War on the Basepaths Read online

  Newspaper syndicate impresario Christy Walsh went out of his way to ensure that Cobb and Ruth were on his roster of “writers” covering the 1924 World Series between the Washington Senators and New York Giants.3 At first, they played their old game, refusing to communicate even though only feet separated them. At Washington, however, they found common ground when both were verbally accosted by a couple of rambunctious fans. By the time the Senators gained a victory in seven games, the two were passing each other cigars and bantering, not in a hostile way, but on friendly terms. Several newspapers boldly declared that they had buried the hatchet altogether.4 There still was plenty of room for teasing, and Cobb couldn’t resist reminding Ruth how Detroit knocked New York from first place the September before, which helped Washington secure the pennant.5

  Headed into that winter, Cobb’s future was a prime subject for discussion. He freely admitted that he was slowing up a bit, and wanted to cut back the total number of games he was to play in the upcoming season. New York Giants manager John McGraw felt the Georgian’s days were numbered and, in fact, told a reporter, “If I were Cobb, I would never again put on a uniform. Cobb is still good today, better than the average. But Cobb is a long way from the Cobb pictured in the minds of the fans. Why not let that picture stand? Why dim it by failures that are bound to come to him because of slowing down? Cobb cannot possibly improve on his record as it stands. He has won more honors than any man that ever played baseball. Nature has to be reckoned with, and Cobb has reached that stage where muscles stiffen quickly and where they respond slowly. The longer he plays the more he will hurt his record.”6

  The truth was that Cobb, amazingly, could improve on his career statistics, distancing himself as the leader of many categories from his contemporaries. There was also the little thing of finally achieving a World Series championship, a thought that never left his mind. Pitcher extraordinaire Walter Johnson won his first title in 1924 at thirty-six years of age, and, for Cobb, the added element of being a manager and leading his warriors to the top of baseball’s hierarchy was an exhilarating proposition. He had no intention of listening to the words of McGraw or anyone else. At the same time, he was working in the final year of a three-year contract valued at $40,000 annually, and while his status for 1926 was unsettled, he was fully committed to produce for Detroit through the forthcoming season.7

  Hot stove chatter regarding the Tigers was mostly negative, especially after team ownership departed the league meetings in December without a single acquisition. The club had enough reserve players to work a trade and strengthen the known weaknesses on the mound and infield. Instead, Cobb was venturing back into spring training with more inexperienced rookies up from the minors. Those circumstances weren’t ideal, and The Sporting News indicated that three of Detroit’s leading rivals, New York, St. Louis, and Washington, had sufficiently benefited from deals during the off-season.8 In comparison, Detroit wasn’t keeping pace in the highly competitive environment, making it a lot harder to churn out a winner. Cobb anticipated another year of challenges.

  Visiting a restaurant at Union Station in Atlanta on February 26 with Tigers coach George McBride, Cobb was involved in a forgettable melee that did nothing but highlight his own stubbornness. This time, however, his mulish behavior was flaunted in the face of authority—meaning an Atlanta police officer—and Cobb was subsequently arrested. The story, which received national attention, had two versions: one pieced together by a journalist based on statements from the officer and perhaps witnesses, and the other provided by Cobb himself. The reporter’s account appeared in the Atlanta Constitution, and claimed that the argument was initiated between Cobb and a waitress over a discrepancy in the check. Once the dispute grew in volume and foul language was used, the officer, W. C. Hardy, was called upon. Hardy later reported that Cobb “had been drinking,” and refused to leave the establishment when ordered.9

  The officer ended up forcibly removing him from the eatery and called a paddy wagon to take him to police headquarters on a charge of disorderly conduct. The most sensational part of the tale, aside from the assertion that Cobb had been drinking, was the allegation that an unnamed woman had smashed Cobb in the head with a heavy dish during the noisy quarrel. Such a thing never happened, according to Cobb. “The statement that I was hit over the head with a glass by the wife of the restaurant manager is preposterous,” he explained. “There was no woman concerned except the cashier.” He admitted that he was told to leave, but felt the “restaurant was a public place and that [the officer] had no right” to force him to depart when he wasn’t yet ready. He believed the patrolman wanted to get his name in the newspaper at his expense, and insisted that he didn’t resist when finally corralled outside.10

  To lessen the embarrassment, Cobb agreed to pay for a taxi to the station rather than be subjected to the back of a police wagon, and promptly paid an $11 bond to secure his release. He told a reporter, in talking about the odd affair, “I was never so humiliated,” and said that the officer involved hadn’t “heard the last of this.”11 McBride backed Cobb up on his version of events, and George Conklin, one of Ty’s Augustan neighbors, wrote to the Atlanta Constitution in defense of the ballplayer’s good name. “Ty Cobb is an orderly citizen,” the man wrote. “He is not a drunken brawler, in fact, no one in this town ever heard of him being intoxicated or under the influence of strong drink. We do not believe he was drinking or that he did any ‘cussing’ in the presence of a lady or that he acted in any other than a proper manner.”12

