War on the Basepaths Read online

  Bound to the Tigers via the reserve clause (which tied him to the team regardless if he signed a contract or not; effectively, it meant Detroit “owned” his services), Cobb was more anxious than Navin in the argument, and when Detroit kicked off the season on April 10, their star centerfielder was not on the bench with his teammates. The National Commission suspended Cobb for his failure to appear and a tense situation greatly escalated. Cobb’s plight received nationwide publicity and it wasn’t long before he was bolstered by Congressional support from Senator Hoke Smith and Representative Thomas Hardwick of Georgia. Looking to ascertain whether Organized Baseball restricted free trade and violated the laws of the Sherman Antitrust Act, Smith asked to read Cobb’s contract and the latter mailed the document to Washington, D.C. for review.45 The Sporting News reported that baseball leaders welcomed an inquiry, seemingly blasé about the threat.46 But behind closed doors, owners seethed because it was the last thing they wanted.

  A funny thing was happening between Navin and Cobb … a game of sorts. Navin mulishly refused to reach out to Cobb and Cobb wouldn’t go to Detroit to meet with the owner until he was specifically asked. Vaughan Glaser, producer of Cobb’s stage debut in The College Widow and a friend of both men, realized this was the nonsensical obstacle standing in the way of resolution. He quickly prompted Navin to message Cobb, asking him to Detroit, and after the magnate did, Cobb dropped everything and immediately ventured northward from Georgia.47 Within two days, Cobb was in the budding “Motor City,” and only an hour of negotiation was needed before a new contract was to be signed. The terms were not disclosed, other than it was a one-year deal, and there was contentment all around. Navin happily declared, “The war is over!”48

  Cobb returned to the field on special permission of baseball authorities and was officially given a clean slate by the National Commission with a full reinstatement on May 1. His fine amounted to $50.49 By that time, the Tigers were already being put through the ringer. They’d lost nine-straight between April 22 and May 3, and dropped to seventh in the league. Many roster changes had altered the look of the team, including the arrival of left fielder Bobby Veach, infield sensation Oscar Vitt, and pitcher Jean Dubuc the year before. Amongst the other stalwarts were Hugh High, Del Gainer, and George “Hooks” Dauss, and the base of veterans George Moriarty, Oscar Stanage, Sam Crawford, and Donie Bush, who were still the heart of the club. However, it was obvious that Cobb was needed to give the Tigers any kind of real competitive edge.

  Unfortunately, Cobb was unable to carry the team into the first division in 1913, and he struggled along with his own set of problems, beginning with eye trouble only days into the season. In July, he was spiked on his right knee trying to steal second by Buck Weaver of the White Sox, leaving a deep wound. The injury became slightly infected and he was sent to the sidelines to recuperate.50 Adding a further complication, his back was in poor shape and causing him plenty of pain. On July 12, Hugh Jennings placed the weakened Cobb on second base and the Georgian’s performance was anything but spectacular. E. A. Batchelor of the Detroit Free Press was usually kind to Cobb, but he had to call things as he saw them, and simply wrote that Cobb “proved beyond question that he [was] the worst second baseman living or dead.” He committed three errors in five chances and Detroit fans energetically hooted and hollered at his expense.51

  Trade gossip involving Cobb circulated heavily during the summer and, after the negative expression of his home audience, he was agreeable to a transfer, perhaps to either New York or Boston. Paul Hale Bruske wrote that he felt Detroit enthusiasts would be accepting of a trade, and confirmed the diminishing of his local popularity.52 Fervent newspapermen prophesized that Cobb was either headed to Chicago in a deal for Hal Chase, sold to Washington for $100,000, or headed to Boston. Cobb responded to an August rumor that he was sold to New York for $40,000, saying, “It is the first I’ve heard of it, but I surely hope it is true.”53

  The batting race between Cobb and “Shoeless” Joe Jackson was exciting all season. At one point in June, both men were hitting over .430 in an astronomical display of offensive firepower. The Cleveland Leader, in an effort to write off Cobb, mentioned that he was not particularly impressive during a recent series and had “lost some of his old-time pepper.”54 But despite missing 31 games, he rallied at just the right times to ultimately lead the majors in batting average, finishing with a .390, 17 points ahead of Jackson. His other statistics suffered because of his inactivity. In fact, Cobb’s 167 hits, 70 runs, and 67 RBIs were the lowest he’d achieved since 1906, his first full season in the big leagues. As for the Tigers, they ended the year in sixth place with a 66–87 record, a depressing 30 games behind the Philadelphia Athletics.

