Mr. Nails

After a devastating loss, teams typically want to get back on the field as soon as possible to seek redemption.  Few losses in baseball history were more devastating than the Chicago Cubs defeat in the fourth game of the 1929 World Series.  Unfortunately, thanks to Pennsylvania "blue" laws forbidding baseball on the Sabbath, the Cubs had to wait an extra day for that chance.  An additional day spent dwelling on the fourth game disaster would have made it even more understandable if the Cubs offered little resistance to an Athletics team that seemed destined to win the series.

Sports Illustrated - August 19, 1996

Instead, the Cubs apparently used the day off to find extra motivation to bring the Fall Classic back to Chicago.  Perhaps no one on the Cubs had more need to redeem himself than Pat Malone, the team’s winningest pitcher.  Not only had the right-hander given up the decisive hit to Jimmy Dykes in the fourth game, but he had also been knocked out in the fourth inning of the second contest. Malone was, however, not about to give up.  Over 8 innings, he shut out the powerful Philadelphia offense, allowing only two harmless singles. 

Enjoying Malone’s performance while exercising a “benevolent neutrality” was President Herbert Hoover, a dedicated baseball fan in his own right.  Literally at the height of his popularity as president, Hoover had been greeted by a large crowd at the railroad station and cheering throngs that lined the route of his motorcade.  Praised as “the great humanist” by the Philadelphia Inquirer, Hoover had only about two weeks before the stock market crash sent the country hurtling into the Great Depression.

President and Mrs. Hoover attend the fifth game of the World Series 

Connie Mack again trusted his team’s fate to Howard Ehmke, but this time, the Cubs managed to score twice off the aging veteran, knocking him out of the game.  Stepping into the breech was Rube Walberg who threw 5 1/3 scoreless innings, so that the Athletics trailed only 2-0 as the game headed to the bottom of the ninth.   But when Malone struck out pinch hitter Walter French to start the inning, the outlook was bleak for Philadelphia.  

The account that follows is that of Edwin “Bing” Miller, the Athletics’ final hero of the series.  Miller at 34 was a Philadelphia veteran who showed no signs of slowing down.  A lifetime .311 hitter, Miller batted .331 in 1929, the eighth time, the Athletics right fielder hit over .300.  He had performed equally well in the Fall Classic, batting .368, but no at bat was more important than his last one.  To my knowledge, his account of the fifth and final game of the 1929 World Series has not been published since it first appeared in the Chicago Daily News in January of 1945.

Bing Miller

There never was a World Series like the one in 1929 for fierce, violent jockeying.  Before it was over and the Philadelphia Athletics had beaten Joe McCarthy’s Chicago Cubs the big fellow himself – Judge Landis – had to step in to stop the riding and razzing and violent flow of abuse that passed between the two dugouts.

Joe McCarthy and Connie Mack confer with Commissioner Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis

The Cubs opened up the barrage.  We’d hardly stepped out of the visitor’s dugout at Wrigley Field that Tuesday afternoon of October 8 before the Cub torrent smacked us.  It was pretty fierce.  That little pitcher, Mike Cvengros, hollered the loudest the longest and the meanest.  But he had plenty of help.

They heaped it on us until we started to fire back as good as we got.  I suppose they thought we’d be upset by these tactics.  They figured all wrong because the players Connie Mack had that year, fellows like Foxx and Dykes and Al Simmons, Joe Boley, Mule Haas and Cochrane, were too poised and mature to let that jingle-jangle affect their game.  They just played a little harder.

And if they were anything like me the background of that jockeying only accentuated the thrill of beating the Cubs.  The fact that my hit in the ninth inning of the final game not only answered the Cubs jockeys but gave the Athletics the World Series provided me with “My Biggest Baseball Day.”

Bing Miller

As far as I was concerned it was a great series all the way.  That day we opened in Chicago with Howard Ehmke throwing a flutter ball that fanned 13 of the Cubs.  I stepped into one of Guy Bush’s curve balls for one of the most satisfying  hits I ever made.

Bush had been one of the chief jockeys when we took the field that afternoon.  Not as loud, maybe, as Cvengros, but again and again you’d hear blazing, slashing remarks in his high-pitched Mississippi drawl.  For seven innings he was doing his jockeying from the bench.  After that he had to save his breath for pitching.  When Gabby Hartnett batted for Charley Root in the seventh, Bush was sent in to pitch.

We kept hollering “Showboat” at Bush because of his flashy windup, his long, spectacular stride as he threw the ball and his actions out on the mound.  Through the eighth, however, neither our “Showboat” howls nor our bats bothered him.

In the ninth, though, Cochrane led off with a single and then Woody English muffed successive chances hit by Simmons and Foxx the bases were full.  And I was the batter.  Bush tried to get a curve ball past me and I fired that pitch for a single that brought Cochrane and Simmons in with the runs that let us win 3 to 1. 

Chicago's Pat Malone

That loss must have disturbed the Cubs but it didn’t slow down their tongues.  They kept up their bombardment and by the end of the fourth game, when we were leading the series, three games to one, Judge Landis called a conference of the managers.

