War on the Basepaths Page 23

  Houston, incidentally, was going to be the site of a highly awaited confrontation. For months and months, sportswriters had hyped Benny Kauff as the “Ty Cobb of the Federal League,” and crowed about his outstanding hitting and speed. Kauff, undoubtedly, was the sensation of the outlaw organization, batting .370 as a twenty-four-year-old rookie in 1914 for the league champion Indianapolis Hoosiers and .342 in his sophomore effort for the Brooklyn Tip-Tops. His batting average, combined with a stolen base tally of 130 over those two seasons put him in an exceptional class of ballplayers, and writers loved to compare him to Cobb.

  The Federal League folded in December 1915, after a settlement was reached with Organized Baseball and the ongoing war concluded.45 As a result, Kauff transitioned over to the New York Giants, presenting an opportunity for him and Cobb to meet on the field for the first time. Giants manager John McGraw and Hugh Jennings arranged a five-game series for spring training, but four of the games were already played by the time Cobb reported. That made the Houston contest on April 2 all the more intriguing. In spite of the so-called rivalry touted by the press, Cobb and Kauff didn’t enter the exhibition as enemies, and the game went off without any fireworks. Both went 1-for-4 with a double, but Cobb was said to have gotten the better of the ex-Federal Leaguer by stealing a base and scoring two runs. The Tigers also prevailed, 9–2.46

  It was customary for preseason journalists to call Cobb overweight by 1916, but as he aged, like most people, he put on extra pounds that were harder to take off, and what was considered “heavy” for the Georgian athlete was now becoming his standard “healthy” weight. Being without winter or spring practice left him a little behind in finding his batting groove, but he hovered around .300 after the first eight games of the season. He’d miss the ninth contest at Navin Field against Chicago on April 21 because of illness, and remain on the sidelines until returning to centerfield at St. Louis on April 28. Notably, Sam Crawford was another player on the sick-list in April, and for the first two months of the 1916 campaign, Detroit mostly hovered between the third and seventh positions in the American League standings.

  Detroit was struggling at the plate, and it wasn’t just one or two players, but nearly all the team’s regulars were batting far below expectations, Cobb included. By mid-May, Cobb had a .273 average with Crawford, Donie Bush, Oscar Vitt, and Oscar Stanage each hitting for a lower percentage. Tris Speaker, who had been traded from Boston to Cleveland in April, was batting a hundred points better than Cobb, setting a tremendous pace for American League honors.47 Baseball critics were quick to publicly speculate whether Cobb’s best days were behind him, but Cobb worked to quiet his doubters with a strong surge, pushing his average over .300 by the end of the month. Nonetheless, his detractors were coming on hard, both in the press and from the stands, and his frustrations were occasionally exposed on the diamond.

  On May 15, at Washington, D.C., he was caught in a third-inning rundown by Joe Boehling and fans were appalled when Cobb proceeded to toss a handful of dust into the pitcher’s face. To witnesses from the crowd, it was completely unwarranted, and they let him have it with a thorough onslaught of booing. The Detroit Free Press, perhaps in defense of their local hero, explained that Boehling directed a “vile” epithet at Cobb when making the tag, instigating him to respond the way he did. However, the language used was inaudible to spectators, and, since Cobb’s animalistic behavior was on full display, he obviously was the bad guy in the situation. E. A. Batchelor wrote that it was the “first time” that Cobb had been treated in such a manner at Washington, where he was typically very popular. The “verbal abuse” continued for the remainder of the game.48

  Additional frustrations were apparent in Chicago on July 2, in what was the climax of a four-game sweep by the White Sox. In the seventh inning, umpire Dick Nallin called Cobb out on strikes and the latter exploded in a fit of rage. He threw his bat wildly into a section of empty seats at Comiskey Park and his “eccentric and dangerous antics” caused his ejection from the game.49 American League President Ban Johnson suspended Cobb for three days for the tantrum, and Detroit was playing its worst ball of the season. Hugh Jennings admitted Cobb was going through some hard times, but defended him from naysayers: “Every time he falls down in a pinch now or fails in an attempt to make a brilliant play, he is hooted and abused just as though he had committed some frightful crime. Cobb is as much of a gentleman as anybody in the game [and is] the last man that anybody ought to pick on. He is trying his best.”50

