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“Quit Chasing Baseball Flies to Chase the Devil”

8 Apr

Rodney C. Wells was the editor of The Marshalltown (IA) Times-Republican; in 1909 he interviewed the world-famous evangelist, and second-best player to have gotten his start in Marshalltown; Billy Sunday.

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Billy Sunday

The article appeared in “The Literary Magazine,” a Chicago-based syndicated newspaper insert that appeared primarily * in newspapers in smaller (20,000 to 40,000 population) markets.

Wells said:

“Although since Billy Sunday quit chasing baseball flies to chase the devil he has been tremendously busy preaching the gospel and saving the souls of tens of thousands of men and women, the is still a thoroughbred ‘fan,’ and there isn’t a devotee of the great national game anywhere who keeps in closer touch with it than he.”

Sunday was asked the perfunctory question about the quality of the modern game versus the 19th Century:

“The individual ballplayer of today is no better than he was twenty or twenty-five years ago. In fact, I believe that taking everything into consideration, the fellows of a quarter of a century ago excelled in some ways. To be true what a man does nowadays counts for more in a game, for now they have teamwork down to perfection. In the old days we hardly knew what ‘teamwork,’ as the word applies today, was. We knew nothing about a hit and run game or the double steal—that was all unknown dope to us. Consequently, playing more as individuals, more rested on us as individuals. Hence my reason for saying that, perhaps in some ways, the boys of the old days excelled the stars of today.”

Wells told the story of Sunday coming to Marshalltown after being recruited from his home in Nevada, Iowa—where he was known as a fastest runner in town–to come to Cap Anson’s hometown to participate on the hose team of the local fire department in the state tournament.  Sunday was required to live in town for a month in order to compete with the local fire department.

“Incidentally, Sunday liked to play ball, and he was out in the pasture for practice regularly. He began to command attention in this line, not so much for his proficiency in the game, as his fleetness of foot and his great base running.”

He was recommended to Anson who “looked Sunday up and down and made him a proposition,” to join the White Stockings.  Sunday said upon his arrival:

“The first thing they ran me up against in Chicago was Fred Pfeffer, the crack second baseman of the then celebrated White Stockings. Pfeffer was the fastest man on the bases in Chicago and one of the fastest in the league. Anson had told some of the boys about my running, and they were inclined to doubt the old man’s word. It didn’t take long to settle matters, however, and the first thing I knew I was matched with Pfeffer in a foot race. It is needless to for me to go into details, but I made Pfeffer look like and ice wagon.”

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Fred Pfeffer

Sunday acknowledged he “won a place” with Chicago “even though I wasn’t much of a batter,” because of his speed.

“Then, we hardly ever had a sub, and it was seldom that a fellow was not in his position. We played season after season with eleven or twelve men, while now it is not uncommon to see as high as thirty men in the big-league teams. Why, they carry nearly as many pitchers alone in these modern days as we did in our entire team then.”

Sunday asked:

“Where do you find a ballplayer today who was Cap Anson’s equal at all-around ball when Anson was at his best? And where can you find a catcher who would beat old Mike Kelly?

“While I consider Johnny Kling perhaps the best catcher in professional baseball today, I do not believe he was a better catcher than Mike Kelly. And Kelly wasn’t only a great catcher, but he could play anywhere. If needed he could go on any base and be perfectly at home, or he could make good in the outfield. And he was a cracking good base runner, too, even though he was heavy.

“Then there was our other catcher, Frank Flint. I shall never forget him. Grit? One never saw his equal. We didn’t wear the big mitts in those days, and a catcher behind the bat, although he was getting just as swift balls as the catchers of today, had much less protection on his hands. I saw Flint get a hard one on his left hand, that split the poor fellow’s fingers down a clean inch. Quick as a flash he reached for his shirt pocket, grabbed a rubber band, snapped it around his bleeding fingers, and gave a signal for another ball. Every finger on both of poor old Flint’s hands had been broken at some time or another, and there was never a man who played baseball who had as many marks to show for the game.”

Sunday said he regretted that “the bunting game” was not “down to the science that it is now there were a few of us who could have made good.”

He said when he played in Philadelphia he and Billy Hamilton could “do 100 yards in 10 seconds” and batting first and second in the order and would have benefited from more bunting.

