War on the Basepaths Page 28
The momentum trailed off, and by the end of July, he was back in the game. But the Tigers were determined to hold down sixth place in the standings and made no serious threat to improve their position for the balance of the season. Cobb, as usual, had a few colorful moments. During a midweek contest at Navin Field on July 13, he watched as his third baseman Bobby Jones was ejected for protesting a called third strike by umpire Billy Evans. Joe Sargent was slated to replace Jones, but when he didn’t listen to Evans’ directions, he too was tossed. Cobb was livid. He yelled his displeasure and later told a reporter that the umpire had exceeded his authority by ejecting Sargent before he even had a chance to get into the action. He said Evans smugly announced, “Get out your check books; this is going to cost you some money!”35
Not ordinarily intimidated on the diamond, thirty-seven-year-old Evans was a capable fighter, and had defended himself from unruly players and patrons innumerable times since becoming an American League umpire in 1906. Mixing with Cobb, whom he respected as a ballplayer, was just another day at the office, and he wasn’t going to shy away from the harsh communication being passed back and forth on that occasion or any other. A little more than two months later, on September 24, 1921, at Washington, D.C., Cobb and Evans picked up where they left off, and had a running dialogue that would’ve made a sailor cringe. Cobb was particularly expressive after being thrown out stealing a base and the final score, 5–1, in favor of the local squad, was anything but pleasing. Jawing on the way to their respective clubhouses, Cobb and Evans agreed to meet under the grandstand to settle things up, but this time using only their fists.36
It was easy to assume that Cobb was the aggressor, but he later refuted any such claim. “I did not challenge him,” he explained in a letter to Joe Williams of the New York World-Telegram. “I have never challenged an umpire to fight.”37 In sync with other controversial moments from Cobb’s career, his scrap with Evans became legendary, but was marred by poetic sportswriters looking for more melodrama than accuracy. He was often portrayed as a sadistic gladiator, provoking fights because he got a kick out of it. But in this case, Evans was the instigator, and acknowledged it himself: “I challenged Cobb and there was nothing else he could do but accept.”38
Agreeing beforehand to what was essentially a no rules brawl, the player and umpire matched up and as many as fifty people watched the “savage” encounter unfold. The fight consisted of wild punches, a modicum of wrestling, and a furious effort put forth by both individuals to gain the upper hand. According to the Washington Evening Star, a total of eight wallops successfully landed, and at the point in which the fight was halted, Cobb was in charge.39 Blood spilled from a cut to Evans’ lip, and after cleaning up, Evans went directly to the Tigers clubhouse and apologized. “I liked him so much for that that I wished our quarrel had never happened,” Cobb explained. “In fact, it should never have happened, because my respect for him was so great.”40
Cobb silenced his critics by regaining his batting form in 1921, and his only competition in the race for league honors came from fellow Tiger Harry Heilmann. Heilmann, a product of San Francisco, had been with Detroit since 1914 and was one of the most talented athletes in the game. Standing 6’1” and weighing more than 190 pounds, he was a natural slugger with an exceptional eye at the plate. Baseball biographers have long scrutinized the relationship of Cobb and Heilmann and emphasized a break in their relations after the latter was designated the 1921 batting champion with a .394 average to Cobb’s .389.41 They offered the theory that Cobb was bitter about losing the title and employed his old trick of not speaking to his right fielder in a display of childish anger.