  Twenty-three-year-old Oscar Vitt, at season’s end, made a few pointed comments in the press about Cobb. He asserted that Cobb was, as he had been suspected in earlier years, working the solo game instead of playing for the team.55 Cobb responded to the comments, saying: “Such a charge is ridiculous. I should think Vitt might help the team if he would accumulate a little better individual average and not attack his fellow players.”56 Vitt batted .240 in 1913. This wasn’t the first time a report attributed to Vitt made mention of Cobb. In February 1913, Vitt allegedly claimed Navin was tinkering with the salaries of Detroit players, working to cut where he could because he wanted to ensure Cobb got the $15,000 he demanded. Such an accusation made Cobb look bad in the eyes of his teammates, and wasn’t factually accurate. Vitt and Cobb were at odds and not speaking, stemming from several previous arguments. Cobb, as usual, had wanted to fight Vitt, but the much smaller infielder backed off and Oscar Stanage stepped in to shield him from any of Cobb’s aggression.57

  Frank Navin listened to the nonstop hullabaloo regarding Cobb’s status with the Tigers and probably chuckled to himself. He certainly entertained hypothetical trade possibilities, but he had no real intention of making a deal unless he received two or three top stars in return. He wasn’t going to waste time dickering with owners over his superstar, and during the 1913 World Series in New York, he met privately with Cobb to discuss business. The meeting was fruitful. They verbally agreed to a two-year contract calling for a base salary of $11,250, plus another $3,750 in bonuses ($15,000 total).58 The arrangement put to rest the notion that Cobb was going to play for any team other than the Tigers. Cobb, in response to his public declarations of wanting to be traded, clearly emphasized that he didn’t want to leave Detroit and was completely happy with both management and the fans. It was a necessary public relations move.

  The emergence of the Federal League in 1913 significantly jolted major league owners, and not since the American League challenged the authority of the established National League in 1901 had an independent entity caused so much concern. Reinforced by wealthy financiers, the Federals were planning an elaborate eight-team circuit stretching from Kansas City in the west to Brooklyn in the east, and including stops in Chicago, St. Louis, and Pittsburgh. Inducements were made by agents of the organization to players throughout the majors, and the likes of Joe Tinker, Russell Ford, Hal Chase, Cy Falkenberg, Steve Evans, and George Mullin were enticed to jump to the outlaw league. As early as August 1913, gossip in newspapers touted considerable monetary offerings made to Cobb in efforts to get him to defect from Detroit.59

  The Federals direly wanted Cobb, and league executives knew that attaining him would result in a financial and psychological victory unparalleled in baseball. Fans would flock to Federal stadiums based on Cobb’s name recognition alone, and the maneuver would provide the kind of legitimacy the organization desired, while leaving the American League badly demoralized. News wire reports in January 1914, months before the Federal League was to officially get off the ground, disclosed annual salary amounts ranging from $15,000 to $25,000 tendered to Cobb to jump sides. In response to the chatter, Cobb sent a telegram to E. A. Batchelor of the Detroit Free Press, confirming his loyalty to Detroit, stating, “I would gain nothing by change.”60


  Over the winter months, Cobb immersed himself in the game of golf and it wasn’t surprising to see him at the Augusta Country Club, playing 18 rounds in the morning and again that afternoon. In fact, he was more enthusiastic about attending spring training than he had been in years so he could spend time at the Mississippi Coast Country Club in Gulfport, Mississippi, a short distance from Tigers’ camp. Scoring about 100 on an 18-hole course, he was ever determined to improve, and considered it a good way to enhance his hand-eye coordination, as well as his leg and arm muscles prior to the season. In a very Cobb-like fashion, he tried to be an innovator, having his caddy “pitch” balls close to the ground for him to hit, but the unorthodox tactics didn’t gain much traction.61 Nevertheless, he carried his wooden clubs everywhere he went.

