Tag Archives: Walter Johnson

Things I Learned on the way to Looking up Other Things #38

5 Aug

Scrappy Bill and Small Ball

The New York Herald lamented in August of 1897 about New York manager Bill Joyce:

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Joyce

“Scrappy’s Giants are doing less sacrificing than any team in the major league. Mike Tiernan has but one sacrifice to his credit. Scrappy, like Ed Hanlon, regards sacrificing as a necessary evil—a last resort.”

The paper wanted him to follow the example of Fred Clarke:

“(T)he captain of the Colonels in a firm believer in sacrificing early in the game for one run, as well as late in the contest, when a tally is of more importance than at an early stage of the game.”

Joyce’s third-place Giants sacrificed just 45 times in 1897; Clarke’s 11th-place Colonels were fourth with 101.

Cy’s Arm

During spring training in 1905, Naps pitcher Bill Bernhard told The Cleveland News:

“There is no use talking, there is only one Cy Young. When the rest of us pitchers report in the spring we act as if those deceiving arms of ours were made of glass and humor them accordingly. But not so with old Cy. The very day he reached Hot Springs a week or so ago, he cut loose as if he had been pitching all winter. Great Scott, but he had speed to burn, and the next day and the next it was just the same. And curve them? Well, you ought to have seen the old boy.”

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Young

That season, the 38-year-old Young was 18-19 with a 1.83 ERA for the Boston Americans.

Johnson’s “Destiny”

Grantland Rice’s lede in The New York Herald Tribune on the final game of the 1924 World Series:

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Rice

“Destiny, waiting for the final curtain, stepped from the wings today and handed the king his crown.

“In the latest and most dramatic moment of baseball’s 60 years of history the wall-eyed goddess known as Fate decided that old ‘Barney’ had waited long enough for his diadem of gold and glory. So, after waiting 18 years, Walter Johnson found at last the pot of shining gold that waits at the end of the rainbow.

“For it was Johnson at last, the old Johnson brought back from other years with his blazing fastball singing across he plate for the last four rounds, who stopped the Giant attack from the ninth inning through the 12th and gave Washington’s fighting ballclub its World’s Series victory, 4 to 3.

Washington won just at the edge of darkness, and it was Johnson’s great right arm that turned the trick. As (Earl) McNeely doubled and (Muddy) Ruel galloped over the plate with the winning run in the last of the 12th, some 32,000 fans rushed upon the field with a roar of triumph never known before, as for more than 30 minutes, packed in one vast, serried mass around the bench, they paid Johnson and his mates a tribute that no one present will ever forget.”

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Johnson

Rice’s account of the game was recognized as the best “major league baseball story of the year” by the Baseball Writers Association of America.

 

“Mendez is a Wonder”

15 May

Edgar Forrest Wolfe, the cartoonist and sports columnist for The Philadelphia Inquirer who wrote under the pen name Jim Nasium, joined the Phillies on their Cuban barnstorming tour after the 1911 season.

When he returned, he told readers:

“Baseball fans throughout the United States, in trying to dig up an answer that will explain away the wallopings that have been handed our big league ball teams by the Cubans during their annual winter pilgrimages to the ‘Sunny Isle.’”

 

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He said some fans tried to claim it was “change of climate” or players not adhering to “strict discipline,” but:

“While you can work this stuff and probably get away with it if you happen to be conversing with some guy who has never been south of Oshkosh, Michigan [sic]”

No, Wolfe said, climate and discipline were not the issue— “Good pitching and sensational fielding is the bulk of the answer.”

In particular, Wolfe singled out Jose Mendez, in an article that flirted with the progressive idea of integrating baseball while loaded with the racist ideas and language of the time.

Phillies manager Hans Lobert told Wolfe:

“Mendez is a wonder, and so is his catcher (Gervasio) Gonzalez. If we could give those two coons a coat of white paint and ring them in with the Phillies next summer, we’d win the pennant.”

