In the "bat bag" game of July 28, 1886, Boston's ninth inning rally began when Joe Hornung hit one past first drawing "a yell of delight" from the desperate, but still hopeful crowd. However, any hopes this was "a break in the clouds" for the thus far scoreless Beaneaters were doomed to disappointment. "Quicker than a flash Kelly" [playing second base] "managed to capture" the ball and throw Hornung out at first. So "remarkable" was the play, it "forced unwilling applause from the crowd." Two batters later, Boston was down to their last chance with a runner on first and two out. Sam Wise hit one in the same place as Hornung and "a sickening feeling came over the crowd" as they watched Kelly go after it. Although it seemed impossible, the "only Kel" made another great stop, but this time he was unable to get the runner at first. Still alive, Boston rallied to tie the game and won it in the bottom of the 11th in spite of another brilliant play by Kelly. Although the game ended in a defeat for his Chicago team, three exceptional plays by Kelly at a position he seldom played, showed his versatility, a contributing factor to his reputation as the greatest player of his time.
Over the course of his 16 year career, Kelly played at least seven different positions, possibly all nine since it's not clear if he played outfield positions other than right. At the time playing multiple positions wasn't uncommon, but of Kelly's eight Hall of Fame contemporaries only Anson, Ewing, White and O'Rourke played as many. More importantly, not only did Kelly play seven positions, his performance was praised at all of them including shortstop where he sometimes struggled. Kelly overcame his lack of experience at new positions by learning the best way to play them. At second, for example, Kelly realized that unlike right field where he played close to the infield, at second it was better to play deep. Thanks to learning how to best position himself, Kelly was praised by William Harris, the Boston Globe's baseball editor who wrote "that the way he eats up presumptive hits is a caution." Also praiseworthy was his willingness to take on these new challenges. The Chicago Tribune believed Kelly was an example to his teammates because he was ready "to play wherever he is placed with an earnestness that might well be copied by many other players."
South End Grounds where Kelly played for Boston in 1888-89 and again in 1892
Regardless of what position he played, Kelly had a well-deserved reputation for trick plays. It's important, first of all, to distinguish between trick plays and cheating. There is no question Kelly sometimes cheated, especially during his first years in the majors, but while trick plays may press the boundaries of the rules, they are usually permissible. As with almost everything else in his career, Kelly began using trickery as soon as he reached the major leagues. In August of his rookie season in Cincinnati, his team led 5-1 in the ninth, but the other team had the bases loaded with none out. When the next batter struck out, catcher Kelly dropped the ball intentionally. Under the rules of the day, all the runners were required to advance, enabling Kelly to start an easy rally-killing double play. And he was still at it over a decade later in 1891 when he played one last season in Cincinnati. In an August 9th game, Philadelphia's Teddy Larkin foolishly threw his bat on the ground after what he thought was a bad call for strike one. Seizing the moment, Kelly kicked the bat away and signaled for a pitch which was called strike two. Larkin desperately grabbed his bat, only to miss the third pitch "by a foot" for what has to be one of the most embarrassing strikeouts in baseball history.
Congress Street Grounds, home of Kelly's 1890 Boston Reds team
Although it's unlikely Larkin thought so, the play, like many of Kelly's tricks, had a humorous side that reflected the "only Kel's" outgoing personality. In an August 17, 1886 game, Kansas City's Pete Conway fell victim to another typical Kelly ploy after he singled and then advanced to second on a passed ball. Or so Conway thought. Hearing someone say the passed ball was actually a foul ball and he had to return to first, Conway made the naïve mistake of asking first baseman Kelly for confirmation. Always trying to be helpful, the "only," "with a child like smile" said it was indeed foul. When the unsuspecting Conway tried to go back to first, he was quickly tagged out, infuriating not only the humiliated runner, but also Kansas City captain Dave Rowe. Rowe protested to umpire Pearce that he had "no right to call that man out on such a play," but he got no satisfaction from Pearce who simply said "I didn't tell him it was a foul." Perhaps not a gentlemanly play on Kelly's part, but within the rules and worth a laugh, at least outside of Kansas City.
Pete Conway was just one victim of Kelly's trickery on the bases
In addition to his trick plays, Kelly also helped introduce new strategy that had an element of deception. We've already considered, for example, Kelly's unsuccessful attempt to steal home in a crucial 1889 game, a feat he had previously tried, also unsuccessfully, four years earlier. According to historian Peter Morris, stealing home was rare in the 1880s as were squeeze plays, hit and run attempts and intentional walks. Yet Kelly was part of such plays on more than one occasion. In the 1886 World Series, Kelly ordered an intentional walk which the St. Louis Globe-Democrat labeled "contemptible," apparently because it was unmanly. Another innovation used by Kelly was pinch hitting which was not a regular part of the game until substitution rules became more flexible around 1890. Taking quick advantage of the rule change, Kelly sent himself up as a pinch hitter three times in 1891. None of this is to suggest Kelly invented these strategic move, but he was quick to put new innovations to use.
Kelly as a member of the 1886 National League champion Chicago White Stockings along with his mentor Cap Anson
Some contemporary commentators, mindful of Kelly's penchant for drinking and rowdy behavior, considered him ill-suited to be the leader of other players. It's reminiscent of Jacob Ruppert's response to Babe Ruth's request to manage the Yankees - "Manage the Yankees? You can't even manage yourself?" Since the Bambino never got the chance, we'll never know if he would have been successful. Kelly, however, had the opportunity to run a team in 1890 as part of the ill-fated Players League, a cooperative venture of players and outside investors. Kelly ran the Boston franchise and according to the Boston Globe showed "the croakers that he could manage a ball club when given free reign." Not only did Kelly manage the team, he led them to the pennant while on at least one occasion disciplining a player who challenged his authority. The Globe called him a "mastermind" and attributed much of his success in leading his team to the championship to his "headwork." Although the Boston Players League club was successful both on the field and at the box office, the league folded after one season.
While three posts devoted to just one player may seem excessive, it would probably take a book to fully document Mike Kelly's greatness on the ball field. My hope, however, is that while not a complete picture, these posts have shown the many ways this Paterson, New Jersey product could dominate a game. Whether his team was at bat or in the field, Kelly was a difference maker, who helped his team maximize their run production while at the same time limiting the other team's offense. Kelly's success came from a combination of physical ability, aggressive play and "headwork," but there was an added element that enabled him to reach the pinnacle of the game. Damon Runyan had a sense of this when he claimed Kelly's greatness came from his ambition - his desire to be the best. Ambition is certainly important, but it means little unless it's accompanied by the hard work necessary to reach the top. Although an unlikely advocate for hard work, Sir John Falstaff in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 1, got it right when he said "tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation." There is no question Mike Kelly labored constantly at his "vocation" and the fruits of that labor were greatness as a ball player, perhaps the greatest of his time.
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