  Another boost of support came from Cobb’s roommate, Jean Dubuc. “Let me go down as saying that a fairer, cleaner, or better ballplayer never lived than Ty. Its Cobb did this, Cobb did that, Cobb did something else all day and everywhere you go. I would be frayed out if it were me. Ty’s human, remember that, and that’s why he is so well liked. When he has a great day with the stick he’s happy, and when a slump spreads its fist over his hitting, he bucks and riles, and that’s why he does not stay in a slump. This thing of licking all the rest of the league in the batting averages every year is no pipe job. It’s the hardest thing in the world. Pitchers work their ears off against Ty, fielders are on their toes the minute he comes up to the bat and the fans all want to see him fooled, too. Cobb loves baseball, that’s why he is so good. If he played for the home team in every town we visit he would have more friends.”51

  The chase for the batting championship was considered, at times, to be a three-man race between Tris Speaker, Ty Cobb, and Joe Jackson, but it was evident from the beginning of the season that Speaker was having a career year. Cobb came on hard near the finish line, but his efforts resulted in a .371 average, 15 points behind Speaker, and placed him second. For the first time in nine seasons, Cobb was a runner-up in the American League batting competition, and his dethronement as king wasn’t met with a series of alibis.52 He acknowledged and accepted the victory of Speaker without fuss. In the pennant race, the Tigers put up a gallant fight well into September, running neck and neck until losing several crucial games at home and dropping back to third. Detroit concluded the season with an 87–67 record, behind Boston and Chicago.

  Cobb went east to offer his expert opinion about the Boston-Brooklyn World Series as a journalist, and moonlighted as a barnstormer with the New Haven Colonials, an independent club managed by twenty-one-year-old George M. Weiss.53 The Red Sox, following their 4–1 championship victory in the Series, played an exhibition against Cobb and the Colonials at New Haven on October 15. Cobb, holding down first base, collected eight assists and scored two hits off Babe Ruth, Boston’s shining pitching star, in a 3–3 tie. In response to the unsanctioned game, the National Commission fined Cobb, Ruth, and other major leaguers for violating the rules of Organized Baseball by participating in the exhibition.54

  Before rejoining his family in Augusta, Cobb had yet another endeavor to undertake. This time around, he was stepping before a camera to film a silent movie entitled Somewhere in Georgia. The proposition, although unusual, came together through the hard work of two friends, Vaughan Glaser, part owner in a new Cleveland-based movie picture company, and Grantland Rice, the author of the script. Glaser had been the man who successfully coaxed him to step onto the vaudeville stage and it was only fitting that he had a hand in Cobb’s transition to film.55 Work began in October 1916 in the area of Tottenville, Staten Island, New York, and director George Ridgwell said, “As a movie actor, Ty is lots more than a .380 hitter.”56

  A “story of baseball and romance,” the movie centered on Cobb as a bank employee in his native Georgia, and, of course, he was the star ballplayer for his local, small-town squad. He fell in love with the beautiful banker’s daughter, played by veteran actress Elsie MacLeod, but, as luck would have it, he was scouted by the Detroit Tigers at the same time and called up to the majors. But as soon as trouble arose back home, Cobb returned to save the day, fighting with a crew of outlaws before emerging at the ball field to hit the winning homer. He also scored the girl of his dreams and the
movie concluded “in a manner appealing to ball fans and picture fans alike.”57 With the film complete, Cobb (who was soon to turn thirty)was ready to embrace the calming environment of the South and mentally and physically prepare to regain his lost batting title in 1917.