Referring to Mendez’ first start against major leaguers in 1908, Wolfe noted:

“Mendez not only showed his ability as a pitcher, but his nerve and absolute immunity from stage fright, but going in and shutting out the Cincinnati team in this game with but one little hit, and that was a little scratch affair made by Miller Huggins in the ninth inning. Mendez fanned nine of the Reds in this game and as his own team could get him but one run to win with, you will see that he had to go some to win even with that great pitching.”

Wolfe chronicled what are now well-known highlights of Mendez’ performances against white professionals from 1908 to 1911, and then described what made him so unhittable:

“Mendez’ chief asset in a pitching way is terrific speed with a fast-breaking jump to the ball, which he mixes with a fast breaking curve, and excellent control and fine judgment in working the batsmen. Ballplayers from the states who have batted against Mendez or tried to, rather, assert that there is no pitcher in baseball, barring possibly Walter Johnson, who has as much ‘smoke’ as this ‘Black Mathewson’ of Cuba. The thing that causes the most wonderment among our players who have played in Cuba, however, is the wonderful ability of Mendez in fielding his position. He is remarkably fast on his feet and a quick starter, has a cool head and excellent judgment, and can throw from any position like a rifle shot.

“Mendez plays the whole infield when he is pitching, and it is almost impossible to lay down a safe bunt against him or even sacrifice, as he will invariably get the ball in time to nail the advance man.”

Wolfe said Mendez was so good fielding his position that he allowed his fielders to play “closer to the foul lines and leaving Mendez to plug up the holes in the center.”

And, he said Mendez worked “twice as hard” as other pitchers because of how much ground he covered fielding his position in the heat of Cuba:

“What a corking hot weather pitcher he would make up here if he could only be whitewashed.”

Wolfe also noted that Mendez had “never been the author of a boneheaded play,” and highlighted his character:

“Mendez is known in Havana as a modest and well-behaved gentleman at all times, both on the field of play and off, as he seems to realize that his color bars him from many privileges accorded to the white baseball hero. While pitching he is constantly smiling, showing his teeth in a broad grin, their whiteness forming a vivid contrast with his black skin. Every cent Mendez earns through his ball playing goes to the support of his mother, whom he can now afford to give every pleasure of the wealthy class of Cubans.”

Wolfe said during November of 1911, the pitcher earned $584 from gate receipts when he pitched:

“(A)s every time Mendez works down there, they play to capacity, the fans in Havana, white as well as colored, idolizing their ‘Black Mathewson’ much in the same way as New Yorkers idolize their white one.”

In closing, Wolfe lamented:

“It is one of the pathetic instances of life to see this Cuban negro, possessing all the characteristics of a gentleman and an ability that would make him one of the great figures in a great pastime, qualities that would bring him worldwide fame and popularity and wealth, barred from reaping the full benefits of these qualifications through the misfortune of birth. Jose Mendez will always have to be content just to be Cuba’s ‘Black Mathewson’”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Connie Mack Calls “Bunk”

19 Apr

In the month leading up to the 1944 season there were concerns about there being a season.

Ty Cobb told an Associated Press (AP) reporter that “the baseball men have a mission to perform” by keeping the game alive during the war, even if “it is played by old men.”

Cobb said:

“If worst comes to worst, I’d get back into the harness myself to help preserve it.”

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Cobb

The thought took hold in some circles.

Nearly fifty-year-old Howard Ehmke, whose business making canvas tarpaulins was now making protective covering for naval warship guns, told The AP:

“I’ll be 50 in April and I’m pretty busy around here, but if baseball needs me, I’ll come running. I won’t say much about my arm, but I ought to be able to do something. The game was good to me when I was in it, and I feel I owe it something.”

The idea was shot down by baseball’s oldest manager.

Connie Mack said the idea was “all bunk.”

He told The Philadelphia Record:

“We don’t need them; we don’t want them; I doubt if any of them wants to come back, and they can’t play anymore anyway. I’d much rather keep the game going with 14 and 15-year-olds.”

Mack said he felt there were enough men classified as 4-F combined with those not yet drafted and those too young to serve to carry on.