That was Saturday evening in Philadelphia.  There was to be a day’s layoff, because of the Sunday Blue Law in Pennsylvania, and Landis laid down the rule that must be observed when the series renewed Monday afternoon.

“If there is any more abusive language,” the Judge warned Mr. Mack and Joe McCarthy, “I’ll fine the offender his share of the World Series receipts.  Remember that and see to it that this game Monday isn’t marked by any strong language."

Athletics pitcher Rube Walberg kept his team in the game after Chicago took a 2-0 lead - Philadelphia Inquirer - 10-15-1929

For that Monday game, President Herbert Hoover came down from Washington on a special train.  His box was over near our Philadelphia dugout and as he took his seat a noisy chant went that started in the bleachers began to sweep Shibe Park.  “We want beer! We want beer!” the fans began to chorus – it was prohibition time then, you know – and a few of us in the dugout might have joined in if Mr. Mack hadn’t stood up, looked down the line and said: “We’ll have none of that.”

Somehow Mr. Hoover and his party were seated even though he had decided to come at the last minute and there’d been a scramble to make room for the visitors in the midst of a sellout crowd. The Philadelphia mayor: Mr. Mackey, was with the President and as he squeezed into his seat he was elbow-to-elbow with Mike Cantwell, who trained the one-time heavyweight champion Jim Braddock.  Cantwell, so Mackey told me, said:

“I know that one fellow is Hoover, but I don’t know you mister.  But we might as well get it straight right now . . . if you’re going to cheer for the Cubs we’re both in for a helluva unpleasant afternoon.”

Although Walter French struck out in his only World Series at-bat, his appearance earned him the distinction of being one of only two men to ever play in both the World Series and the National Football League championship game

Mike shouldn’t have been worried.  Mackey was such a violent Athletic booster that he jumped over the railing when I won the game in the ninth and rushed out to shake my hand.  When somebody reprimanded him by saying: “It isn’t proper when you’re with the President to leave his side.” Mackey sputtered: “That may be the rule, but it doesn’t hold for a World Series.”

And the way that game of October 14 in 1929 ended I guess even Mr. Hoover was tolerant enough to overlook what the mayor did.

You see, that was the game we needed to cinch the championship, and after the Cubs had chased Ehmke in the fourth inning to lead 2 to 0 it looked like we were doomed to lose.  Big Walberg came in to keep the Cubs in check after Ehmke failed to duplicate his great success in the opener, but Pat Malone was turning us back. Through eight innings we had fashioned just two hits off Pat.

Philadelphia Inquirer - October 15, 1929

We went into the ninth trailing 2 to 0 and we started poorly.  French, up as a pinch hitter for Walberg, fanned.  Bishop followed with a single, and then Haas, getting his first hit of the day, slammed a home run over the fence to tie the score.

Cochrane was up next and was retired by Rog Hornsby.  That brought up Simmons and he nailed one of Malone’s pitches for a line-drive double that hit the top of the scoreboard and just missed being a homer by a matter of feet.  Cochrane represented the winning run with Foxx at the plate.

Here’s where McCarthy wig-wagged Malone to hand out an intentional pass so that I’d be brought up to swing in the pinch.

I saw McCarthy’s signal even before Zach Taylor moved away from the plate to take the four wide pitches Malone tossed up.

Thanks to Miller's double, Al Simmons scores the winning run not just for the game, but the 1929 World Series

In the batting circle where I was awaiting my turn I was swinging three bats.  One of them was the bat that had been ruled illegal during a game we’d played back in June in Chicago. I’d pounded some nails into the hitting surface of this bat, ostensibly to keep the wood from chipping, but actually to give me a harder, more punishing hitting surface.

It achieved its purpose. I’d hit safely with it in 21 straight games when we came to Chicago.  And I might have hit in 21 more had not the Sox catcher, Buck Crouse, managed to pick up the bat. He was helping out our bat boy at the time, picking up the bat to toss it to him, when he slid his fingers over a row of the nails.

Crouse had a good look at the bat and raised an awful howl to the umpire.  Naturally, the bat was outlawed and I’d brought it back to Philadelphia and put it in my locker.  Never from the time Crouse had complained until that afternoon of the final World Series game had I used that bat.  But for some reason I’d put it in the bat rack that afternoon and as I waited there in the circle for Malone to pass Foxx I threw aside the other two bats and went up to the plate with Ol’ Nails in my hand.  

Philadelphia Inquirer - October 15, 1929

Before becoming a full-time cartoonist Al Demaree had an 8-year major league pitching career - Chicago Daily Tribune - 10/15/1929

Boston Globe - October 15, 1929

Malone took a lot of time on me. He studied the signal Taylor gave him, then took a look at where his outfield was playing.  As he pitched to me carefully the count went to two and two.  And in that spot Malone tried to fastball me. He tried to throw one past me and I swung Mr. Nails with everything I had.  The ball I hit streaked for the scoreboard.  It was good for two bases and on it Simmons came striding home with the runs that gave us a 3 to 2 victory and the 1929 World Series

Horribly Great

What makes a baseball game so memorable that it lives in baseball history for years, if not forever. First of all, it must be important.  Many games are exciting, but to be great, the game must have special meaning.  But that by itself isn’t enough. Great baseball games must also be exciting. The New York Yankees 9-0 win over the Brooklyn Dodgers in the seventh game of the 1956 World Series was important, but no one would argue it was a great game. And to be truly great, an important and close game should also have some back and forth. One of the best examples is the seventh game of the 1960 World Series where the Pirates and the Yankees both led late in the game before Pittsburgh won on a home run in the bottom of the ninth.

