War on the Basepaths Page 30
The underwhelming condition of the Tigers was less than pleasing to Cobb, and he put his men through a couple lengthy practice sessions with the hope of shaking off any listlessness prior to the season opener at the St. Louis Browns on April 18. Detroit managed to pull it together in the campaign debut, slamming out 15 hits and getting timely pitching from Ray Francis in a 9–6 victory.35 The team repudiated claims that the offense was in disarray by taking three of four from the Browns, and closing the series out with a 16–1 blowout on April 21. The club streaked to win eight of ten into early May, powering into first place, and the previously established pitching problems were almost nonexistent. Fans in Detroit were ecstatic by the showing, and with capacity increased at Navin Field due to a new upper deck on the grandstand, crowds grew to over 40,000.
Despite the support, the Tigers endured a poor home-stand in May and slipped to fourth. Howard Ehmke and Boston delivered a loss during their slump on May 18, and the ex-Tiger wasn’t in a forgiving mood. He clearly remembered all of his difficulties in Detroit and renewed hostilities by dinging Cobb with a pitch in the seventh inning.36 Cobb insisted it was purposeful, and Ehmke didn’t deny it. After the game, the dispute bubbled over into what The Sporting News called a “fistic argument,” and Ty was credited with “a couple of knockdowns.” He was said to have had the “better of matters” at the conclusion of the fight, as players separated the combatants.37 Their feud was far from over, and in fact, Ehmke made an ugly accusation, alleging that his issues with Cobb originated because he wouldn’t “dust off” or hit batters when directed to from the bench.38 Essentially, Cobb was being charged with dirty ball.
The player harmony that Cobb once bragged about was rapidly disappearing and journalists were citing dissension in the ranks. Writers, relying on so-called insider reports, revealed a brewing anger by the men toward Cobb for his verbal abuse. One particular story claimed Cobb fought with his 230-pound outfielder, Bob Fothergill, and the result “was not just to the liking of the manager.”39 The team chemistry was off, pitchers were overworked, veterans were struggling, and Cobb was at a loss to fix the mounting crisis. Justifiably, a failure to be competitive was the fault of leadership and fans in Detroit let him know their disapproval in June, booing Cobb with a passion.40
The lack of roster stability was a significant hindrance and Cobb was forced to make a slew of adjustments to make up for inept performances. Even more disruptive to the club’s success were the injuries to Bobby Jones, Topper Rigney, and Lu Blue, and it seemed that Cobb was lost in a never-ending search for a steady combination. On July 7, the Tigers were slated for a doubleheader against Philadelphia, and Cobb was, once again, very willing to throw a few punches in defense of his honor. The situation developed in the eighth inning of the second game when Cobb, working to advance to third on a sacrifice, spiked Harry Riconda sliding into the bag. Riconda threw the first punch and Cobb retaliated, but before their brawl could escalate any further, umpires broke things up. Cobb had the last laugh as the Tigers won both games and briefly solidified third place.41
Later in the month, Cobb went out with a back and shoulder strain, believed to be connected to an old injury, and received treatment from an osteopathic doctor. He was on the sidelines for a doubleheader in Chicago on July 24, 1923, and watched Rip Collins get roughed up for three hits and two runs in the first inning. The Tigers rallied in the second, scoring two runs, and Collins readied himself for his turn at the plate. However, Cobb was already peeved by Collins’ sloppiness on the mound, and dashed from the first baseline—where he was coaching—back to the dugout, calling for the pitcher to return to the bench at the same time. Cobb tore off his sweater and seized a bat, and it was clear that in spite of his ailed condition, he was heading into the game as a pinch hitter. But that’s when things really got interesting.
In rare form, Cobb gestured with his bat at the pitcher and said a few taunting words. He then brazenly waved to the outfielders, motioning them to move back toward the Comiskey Park wall to handle what he was about to serve up, and sportswriter H. G. Salsinger called it the “finest physical demonstration of confidence we have seen.” Cobb was feeling absolutely invincible, and let the pitcher and defense know that something special was about to happen. And it did. He tripled to left center, scoring a run in the process.42 Historically, this was the closest Cobb would ever get to the splendor of Babe Ruth’s legendary called shot, nine years before the “Bambino” pointed to centerfield and homered to the same location. Cobb wasn’t a home run hitter, nor was this a moment of reckoning akin to Ruth’s famous feat, but it was one of the finest displays of self-assuredness Ty had ever exhibited.
