Periodically (perhaps too periodically), I've mentioned how the book "My Greatest Day in Baseball" introduced me to baseball history. While there have been multiple books with that title, I'm referring specifically to those with stories that originally appeared in the Chicago Daily News. The first edition, published in 1945, had 47 short oral histories where some of the game's greatest players described what they believed was their greatest day in baseball. In recent years, I've wondered if the Chicago paper published more articles than those that appeared in the book. Earlier this year, I decided to find out for myself and began going through the back issues of the paper. I was more than a little surprised to find about 175 stories only about one-third of which have been published in book form.
To close out the 2023 blog year, I've decided to share three of these stories, beginning with one that was published in the first edition of the book. I'm hoping the choices illustrate both what appealed to a baseball novice so many years ago and the fascinating stories that are relatively unread and unknown. Leading off is Hall of Famer Al Simmons who had his greatest seasons with Connie Mack's Philadelphia Athletics. I think anyone who reads the story will agree that it was truly a great day for a great player. It also appealed to me because of the description of baseball in 1930 - a morning-afternoon doubleheader, something I'd never heard of, on an unfamiliar holiday called Decoration Day. Clicking on highlighted names will connect the reader to a brief Society for American Baseball Research biography of the player.
Al Simmons's Greatest Day in Baseball as told to John Carmichael
When the 1930 season was over and we had won our second straight pennant I understand Clark Griffith told Connie Mack: "I went back and checked up on Al Simmons this year. He hit 14 home runs in the eighth and ninth innings and everyone figured in the ball game. We were never the same after he licked us in that double-header." So Connie gave me a three-year contract for $100,000, which he didn't intend to do at all. But that's more like the end, not the beginning of this particular day . . . . Memorial Day, 1930!
The Senators were in town for morning and afternoon games. They were leading the league by four games and we were second. What's more, they wanted to make so sure of knocking us off twice and really getting a stranglehold on first place that they'd sent Pitchers Ad Liska and "Bump" Hadley into town 48 hours ahead of the team to get fully rested for the big day. Liska worked the opener against "Lefty" Grove, but we weren't worried, because Mose never lost a morning game in his career . . . that's a fact . . . and he always asked to pitch them.
Well, we were brand-new world champions, of course, and we had a good crowd on hand, but we weren't doing so well near the end of the affair. Liska was one of those semi-underhand pitchers with a little of this and a little of that and not much of anything, but he had us off stride and was ahead 6-3 into the ninth with two out, nobody on base and Grove up. Naturally, Grove didn't hit. Connie spent Spencer Harris up to swing for him and he got a single. Then Dib Williams hit safely and old man Simmons was on the spot. I'd already gone four for the collar and those Philly fans could be tough every so often. Some of 'em were yelling "Three out" and "How about another pinch hitter?" and I was thinking, "Boy, we better win that second game," when Liska cut loose.
The ball was right in there and didn't break and I really swung. It landed in the left-field seats, the score was tied and the customers were all for me now. We couldn't do anything more and went into extra innings. I got a double in the 11th, but we didn't score. I singled in the 13th and didn't get home. In the 15th I hit another two-bagger . . . four straight hits, mind you, after going out easily four times in a row. [The game lasted 13 innings, not 15 and Simmons had three hits in a row, not four.] Jimmie Foxx came up [in the thirteenth] and hit a twisting roller down the third-base line . . . topped the ball. He beat it out by a half step and on the play, I went to third and rounded the bag as if I might try to score. I got caught in a run-down. Well, there I was, scrambling around and cursing myself for blowing a chance to get the game over, but finally, I dove for third and was safe. Just as I lit I felt something go haywire in my right knee.
Standing on the bag I could feel it swelling up under my uniform and by the time "Boob" McNair singled and I scored the winning run it was becoming stiff. We went inside and got the clothes off and the damn thing was twice its normal size. Connie Mack couldn't believe his eyes. "How did you do it?" he kept asking. I didn't know myself . . . didn't hit anything but the ground. He put in a call for Dr. Carnett, our club physician. I can't remember his first name . . . and he's dead now . . . but he was one of the outstanding doctors in the East and a great ball fan. He came in and ordered cold compresses on it. "You've broken a blood vessel," he said, but it'll be all right."
We didn't have so much time between games, because that opener had taken too long, so there was nothing to do but sit around and order a little lunch. The outgoing crowd was all mixed up with the incoming customers and, of course, a lot of those who figured to see only the morning game were so het up that they turned right around outside the gates and bought their way back in again. Meanwhile, the swelling in my knee was going down, but it hurt and finally, Mr. Mack said to Carnett: "He can't play anymore today, I suppose," and Doc said no. "You'll probably want to take him to a hospital," said Connie, and Carnett agreed.
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