Sunday told Wells he had no regrets about retiring when he was 27 years old to begin evangelizing:

“Of course, Billy Sunday is glad he left baseball, for he felt his duty in life lay elsewhere. While the evangelist has a large income from his preaching, and much larger than he would ever have had in baseball, it was not so when he voluntarily gave up baseball for his religious work.”

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Sunday

Sunday was paid $83 a month when he first began working at Chicago’s YMCA.

“This was true self-sacrifice on Sunday’s part, for he knew not what the future held in store for him.”

“The Hook Slide is the Hardest for the man Handling Throws to Gauge”

7 Apr

When Johnny Evers was acquired by the Braves in 1914, Melville E. Webb Jr., writing in The Boston Globe shared a “never published” interview with the second baseman, in order to give readers “a better idea of the little fellow.”

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Johnny Evers

“In all my years of ball playing, the man I have found it hardest to touch with the ball as he came down to second base from first is Bill Dahlen…(he) always came straight down the baseline, directly at the base, but in the last ten feet there was no telling what he would do.

“He had a great way of anticipating where the throw from the catcher was coming, and he played his slide to a nicety. Coming straight along, he suddenly would fall down on his hips, to one side or the other, spread his legs ad then use the greatest cleverness in pulling out of reach and twisting himself to hook the base with either foot.”

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Bill Dahlen

Evers said Dahlen was not the only man who used a hook slide, but did it better than others:

“He never was a particular dangerous man to try to block but blocking him off never seemed to do much good. He was almost sure to get better of the close plays around second base, and nothing was sure to go right, even when throws apparently were on the mark.”

Others Evers found difficult to tag out at second:

“Hans Lobert, Charley Herzog, (Vin) Campbell, (Bob) Bescher, (Bobby) Byrne, (Sherry) Magee, Miller Huggins and (Honus) Wagner. Wagner was a big mark to try to tag, but often when it came to putting the ball on him he was not there.”

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Bescher

In general, he concluded “I think the hook slide is the hardest for the man handling throws to gauge.”

Evers said while he “never had any experience playing defensively” against Frank Chance:

“(He) was one of the greatest base runners who ever played, and this because he so very often did the unexpected and used his head as well as his excellent speed. Infielders have told me that Chase was the hardest man they found to tag.”

 

“They say I ran wild”

6 Apr

In 1937, Grantland Rice of The New York Herald Tribune met Ty Cobb for a round of golf at Pebble Beach:

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Grantland Rice

“His hair was a trifle thinner and he had put on a few pounds in weight since the big years of his career. But he still looked fit—life had given him a better break than any other retired major league star in history…The legs that carried him at a headlong pace around the bases for 24 years still had enough left to take home through the wilds of Montana, Oregon or Wyoming after quail, deer, or mountain lions—day after day on extended hikes.”

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Cobb

Rice asked Cobb what he thought about the current state of baseball:

“I haven’t seen much baseball or followed it closely, for two reasons. One is that 24 years of hard competition in more than 3000 ballgames burns away most of the lure. The other is that the introduction of the rabbit ball took away most of the science from the game I knew and loved so well. It has been a different game.

“In those years we had to battle for a run. I used to lay plans days or weeks ahead to use against some club to get that run. They say I ran wild. I did it with a purpose—but only when we had a good lead and I could afford to waste a play. I wanted them to think I was a crazy runner—in order to hurry the play of either infield or outfield—to upset what you might call their mental balance. Today, in the main, they wait around for someone to hit a home run. A single run rarely means anything.”

Cobb said he understood he had a reputation “as a rough rider around the bases,” but:

“I recall only three men I spiked in 24 years. I don’t believe the total would be over six or seven”

He told Rice the famous 1909 spiking of Frank “Hone Run” Baker:

“I barely scratched his arm…The Baker incident gave me a reputation I never deserved.”

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Cobb slides into Baker, 1909

Later, Rice asked Cobb about the best pitchers he faced:

 “My number one pitcher would be Cy Young. Cy won more than 500 ballgames in two big leagues. He was still a fine pitcher after more than 20 years…Ate the age of 65, in the veterans’ game, old Cy pitched three run less innings. He had a world of stuff—he had a game heart and he had control.

“Next to Cy, I’d name (Walter) Johnson who led them all in shutouts and strikeouts. That’s the main answer”

Cobb called Big Ed Walsh:

 “The most valuable five-year pitcher I ever saw. In one season (1908)  he worked 66 games, won 40 and saved 12 others [sic, 6]. Right after this he stepped in and pitched almost every game in the Chicago City series. Big Ed was the star workhorse of them all for about five years before the arm gave out.