Rebounding, the Tigers fought to stay within arms reach of third place and began to win the type of close games they were losing earlier in the season. In the home stretch, Detroit moved into second and won 11 of their final 13 games to beat out Cleveland for the coveted runner-up spot, finishing with an 83–71 record.43 Second place was a proud accomplishment for Cobb, his players, and the City of Detroit, but in the overall race, the Tigers were 16 games behind the pennant-winning Yankees. New York’s team was far too superior for the rest of the league and went on to beat the New York Giants in the World Series, four games to two.
The ironical story of the year involved Cobb and Ray Francis, the fiery pitcher he so direly wanted to bring to the Tigers after mixing with him the season prior. Cobb was jovial that he was able to obtain him in a trade for a lesser caliber player and truly felt he made out like a bandit in the deal.44 Clark Griffith of the Senators was just as contented with the departure of Francis, and didn’t see a future for the left-hander. By late May 1923, the shine was off Cobb’s hopeful, and the manager was provoked to not only suspend Francis, but issue a $400 fine for “breaking training rules.”45 Cobb was less happy by the work of Francis in September, and during a game at Cleveland, the two volatile personalities exploded into combat on the Tigers bench. Each landed a blow before players and police interrupted in what undoubtedly would have been a brutal scrap.46 Cobb wanted a fighter and he got one, but unfortunately for him, Francis’s aggression was directed internally at his own manager and not oppositional hitters.47
As expected, Cobb surpassed Honus Wagner to become the all-time hits leader, breaking the record of 3,430 on September 20, 1923, at Fenway Park in Boston.48 Another of Wagner’s records fell when Cobb achieved his eighteenth-straight season with a .300 or better average, and his .340 was more than adequate to cinch that honor. In November, Cobb drew the attention of writers by declaring, “After next year I guess I’ll quit baseball. They’ve been telling me for so long that I’m old that I’m beginning to believe it.”49 He backtracked from that notion a short time later, reiterating his anxiousness to win a championship as manager. He told syndicated columnist John B. Foster that capturing a title would wrap up his career “nicely,” but, in trying to strengthen the Tigers, he was having a tough time finding a suitable second baseman.
“Give me a second baseman who can play, and I’ll give the Yanks a fight they won’t forget!” Cobb proclaimed with confidence.50 Pitching still remained a question, and the inability of Rip Collins and Herman Pillette to play consistent ball were a detriment.51 But the showings of George Dauss, Bert Cole, and Sylvester Johnson were definite positives, and Cobb planned to test a number of recruits at spring camp in Augusta, intending to bolster his rotation. Many pundits weren’t surprised to hear that Bobby Veach, a twelve-year veteran of the Tigers, was sold to the Boston Red Sox in January 1924. Detroit’s outfield was the least of Cobb’s problems, and the recent purchase of left fielder Al “Red” Wingo from Toronto of the International League added yet another powerful youngster to the roster.52
Over the winter, Cobb did plenty of hunting, first in Canada with Dan Howley and well-known conservationist Jack Miner as their guide, and then throughout the Southeast. His work as manager was never done, though, and many preparations for spring training had to be made. Foremost, he needed
to straighten out an accommodation plan for the Tigers, and Cobb decided that rather than renting private houses like he had the previous two years, he’d book the newly constructed Richmond Hotel in Augusta. The elegant structure began receiving Detroit upstarts in late February, and twenty-year-old Charlie Gehringer of Fowlerville, Michigan, a small town 57 miles northwest of Detroit, was one of the first to arrive.53 Being that he was a second baseman with incredible potential, his progression in camp was going to be watched with great interest.
