You Be the Judge

At the beginning of the 1920 season, Tom Rice, longtime sportswriter for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, attended opening days in Brooklyn and Philadelphia.  In Brooklyn, the first pitch was thrown by Charles Edwards, the president of the Brooklyn Club (a prominent social club - Charles Ebbets was a member), while in Philadelphia, the honors were done by Mayor J. Hampton Moore.  Rice claimed that both men continued the tradition of assuming a pose "suggestive of a fat lady threatening a rent collector with a flat iron."  You be the judge!

Brooklyn Daily Eagle - April 15, 1920

Philadelphia Inquirer - April 23, 1920

Much Ado About Nothing

Trying to provide an oasis in this baseball wasteland, television networks have been showing replays of classic games like the seventh game of the 1960 Yankee-Pirates World Series and the sixth game of the 1986 NLCS between the Mets and Astros.  Not only are these memorable games, some have argued each was the greatest game of all time.  Such games and debates date back to the early days of competitive baseball.  Perhaps the best nineteenth century example is the Atlantic Club of Brooklyn's 1870 come from behind, eleven inning victory over the Cincinnati Red Stockings, ending the Ohio team's 81 game, two season winning streak.  Although almost a century apart, there are common threads between these games - all three had plenty of drama and, perhaps most importantly, the results were significant.  One decided a World Series, another put a team into the Fall Classic and the last, long before there was a Series, ended an historic winning streak.  Can, however, a game be memorable, even if it doesn't have any real significance?

St. Louis Globe-Democrat - May 2, 1877

Contemporary observers of the May 1, 1877 game between the St. Louis Brown Stockings and the Star Club of Syracuse certainly thought so.  That season the six teams in the National League, then in its second year of existence, played only 60 regular season or championship games.  Since they had to pay the players anyway, club owners scheduled additional games that we would call exhibition contests, against a broad range of competition.  Some of those teams, like the Syracuse Stars, were just a notch below the major league level. While such games had no impact on the standings, they were probably taken more seriously than the word "exhibition" suggests.  That was definitely the case for this game which the Syracuse Daily Courier called"a red letter day in the history of the national pastime," a contest which "will be recorded as such in the annals of the game,"  Equally impressed was the St. Louis Globe Democrat which said the contest was simply "the most extraordinary game on record," a match that was "not only the most wonderful, but the most brilliant as well," even though it "was much ado about nothing."

The Star players could have been forgiven if they weren't looking forward to the game thanks to an overnight train ride from Cincinnati where they had defeated the Red Stockings, another National League team the prior day.  Yet tired as they may have been when they arrived in St. Louis that morning, when the gong rang at 3:45, the Syracuse players took the field behind pitcher Harry McCormick.  The day was described as "beautiful," although "perhaps a trifle cold," for the estimated 1200 fans who made their way into the Grand Avenue base ball park.  In one of those ironies of which only base ball is capable, the St. Louis lead off batter was Mike Dorgan who not only had played for the Stars in 1876, but spent the off-season helping McCormick master the curve ball.  The Syracuse pitcher showed little gratitude for Dorgan's assistance, striking him out as part of a 1-2-3 inning.  The Stars did no better against Fred "Tricky" Nichols foreshadowing the kind of day it was going to be for the hitters on both teams.

Mike Dorgan

St. Louis got its first base runner in the third when Art Croft singled and then stole second, but McCormick retired the side on a strike out and a foul out.  The visitor's first offensive threat came in the bottom of the fourth when Nichols walked Billy Geer. Alex Mackinnon then hit an "apparently safe liner," but Joe Blong caught the ball on the fly and doubled the surprised Geer off first.  St. Louis' best chance came in the top of the eighth.  With one out Davy Force and Jack Remsen singled and then pulled off a double steal to put runners on second and third.  Croft hit a fly to center which seemed deep enough to score Force, but Pete Hotaling's "magnificent throw fielded the runner out at the plate amidst the wildest excitement."  Neither team threatened in the ninth so the game, still scoreless, headed for extra innings.  After another scoreless inning, Force brought St. Louis fans to their feet in the 11th with a "tremendous fly to left," only to be denied when Mike Mansell "stuck out his right hand" for "the most memorable catch ever witnessed." Even though it was made by an enemy player, the play was "applauded to the echo."