Cobb told Rice his “Biggest day, I suppose was that afternoon against the Yankees just after a ball pitched by Carl Mays killed Ray Chapman.”

The New York Tribune said the fans were “in an uproar” over comments Cobb had allegedly made to Associated Press (AP) reporters. On the day of Chapman’s death, The AP reported:

“Ty Cobb, the Detroit star asserted that summary measures should be taken against Mays immediately.”

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Mays

The AP also said in a separate article:

“After the funeral of Roy Chapman has been held, Ty Cobb will have a few things to say regarding Carl Mays…’I am too upset over the death of Chapman to say anything now,’ he said. Cobb, however, added

That he had his own experiences with Mays’ bean-ball and that he would be willing to give some of his opinions about the Yankees submarine pitcher when he does talk.”

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Chapman

It was also reported that Cobb was among a group of players who would refuse to play against Mays.

Describing the scene at the Polo Grounds nearly 17 years late, Cobb told Rice:

“I had been misquoted and when I came into the park there was the loudest chorus of boos and hisses, I ever heard.

“Naturally I felt bitter about this. It isn’t a pleasant feeling to be booed and hissed by 35,000 of your fellow citizens, I went out to show them up I happened to have one of my best days.”

Cobb’s “Biggest game” was actually the second game of the series. During the first game of the series on August 21, The Tribune said:

“(T)he booing and hissing were violent every time Cobb came to bat. This roused Cobb’s belligerency and he exchanged some sharp repartee with the crowd by the Detroit dugout. He was surrounded by a growling mob as he left the field, but Cobb, who rather enjoys being a storm center, walked off the field slowly and deliberately”

Cobb, who went 1 for 4 with a stolen base, told reporters after Detroit’s 10 to 3 win:

“Some Boston people who have a grudge against Carl Mays used me as a smoke screen. I did not say a word against Mays, and I attended no meeting to boycott him.”

The following day, August 22, with 37,000 fans in the Polo Grounds was the “Biggest day,” Cobb was 5 for 6 with a double and three stolen bases and scored two runs in an 11 to 9 victory.

Back to the game at Pebble Beach, Rice said of Cobb:

 “Golf is one game that has left him baffled. Once in awhile he breaks 80, but his average score is around 82 or 83. He hits a long ball and he is a first-class putter but is still erratic on the in between shots. Always full of tension…If he could relax more, there would soon be a great improvement in his game. But the mental habit of a lifetime isn’t so easily overcome. The more delicate shots give Ty his greatest trouble. This is where tension nearly always takes its toll. The mental factors that make a great ballplayer or football player may be ruinous for golf.”

“He has Always Been a Lazy, Unmanageable Fellow”

3 Apr

Mert Hackett—contemporary newspapers generally referred to him as Myrtie–caught 241 games over five National League seasons from 1883 to 1887.  In 1902, he was asked by The Boston Post to assess the modern game:

“People who never used to miss a game do not go at all now. At the time when the Brotherhood League was formed 12 years ago and during the troubles that followed, many people lost all sympathy for those who are now in National ownership. As a member of the Cambridge police force, I meet many old friends who used to be regular attendants at the games but who never go now. They have lost their interest and are disgusted with the questionable tactics in vogue now among players and managers.”

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Hackett

The Post claimed that Hackett’s career came to an end in 1887, when he was “Practically blacklisted” by Indianapolis Hoosiers manager Horace Fogel:

“Hackett received a letter from his sister in Boston stating that her three children were sick and requesting him to come at once. The old catcher left immediately and arrived only to be present at the death of two of the children.”

The paper claimed, “For some reason” Fogel later said Hackett did not have permission to leave the team and “wrote a letter to the other clubs” saying Hackett had been fined and suspended.

Contemporaneous accounts in The Indianapolis News and The Indianapolis Journal tell a different story.

In July of 1887, The News said that Fogel, having just taken over as manager, had granted Hackett leave (to “visit his friends”) before discovering that the team’s other catchers Tug Arundel and George Myers were injured.

“(Fogel) told him that, by reason of the crippled condition of the nine, he would have to catch the game with the Cuban Giants in Trenton. Hackett was greatly enraged, and with the threat he would be ‘—— if he played against n——.’ He left the club and for this reason he was suspended.”