  Joining the team at New Orleans in mid-March, Cobb was heavier than he was known to be in the past, a sign that his work on the links didn’t get him in the kind of shape that hunting or winter ball had previously. The people of Gulfport were overjoyed by his presence, closing up town banks, shops, and governmental offices to attend a game between the Tigers and New Orleans Pelicans on March 19, and Cobb “performed as advertised” by hitting a two-run triple in the ninth.62 Detroit won the game 11–10 in 12 innings. As far as the team was concerned, manager Hugh Jennings was thrilled about a few of his new recruits and optimistic about the team’s chances in the pennant race. Nineteen-year-old Harry Heilmann from the Pacific Coast joined Marty Kavanagh, a second baseman, and George Burns at first. Also, Harry Coveleski, a former National Leaguer, filled a needed left-handed pitching role.

  Jennings came to the realization that his idea to bat Sam Crawford in the third slot and Cobb clean-up in 1913 hadn’t had the intended results, and shifted Crawford back to fourth in the lineup. The move gave Cobb better chances to score with a more consistent hitter behind him.63 The season opened in Detroit on April 14, 1914, and went thirteen innings before St. Louis garnered a 2–0 advantage, putting the pressure on the home team to rally. In the bottom of the inning, the Tigers got two men on, and Cobb exhilarated the 20,000 rooters in attendance by tripling to the fence, clearing the bases ahead of him. With the score tied, Crawford advanced on a soft hit that kept Cobb tied to the bag, but Bobby Veach proceeded to sacrifice and Cobb trotted home for the victory, 3–2.64 It was an electrifying way to start the season.

  Right from the start, the team struck a nice balance of pitching and hitting, and enjoyed a full month in first place between April and May. Cobb’s batting eye seemed to tune up a little slower than anticipated, and it was hard not to suspect his preseason golfing exploits as a possible cause. Many baseball players swore off golf in the midst of training because of the differences between the two sports, and a general feeling that one hindered the other. During Detroit’s first road trip to New York, Cobb stepped before the prominent dignitaries of the American Booksellers’ Association and gave a short, yet entertaining speech. His showing was coordinated with the launch of his first book, Busting ’em: And Other Big League Stories, released by publisher Edward J. Clode.65

  The Federal League rumors were rekindled after Cobb was spotted consorting with members of the rival league in Chicago and, no matter how many times he denied jumping to the outlaws, writers loved to speculate. Jennings didn’t give the gossip a second thought. He was working to maintain the stability of his club and felt that if his players could continue at their present gait, there was considerable hope of making a sincere challenge for the top position in the American League. The two things that could derail their efforts were injuries or major incidents, but, considering the odds, what were the chances they’d experience both? For the 1914 Tigers, those odds were good.

  10

  BUTCHERING PENNANT CHANCES

  The Detroit Tigers were more than two weeks into a grueling road trip on May 18, 1914, and were capably withstanding each of their challengers to retain first place in the American League. That afternoon, however, they were confronted by twenty-six-year-old George “Rube” Foster, a skilled right-hander from Oklahoma. On the mound for Boston, Foster would later gain fame as a two-game winner in the 1915 World Series, helping the Red Sox overcome the Philadelphia Phillies. But that day in 1914 at Fenway Park, he hurled a scorching fastball into the right side of Ty Cobb, causing a “green-tree fracture” of his sixth rib, meaning that the bone had split.1 Despite difficulties breathing, Cobb resisted the pain enough to engage in a game the next day, going 1-for-2 with an RBI before yielding to his injury. Once a diagnosis was made, it was revealed that he’d be out of the game for at least a week, but really, his recovery required about fifteen days.