  11

  ALWAYS EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED

  New York baseball statistician Al Munro Elias published an incredibly revealing look at Ty Cobb’s twelve years in the major leagues in December 1916. The report, syndicated to papers throughout the country, proclaimed him to be the sport’s “most remarkable batsman of all-time.” Elias based his extraordinary statement on the whopping .369 career batting average of Cobb, which topped legends Ed Delahanty, Pete Browning, Nap Lajoie, and everyone else who stepped onto a big league field. Going a step further, Elias broke down Cobb’s work against nearly 200 pitchers, and found that he’d achieved a better than .350 average against Cy Young, Chief Bender, Eddie Cicotte, Rube Waddell, Dutch Leonard, and a slew of other premier hurlers. His .326 against Walter Johnson was nothing to scoff at either.1

  The impressive stats illuminated the pure mastery of Cobb behind the bat and proved that his stylized techniques were working splendidly well. Each and every day, he went out to the diamond and played his game of ball, unaffected by the more traditional methods of those around him. Neither his manager nor his fellow players influenced his approach to hitting, fielding, or running. It was all Cobb, implementing his own personal science of baseball. And for those observers of his unique style and mannerisms during a game, they were treated to a distinctive performance only Cobb could execute. He was a bit idiosyncratic and a lot eccentric in his routine, and no journalist captured the subtleties of his behavior better than Frank P. Sibley of the Boston Daily Globe.

  Sibley fancied the idea of giving readers an inside sense of the Georgian’s trademark habits during all phases of the game, and dissected his style and body language for a telling article aptly entitled “How Ty Cobb Plays Ball.”2 He took notice of Cobb’s habitual impulse to swing at the first pitch thrown, how he took “two or three steps forward to meet the ball” in the batter’s box, and the power of his swing. Cobb garnered a base hit, Sibley noted, and once safely planted at the bag, he held the attention of the pitcher while inching off first, threatening to steal.

  Cobb’s jumpiness kept everyone guessing, and he settled to watch the pitcher’s motion with his knees bowed inward toward each other, prepared to either dash to second or slide back to first. It was the standard fare for Cobb, and his rivals across the league were in a constant struggle to overcome his unpredictable nature.

  In terms of personality, Cobb was, at times, a loud rooter for teammates and a heavy instigator of opposing players. At other moments, he was withdrawn and lost in his own train of thought. But he was always observant, keenly aware of the game’s circumstances. Naturally, Cobb was in a much better mood when the Tigers were winning, brazenly smirking at pitchers, smiling after close plays, and ribbing infielders with an arrogant flair.3 A round of chuckles by Cobb easily goaded players into a rabid fury, and Sibley commented that he wasn’t “ever-popular” with contemporaries, but clearly, the kind of smugness he displayed had something to do with it. Interestingly, Cobb hadn’t always been a shameless trash talker, but grew into the role, likely out of a necessity to both fight fire with fire and to gain a mental advantage.

  However, when Detroit was on the losing end of things, Cobb was far from jovial. He was furiously doing everything in his power to score runs. After hitting into an out, he walked with his head down, and was the kind of guy who’d browbeat himself for failing to produce. He’d also lash out at teammates for the same, and again, his vitriolic exhibition usually tended to turn attitudes against him. But altogether, Cobb’s techniques, superstitions, and temperament were resulting in astronomical individual records. And in many ways, there was truth in the statement of a fan, who explained, “He’s got ’em licked before he starts,” within earshot of Sibley.4 The reality of the matter was that Cobb did have great gains on his opponents because of the legend he created and the innuendos surrounding his gamesmanship.

  He was a mystifying athlete, and by creating endless opportunities for the Tigers to win, die-hard enthusiasts knew to always expect the unexpected when he entered the game. Sibley wrote that Cobb added “more strength to a club than any other one man, and no man [had] so great a following of fans.” It was simple: people appreciated his hard work and exciting style of play regardless of their team loyalty. For older fans, he was amongst the last of a dying breed, a reflection of Kid Gleason, Kid Elberfeld, and hardnosed battlers of yesteryear; men who put great stock in doing everything humanly possible to win, and that meant fighting for each and every run. He wasn’t out there to make friends, but to achieve victory.

  During the winter of 1916–17, Cobb was no less enthusiastic about golf than he had been in previous years, even though he felt that playing midseason diminished his batting “eye.”5 Tris Speaker disagreed, believing that his devotion to golf throughout 1916 was a major factor in his winning the batting title.6 Nevertheless, Cobb was steadfast in his conviction, and planned to wind up his golf game once the season got under way. But that still left plenty of time to enjoy the sport throughout the spring, especially during training in Texas. He also centered his energy on hunting. On one of his jaunts into Louisiana to hunt duck, he was joined by two friends, Rick Woodward of Birmingham and Robert W. Woodruff of Atlanta, both prosperous businessmen.7 Cobb’s connection with the latter would be especially beneficial in the future, as the Woodruff Family became involved in leadership positions for the Coca-Cola Company.