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Sporting Life said Hackett was, “Playing off all season,” and “he has always been a lazy, unmanageable fellow, and the players all claim that he is the only troublesome, disorganizing man in the team.”

In whatever case, he never played in the major leagues again after the close of the 1887 season.  When he was released by the Hoosiers before the 1888 season, The Journal said:

“Strange that a player of his ability could not be sold for a small sum at least.”

He managed and played for the Troy Trojans in the International Association—his brother Walter was the team’s shortstop–briefly in 1888.

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Hackett, 1935

Hackett’s career in law enforcement lasted much longer, he was with the Cambridge police force for 42 years, retiring in 1935 at age 75. He died in 1938

“For That is a Very bad Business”

2 Apr

After winning the National League pennant in 1903, Barney Dreyfuss told The Pittsburgh Dispatch that he intended to further improve his team but:

“I do not want any ‘sports’ on the Pittsburgh team, and that’s why I’m so careful and go slowly in my selection of what new talent we want for next season.”

“By ‘sport,’ I mean the player who will bet on himself or his team to win games.”

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Barney Dreyfuss

Dreyfuss, the paper said, was committed to a fourth straight first-place finish for his club and knew what to avoid:

“I don’t want any man who will wager that his team will win, that the other fellows will be shut out, etc…for that is a very bad business, and there entirely too much of it in baseball now. I know pitchers who will, when they have the money, bet as high as $100 on themselves when they go in the box.”

He said he didn’t want “any of these people,” and currently had “no such players on” the Pirates:

“At first it looks like a good game; it looks as though the club owner should be proud to have in his employ men who will wager their own hard-earned money that they will beat the other fellows, but when we look at it more closely and examine records it proves to be very bad baseball.”

And, he said his colleagues had stories:

“Many are the club managers and owners who could tell, if they would, where such and such a game was lost by a certain player having bet and becoming too anxious.”

Dreyfuss said he had passed “on what seemed to be first-class men,” including “two very fast pitchers,” for being “sports,” because he said in addition to the problems on the field:

“(It) leads them into loafing with the betting element.”

Dreyfuss didn’t care if they never bet against their own club:

“They always bet on themselves of course, but they cannot play on the Pittsburgh club”

Despite his efforts to not sign any “sports,” the 1904 Pirates broke the three-year string of pennants, finishing fourth.

Things I Learned on the way to Looking up Other Things #40

1 Apr

Minor League Salaries, 1897

In 1897, Ren Mulford of The Cincinnati Times-Star compiled a list of the average monthly salaries in some of the minor leagues:

“Eastern League–$100 to $180 for youngsters, $200 to $250 for stars.

“Western League–$75 to $150 for young men, nominal–$200 limit—real limit, about $300.

“Western Association–$65 to $115.

“Southern League–$70 to $100.

“Texas League–$60 to $100

“New England League–$75 to $125.”

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Ren Mulford

Mulford said:

“Most of the minor league contracts are from four and one-half months. While they are in force the players have their boards and traveling expenses paid when away from home. Seven months in the year these players can earn money doing other work. And yet they are down-trodden! There are many business and professional men who would be willing to be as down-trodden as are ball players.”

Small Market Woes, 1887

Horace Fogel was the third manager of the Indianapolis Hoosiers in 1887; the last place club finished the season 37-89; 20-49 under Fogel.

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Horace Fogel

After the season Fogel told The Indianapolis News:

“(I)t is a fact that it is impossible for a weaker League club to compete against such clubs as New York, Chicago, Detroit, or Boston when one of these begins to negotiate with the players. There is no use trying to get him by the offer of more money, for it will do no good. The young players would rather play on the big clubs for $500 less than they would get in the Indianapolis club. They do not recognize they would have a chance for improvement in a weaker club, while in one of the big clubs they must be on an equality with the best or they cannot stay. Young ball players will learn that they will have to begin at the foot of the ladder.”

Indianapolis, under manager Harry Spence finished 50-85 in seventh place in 1888.

Barney’s Favorite Scout, 1910

Barney Dreyfuss told The Pittsburgh Press in 1910 that the “best scout in the country” worked for him despite having “never secured a ballplayer.”

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Barney Dreyfuss

Dreyfuss said, “And as long as he wants to stay on my payroll, he can do it.”