Philadelphia Inquirer - October 13, 1929

The fourth game of the 1929 World Series meets all three criteria.  With the Athletics ahead two games to one, the contest was without question important, either the Cubs would tie the series, or the Athletics would take a commanding three games to one lead.  Since the final score was 10-8, there is no question the game was close.  And there was definitely some back and forth, but not in the usual way.  There was just one lead change, a very late one, but about as big a shift as can happen in a single inning.  A lead change that caused 180-degree mood swings for both teams' fans.

Hal Totten broadcasting a football game

It's no surprise two people who were there that day chose this game as their greatest day in baseball.  One was Athletics third baseman, Jimmy Dykes, one of the key players in the unforgettable seventh inning.  The other was Hal Totten, a writer for the Chicago Daily News and an early radio broadcaster.  As a participant Dykes’ account is obviously important, but it, understandably, focuses almost exclusively on the Athletics point of view.  Totten’s account provides both sides of this dramatic story, so I’ve opted to use his memory to give a fuller picture of an historic and truly great game.

Hal Totten

Afterwards – months afterwards – that world’s series game of Saturday, October 12, 1929, began to fit itself into its proper niche in the baseball picture.  But for a lurid half hour that pungent fall afternoon the diamond world pitched and tossed on its very foundations as the most murderous onslaught ever seen in the great classic rocked Shibe Park, Philadelphia, and stunned the more than 30,000 people gathered there.  Therin lies the story of the greatest of many great days in baseball that I have had the good fortune to see.

It was the fourth game of the series between the Cubs and the Philadelphia Athletics.  The games stood two to one for the A’s as the teams took the field that day.  And along about three o’clock we of the Chicago press delegation were sitting smugly in our roosts in the press box or scattered through the second deck, happily composing glowing pieces about the amazing recuperative powers of the Cubs, the insults avenged and disgraces wiped out.  Our Cubs were back on even terms with the Mighty Macks – and stood to win, once back at their beloved Wrigley Field.

Chicago Daily News - October 7, 1929

In addition to the coverage of its reporters, the paper offered it's readers the "ghost" written opinions of star players like Al Simmons, score updates and the radio coverage of Hal Totten

Don’t think there weren’t insults to avenge or disgraces to be forgotten, either.  Hadn’t the aged Connie Mack rubbed their noses in the dirt, when he started in the first game, one Howard Ehmke on the mound, a pitcher who hadn’t even been with his club during the last half of the season? And hadn’t that same forgotten, slow-balling Mr. Ehmke made ‘em smart by setting 13 of that great, slugging North Side ensemble down on strikes, a record by the way that still stands?  And to top it off, hadn’t George Earnshaw and Lefty Grove – two gents who didn’t know what a slow ball looked like – stepped up the very next day to collaborate in another 13 strikeout debacle?

But in the third game, Guy Bush, he of the lion heart, the fellow who pitched only one way – bearing down – had started his mates on the rebound.  Holding the mighty Al Simmons and Jimmy Foxx without a hit, he had turned back the A’s, 3 to 1.  A three-run uprising in the sixth against Earnshaw had turned the trick.  And then today.  Ah, today.  How beautiful was the sun; how warm that fall breeze; how satisfying that feeling of justification and redemption along about 3 o’clock.

In the fourth inning Kiki Cuyler rode all the way to third base when Bing Miller let his singled down the right-field line roll through to the wall.  And after the dangerous Riggs Stephenson had been retired on a pop fly, rubbery Charlie Grimm, the rollicking gent who never quit, hammered a drive over the right-field wall for a home run.  The Cubs led 2 to 0.

Chicago Daily Tribune - June 27, 1929

Although the term "Murder's Row" is most commonly associated with the 1927 New York Yankees, it was also used to describe the hitting prowess of the 1929 Cubs among others

But that wasn’t all.  With Charlie Root pulling out of tough jams, one after another, his mates set out to give him plenty to work on in the sixth.  Rogers Hornsby smashed one that all but hit Jack Quinn in the face.  It shot through into center field for a single.  Roly-poly Hack Wilson stepped up and belted the first pitch into right field for a single, his second hit of the game.  Hornsby stopped at second.  But the famed Murderer’s Row was on the go.  Cuyler missed two attempts to bunt and then sliced a single into right, Hornsby scoring, Wilson halting at third.  Stephenson took a ball and then crashed a drive over second.  Max Bishop got his glove on it, but it slithered into center field for another hit, Wilson scoring and Cuyler halting at second.