  After arriving at Tigers’ camp in Waxahachie, Texas, on the evening of March 26, 1917, Cobb got in a few days of practice before the team traveled to Fort Worth to begin a rematch series against the New York Giants. The two clubs faced off the year before and Detroit won three games to two. Despite camaraderie between managers Hugh Jennings and John McGraw, and the fact that the games were supposed to be lighthearted exhibitions, there was a serious spirit of competition amongst the players of both squads. In the opening contest on March 30, Cobb doubled in the eighth to score two runs and led the Tigers to a 4–1 win. While Cobb had a good reason to be contented with his performance, Giants team captain and second baseman Charles “Buck” Herzog was not thrilled by his play, going 0-for-3 and committing three errors.8

  McGraw was an outstanding motivator of his men and knew he had three firecracker infielders, Herzog, shortstop Art Fletcher, and third baseman Heinie Zimmerman. He long supported a rowdier side of baseball, particularly the side that embraced verbal antagonizing of opposition players. Like Cobb, he knew a little provocation went a long way to disrupt the mindset of rivals, and he encouraged the barbs thrown at Tigers players. But things intensified once Herzog and Fletcher directed their attention to Cobb and began ribbing him unmercifully.9 That set the stage for the second game of the series at Dallas on March 31.

  “Cobb was late arriving at the park,” Fletcher later explained. “He had been out at the country club playing golf. That in itself would have been enough to get us on him, for most of us shared McGraw’s scorn for ‘cow pasture pool,’ but when he insisted he must hit a couple of practice pitches before the game got under way [because he’d missed batting practice], he left himself wide open. We called him everything in the world and since he was hot-tempered and prideful, he naturally came back at us.”10

  “When we started the second game with them at Dallas,” Cobb told a reporter, “they commenced attacking me at once. Herzog was awfully raw, and I warned him that I would attend to his case if he did not stop using such vile language. He kept it up and I warned him again, but he persisted.11 He taunted me to the limit. Finally I retorted: ‘When I get on first, Herzog, I’m going down to second. You can depend on that.’ I got to first in the third inning and the whole Giant team, tipped off by Herzog, knew that I planned to steal on the first ball pitched. As [Ferdie] Schupp sw
ung his arm, I started for second. The throw was a pitch out. Herzog, instead of waiting on the bag to tag me as I was going in, deliberately took two steps up the line to meet me. And in doing so, Herzog trespassed on territory that belongs to the base-runner.”12

  Convinced that the thirty-one-year-old Herzog was trying to show him up, Cobb slid hard into the bag with “both feet high in the air,” according to the Dallas Morning News. His spikes caught the infielder on the left leg, above the knee, cutting him open.13 In a split second, Herzog furiously lunged at Cobb and the two scuffled in the dirt before standing, only to resume their hostilities. But Fletcher crept behind Cobb, grabbing his arms and allowed his teammate unhindered freedom to strike the Georgian. But Cobb wiggled his body, evading a punch, and slithered away from Fletcher to land a blow of his own right in the mouth of Herzog. That was just before a combination of managers, players, and police broke up the commotion.14 Umpire Bill Brennan ruled Cobb out of the game, but strangely allowed Herzog and Fletcher to remain, even though they fully participated in the fracas.

  The blame went to Cobb, and Dallas fans—about 4,000 at Gardner Park—showered him with boos, while cheering Herzog.15 Angry, frustrated, and undoubtedly wanting revenge, Cobb watched the rest of the game from the sidelines, pondering his next move. In that time, he focused his true antagonist, and it wasn’t Herzog or Fletcher. The chief instigator, he felt, was sitting on the Giants’ bench. “Believe me, John McGraw is a great deal worse than Charles Herzog,” Cobb declared.16 “He is a mucker of the lowest type. His language to me and other Detroit players during the games was unprintable. If I ever get him alone in a nice, quiet place, I shall be tempted to clean him up, but I understand he seldom moves without a bodyguard. The Detroit team will never play another series with his club. His work is too raw.”17