The scout was Pittsburgh’s man on the West Coast, George Van Haltren. Dreyfuss said:

“He is an excellent judge of ballplayers, When we are tipped off to some player who is said to be a wonder, George hikes out and takes a look at him.”

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Van Haltren never signed a prospect for the Pirates but remained Dreyfuss’ favorite scout.

“Foster Likes to Boast About Four Things”

31 Mar

In 1926, Rollo Wilson of The Pittsburgh Courier acknowledged that it was a difficult task to get “Rube Foster to talk baseball,” after approaching him in Pittsburgh’s 15th Street Café where Foster “was seated contemplating a filet mignon, make it two.”

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Rube Foster

As one of the few extant interviews of Foster, it provides a some insight into his career—although his recollections are not entirely accurate—as noted in this Agate Type post.

Two years earlier, The Baltimore Afro-American managed to get a few sentences out of Foster; calling him “no Czar of baseball,” the paper said:

“On the contrary, he is simply a big , fat, good natured and successful baseball manager who after 43 years in baseball has risen from a salary of $40 a month and 15 cent meals to $100 a day and one of the finest homes in Chicago.”

Foster told the paper:

“Five years ago, colored baseball players got nothing out of the game. Last year fans paid $380,000 to see colored baseball.”

The paper said Foster “likes to boast” about four things:

“(1) that as a 19-year-old pitcher he was the best in the country and points with pride to the fact that he out pitched Rube Waddell and with his 10 men whipped the best teams in the country, (2) that he organized the first Negro baseball league, which have developed more than any other agency. (3) that he knows more people than any other colored man in the United States, (4) that he has never entered politics and he has never cast a vote.”

Foster didn’t like politics but was “crazy about automobiles;” and had a “Chrysler Runabout and an Apperson Jackrabbit Sedan that he bought this spring.”

Rube didn’t use a chauffeur and told the paper:

“(He) says he can make 70 miles in either of them.”

The brief interview was so rare the paper ran it again in it’s entirety after Foster was admitted the Kankakee (IL) State Hospital in September of 1926; he died there in 1930.

“One of the Saddest Spectacles I have Seen”

30 Mar

King Kelly made his New York stage debut at the Imperial Music Hall in January of 1893.

The Brooklyn Citizen said he was being paid $250 a week “to succumb to the fever of the theatrical stage.”

The New York Herald described the moment Kelly took the stage:

“He was hailed with cheers the instant he stepped before the footlights…It was the first time the Gotham baseball cranks had heard the former king of the right field sing, and they clapped their hands and stamped their feet in jubilation…His friends said that his first dip into the uncertain sea of theatrical life was a success.”

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A less generous syndicated review appeared in newspapers across the Midwest and West under the headline:

“King Kelly As A Star”

The article said:

“Kelly is a very handsome man and that particular has a very good stage presence.”

The “principal event” of Kelly’s performance was to recite Ernest Thayer’s “Casey at the Bat.”

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Ad for Kelly’s New York appearances 

His delivery of Thayer’s poem was not a hit with the nameless author of the piece:

“Kelly is probably as near to being king of the national game as any man, but he has thus far failed to solve theatrical curves.

“As an elocutionist Kelly undoubtedly fans the air as successfully as Casey did when he left no joy in Mudville by striking out.”

By the time Kelly took to the stage, Actor DeWolf Hopper had made “Casey” a well-known poem, having performed it throughout the country on vaudeville stages:

“When one has heard Hopper describe Casey’s unfortunate adventure, comparison between Hopper’s effort and that of Kelly naturally follows. Hopper’s performance is a work of art. One can almost see Casey as the comedian describes how he rubbed his hands with dust and wiped them on his baseball shirt preparatory to knocking out a 3-bagger. Kelly’s effort is without spirit, and the umpire says, ‘strike two’ as calmly as if there were several dozen left before Casey could possibly succeed in striking out.”

The writer allowed that Kelly was better in the portion of the show where he sang with his stage partner Billy Jerome.

A reporter for The New York World provided a more positive take:

“Kelly, the king of the ball-tossers, made a three-bagger. He hit one or two staccato notes so hard that he drove them through the skylights. The bleachers up in gallery shouted and howled until they grew red in the face. The cohorts down in the grandstand applauded. In the meantime, the umpire down in the orchestra waved his baton frantically and called Kelly safe. Mike was not a thing of beauty, but he made the hit of the season. Of course, Mike has not the voice of (Italian Tenor Francesco) Tamagno. Neither has Tamagno the make-up of Kelly.”