Charlie Root

That was all for Quinn.  Rube Walberg, who had made the Cubs eat dust when he relieved Earnshaw in the second game, took over on the mound.  Charlie Grimm was the first to face him.  He laid down a bunt.  Walberg raced in, fielded it neatly, turned, and threw high over Jimmy Foxx’s head.  As Miller chased the ball in deep right, Cuyler and Stevie counted and Grimm galloped all the way to third.  Zach Taylor hit the first pitch and sent a fly to center.  Mule Haas caught it and unloosed a great throw to the plate but Grimm, sliding desperately, won a close race with the ball. Root and Norm McMillan struck out.  But what did it matter?  Five more runs; 7 to 0 lead. Ho, hum.

And that wasn’t all.  After Woody English flied out in the seventh, Hornsby drove a tremendous triple to left center.  Wilson walked, and then, as the fickle Philadelphia crowd hollered for another hit, Cuyler cut a sizzling single past Jimmie Dykes and Rog dented the rubber.  Three o’clock – and the Cubs led 8 to 0 going into the last half of the seventh.  No wonder the sun shown bright and the nippy fall breeze lost its bite as the Chicago scribes culled their vocabularies for their rosiest words and most cheering phrases.  Revenge was sweet.  Root was avenging that tough luck, first game licking.  With Malone and Bush and Root again, ready to follow up that drive, what was there to stop the Cubs?  They were as good as champs right then.

Al Simmons

But that was 3 o’clock.  And certainly nobody had any notions of the shattering, murderous blow that was about to fall.  The A’s came to bat in their half of the inning. The home fans settled into their seats after the traditional stretch, and few jeers greeted broad Simmons as he took his peculiar, spraddled-out stance at the plate.  With nothing to lose, Al swung at the first pitch and there was a foul down the left-field line.  The next was too far away to consider.  He swung again and the ball crashed against the roof of the left-field stands, a mighty wallop.  As Simmons jogged across the plate and turned toward the bench he spread his hands in a gesture of disgust.  What a spot to waste a hit like that.  His meaning was all too evident.

Then came Foxx, hitless for two days.  He singled to right.  Taylor went out to talk to Root, and when action was resumed Bing Miller hit an easy looper into short center.  Wilson started in confidently, then came to a staggering stop.  His arms waved wildly in front of his eyers.  The sun – he’d lost the ball in the sun! Ah, he saw it again and resumed his dash toward the infield.  But he was too late.  The hesitation let the ball drop in front of him for a single.  But why worry?  It was still 8 to 1.

And then things really happened.  Dykes singled to left, scoring Foxx. Boley singled to right center, Miller scoring.  The Cubs bull pen became active.  Art Nehf, Pat Malone and Fred Blake all started to warm up.  George Burns batted for Pitcher Eddie Rommel.  His short fly to left dropped into English’s glove for the first out, but Bishop singled over second and Dykes scored.  Grimm wigwagged to the bull pen.  In came Nehf, while the crowd, still fickle, strangely booed the stricken Root.  Haas faced the Cub southpaw and lifted a fly to center.  Wilson started for it.  It looked like an easy out.  But again Hack halted, sparred with the sun and then sprinted desperately for the wall.  

Hack Wilson

It was too late.  The ball sailed over his head.  Boley scored, Bishop followed him across the platter and then came Haas, sliding across the plate in a shower of dust.  A home run inside the park! The score? It was 8 to 7.  It couldn’t be – but it was.  Mickey Cochrane came next.  The badly shaken Nehf walked him.  The tying run was on base.  Fred Blake came into pitch.

Simmons, who had opened the inning with that apparently harmless homer, came to bat again. Gone was that attitude of hopelessness.  He clawed at the earth with his spikes.  He swung himself almost off his feet, and hit a high bounder down the third base line.  McMillan was set for it – but it took a high hop for a single.  Runners on first and second and only one out, when the side could have been retired.  Foxx again. A single to center, and Cochrane scored the tying run. It tied an old World Series record – 8 runs in one inning.  Malone took over for Blake and his first pitch brushed the side of Miller’s face.  Dykes up.  A swing and a tremendous drive to deep left.  Stephenson backed up to the wall, leaped in the air, tipped the ball and it dropped and rolled away. Simmons and Foxx scored.

Jimmy Dykes - Philadelphia Inquirer - October 12, 1929

Ten runs! A mark that still stands.  What matter that Boley struck out, and Burns, the pinch hitter, up for the second time, made his second out of the inning as he too fanned. Ten Runs!  Where did the sun go?  Why did the breeze get cold?

No, the game wasn’t quite over.  But nothing more happened.  The curtain had dropped right then.  The Cubs never came back, even though Malone pitched heroically to hold the A’s to two hits for eight innings the next day, only to lose 3 to 2 on a single, a homer and two doubles in the last half of the ninth.

It was a day never to be forgotten.  The sun had set on the famous Murder’s Row.  Joe McCarthy was through then and there – and knew it – although he was not relieved as manager until the next summer.  Fifty Cubs struck out in that set of games – 26 in the first two days.  They blew an 8-to-0 lead as the A’s counted 10 runs in one frame.

A great day.  But oh, a horrible one.