And he didn’t spare any of the former greats who suggested they might be willing to come back:

“It’s a joke to talk about such men as Ty Cobb, Tris Speaker, Eddie Collins, Babe Ruth, Walter Johnson, and Al Simmons making comebacks.

“We appreciate the fine spirit they have shown to help baseball, but they can’t play now. Once a man has passed 35 or 40 and then gives up the game for a year or so, he can’t come back.”

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Mack

Mack said he “pitied” the old-timers he watched play in a war bond game the previous summer.

“Great outfielders like Speaker—one of the finest flycatchers of all time—looked pitiable. I was afraid he would get hit on the head.”

Besides, said Mack, all fans cared about baseball, not the caliber of the game, and kids and 4-F’s could carry the load:

“They don’t look for super-excellence these days.”

Lost Advertisements: Ray Caldwell for Sweet Caporal

29 Mar

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A 1914 advertisement for Sweet Caporal Cigarettes featuring Ray Caldwell:

“Everybody’s strong for good old Sweets. In the grandstand and in the bleachers the fragrant smoke of Sweet Caporal keep men happy.”

Caldwell was touted early as the next Christy Mathewson or Walter Johnson but was compared to Rube Waddell and Bugs Raymond more often as his career progressed.

On the eve of what would be his best season—the same year the ad appeared (18-9, 1.94)—Caldwell went missing from the Yankees’ spring headquarters in Houston.

The New York Herald said:

“Caldwell, who, according to all American League managers, should be one of the grandest pitchers of the national frolic if his mental poise only matched his physical proclivities, seems lost, strayed or stolen.”

Sometime on March 19 or 20, Caldwell deserted the Yankees, two nights earlier he had missed the team’s 11:30 PM bed check—the paper said Caldwell was facing a $100 fine when found, and claimed to know why a few New York players appeared unafraid of manager Frank Chance:

“From the attitude of the few troublesome characters in camp it is evident that these diamond gladiators feel a new independence because of the activities of the Federals. Evidently they figure organized baseball is very much afraid of wholesale desertions to the independents.”

Chance said:

“The Good Samaritan’s spirit wouldn’t get anybody very much with this club. I’ve tried the Golden Rule guff until I’m tired of it. I intended to fine Caldwell $50 when I found he had broken faith before. But he pleaded so hard for another chance that I showed mercy…I’ll make a pitcher out of that fellow this year if I have to fine him so often that he will be in Mr. (owner Frank) Farrell’s debt to the amount of his salary twice over.

“He worked with me last year under a bonus contract. He was to get $800 additional to the salary figure if he had a good season. You know how bad he was all year (9-8 2.41). Well, he got that $800 anyhow. He came to me with a long face and a penitent tale of how he intended to buy a house and live straight.”

Chance wasn’t done ripping the pitcher:

“Caldwell apparently doesn’t have an ounce of sense. If he has, he never parades it on the ballfield. There are some fellows who have to be ruled by fear and I have determined to try the rough treatment on this young gentleman. If necessary, I’ll pound some brains into him.”

Caldwell returned after two days, his absence not fully explained, but Chance told reporters after a “long interview” with his wayward pitcher:

“(Caldwell) would be good for the rest of his life.”

He was not good for the rest of his life, but Chance got more out of Caldwell in 1914 than any manager did again; he had the only winning record among regular starters for a club that finished 70-84.

Caldwell also lasted longer in New York than his manager; Chance was replaced by Roger Peckinpaugh with 20 games left in the 1914 season, Cladwell remained in New York through 1918, and finished his major league career in 1921.

Lost Advertisements: “When Ty Cobb Faces Walter Johnson”

11 Jan

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A 1920 advertisement for Absorbine Jr. from the Wilbur F. Young Company–Absorbine was developed in 1892 to treat sore and lame horses–the human version, “Jr.” was introduced in 1903.

“It is a battle of muscles as much as brain.  The big league ‘stars’ take care of their muscles, especially their ‘salary wings’ with Absorbine Jr.”

