Boston Beaneaters and Washington Senators. Washington Manager Gus Schmelz instructed his pitcher, Ben Stephens, to give an “intentional base on balls” to George Treadway, “with the object in view of retiring the side on a double play.” For more, see: http://thornpricks.blogspot.com/2005/03/best-laid-plans-of-mice-baseballs.html
1908: Washington catcher Gabby Street stands at the base of the Washington Monument and catches a ball dropped from the top‚ 555 feet up‚ duplicating the feat performed by Pop Schriver of the Chicago Colts on August 24‚ 1894. Street gets a $500 prize for his morning’s efforts‚ then spends the afternoon behind the plate catching Walter Johnson.
1947: The first Little League World Series tournament is held in Williamsport‚ PA. The Maynard Midgets of Williamsport win.
1915: In the Federal League‚ Newark takes two games from Pittsburgh‚ winning‚ 2-1 and 3-1‚ both wins coming on 10th inning inside-the-park homers by Edd Roush. Newark leads by one percentage point over Kansas City‚ with Pittsburgh third and Chicago fourth‚ only 1-1/2 games separating the teams. In MLB’s closest pennant race ever, Chicago will win it by one game with a mark of 86-66 to St. Louis’s 87-67 and Pittsburgh’s 86-67.
1949: The Giants sell veteran Johnny Mize to the Yankees for $40‚000. Mize has tied Ralph Kiner for the NL lead in homers the past two seasons. As a supersub Mize will star in the World Series for years to come.
1982: Third-string catcher Glenn Brummer steals home with the bases loaded and 2 out in the bottom of the 12th inning to give the Cardinals a 5-4 win over the Giants. Brummer‚ who was running on his own‚ will steal just four bases in his career.
1936: At Cleveland’s League Park‚ 17-year-old Bob Feller makes his first start and strikes out 15‚ one less than the American League record‚ as Cleveland beats St. Louis‚ 4-1.
1942: Walter Johnson pitching to Babe Ruth is the pregame attraction that draws 69‚000 for the New York-Washington game at Yankee Stadium that provides $80‚000 for Army-Navy relief. Ruth hits a pitch into the right-field stands, his last homer in a big-league park.
1953: Phil Paine‚ a former Boston Braves pitcher with the U.S. Air Force in Japan‚ becomes the first former big leaguer to play in Japan. He pitches in nine games for the Nishitetsu Lions. For more, see: http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/48729b39
1918: In Baltimore‚ Babe Ruth’s father dies following a fight with his brother-in-law outside his saloon. The funeral will be on the 28th and Babe will miss two Red Sox games.
1952: Minor-league phenom Ron Necciai fans only one as he receives credit for his only major league win‚ 4-3 over the Boston Braves. On May 13 of this year, pitching in the Class D Appalachian League for the Bristol Twins against the Welch Miners, he had struck out 27 men while tossing a no-hitter. One man had been retired on a groundout, but a passed ball on a strikeout permitted Necciai to record four strikeouts in an inning. For more, see: http://www.milb.com/news/article.jsp?ymd=20060819&content_id=120279&fext=.jsp&vkey=news_milb
1983: Making his only career appearance behind the plate‚ Oriole infielder Lenn Sakata catches the 10th inning against the Blue Jays and hits a three-run homer as the O’s win‚ 7-4. Toronto had gone ahead 4-3 in the top of the inning when Tippy Martinez relieved Tim Stoddard with a run in in, a man on, and no outs. Picking off the inherited runner, Martinez walked his first batter …. and picked him off, then allowed a single to Willie Upshaw and picked HIM off.
1952: In a 1-0 win over the Yankees in Yankee Stadium‚ Virgil Trucks of the Detroit Tigers pitches his second no-hitter of the season, giving him his fifth win of the season. He will finish with a won-lost mark of 5-19.
1965: Archibald Wright “Moonlight” Graham dies in Chisholm‚ MN. Graham played in one big-league game‚ for the 1905 Giants‚ and did not get to bat. His character in W.P. Kinsella’s Shoeless Joe (renamed Field of Dreams in the cinematic version) made him a household name. For more, see: http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/a054b3d6
1985: Dwight Gooden wins his 14th consecutive game and his 20th of the season, 9-3 over San Diego. He will finish the season 24-4. At the age of 20 years‚ 9 months, Gooden is the youngest pitcher ever to win 20 games. Bob Feller was a month older when he first won 20 in 1939.
1929: Abraham G. Mills‚ NL president 1883-84‚ author of the National Agreement and original reserve rule that governed baseball’s early years‚ dies at 84. He had also been chairman of the Mills Commission that, at Albart Spalding’s behest, in 1908 anointed Abner Doubleday as the inventor of baseball. Mills joined a dozen veterans of the National League’s inaugural campaign at the fiftieth anniversary banquet at the Hotel Astor on February 2, 1926. The machinations involving the Special Commission, Abner Doubleday, and Cooperstown were very distant indeed, so Mills may well have been surprised when he was asked a question that evening about what evidence he had for Cooperstown as baseball’s birthplace. “None at all,” he answered.
1939: The first telecast of a big league game occurs at Ebbets Field as the Cincinnati Reds play the Dodgers in a doubleheader. Red Barber broadcasts the game over W2XBS‚ the “2” referring to the number of sets able to view the game: one is in the press box‚ while the other‚ at the RCA Pavilion in Rockefeller Center‚ attracts a crowd.
1947: Signed by the Dodgers, former Memphis Red Sox Negro Leaguer Dan Bankhead becomes MLB’s first African-American pitcher. The Pirates rock Bankhead for 10 hits and 8 runs in 3-1/3 relief innings‚ but Bankhead homers in his first at bat.
1912: In response to demands for an alternative way to rate pitchers besides wins and losses‚ the National League will once again officially record Earned Run Average, as it had in the 1870s. The AL will not make ERA part of their official statistics until 1913. The natural corrective to the deficient won-lost percentage, the earned run average preceded it in the 1860s, gave way to it in the 1880s, and then returned. For more, see: http://ourgame.mlblogs.com/2012/03/08/stats-and-history-part-2/
1918: After today’s doubleheader split with the Braves in Cincinnati‚ Christy Mathewson resigns as Reds manager to accept a commission as a captain in the chemical warfare branch of the Army.
1992: The Mets trade pitcher David Cone to Toronto in exchange for Jeff Kent and Ryan Thompson. Cone will miss leading the league in strikeouts by one as John Smoltz registers a K on the final day of the season. If not for the trade, Cone would have been the first NL pitcher in 50 years to lead in strikeouts for three consecutive years.