The National League Strikes Back

It isn't a surprise that no one chose the second game of the 1929 World Series as their greatest day in baseball.  Unlike the other four games, there was little drama or excitement nor were there any human-interest stories like that of Howard Ehmke.  Building on their victory in the first contest, the Athletics got off to a 6-0 start, survived one Cubs rally and won comfortably 9-3.  Afterwards, both teams boarded the train for the long ride to Philadelphia.  While the teams were enroute, some Athletic fans began a long vigil outside the Shibe Park ticket office.  It was, after all, the Athletics’ first World Series in fifteen years and the club’s faithful fans had waited long enough.

 Philadelphia Inquirer - October 10, 1929

Although it hadn’t been quite that long, National League fans had endured their own lack of World Series success.  Not only had the American League won the last two Fall Classics, but the National League failed to win so much as a single game.  Now that the Athletics had won the first two games of the 1929 series, the losing streak had reached 10.  Fortunately, for the Cubs and the entire league, there was probably no one better suited to end the National League’s losing streak than Guy Bush, who understandably chose it as his Greatest Day in Baseball.

But even those shut out at the ticket window still had options - Philadelphia Inquirer - October 12, 1929

Bush, who according to Chicago Daily News sportswriter, Hal Totten, pitched only one way - “bearing down,” was a key contributor to the Cubs pennant winning season.  The Mississippi native won 18 games against only 7 losses with a 3.60 ERA while leading the National League with 50 appearances, 30 as a starter.  For much of the 1929 season, Bush had been the “hottest pitcher in baseball” before cooling off in August, probably due to overwork.  By the third game of the series, however, he was well rested and ready to fight for the honor, not just of his team, but for the entire National League.

Guy Bush 

Put down this date . . . October 11, 1929!  From October 10, 1926, when Jess Haines won the seventh game of the Card-Yank series until October 4, 1930, when “Wild Bill” Hallahan beat the A’s in the third game of the Cards-A’s series, only one National League pitcher won a World Series game.  That was me.

I beat the Mackmen 3-1 in the third game of that ’29 series with the Cubs . . . and if I’d gotten licked instead, the man responsible would have been Jimmy Dykes, now manager of the White Sox.  He tried to spoil my biggest day in baseball, but I fooled him . . . so I’ve got something to remember as long as I live.

Guy Bush - Chicago Tribune - October 12, 1929

We had a pretty good Cubs team that year. It was loaded with power . . . guys like Hack Wilson, Rogers Hornsby, Riggs Stephenson and Kiki Cuyler in the lineup.  The “Big Three” among the pitchers included Pat Malone, who won 22 and lost 10, Charley Root with 19-6, and myself with 18-7.  But we were up against a great Philly outfit too . . . with Mike Cochrane and Al Simmons and Jimmy Foxx and Dykes and George Earnshaw and “Lefty” Grove and “Rube” Walberg, on Connie Mack’s roster.

The first two games were played in Wrigley Field and we lost ‘em both.  Root and Malone got beat.  That was the year Howard Ehmke made us look silly in the opener by striking out 13. I rather thought I’d work one of the Chicago games but it wasn’t until we were riding to Philly that Manager Joe McCarthy said to me: “You pitch the third game, Guy.” I nodded my head and then asked “Why didn’t you start me at home, Joe?”

Joe McCarthy, later in his career as New York Yankees manager

He gave me a quick look and said: “You’re a pretty good pitcher . . . I figured you to open at Philly.  Besides, I thought sure we’d win at least one of those two back there.”

We had the usual team meeting before that game in Shibe Park, but as the boys started to the field, McCarthy motioned for me to stay behind.  When we were alone he said: “Guy, the National League hasn’t won a series game in three years.  The Pirates lost four straight in ’27 and so did the Cardinals in ’28.  We've dropped two more.  That’s ten lickings in a row. Now listen for Pete’s sake, win! Do you think you can?”

I told him: “Yes” and he finished. “Well, go ahead and pitch to them the way you want to.”

Earnshaw was their pitcher and before the second inning was over we were both in trouble.  Wilson tripled with nobody out, but we didn’t score because Joe Boley held "Hack" at third while he threw out Cuyler.  Max Bishop nailed Wilson at the plate on Stephenson’s grounder and Charley Grimm fanned.  Then in the last half of that frame I got my biggest kick of a lifetime.

There were two out when Dykes singled in front of “Stevie,” [Riggs Stephenson] and when Boley singled to center Dykes slid into third under Cuyler’s throw.  That brought up Earnshaw.  As I worked on him I could see Dykes getting further and further off third with each pitch.  That meant he’d probably like to steal home with the theory that Earnshaw wouldn’t hit anyway.  The count was 2-2 when it happened.

Jimmy Dykes - Philadelphia Inquirer - October 12, 1929

I had the next ball almost started when Dykes really streaked for the plate.  I realized in a flash I couldn’t get him . . . he’d had too big a lead.  So thought flashed through my mind: “Make it good . . . make it a strike!” I did . . . and as I let go I started to the plate myself on the dead run.  Dykes went across in a cloud of dust and I saw Umpire Charley Moran call him safe.

Umpire Charley Moran

“No, no, no,” I hollered. “Charlie . . . where was the ball?”  By this time McCarthy and Hornsby had rushed up too, and McCarthy got in front of Moran and shouted: “Charlie . . . where was the pitch . . . what was it?”  Moran looked at him . . . and suddenly realized the throw had been a strike.  So he called it that . . . and Dykes was out, even though he’d beaten the play.