The ad quotes Johnson–and oddly, given the headline, “Joe Jackson, Cincinnati Nationals [sic].

Says Johnson:

“Absorbine Jr. is a first-class liniment and rub-down for tired muscles.  I have used it myself to advantage and can heartily recommend it to ballplayers everywhere.”

Jackson says:

“I find Absorbine Jr. to be an excellent rub-down after violent exercise, and also a good liniment for loosening up stiff muscles.”

The W. F. Young Company is still producing animal care products and Absorbine Jr. is still produced–now by Clarion Brands.

Things I Learned on the Way to Looking up other Things: Quotes

28 Dec

Jack Clements, Phillies catcher in 1896 to The Chicago Daily News about umpire Tim Hurst:

“The reason Tim Hurst is so successful as an umpire is not only because he will break the face of any man who insults him, but because he joins in the talk behind the rubber and jollies the basemen into believing that almost everything je says is all right and that they shouldn’t kick about it.”

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Tim Hurst

Ed McKean, Cleveland shortstop from 1887-1898, to The Cleveland News, 1917

“’Walter Johnson smoke—Huh! Old Amos Rusie had just as much speed and a curve ball that Johnson or no other living pitcher ever had, why that curve came over the plate with just as much speed as did his fast one.’ Thus Ed McKean settled the much mooted question as to the speediest pitcher who ever wore a glove…’I know that many will take exception to my statement that Rusie had more speed than Johnson, but I am giving you my honest opinion.  I’ll admit I have never batted against Johnson, but I’ve watched him closely ever since he broke in.  I have batted against Rusie when Amos was at his best, and of the two, Rusie, to my way of thinking, had more speed.”’

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Amos Rusie

Dan Brouthers, while telling The Detroit Free Press in September of 1894 that the Baltimore Orioles would hold on to win the pennant, declared that teammate Kid Gleason:

“’(I)s the best pitcher I ever saw.  He can pitch every day in the week and be just as good at the end as at the beginning.  He is a hitter and a base runner, and an all-around player.  Why, if one of the players makes an error and lets in a run, Gleason says, ‘Never mind, old man, I’ll beat those ducks myself,’ and he is more than likely to do it…They talk about Rusie and (Jack) Stivetts.  They were great pitchers under the old rules, and they are very good now, but they’re not in it with this man Gleason.”

Gleason was purchased from the St. Louis Browns in June and was 15-5 in 21 games and hit .349 in 97 at bats.  The Orioles won the pennant by three games.

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Gleason

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch said, in 1889, a reporter asked pitcher Toad Ramsey:

“’What would you suggest would be the best way to increase batting, Mr. Ramsey?’ was asked the ‘phenom’ the other day in Louisville.  The great left-hander winked his left eye in an off-hand way, but jovially declined to answer the question.  ‘It ain’t my business to give points on batting.’”

Ramsey was then asked who the best hitter in baseball was:

“’Tip O’Neill,’ he replied unhesitatingly.  ‘He’s the best hitter I ever saw, and he’s got the most judgement.  He can’t hit harder than Browning, if Pete would take care of himself, but nobody ever saw Pete doing that,’ concluded Mr. Ramsey, as a feeling of regret for Pete’s weakness displayed itself on his face.  Then he walked away with an acquaintance.”

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Ramsey

George Gore told The Chicago Daily News about one of his former teammates:

“Ed Williamson of the Chicago champions was the greatest shortstop of them all.  He was a wonderful thrower, probably the hardest in the business.  Anson used to play first base without gloves in those days, and Ed took delight in lacing over hot ones to the old man.  When anybody hit a grounder to Williamson, he would pick it up, wait until the runner was a few yards from the bag, and then line the ball to Anson like a cannon shot.  The old man was nearly knocked down on several occasions.”

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 Williamson with mascot Willie Hahn

 

“Old Pete Probably Saved my Life”

7 Dec

In a syndicated article for World Wide Features in 1942, writer Jack Smith talked to the “Chippewa Indian whom grandpa called ‘the game’s greatest money pitcher,’” Charles “Chief” Bender.

