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.