The World noted Kelly was “deluged” with floral arrangements from the likes of Tammany Hall boss and former Congressman “Honest” John Kelly and racetrack owner Phil Dwyer who sent “a sleigh of roses and carnations,” to former Giants owners John B. Day and Edward Talcott, who presented Kelly with “a floral wreath with ‘king’ in big letters woven around it,” to “Teddy Foley and the Bowery House Chowder Club,” who sent six “floral baseball bats.”

Kelly’s most scathing review came the week before he opened in New York; the “Boston Correspondent” for The Fall River Daily Herald, caught Kelly when he appeared at Boston’s Howard Athenaeum:

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Ad for Kelly’s Boston run

“One of the saddest spectacles I have seen for some time I beheld in a theater here one evening this week. M.J. Kelley, the $10,000 beauty, engaged in making a show of himself, trying to be an actor, inflicting the public with a sample of his vocal powers, was a sight calculated to make men weep. What on earth Kelly is doing on the stage I cannot see. What excuse he has for the act is beyond imagination. As a ballplayer he was a success, but as an actor is is as dismal a failure as it is possible to conceive…He stands up awkwardly as a manikin and moves with the grace of a wooden Indian”

“It Does not take a Brainy man to to run a Ball Team”

27 Mar

Cy Young managed the first six games for the 1907 Boston Americans; guiding the team to a 3-3 record after manager Chick Stahl’s suicide during spring training.

In 1910, The Cleveland News said, while “The grand old man” could have continued as a player-manager, “he did not feel like combining the two trades.”

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Cy Young

The paper asked Young what qualities were needed to manage a team:

“It does not take a brainy man to to run a ball team. You’ll hear a lot of stuff handed out about the inside baseball knowledge that such and such a manager is supposed to possess. But baseball is not such a complicated game that the ordinary manager doesn’t understand pretty nearly all the wrinkles.”

Young said intelligence was overrated:

“You’ve often heard someone suggest the name of a certain ballplayer as one likely to make a clever and successful manager, but the chances are that the man mentioned might prove an utter failure. Some of the brainiest players in the game might make the worst fizzles in attempting to direct the fortunes of a big-league club. It isn’t baseball brains that count in managing. It’s the ability to lead and make the men under you fight.”

He described the perfect manager.

“You take the manager that can keep after his men. I don’t mean the bulldozer, but one who knows just what there is in each man, and who is capable of bringing it all out. Such a man is (Hughie) Jennings, who never lets up, no matter how gloomy the outlook may be.

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Cy’s ideal, Hughie Jennings

“A fighting manager with a fighting team will win three times as many games as a brainy outfit with a brainy manager. Give me the fighter every time. That’s how Detroit has won so often. Jennings is the sort of a manager that does things—and wins, too.”

“The Great American Public is with us”

25 Mar

In 1890, The New York Star provided a dramatic version of how Mike “King” Kelly let National League officials—meeting in New York–that he planned to join the Players League, beginning with one of the best descriptions to be found of Kelly’s sartorial splendor:

“King Kelly was in high feathers Thursday afternoon. He sauntered down Broadway with a yard-wide smile on his face. His box topcoat was open in front, revealing a perfect-fitting Prince Albert, a pair of English check trousers, a beautiful fancy vest of brown silk, cut low, and exposing to view an immaculate shirt front, in the center of which was a Kohinoor of wonderful brilliancy. He swung a heavy gold-headed cane with the careless abandon of a man thoroughly pleased with himself.”

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Mike “King” Kelly

Kelly then entered the meeting:

“He turned into the Fifth Avenue Hotel and acknowledged the salutations he received on all sides by raising his shining beaver. The Boston magnates soon surrounded their late captain and so did some other delegates.  They got very little comfort out of the ‘King.’

“‘You are all pretty good fellows, but you won’t do. The great American public is with us, and it’s pretty hard to beat them. We will play the greatest ball ever seen on this earth. Every man is a star—not a ham in the lot. Whenever you fellows want to borrow, come around an see me. Good day.’”

Kelly’s Boston Reds won the first and only Players League pennant, and the King hit .325 and stole 51 bases appearing in 90 games.