Smith said at 58, Bender “can still toss a pretty mean baseball.”

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Bender, 1942

Bender told Smith “he might be around,” anymore if not for Grover Cleveland Alexander, who “performed an operation” on Bender with a pen knife:

“It started on a lurching train carrying a Pullman-car-load of Phillies towards Boston in 1917, Bender, then a National Leaguer, started a playful wresting match with Eppa ‘Jeptha’ Rixey—and inadvertently stuck his arm through a Pullman window pane.”

Mike Dee, who was the Phillies trainer treated the six-inch gash in Bender’s arm, but he told Smith:

“’(T)here weeks later on another train my arm swelled like the head of a rookie pitcher after a no-hit game.

“’So I rolled out of my bunk and awakened Grover.  I showed him the poisoning and offered him my knife.  Old Pete said he wouldn’t mind at all.’”

Bender said he and Alexander sterilized the knife in boiling water, then after tying off the infected area, Alexander used the knife to drain the wound.

Bender said when he showed his arm to Dee the following day, “’Doc told me he couldn’t have done a better job himself.  He said Old Pete probably saved my life.’”

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Old Pete

Smith said seeing Bender work out with the Philadelphia Athletics during the spring of 1940 in Newport News, Virginia, and in 1941 in Wilmington, Delaware,

“At an age when most men creak at the joints and swell in the middle, he is still rangy and trim, still has that powerful arm, those long, sinewy fingers.”

Most importantly, Smith said, Bender was extremely humble:

“This man whose name is mentioned in the same breath with those of Christy Mathewson and Walter Johnson, whose million dollar arm helped make baseball the national pastime, who’s been in the game since he started playing for Pop Warner at Carlisle back in 1902 (note: Bender graduated from Carlisle in 1902, and began playing for Warner there in 1899) will tell you his career is without highlights.

‘”All games were the same to me,’ he says.  ‘I worried about each pitch and that was all…In 1910 I pitched a no-hit no-run game and didn’t know it—not until somebody told me.”

A few days after Smith’s article appeared, Bender was named minor league pitching instructor for the New York Yankees.  The Associated Press said the Yankees minor leaguers should “Get your track pants on…’When a man’s legs and wind are right, he’ll be able to pitch.”

Bender kept running and continued pitching batting practice into his sixties.  He died at age 70 in 1954.

Things I Learned on the way to Looking up Other Things–Quote Edition

12 Oct

When you spend hours pouring over microfilm and web based newspaper archives you find something every day that is interesting but not enough for a standalone post—these are random quotes and observations that follow no theme or thread, I just think they should not be lost to the mists of time.

Cy Young was asked by The Cleveland News in 1909 if there would ever be a successful ambidextrous pitcher in the major leagues:

“Elton Chamberlain, who was with Cleveland in the early 90s, essayed to perform this feat occasionally, but about all he had with his left arm was a small amount of speed and a straight ball. The way pitchers have to work nowadays a man who can use one rm and use it effectively is quite a man as pitching goes.”

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Elton Chamberlain

In 1909, Time Murnane noted in The Boston Globe that Billy Sunday, as an evangelist was earning more than 10 times what the “highest-paid men” in baseball were making. Of Sunday’s ability he said:

“No doubt Mr. Sunday is a very good evangelist, much better it is hoped than he ever was as a ballplayer. Mr. Sunday was a fast runner. That marked his limit as a baseball star. He could not hit or field or throw well enough to make it worthwhile talking about.”

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Billy Sunday, evangelist

In 1946, Grantland Rice of The New York Herald Tribune asked Connie Mack during a discussion of Bob Feller which pitcher he felt had the “greatest combination of speed and curves,” of all time:

“He hesitated less than two seconds. ‘Rube Waddell,’ he said. ‘The Rube was about as fast as Feller, not quite as fast as (Walter) Johnson. But the Rube had one of the deepest, fastest-breaking curves I’ve ever seen. Johnson’s curve ball was unimportant. Feller isn’t as fast as Johnson but he has a far better curve ball.’”