  In Cobb’s absence, Hugh Jennings utilized Harry Heilmann and Hugh High in center, but the Tigers were cast from their leadership position and endured a five-game losing streak before the Georgian superstar was able to return on June 5. Still not fully healed, Cobb missed added time closer to the middle of the month, and then went 8-for-16 over a four-game period, reasserting himself in the club’s championship drive. During the afternoon of Saturday, June 20, Cobb readied himself in his customary outfield spot and reacted to a sharp liner into right-center off the bat of Washington Senators third baseman Eddie Foster. He lost his footing en route, and the ball managed to eke past him. He then momentarily fumbled it, allowing Foster to round second and head to third on the error.2

  Unnerved by his mistakes, Cobb was boiling with intensity and in a poor mood. Things deteriorated even further when a pair of jokesters in the right-field bleachers started riding him, calling him off-color names. Quickly pushed to his limits, he shouted back at his tormentors and let it be known that he was willing to step away from the game to settle their differences. The challenge to his manhood was too much to forgive, and between innings, he ran off the field, caught the two young men under the stands, and dished out a quick pounding.3 While he might have satisfied his immediate craving to square things up with his antagonists, he was still bent far out of shape, and highly volatile. It wasn’t going to take much for him to explode again.

  The Cobbs were having a small dinner party at their Longfellow Avenue rental home that evening with Washington manager Clark Griffith as one of their guests.4 Following the game, Cobb arrived home to find Charlie upset about a phone conversation she’d had with a local meat market regarding a batch of spoiled fish. Unhesitatingly, Cobb rushed out the door, his mind clouded by anger, and there was absolutely nothing that could stop his quest for vengeance toward the man who, he felt, had insulted his wife. At least, that was his point of view. William L. Carpenter, proprietor of the Progressive Meat Market, saw the situation differently. He didn’t think he had insulted Mrs. Cobb, but clearly insisted that the fish were fresh when they left his business. He was upset enough to cancel the Cobb account and refuse any future dealings.5

  Carpenter, however, never expected Cobb, the famous baseball player he admired, to burst through the doors of his establishment, brandishing a loaded Belgian-made .32 caliber revolver.

  “Where’s the man who insulted my wife?” Cobb yelled. According to Carpenter’s version of events, Cobb freely pointed the weapon at him, “glaring like one insane.” Later, Cobb admitted to withdrawing his revolver only after Carpenter grabbed a meat cleaver. No bullets were fired and no blood was shed in the ensuing minutes, as Cobb demanded the butcher call his wife to apologize. In possession of the superior weapon, Cobb’s menacing persuaded Carpenter to make the call, and the ballplayer was sufficiently pleased, ready to pay his bill and leave.6 But Carpenter’s brother-in-law, Howard G. Harding, a tall twenty-year-old assistant in the shop, was not agreeable with anything that was taking place. He openly interfered in the conversation, sharply criticizing Cobb, and the latter responded likewise.7

  “I believe you’re a coward,” Harding told Cobb. “Put down your revolver and come out into the street.” Cobb shifted gears again, focusing completely on his new foe, and proceeded to yank Harding out onto the sidewalk. He handed his weapon to a n
earby citizen, and then used his size and strength to manhandle his rival.8 Knocking Harding down at least twice and blackening his eye, Cobb was unmatched, and there were likely few people in the area capable of dealing with his ferocity. In contrast, when police arrived and placed Cobb into a wagon headed to the station, he was docile, seemingly awakening to the seriousness of what had occurred.

  Each time Cobb experienced a moment of dubiousness, he had been forced to cope with the ramifications, going back to the beginning of his career. In the aftermath of the Fred Collins incident in 1908, the Frank Baker spiking, and, of course, the Lucker situation in New York, he was branded all sorts of ways. He was rowdy, a lunatic, a violent thug out to purposefully maim fellow players, and so on. Cobb immediately knew that his latest scrap was going to hurt him publicly, and told three newspapermen waiting for him at the Bethune Avenue police station, “I’m not going to give you a thing. This isn’t going to appear in the papers. If it does, I’m ruined—ruined—my reputation’s gone. They’ll hoot me off the diamond. I’ll have to forget the American League and go over to the Federals.”9