It appears Dykes has stolen home, but it's an optical illusion since the pitch to Earnshaw was strike three, ending the inning - Boston Globe

I hadn’t tried to nail him . . . I just fanned Earnshaw for the third out.

That saved us a run, or maybe more, because Boley had gone to second and the A’s would have had their leadoff man up.  Three innings later they did score as Cochrane singled, went to second on an infield out and came home on “Bing” Miller’s hit.  But we were only one run behind and in the sixth we got in front and Ol’ Man Bush just scored the tying run too.

Earnshaw walked me.  Then Dykes fumbled English’s grounder with one out and Hornsby singled me home.  Wilson grounded out, but both English and Hornsby advanced and Cuyler scored ‘em both on a 3-2 single.

Believe me, I felt like a million dollars going out to pitch the seventh but I must have got all excited about winning because Bishop hit to right and then I wild-pitched to “Mule” Haas and there was a runner on second.  With Haas gone down, Cochrane walked and there I was facing Simmons and Foxx in the clutch.  I never even looked at McCarthy: I was afraid he might think I was beginning to fade or something which I wasn’t.

I’d been cutting corners all day with a sidearm fast ball and I decided to pour it over the outside corner to Simmons and Foxx and make ‘em poke at the ball.  You remember I had a funny little move toward second and now and then I’d fire down to Hornsby to keep Bishop from going to third where he could score on an error.  Well, I finally got Simmons on a fly to Wilson and then Foxx hit in front of the plate.  Zach Taylor threw him out and we were safe.

McCarthy was waiting for me after the game and he put an arm around me and said: You did what you said you’d do, Guy . . . and we’re all happy.” 

The Philadelphia Inquirer (October 12, 1929) gives credit where credit is due

I went back to my room at the hotel and was resting on the bed when there was a knock on the door.  A bellhop stood there with a stack of telegrams for me.  There were 191 wires and I threw ‘em on the bed and relaxed while opening them.  Ten were from overseas . . . mostly from Italy . . . congratulating me and there were two from my home town . . . Tupelo, Miss, . . . wanting me to run for mayor.

But I wouldn’t have traded places with the president of the United States just then.  I’d done something no pitcher had been able to do in 10 World Series games . . . beat the American League.

Connie's Choice

Hall of Fame manager Connie Mack, who knew something about the World Series, claimed the 1929 Fall Classic was the “greatest he ever saw.” Such superlatives are usually reserved for series that go the full seven games especially those blessed with a memorable finale.  The 1929 series, however, only went five games, just one more than the minimum, hardly, at least on the surface, the stuff baseball legends are made of.  But when the Chicago Daily News collected and published baseball oral histories during World War II, five participants chose a game from the Athletics-Cubs series.  Over the next few weeks, we’re going to look at four of those eyewitness accounts, three of which probably haven’t been published since they appeared in the Chicago newspaper over 80 years ago. 

Considering the quality of the competing teams, the 1929 series had plenty of potential for memorable baseball.  Making their first appearance in over a decade were Joe McCarthy’s Chicago Cubs.  In winning the National League pennant by 10 games, the Cubs had a team batting average of over .300.  Leading the way was the outfield of Riggs Stephenson, Hack Wilson and Ki-Ki Cuyler, all of whom hit over .345.  None of the three, however, had the highest batting average on the team, much less the National League.  That honor went to Rogers Hornsby who hit .380, third highest in the league.  Chicago’s pitching staff was headed up by Pat Malone, (22-10), followed closely by Charlie Root (19-6) and Guy Bush (18-7).  Led by future Hall of Fame manager McCarthy, the Cubs were a worthy representative of the senior circuit.

The 1929 Chicago Cubs

Chicago was without question the best National League team in 1929. Some consider Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics worthy of an even higher honor. In a 1996 Sports Illustrated article, entitled “The Team that Time Forgot,” William Nack speculated that the Athletics, not the 1927 Yankees, were greatest team of all time.  There was no argument about which team was better in 1929.  Even though eight Yankee players were Cooperstown bound, the Athletics not only won the pennant, they finished a hard to fathom 18 games ahead of a Yankee team with Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.  

With Al Simmons, Mickey Cochrane and Jimmy Fox in the lineup along with Lefty Grove on the mound, Philadelphia didn’t lack for future Hall of Famers.  As the first game of the Series at Chicago’s Wrigley Field approached, it seemed Connie Mack’s only decision was whether to start Grove or the Athletics other ace, George Earnshaw.  That decision is the subject of our first 1929 World Series memory, that of Connie Mack himself.

The 1929 Philadelphia Athletics

Mack’s story has two parts, how he chose Howard Ehmke to start the first game and Ehmke’s performance itself.  The accuracy of the first part has been questioned by baseball historians and it’s certainly possible Mack engaged in some revisionist history to tell a better story. What’s beyond question is that Ehmke was a surprise choice and no wonder.  The veteran pitcher was at the end of a 15-year major league career of almost exactly .500 pitching, ultimately finishing with 166 wins and 164 losses.  In 1929, he had a solid 7-2 record, but his need for long periods of rest between appearances made him of questionable value in a short series.  The press certainly wasn’t impressed with Ehmke. H. I. Phillips dubbed him an “aged pitcher with a name like a typographical error.”  Such, however, is the stuff that legends are made of.