Davy Force

After a scoreless 12th, the "dark began to draw a curtain over the declining day," but the Globe Democrat insisted "no one left his seat."  Back in Syracuse, the Daily Courier claimed the "city was in a perfect fever" with fans gathered around the telegraph office waiting with "anxiety" similar to that of Civil War battles.  Nothing happened in the 13th, but St. Louis seemed to have something going in the top of the fourteenth, but Remsen was out when he was hit by Croft's batted ball.  The home team threatened again in the top of the 15th, but John Farrell's "elegant backward running catch" stopped that rally. When "another wonderful effort" by Force ended the bottom of the inning, "cheer after cheer went up."  The "sun was declining" and it was obvious if the two teams began another inning, the bottom half would be "played in the twilights."  Feeling generous, exhausted or some combination of the two, the Stars suggested calling it a tie and St. Louis quickly agreed ending "the greatest treat ever furnished the lovers of baseball."

St. Louis Globe Democrat - May 2, 1877

As exciting as it may have been however, why was a game with no real significance considered so important?  One reason, as the Daily Courier pointed out, was the contest combined two still relatively rare occurrences, a low scoring game with multiple extra innings.  And in this case, the combination was the lowest number of runs possible and, reportedly, the highest number of shutout innings ever played.  Looking at the game so many years later, something else stands out, at least to me.  Why did the two teams play so many extra innings?  The Syracuse players must have been exhausted from their long trip, the two teams were scheduled to play again the following day and the teams had certainly given the fans their money's worth.  Yet they played on until it was literally impossible to play any more.  Perhaps it says something about baseball itself - that no matter the level of competition, sometimes the game is played simply for its own sake.  In the process, the St. Louis and Syracuse players turned both a Shakespeare based saying and mathematical principles upside down.  Because on that May afternoon, "much ado about nothing" didn't signify time wasted on something of little or no value, but rather attention given to zeros that were worth far more than their sum total. 

New Federal League Book

Very pleased to have two essays in this new SABR book about the Federal League.  The articles cover an unusual Labor Day doubleheader in 1915 between the Brooklyn Tip Tops and the Newark Peppers.  The morning game was played at Brooklyn's rebuilt Washington Park, after which the two teams adjourned to Harrison, most likely by the still relatively new PATH to play the afternoon contest at Newark's home field.

Sunday in the Park

The weather on May 4, 1919 was "perfect" for what the Brooklyn Daily Eagle called "an epoch in the history of baseball" in the City of Churches.  And the fans responded, turning out in vast numbers, a crowd estimated at 25,000, reportedly the largest in Ebbets Field's brief history.  In fact, the turnout was greater than the Dodgers two home game in the 1916 World Series.  According to the New York Times, the grandstand was "jammed to capacity," with "animated rows" of standees behind the last row of seats.  Likewise the left field bleachers "held a densely- packed throng which taxed its capacity."  It wasn't quite a sellout, but the empty seats were not due to a lack of fans willing to fill them.  According to the Eagle, the problem was the vast majority of the crowd arrived in the last half hour before game time which "complicated things not a little."  Ticket prices still included the war time tax so prices ranged from 55 cents to $1.65 requiring besieged ticket sellers to make change so frequently that some fans gave up in despair.  This was in spite of Charles Ebbets preparations for the big crowd including having on hand $5,000 in dimes and nickels, some 75,000 coins according to the Eagle.

Brooklyn pitcher Mal Eason is removed from the game, not by his manager, but by a New York City detective who arrested him for playing baseball on Sunday, New York Tribune - June 18, 1906

Unfortunately for the Dodger faithful, their team got off to a slow start.  Aided by an error, the Boston Braves scored two runs off Rube Marquard and led 2-0 going to the bottom of the fourth.  At that point, however, the Dodger offense got going thanks in large measure by a double from Marquard himself, giving the Dodgers a 3-2 lead.  Brooklyn scored three more times in the bottom of the fifth and Marquard basically coasted the rest of the way especially when "a cheer-raising catch" by Hi Myers killed off one potential Boston rally.  None of this, however, was the lead story in the Brooklyn and New York papers.  Instead, they focused on the crowd, not just its size, but perhaps more importantly, its behavior.  The Eagle claimed "no more orderly, good-natured and representative crowd ever assembled in Brooklyn," while the Brooklyn Citizen said "it was a typical Brooklyn crowd, well dressed, well behaved and while enthusiastic, not boisterously so."  William MacBeth of the Tribune probably exaggerated for effect when he said "no ungentlemanly act was evidenced, no unseemly word was uttered."