Mack did, however, concede:

“’Feller and Johnson were far more dependable than the Rube who now and then was off fishing or tending bar when I needed him badly.’”

rube

Rube

In 1916, in his nationally syndicated American League umpire Billy Evans asked Napoleon Lajoie about the best pitchers he faced:

“I never faced a wiser twirler than Chief Bender…he made a study of the art. If a batter had a weakness, the Chief soon discovered it, and from that time he made life miserable for that particular batsman. His almost uncanny control made it possible for him to put into execution the knowledge he would gain of the batter’s weakness. I know of a certain big league player, and he was a good one, who would request that he be taken out of the game any time Bender worked…Best of all, he had the heart of an oak and in a pinch always seemed to do his best work.”

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Chief Bender

In 1907, the Washington Senators hired Pongo Joe Cantillon to manage the team, Ted Sullivan, “the man who discovered Comiskey,” was never shy about taking credit for an idea, and told The Washington Star:

“As I was instrumental in enticing Cantillon to come to Washington I know the salary that was offered, and I saw the contract. It was nearly twice the salary of a United States Senator, and there is not a bench manager today in the eastern country that is getting one-half the salary of Cantillon. The Washington management has corrected all the errors of the past in getting a baseball pilot who knows all the bends and shallows in the baseball river.”

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Pongo Joe

Despite the money, and Cantillon’s knowledge of the “bends and shallows,” the Senators finished 8th twice and 7th once during Cantillon’s three seasons in Washington, he had a 158-297 record during his only stint as a big league manager.

Lost Advertisements: Rip Collins for Mail Pouch Tobacco

5 Oct

ripmailpouch

A 1930 Mail Pouch Tobacco ad featuring Harry Warren ‘Rip’ Collins of the st. Louis Browns.

“A Chew like Mail Pouch actually has a steadying effect on a man’s nerves.”

Collins’ nerves were good for a 108-82 record over 11 major league seasons and for a career as a Texas Ranger.

In November 1926, “Baseball Magazine” declared his career a bit of a disappointment–but for a reason– Collins was simply “Born a hundred years too late.”

The magazine said:

“Collins came to the big leagues an unbranded maverick, wild as a Brahma steer from his own beloved Texas cattle land. Nature, with a lush prodigally, had endowed him with athletic skill of the highest order.  Six feet one he stood with muscles like tempered steel, 205 pounds of raw, crude strength.  He had blinding speed, more sheer stuff, perhaps, than any pitcher has shown since Walter Johnson came out of the mountains of Idaho to create one of the great pitching records in history.”

The magazine said while:

“He might have been a marvelous hurler.  He has been merely good.”

The reason he never reached his potential:

“Rip has been guided through life, for good or ill, by the untamed spirit of the wilderness.  He chafed under irksome restraint.  He hated big cities, crowds, the luxuries of an old and possibly decadent civilization.  He abominated the petty jealousies and the bickerings and the small politics on a big league ball club.”

Collins said:

“When I have finished the baseball season, I can’t be cooped up any longer.  I take my rattle trap Ford and go down to the wild country of the Rio Grande where you can go days with out seeing anybody.  I’m homesick for the call of the coyote.”

Collins said he was better suited “for the pioneer days” than the baseball diamond.

He said he joined the Texas Rangers because he was turned down by the United States Army when he first attempted to enlist, because of two bad knees–one injured during the a football game with the Haskell Indian School when he was at Texas A &M, and the other he hurt playing basketball. The Ranger accepted him he said, caring only that he could ride a horse and shoot.

Of his time with the Rangers, and how it differed from the army in which he later served:

“In the Regular Army a soldier’ll say to the corporal, ‘shall I shoot?’ The corporal will ask the captain and the captain will wire the War Department for instructions  The Rangers don’t believe in asking unnecessary questions.”

The magazine said Collins’ “people were strongly opposed to the professional game.” And he said they still were not completely accepting:

“Even now, they look at it with a little suspicion, though they always get the papers and look up the box scores.”