As was well known, Cobb’s will to be number one in everything was a key personality trait, and he was undoubtedly disappointed in placing second for the batting championship. But with regard to Heilmann, he didn’t appear hostile, at least publicly. He lauded his outfielder, telling a reporter that Heilmann stood next to Nap Lajoie as the best right-handed batter he ever saw perform. “From the start of the recent season, he took the lead, and, excepting one day, he never lost it,” Cobb explained. “He consistently kept his average above the .400 mark all the way, and his work didn’t show a flash in the pan at any time.”42 Heilmann also had good things to say about his manager, declaring, “Whatever success I attain as a ball player, in the game and financially, I owe it to Ty Cobb.” He specifically attributed his upswing in hitting, beginning in 1921, to the mentorship offered by the Georgian.43
On a personal note, Cobb missed three games in June because he hurried to the bedside of his sick grandmother, Sarah Ann, in Cherokee County, North Carolina. The eighty-three year old was the matriarch of the Cobb clan, and was hugely influential in Ty’s life. Throughout his childhood, he spent many summers with his father’s parents in the western mountains of North Carolina, and the wonderful visits were indelibly etched in his mind. He always held his grandmother in the highest esteem. She was wise, perceptive, and, as a “header,” able to brew homemade concoctions to cure just about any kind of ailment. Cobb said that she possessed “one of the most remarkable minds, if not the most remarkable,” he ever came into contact with, and that he “never knew another woman like her.”44 Sarah succumbed to her illness on October 4, 1921.45
Another significant family-related event occurred midseason for Ty, as he and his wife welcomed a new baby son, James Howell, on July 24. In the wake of a difficult delivery, Charlie’s health was of serious concern and Ty rushed home to Augusta to tend to his wife. Many years later, his oldest daughter, Shirley, revealed to biographer Don Rhodes that Charlie suffered “eight miscarriages” in her lifetime and “wasn’t supposed to have any children” after her birth in 1911.46 Fortunately, her condition improved following the arrival of James, their fifth offspring, and he would be their final child.
The Tigers ended 1921 in sixth place with a 71–82 record, 27 games behind the pennant-winning Yankees. New York, led by Babe Ruth’s amazing 59 home runs, ultimately lost the World Series to their cross-town rivals, the New York Giants. Shortly following the season finale in early October, Cobb went to San Francisco to manage a local club for the California Winter League, seemingly building upon his experiences from the prior year. Heading up the three other squads were baseball luminaries Harry Heilmann (Mission district of San Francisco), George Sisler (Vernon), and National League batting champion Rogers Hornsby (Los Angeles). While the four headliners were likely guaranteed sums at or around $10,000 apiece, the league itself was a financial bomb, and moneymen lost upwards of $40,000.47
Poor attendance and bad weather were a detriment, but Cobb made his presence felt on and off the field. Community leaders asked him to attend social events such as the Knights of Columbus gala at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. He was called to make a speech, and Cobb preached clean living and regaled the audience with stories about his big league experiences.48 On the diamond, his San Francisco team was less than successful, and finished last with a 21–29 record. Individually, he batted around .400 and his tenure on the coast included a spiking of catcher Sam Agnew and a ferocious verbal exchange with umpire Bill Phyle, leading to a forfeit, and a $150 fine, the largest penalty of that kind in his career.49 During a game in Los Angeles, he chided a few obnoxious bleacher bums and welcomed any one of them to come down and speak with him personally about their criticisms. None responded favorably to the challenge.50
Already engaged in making preparations for spring training, Cobb moved camp from San Antonio to his hometown, Augusta, Georgia, and began searching for a private home to house his players. He wanted better accommodations than a hotel, improved meals, and quieter surroundings. Two colonial mansions across the Savannah River in North Augusta, South Carolina, filled the bill, and Cobb arranged to rent the structures in January 1922.51 Warren Park in Augusta, additionally, was a much better training ground than what was available in San Antonio, and Cobb believed his team was going to be much better prepared for the upcoming campaign ba
sed on that fact.