In excess of thirty-five athletes ventured to Augusta, looking for a regular berth on the club, and Cobb closely scrutinized each of them. Of the eleven pitchers available, left-hander Earl Whitehill was a standout. He had debuted for the club in late 1923, and appeared in 33 innings over eight games. Right-hander Lil Stoner was another up-and-comer, and was making his return to Detroit after 17 showings in 1922. He spent the year prior in the Texas League, and the added experience convinced Cobb he was major league ready. There were a few other prospects, joining old faces George Dauss, Rip Collins, Ken Holloway, and the rest, and Cobb wanted his hurlers to improve upon the combined 4.09 ERA achieved in 1923.
Unfortunately for Cobb, the plight of the infield never ceased. This was realized when Topper Rigney was forced to break from camp early to visit the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, for a thorough examination of his injured hip.54 Doctors luckily didn’t find a serious cause for concern, and Rigney was able to resume his important role as shortstop. The Tigers plodded through preseason games against Toronto and Cincinnati, and were in pretty good condition entering the campaign opener at home versus Cleveland on April 15, 1924. Plugging the hole at second base was Del Pratt, who had been seen as expendable, but delivered in spring exhibitions and remained with the team. As for Gehringer, he possessed surefire inborn talent, but was “green to a fault,” according to the Detroit Free Press, and Cobb sent him to London of the Michigan-Ontario League for development.55
Detroit set off on the right foot, defeating the Indians in the opener, 4–3, before over 30,000 spectators. Local fan support was at the highest level it had ever been, and 1924 would present club owners with its first total attendance of over one million. Cobb was enthusiastic and showed amazing pep, stealing home twice in April and batting over .400 for the month. Sportswriters, in reporting on his daily exploits, reminded readers that he was playing his twentieth season in the big leagues, and some of his feats would have been extraordinary for a man in his prime. On May 10, he was regaled by friends in Congress in Washington, D.C., and honored for his “outstanding example as a good citizen and good sportsman” on the field and in a special party that night.56
In a very Ty Cobb-like fashion, it only took a few days for an incident to occur, drawing into question—at least in some minds—his badge of “good citizen.” At Shibe Park in Philadelphia, prior to a game on May 16, he left the clubhouse in search of a telephone under the grandstand. There, he located a set of phone booths, but only one was in operation with the other being occupied. Determined to make his call, Cobb waited for the man to leave, and as he did, the two spoke briefly. According to Harry Bullion of the Detroit Free Press, the conversation was innocuous, and Ty “was not the aggressor.” In fact, Bullion claimed Cobb was sucker punched behind his right ear as he walked forward into the booth.57 S. O. Grauley, in the Philadelphia Inquirer, noted that Cobb made a “remark” as the two passed, and the man, an African American, was insulted by Cobb’s words. His comment prompted the initial blow and kick-started their fight.58
Both versions of the story said that Cobb unleashed a barrage of punches and “dropped” his foe in quick time. He likely proceeded to make his call, and later entered the ballgame, going 1-for-4 against the Athletics in a 3–1 victory. The African American’s name was not revealed, and his side of the story was seemingly not recorded. W. Rollo Wilson of the Pittsburgh Courier added more details to the tale, claiming that Cobb struck the man first, and that the latter, who worked at the park, was fired after officials heard Ty’s explanation of events. Wilson called Cobb an “insufferable cracker,” and said: “For all of his education and training, he is even worse than Shoeless Joe Jackson and Shufflin’ Phil Douglas, both members of the United Order of Hillbillies. He is just as much a disgrace to our national game as those White Sox who sold out to the gamblers in 1919.”59
For most of the summer, Detroit lingered between first and third place in a consistent battle with the Yankees and Senators for the top spot. Emotions were riding high as New York appeared at Navin Field for a June series and captured three of four games. On June 13, the vitriolic tempers were unable to be contained and all hell broke loose. Babe Ruth was blamed by the Detroit press for sparking things when he strong-armed Bert Cole in the seventh inning during a play at first base. It was alleged that Cobb directed Cole to throw at both Ruth and Bob Meusel in the ninth inning as retribution, but only Meusel was hit by a pitch. And immediately after being nailed, Meusel started toward the mound. Not wasting a second, Cobb ran from centerfield with Ruth heading him off. Their years of “smack” talk were about to culminate in a battle for the ages, but officials and police prevented a single punch from being thrown. The long awaited fight between baseball’s top two superstars was delayed once again.60