Collins, who told “Baseball Magazine” he learned how to pitch “throwing rocks at jack rabbits,” admitted he didn’t have a great commitment to the game:

“Baseball to me, has been only a simple way to make a living.  I like the game, but I’d rather pitch in the Texas League where I could go fishing the next day, than to be a star in the majors.”

In the end, Collins said he was “condemned, at present” to a life staying in “swell hotels” instead the life he desired.

Collins remained “condemned” in the major leagues through the 1931 season–he reappeared in the Texas League for 10 games in 1933.

“The Most Graceful Player of All-Time”

25 Jun

Writing in The New York Herald Tribune in 1952, Grantland Rice, in his 51st year covering baseball, set out to choose his all-time “Most graceful” team.

The idea was borne out of a conversation with Charles Ambrose Hughes, who covered baseball for several Chicago and Detroit papers during a career that started one year after Rice’s–Hughes left the newspaper business to serve as secretary of the Detroit Athletic Club, he published the club’s magazine and led the group of investors who founded the National Hockey League Detroit Cougers in 1926–the team became the Red Wings in 1932 .

hughes

Hughes

In an earlier column that year, Rice quoted Hughes on Napoleon Lajoie:

“Big Nap, or Larry, was the most graceful player of all time.  Every move he made was a poem in action.  He was even more graceful in the infield than Joe DiMaggio was in the outfield—and that means something.”

Rice agreed:

“I was another Lajoie admirer.  I never say Larry make a hard play.  Every play looked easy—just as it so often looked to DiMaggio, (Tris) Speaker, and Terry Moore.”

The comments apparently caused a spike in the volume of mail Rice received, and he said in a later column:

“Old timers in baseball still have the keener memories.  This thought developed in the number of letters received by admirers of Napoleon Lajoie, the Woonsocket cab driver…they were writing of baseball’s most graceful player. But almost as many modern fans stuck with Joe DiMaggio.”

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Rice

Rice said the issue caused him to think about “grace or rhythm” among players:

“(It) does not mean everything.  Honus Wagner looked like a huge land crab scooping up everything in sight.  He had a peculiar grace of his own, but it was hardly grace as we know it. Yet he was the game’s greatest shortstop”

Rice based his team on “the beauty of movement,” on the field:

Rice’s team:

Pitchers—Walter Johnson, Grover Cleveland Alexander, and Bugs Raymond

Catcher—Johnny Kling

First Base—Hal Chase

Second Base—Lajoie

Third Base—Jimmy Collins

Shortstop—Phil Rizzuto, Marty Marion

Outfield—Speaker, DiMaggio, Moore

Rice said:

“(T)his is the team we’d rather see play.  This doesn’t mean the greatest team in baseball…it leaves out many a star.

“But for beauty of action this team would be a standout…Looking back I can see now some of the plays Lajoie, Chase, DiMaggio, Speaker, Collins, Moore, Rizzuto, and Marion made without effort.”

Rice said Kling was not as good as Mickey Cochrane and Bill Dickey, “But he was a fine, smooth workman—smart and keen.”

He said he chose Raymond as one of the pitchers because of John McGraw:

“In an argument far away and long ago, I named Walter Johnson.  McGraw picked Raymond.

“’Raymond has the finest pitching motion I ever say,’ he said.  ‘It is perfect motion from start to finish—no wasted effort anywhere.”

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Bugs

Rice reiterated that the  “Woonsocket cab driver” was the most graceful of the graceful:

“The all-time top was Lajoie.  Here was the final word in grace, in the field or with a bat.  After Lajoie the next two selections belong to Hal Chase and Joe DiMaggio.  Speaker isn’t too far away.”

Rice concluded:

“Gracefulness does not mean greatness.  It means Jim Corbett in boxing, Hobey Baker in hockey, Bobby Jones in golf, Red Grange in football, Lajoie in baseball, (Paavo) Nurmi in running, It means (Eddie) Arcaro in the saddle. It means smoothness, ease, lack of effort where sensational plays are reduced to normal efforts.”