Unfortunately not enough fans heeded Charles Ebbets plea to bring exact change

Brooklyn Daily  Eagle - May 3, 1919

Why such a big crowd for an early season game that wasn't even against the arch-rival New York Giants?  And why so much focus on the crowd and it behavior?  The explanation lay in the day of the week - Sunday.  For this, as the Eagle noted in claiming "epoch" status for the game, was the first time in 36 years that fans could sit back and watch a Dodgers game on Sunday without worrying whether the police would stop it.  Over a decade earlier, beginning in 1904, Ebbets tried for three years to play Sunday home games, using various ploys to get around the legal prohibition on games where admission was charged.  Ploys ranging from free admission, followed by a mandatory scorecard purchase, to admission by donation with those who failed to donate subject to a withering look from the donation taker.  After the courts ruled these ploys just that, Ebbets gave up on Sunday ball until 1916 when he tried again this time charging admission to a pre-game concert, followed by a "free" baseball game.  This got the Brooklyn owner and his manager, Wilbert Robinson, arrested and later convicted of breaking the Sabbath law.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle - May 4, 1919

Across the East River, John McGraw tried the same approach with the same result as both McGraw and Christy Mathewson were arrested, but later acquitted of the charges.  The acquittal may have been a symbol that change was in the air and while it took until April of 1919, the New York state legislature finally gave municipalities a local option over Sunday baseball.  The New York City Board of Alderman quickly opened the door, approving Sunday games by a 64-0 vote.  Ebbets wasted no time barreling through the open door, scheduling the Boston game for the very next Sunday.  And while baseball owners may be notoriously slow to act, that wasn't the case when money was at stake.  Just nine days later, National League owners held a special meeting to revamp the schedule giving the Dodgers 13 home Sunday games.  Since Sunday baseball was still prohibited in Massachusetts (Boston) and Pennsylvania (Philadelphia and Pittsburgh) this would lead to some interesting schedule making including the one-day home stand which will be of the subject of a future post. 

Boston Globe - May 5, 1919

The media's focus on the crowd's behavior was intended to refute the claims of those who said Sunday baseball would produce "wild scenes of disorder with joy-crazed crowds howling for admission."  Equally off base though was the Citizen's comment that the gathering was "a typical Brooklyn crowd."  As William McGeehan noted in the Tribune, Sunday games literally opened the gates to fans "whose acquaintance with baseball came only through reading the box scores," especially those who "could not afford to take afternoon off in the middle of the week."   Ebbets and his fellow owners were clearly motivated by the financial rewards, but the beginning of Sunday games at Ebbets Field also meant the Brooklyn Dodgers were now accessible to anyone who had the price of admission. It took a year to see the full effect, but 1920 attendance of over 808,000 was almost double that of 1916, the prior pennant winning season. Without question, the value of Sunday baseball had been proven both "theoretically and practically."  At day's end, Ebbets had only one concern about future Sunday games, the hope that next time fans would bring exact change!

Strange Pitching Fellows

"Politics," so they say, "makes for strange bedfellows" meaning that there are times when something shared brings together those who otherwise have little in common.  This came to mind when I came across a July 1, 1875 Paterson, New Jersey pitching match up between two prominent, but very different New Jersey pitchers, one a curve ball pioneering collegian, the other a future major leaguer with one of base ball's great nicknames.  Between the pitcher's lines for the visiting Trenton team was Joseph Mann while the Olympic Club of Paterson's pitching hopes rested with one Edward Nolan, known to baseball history as "The Only."  At a time when precious few Americans went to high school, much less college, Mann, a member of the Princeton Class of 1876, had already distinguished himself by pitching a no-hitter less than a month earlier against arch-rival Yale.  College players were supposed to be amateurs, but at the time the boundaries between amateur and professional status were somewhere between fluid and non-existent so Mann was apparently spending his summer playing for a team that was at the very least sharing in the gate receipts.