Connie Mack

I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen some great baseball in my days. It is wonderful to remember pitchers like Matty and Walsh and Waddell and Johnson and Dean and Grove for more than 50 years.  But to me the most thrilling World Series ever played was between the Cubs and the Athletics in 1929 and I’ll never forget the performance of Howard Ehmke.  You see, Howard and I sort of put a fast one over on everybody and an old man likes to enjoy a chuckle at the expense of a younger generation. Only the two of us knew, two weeks ahead of time, that he was going to pitch the opening game, October 8.

Hall of Fame Manager - Connie Mack - Philadelphia Inquirer

We were leaving on the final western trip of the regular season when I called Howard up to my office in Philadelphia.  We had the pennant pretty well in hand by then and so did the Cubs, so we could make plans.  Ehmke came in and sat down and I watched him for a few minutes while we just chatted and finally I said: “Howard, there comes a time in everybody’s life when he has to make a change.  It looks like you and I finally must part.”

Well, he didn’t say a word for the longest time, it seemed, just twiddled his hat and then he looked right at me and said “All right, Mr. Mack, if that’s the way it has to be.  You’ve been fine to me and I haven’t been much help to you this year.  Lucky you haven’t needed me.  But I’ve been up a long time and I’ve always had the ambition to pitch in a World Series . . . anywhere, even for only an inning.  Honestly, I believe there’s one more good game left in this arm . . ." and he held it up to me like a prize fighter showing his muscle.

I couldn’t help smiling.  Howard of course, had no way of knowing what I thought of him.  Really he was one of the most artistic pitchers of all time.  He was bothered with a sore arm most of his major league career, but he had a great head on him and studied hitters. He might have been a fine pitcher.  So I asked him: “You mean you think you could work a World Series game?”  He told me: “Yes, Mr. Mack. I feel it.”  Then I explained what I had in mind.  “So do I,” I said. “I only wanted to see how you felt about it.  Now you stay home this trip.  The Cubs are coming in.  Sit up in the stands and watch them.  Make your own notes on how they hit.  You’re pitching the first game, but don’t tell anybody. I don’t want it known.”

Howard Ehmke

After he’d gone I sat thinking about Howard.  Maybe he never realized how close he came to not pitching at all.  If he hadn’t talked the way he did . . . if he’d said for instance: “I realize I’m all through . . . my arm is gone” and accepted what he thought was dismissal, I wouldn’t have worked him even though I had no intention of letting him go anyway.

Finally the big day came in Wrigley Field.  Funny part of it was that none of my players not even the newspapermen, bothered to ask me who’d start.  They all took it for granted it would be Grove or maybe Earnshaw.  Since then people have asked me why I didn’t start Grove, but that’s a secret.  I can’t tell, but there was a reason.  Anyway we were in the clubhouse before the game and somebody asked Grove if he was working and I heard him say: “The old man didn’t say nothin’ to me.”  Mose probably figured it was Earnshaw.  When we got outside, they all threw the ball around.  Ehmke must have had a sudden doubt that his dream was coming true because he came up to me on the bench and whispered. “Is it still me, Mr. Mack?”  I said. “It’s still you . . .” and he was smiling as he walked away.

Chicago Tribune - October 8, 1929

When it was time for the rival pitcher to warm up, Ehmke, naturally, took off his jacket and started to throw.  I made sure I was where I could look along our bench and you could see mouths pop open.  Grove was looking at Earnshaw and George was looking at Mose.  Al Simmons was sitting next to me and he couldn’t stop himself in time. “Are you gonna pitch him?” he asked in disbelief.  I kept a straight face and looked very severely at him and said: “Yes, I am Al. Is that all right with you?”  You could sense him pulling himself out of his surprised state and he replied quickly: “If you say so, it’s all right with me, Mr. Mack.”

Voices were muttering down the dugout.  Phrases like “the old man must be nuts” and “Hell, the guy’s only finished two games all year” trailed off for fear that I’d hear ‘em.  But I heard.  I’ve often wondered what they’d thought of me if we’d been beaten with Grove and Earnshaw and Walberg on the bench.  Bob Quinn, who was president of the Red Sox then, was in a box behind our dugout and he said he almost swooned when he saw Ehmke peel off his coat.  I supposed the fans and you gentlemen of the press thought old Connie was in his dotage at last.  But I was certain about Howard, although if he’d had any trouble early I would have had Grove in the bull pen.  We didn’t want to lose.

Chicago Tribune - October 9, 1929

It was beautiful to watch. I don’t suppose these old eyes ever strained themselves over any game as much as that one.  Ehmke was smart.  He was just fast enough to be sneaky, just slow enough to get hitters like Wilson and Hornsby and Cuyler, who like to take their cuts, off stride.  If you recall, he pitched off his right hip, real close to his shirt.  He kept the ball hidden until just before he let it go.  The Cubs never got a good look at it and, when they did, it was coming out of those shirts in the old bleachers.  Charley Root was fast himself and by the end of the sixth inning neither team had scored.  Then Jimmy Foxx hit over Wilson’s head into the stands, and we led 1-0.