Trade talks were commonplace in the winter months and Cobb sought a replacement for shortstop Donie Bush, who was placed on waivers in August and picked up by the Washington Senators. Cobb inquired about infielders Joe Dugan and Everett Scott, and Bobby Veach’s name came up as a pawn in a possible swap. But because of Veach’s value, Cobb wanted equal talent in any kind of trade. When nothing panned out, the Tigers embraced the combo of second baseman George Cutshaw, a ten-year veteran of the National League, recently picked off waivers from Pittsburgh, and rookie shortstop Topper Rigney of the Texas League. Cobb also convinced Detroit President Frank Navin to invest heavily in two pitching prospects from the Pacific Coast League, Herman Pillette and Sylvester Johnson.52
California infielder Fred Haney was another addition, joining Detroit by way of Omaha of the Western League. However, the loss of pitcher Dutch Leonard over a salary squabble offset any major gains, and left the rotation weak. Howard Ehmke, the team’s other top hurler, was again at odds with Cobb and requested a trade, only to be rejected.53 The few problems in camp were manageable, and Cobb’s “merciful” training regimen was arranged to properly eradicate winter sluggishness. He told his players to work into form slowly, warning of injuries if pushed too hard, too soon.54 At a Rotary Club barbecue on March 14, with Baseball Commissioner Judge K. M. Landis in attendance, Cobb was praised by his Augusta neighbors, and was touched when the body, in unison, sang their song, “My Hero.”55
A series against George Stallings’ Rochester franchise of the International League was launched in March, and, like Detroit’s tours with Boston in 1919–20, was booked by Walter Hapgood. Hapgood was known for scheduling games in small towns on shoddy fields and he lived up to his reputation. The diamonds were dangerously substandard and accommodations were repugnant. On the first day of the torturous journey, Cobb became sick and bowed out. But his men were forced to continue on and team morale was hurt considerably. On April 4 at Americus, Georgia, Cobb was back in the lineup, and, in trying to help his team, suffered serious injuries sliding into second base. He badly twisted his right knee and ankle, and the demoralizing news highlighted the overall insignificance of the Hapgood tour.56 No exhibition money was worth the loss of a player like Cobb.
Hobbled and in need of a cane to walk, Cobb was nixed from the opening day game at Cleveland on April 12, 1922. He did try to lend his bat for the cause in a brief pinch hitting role, but was unsuccessful. Not counting the home opener on April 20, which he struggled to participate in for the benefit of fans and a handful of pinch hitter appearances, Cobb missed nine games in April and was batting under his weight by the end of the month. On April 30, he was shut down, like the rest of his teammates, by twenty-six-year-old Charlie Robertson of the White Sox on a historic afternoon at Navin Field. In an epic display of mastery, Robertson threw baseball’s fifth perfect game, turning Cobb and his Tigers away one at a time until twenty-seven batters had dejectedly returned to the bench. Sportswriter Harry Bullion said that Detroit was, simply, “helpless.”57
Cobb was “crazy” during the contest, according to Sox captain Eddie Collins. He rampaged back and forth, calling for inspections of the ball by the umpire crew, and assumed Robertson was doctoring the ball in some way. Not only were innumerable balls checked and rechecked, but efforts were made to examine the pitcher’s uniform as well, all in the hopes of locating evidence of trickery. Collins explained that Cobb also slid hard into first base, trying to knock the ball from Earl Sheely’s grip. The tactics didn’t work and Robertson’s invincibility was sustained at the end of the 2–0 game. “[Detroit] tore our clubhouse to pieces that night trying to find what he had done to the ball, but they never found anything,” Collins said.58
Despite losing the first six games of the season and seven-straight to close 1921, plus the perfect game pitched against them, Cobb was still optimistic. He felt his players were maturing quickly into a well-oiled machine—and he was right. The Tigers swept Boston and took three of four from the Yankees on the road in May, and went from last place to third. Cobb’s dramatic arguments with umpires, his precise management style, and willingness to do whatever it took to win was spreading like wildfire throughout the roster, and players who were normally passive were battling for every inch. George Chadwick, a syndicated baseball writer, called the Tigers the “sensation of both leagues,” and said that Cobb’s fighters were proving everyone wrong by doing exactly what pundits said couldn’t be done in Detroit. They were getting timely pitching, strong fielding, and, of course, top-notch hitting up and down the lineup.59