Joseph Mann with the 1874-75 Princeton Baseball Team 

Five years earlier when he was 14, Mann was a student, a far different status than that of Nolan who even though a year younger was already working in a silk mill, doubtless the beneficiary of little in the way of formal education.  By 1874, however, Nolan was supplementing his meager wages with money earned on the ball field as a member of the Olympic Club, Paterson's top team.   Dormant since 1868, the Olympics were reorganized in July of 1874 and Nolan, although only 16, became a member of the first nine, initially playing in the outfield.  In the next game, however, in a Wally Pippesque moment, the club's pitcher was injured and Nolan was chosen as his replacement.  No box score of the game survives, but the youngster dominated the opposition, retiring 11 batters on foul outs.   For the next two years, Nolan was the Olympic's pitcher and while he couldn't boast of a no-hitter, only two weeks before the Trenton game, he held the professional Atlantic Club of Brooklyn to just three hits and one run in a 1-0 loss, supposedly one of the earliest games of that score.

Edward "The Only" Nolan with the 1877 Indianapolis Club

As different as their backgrounds were, however, the two teenagers had something in common - their "politics" as it were.  Both relied on the curve ball, a pitch that while hardly new, was in 1875 enjoying what Richard Hershberger has termed its "breakout year."  Mann had discovered how to throw the pitch the prior fall when in an intramural game he gripped the ball differently to protect a blister and to his surprise began throwing curve balls.  In a step that would have made the Princeton faculty proud, Mann analyzed his discovery and claimed the ball curved because the top and bottom were moving at 100 feet per second in opposite directions.  More importantly from a baseball standpoint, Mann spent the winter in the school's gym perfecting the pitch and was more than ready to take full advantage as evidenced by his no-hitter.  No such breakthrough moment was recorded for Nolan, but that same fall, he was reportedly throwing "swift balls" which he combined with a "sudden and peculiar underhanded jerk."  Whatever he was doing, it was clearly working as the 1-0 loss to the Atlantics was the club's only defeat against nine victories.

Mann's analysis of how his curve ball worked

According to the Paterson Daily Press, some 300-400 fans paid 25 cents to see one of the earliest match ups between dominant curve ball pitchers.  The Olympics were at what would prove to be a fatal disadvantage because William St. Lawrence, their regular catcher, had to play with hands "in a bad condition."  The Olympics went first to the striker's line and got a preview of what was in store for them when lead off batter Jim Foran "struck at three of Mann's pretty-looking twisters, and gave it up."  A much traveled player, Foran had played in the National Association in 1871, hitting .348 for the Fort Wayne Kekiongas which apparently did him no good against Mann.  The next two Olympics made out, but Trenton did no better against Nolan who set them down in order.  Mann repeated the feat in the top of the second again recording a strikeout.  Nolan gave up his first hit in the bottom of the second initiating a pattern that would doom the Olympics as St. Lawrence injured hands and all couldn't handle Nolan's pitches and two passed balls gave the visitors their first run.

Jim Foran with the 1871 Fort Wayne Kekionga team

A Trenton error gave the Olympics their first base runner in the top of the third, but it did them little good as Mann proceeded to strike out the side.  Trenton added single runs in the third, fourth and seventh innings, all of them, according to the New York Clipper aided by passed balls since the Olympics even with a lineup change "had no catcher to support Nolan's swift pitching."  The few opportunities the Paterson team did have were turned away by the Trenton defense and the visitors led 4-0 heading to the bottom of the eighth when the roof fell in for Nolan and his teammates.  Once again errors and passed balls kept the inning going and Trenton finally got to Nolan's pitches for three hits and four runs.  Almost shut out or "Chicagoed," as the term went, the Olympics finally scored twice in the top of the ninth.  As was standard for the day, the bottom of the ninth was played which saw Nolan record two strikeouts of his own while setting the side down in order, but Trenton had won the curve ball duel 8-2.  Even though they scored eight times, Trenton only managed five hits off of Nolan compared to just three allowed by Mann.

New York Clipper - July 10, 1875

While the game itself had no lasting significance, the victory was widely celebrated in Trenton where a "goodly crowd" met the team when it arrived home with the "most extravagant cheers," followed by "marching through the streets."  Unfortunately, the Olympics injury based weaknesses at catcher may have hindered those in attendance from fully realizing that they were witnessing part of a major change in baseball.  In his book, Game of Inches, Peter Morris notes that while there is much debate over the invention or discovery of the curve ball, there can be do debate about its impact on the game itself to the point that it became almost impossible to play the position without one.  Indeed in an article about Nolan in the most recent edition of Base Ball: New Research on the Early Game, Richard Hershberger wrote that the emphasis on the curve ball convinced some of "the previous generation of pitchers" including Albert Spalding it was time to retire.  That Nolan and Mann two pitchers from such very different backgrounds were brought together by the same pitch says something about its lasting impact.