Cobb denied telling his pitcher to “dust off” any of the Yankees players. He challenged Meusel to a fight under the grandstand after the game. Meusel was prepared to fight Cobb, but was stopped by his manager, Miller Huggins. The Yankees were given the game by forfeit after Detroit patrons overloaded the field and prevented the game from continuing. Cole and Meusel were both later suspended for their actions.61
Winning hard-fought ballgames, Detroit gained significant momentum and Cobb’s crew of pitchers, including Earl Whitehill, Rip Collins, Lil Stoner, and newly designated reliever George “Hooks” Dauss, were performing admirably. The Tigers fought their way into first a number of times in June and July, but by August, Detroit was losing steam. They fell five games out by August 29, and although the team rested comfortably in third, Cobb’s “Tygers” were unable to reemerge as a contender. They did win seven of nine to close out the season, and finished with an 86–68 record. The Washington Senators, with Walter Johnson leading the way, beat out the Yankees down the stretch and won the American League title. Shortly thereafter, they also conquered the New York Giants to win the World Series in seven games.
In 1924, Cobb was indestructible. He appeared in 155 games—his most since 1915—and set personal records for plate appearances (727) and at-bats (625) in a single season. He batted .338, garnered 211 hits, and stole 23 bases, which was firm evidence that he was still to be reckoned with on the diamond, even with twenty years in the business. His legs were functioning, his eyes and timing were on target, and there was no reason for him to step away from an active part in the game any time soon. Plus, as the recent season demonstrated, Cobb was full of vim and vigor, and retained the same world-class fighting spirit that made him famous.
15
FADING FROM CONTENTION
Of all the relationships Ty Cobb enjoyed over the course of his baseball career, few were more persistently turbulent than his association with Babe Ruth. Their on-field confrontations of previous years were incredible fodder for sportswriters and nary could an article be written on the state of baseball without mentioning their latest achievements. Animated games featuring Detroit and New York always left open the possibility of a run-in between the superstars, and they were consciously aware of the other’s presence at all times. They feuded vocally on occasion, and Cobb, as it was known (and to no surprise), was the louder instigator. It often did not take much for his barbs to reel Ruth in and draw his complete and total ire. That was his primary goal, and if his words were able to fluster “The Great Bambino,” hindering his performance on the diamond in any way, Cobb was thoroughly pleased.
Being two of the most recognizable names and faces in the game, Cobb and Ruth had certain public re
sponsibilities, and sometimes they were summoned to appear at the same event. It usually was an awkward situation, with both men refusing to speak to one another and averting their eyes to avoid contact. On May 12, 1923, such an incident occurred at Navin Field in Detroit, as Cobb and Ruth stood on a special platform over home plate to help celebrate the annual “College Day.” Joined by Baseball Commissioner Judge Kenesaw M. Landis and famed football coach Walter Camp (known as the “Father of American Football”), the duo were to partake in a lighthearted college skit, which was expected to delight the crowd. A reporter for the Detroit News, who was paying specific attention to Ruth, seemed to think the latter was wholly annoyed by the shenanigans, writing that he “favored the announcements with nothing but inattention.”1
Cobb and Ruth were given honorary degrees and went through the motions of the ceremony. At one point, they were asked to grab hold of opposite sides of a cloth banner that read 1923 across the front, and then raise it up for the enthusiastic spectators. The journalist on hand wasn’t any more convinced that the home run king was taking pleasure from his surroundings, and wrote, “Mr. Ruth showed a deplorably listless attitude.” The Yankee, in a culmination of his participation on the makeshift stage, literally yanked most of the cloth from the hands of Cobb in what only can be imagined was an improvised tug-of-war.2 To the joyous recent graduates and alumni in the audience, the bitterness displayed by the ballplayers was puzzling. But the underlying atmosphere was thick with tension and neither wanted to be that close to their natural adversary.