Ehmke's deceptive pitching motion - Chicago Tribune - October 9, 1929

Jimmy touched home plate and came back to the bench and Ehmke said: “Thanks, Jim” and I knew he’d made up his mind maybe that’s all the runs he’d get and it would have to do.  Only in the third had Howard been in a jam when McMillan singled and English doubled with one out and Hornsby and Wilson were up.  Some of my players looked at me as if to say: “Better get somebody warmed up . . . here’s where Ehmke goes,” but he stood there calm and unhurried and struck out the last two men on seven pitches.  You could tell the crowd had caught the melodrama of what was going on; I don’t believe I ever felt as happy in my life as when he fanned Hornsby and Wilson.  Very few pitchers would have done as well in such a tense situation.  He justified my faith in him right there.

In the seventh, after Foxx’s hit, Cuyler and Stephenson each singled and Grimm sacrificed. Joe McCarthy decided on pinch hitters.  He had Cliff Heathcote hit for Zach Taylor and Simmons took care of a short fly for the second out.  Then Gabby Hartnett batted for Root and I was tempted to have Howard put him on and take a chance on the next man, but I said to myself.

Drawing by Gene Mack - Boston Globe - October 9, 1929 - In 1947, Mack created a legendary series of drawings of major league ball parks for the Sporting News

“No. This is his game. He asked for it and I gave it to him.”

He struck out Hartnett and we got two runs in the ninth on fumbles by English.  I relaxed a little then, but we weren’t quite out of the woods.  The Cubs got the tying runs on base in the ninth, with two out and Charlie Tolson up to pinch-hit.

If Ehmke fanned him, he’d break the strikeout record for world series play set by Ed Walsh against the Cubs in 1906 when he fanned 12.  Howard had already struck out Hornsby, Wilson, Cuyler and Root twice each.  It happened. Tolson went down swinging too, for Howard’s 13th strikeout and the battle was over.  He has lived on that game ever since.  So have I.

Weekend in Maryland

This past weekend the Neshanock closed out the 2025 campaign in Rising Sun, Maryland.  The occasion was the National Association of Historic Base Ball Club's inaugural National Championship Tournament.  Thanks to the Association for creating this fine event. Since the aged scorekeeper wasn't present, pictures will summarize the final games of our twenty-fifth season. 

All pictures by Mark Granieri

If it's a tournament, there has to be a bracket

Field Captain Chris "Lowball" Lowry goes over the ground rules and the lineup before the Neshanock took on the Providence Grays at the Bard Cameron Sports Complex

Ernie "Shredder" Albanesius at the striker's line.  Providence prevailed 15-8 in a game that saw Flemington lose the one and only Ken "Tumbles" Mandel to an injury.  At least he has the entire off season to recover

In the second game, Flemington played the Harrisburg Club.  Jim "Jersey" Nunn is poised to send the runner on third across the plate

"Lowball" drives in another Flemington tally

This is an extremely rare photo of Bobby "Melky" Ritter on the bases.  It's slightly blurred because the camera wasn't able to keep up with Melky

Joe "Mick" Murray takes his turn at bat

Flemington wins 

For Sunday's games, the scene shifted to the Dove Valley Winery.  Although Flemington lost to the Gettysburg Generals 10-9 and the Mutuals of New York, 16-7, there was one major accomplishment.  Don "Splinter" Becker, pictured above, played the entire weekend without getting hurt.

One final "Three Cheers and a Tiger" and it's on to 2026

Season's end gives me the opportunity to thank everyone who makes Neshanock baseball possible.  Like every season, 2025 had its challenges but finding an umpire wasn't one of them.  We were extremely fortunate to have Sam Bernstein work all of our games, special thanks to Sam for always being there.  Another mandatory part of any baseball game is the opponent.  That may seem obvious, but no one who has made up a schedule ever takes it for granted.  This season, Flemington played teams from as far away as Michigan and as close as Lambertville.  We're grateful to all of them.  Baseball games are always fun, but especially so when played before interested and enthusiastic fans.  The Neshanock are blessed in that regard by the organizations that host our games.  We provide the baseball; they provide the fans.  A great deal for us.  

For a change, Mark "Gaslight" Granieri is on the other side of the camera

Saving the best for last, I want to acknowledge the entire Flemington Neshanock community.  I choose the word "community" intentionally because it's not just about the players.  Without the support of our families, no Neshanock season would be possible.  Sometimes that support means attending games, but present or not, we're grateful for our families understanding of how much baseball means to us.  One person whose physical presence is essential is Mark Granieri.  Mark's photographic wizardly helps tell the story of each match far better than words alone ever could.  Special thanks also to Field Captain Chris "Lowball" Lowry who makes every game happen in ways that aren't always obvious.  Finally, I want to thank everyone who played for the Neshanock in 2025. Whether it was every game or just one, I'm very grateful for your participation and look forward to seeing you again in 2026.