Cobb’s batting average shot from .176 on May 1 to .389 on May 7, helped by a 5-for–5 showing on the latter date. St. Louis fans on May 29 were treated to a rare exhibition of Cobb’s offbeat shenanigans as he yelled passionately at the umpires for repeated transgressions. He crossed the line by stepping on umpire Frank Wilson’s foot, was ejected, and suspended for five games by American League President Ban Johnson. The punishment was excessive, Harry Bullion believed, especially when compared to Babe Ruth’s one-day suspension for throwing dirt at an umpire and running into the stands in chase of a fan at the Polo Grounds on May 25.60 A New Orleans States editorial equated Ruth’s actions to “hoodlumism” and the Tampa Tribune added that the Babe was temperamental, “like all great stars.”61
But questions had to be asked: Was there a double-standard in baseball? Were Johnson and Judge Landis applying one set of laws for their top star, Ruth, and another for everyone else? What kind of punishment would have been levied on Cobb had he thrown dirt into the face of an umpire and again stampeded into the crowd? These were all logical queries, and Bullion was right to compare the two suspensions. However, there was another fact that had to be taken into consideration. Ruth had just come off a thirty-nine-day suspension for barnstorming during off the off-season, easily demonstrating that officials were not pampering the home run king. In fact, Johnson fined Ruth $200 for his rowdy actions at the Polo Grounds and stripped him of his Yankees team captaincy.62
The suspensions of Cobb and Heilmann, who was also punished for his actions in the disorderly St. Louis game, and the illness of Lu Blue temporarily halted the team’s momentum. Bouncing between third and fifth place in July and August, the Tigers were in desperate need of a reliable pitcher to push them over the hump. At the plate, Cobb had a superb July, achieving five hits in each of three different contests, and his average was comfortably over .400.63 He enjoyed a 16-game hit streak into early August and briefly overtook George Sisler at the top of the league rankings. Sisler, though, was having a career year and didn’t fade far from the lead. The press followed every point gained and lost by the two competitors in the clash and displayed amazement at Cobb’s perseverance in his eighteenth big league season.
Tempers flared in New York on August 16, 1922, when Yankees hurler Carl Mays was blamed for throwing a little too close to Bobby Jones, high and inside, with two outs in the ninth. Cobb protested to the umpire, and then went out to jaw at Mays near the mound. The tension was too much for Mays and he gave up a three-run homer to Jones soon thereafter and lost the game, 7–3.64 The next afternoon, Cobb had words for Babe Ruth, in what the Detroit Free Press called “strong repartee.”65 Notably, Ruth’s 1922 figures were down compared to the year prior, but no one could really complain that a .315 average and 35 home runs were overly disappointing.
On September 17, Sisler attained a hit in his 41-straight game, breaking a mark set by Cobb in 1911, and, in keeping with the spirit of good sportsmanship, Cobb sent his friendly rival a telegram of congratulations.66 Sisler went on to win the batting championship, his .420 average beating out Cobb’s .401, and it marked the third and final time Ty would bat over .400 in his career. With the Tigers finishing in third place, unable to touch the Yankees or St. Louis, Cobb started looking toward 1923.67 He was making no promises, but planned for better results in the upcoming year, hoping for team unity and success. Time and again, he proved that individualism
was out the window. After one particular hitless afternoon earlier in the season, he told a reporter, “What do I care? We won the game!”68
14
THE FIGHTING SPIRIT
Approaching his nineteenth major league season in 1923, Ty Cobb was still in a fighting frame of mind. He was fully engaged in managing the Tigers, accepting the positives and pitfalls of the complicated vocation, and was ever determined to winning a pennant that had long eluded him. On a personal level, he was facing the reality of advancing age and his body wasn’t bouncing back from the wear and tear as easily as it had in the past. That was a basic truth in the life of a professional athlete, and even the most talented players were confronted by the factor of deterioration. For Cobb, he had expressed his desire to leave the game on top, and the thought of being forced off the diamond because of diminished skill was terrifying. He wouldn’t stand for it. To fight the inevitable, he continued his extraordinary commitment to conditioning to keep his decline at bay.
But regardless of his mental strength and dedication to training, he was suffering the loss of a step here and there, particularly when it came to his speed. His nine stolen bases in 1922 were the lowest of his career, not counting his abbreviated first season, and he was thrown out on the basepaths thirteen times. In fact, of the 897 stolen bases he’d achieve, 815 were already pilfered by the end of 1922. Cobb’s high velocity running and clever sliding had always been the cornerstone of his repertoire, and his steady progression away from the speedster he once embodied was clearly visible to the public. Sportswriters and fans who’d witnessed the madcap methods of his prime were quick to recite stories of amazing exploits that simply didn’t appear possible in the realm of baseball. Somehow Cobb legitimized the off-the-wall concepts and turned the sport on its head.