  Over thirty veterans and recruits trickled into Augusta for spring camp beginning in early March, and the Tigers went to work shedding their winter weight. Cobb, personally, was interested in dropping ten pounds and, during workout sessions, led by example. He was adamant that the club follow a slowly intensifying conditioning program and didn’t want his men throwing out their weakened arms during the first week of camp. Detroit benefitted greatly from optimal weather and didn’t miss a day of practice, allowing for a significant amount of improvement. Cobb was clued into the needs of his athletes, and after grievances were lodged about the food at the Richmond Hotel, where the team was staying, he moved the club to the Partridge Inn, ensuring a better quality of chow.13

  Heinie Manush presented another problem. He was peeved with a stipulation in his contract calling for a bonus only if Cobb agreed that his play warranted the money at season’s end. Manush furiously disagreed with the clause and engaged in “verbal combat” with his manager, stressing the need for its removal. He didn’t want Cobb’s opinion deciding the fate of that money, and offered to sign if the bonus hinged on a certain batting percentage. Cobb needed Manush available, and the two sides eventually agreed, but the terms were not revealed.14 With Manush in the fold and a host of others locked in, Cobb was pleased to have a good starting lineup, plus backups at every infield position. That meant, in the case of injury or slump, he could rotate between Lu Blue and Johnny Neun at first, Frank O’Rourke and Leslie Burke at second, Jackie Tavener and Topper Rigney at short, and Bobby Jones and Fred Haney at third.

  In the outfield he had Harry Heilmann in right, Red Wingo in left, and he’d play center with Manush and Bob Fothergill able to step in whenever needed. Behind the plate, Cobb relied on dependable Johnny Bassler and used Larry Woodall as a backup. Incidentally, veteran Tigers backstop Oscar Stanage was also part of the Detroit contingent as a coach. The pitching department offered another wide assortment of individuals of varying degrees of skill. George “Hooks” Dauss, at thirty-five, was just a few years younger than Cobb, and still a potent right-hander. Mainstays Earl Whitehill, Ken Holloway, Lil Stoner, and Rip Collins were surrounded by a handful of others, most notably Dutch Leonard, who returned to Detroit for nine games in 1924 after two years on the periphery of Organized Baseball. Leonard became estranged from the Tigers after a pay squabble, joining the California outlaws before clearing his name with the powers-that-be.

  The flexible options all over the diamond we
re just to Cobb’s liking, and his mind was always cooking up a strategy considering the use of all the players at his disposal. While participating in preseason exhibitions, Cobb became ill, but decided to push forth anyway, exerting himself when he should have been resting. By April 9, his condition worsened and he was battling full-fledged influenza.15 Told by doctors to scale things back, he managed from the bench five days later when the season opened at Navin Field, where 40,000 fans saw Detroit beat Chicago, 4–3. It wasn’t until April 20 that Cobb made his 1925 debut, entering a game against Cleveland as a pinch hitter in the seventh inning, and walked in a 5–4 loss. Heckled from the Indians dugout about the so-called deterioration of his vision due to old age, Cobb defiantly pointed to his eyes, ready to prove everyone wrong.16

  The Tigers were abysmal on the field in April, the losers of seven-straight, and began May in last place. A chief concern was the pitching staff, which was out of sorts mostly because of Cobb’s deliberately unrushed conditioning program in the spring, leaving many hurlers without the stamina necessary to work a complete game. Cobb didn’t have the patience for anyone not producing and, during the string of losses, benched players, rearranged the batting order, and generally turned things upside down in an attempt to get some semblance of results. His constant use of substitutions created an unbalance that hurt the club more than it helped. For instance, his first string infielders were not appearing long enough together as a singular unit to gain traction, failing to develop timing and squandering what were routine double-plays for other clubs. The topsy-turvy environment reduced confidence and, in turn, errors were commonplace.17

  Cobb joined the regulars on April 27, 1925, going to right field for the ailing Heilmann, and hit a double in his first at bat. Over the next week, he appeared superhuman on several occasions, batting 4-for-5 on May 1 and 3-for-6 on May 2 against Cleveland. He was in the mindset of trying to singlehandedly break the Tigers from their slump, performing the antiquated delayed steal at one juncture, and hoping his aggressive play would be contagious with the rest of the team. Detroit was 4–14 going into its game against the St. Louis Browns on May 5, and there wasn’t much positivity surrounding the franchise. In fact, Harry Bullion of the Detroit Free Press, usually a cheerleader for the Tigers, couldn’t contain his frustrations the day before, writing a headline that read, “Stupid Play Causes Defeat of Cobbman,” and harped on the mental mistakes that cost the team yet another agonizing loss.18

  Despite the team’s struggles, history was made by Cobb on May 5 at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis, which came in a highly unexpected fashion. According to a report by Sid Keener, a journalist who sat with the Tigers manager prior to the game, Cobb talked about Babe Ruth and the massive slugging displays the “Bambino” had put on in the past. He then said, “I’ll show you something today. I’m going for home runs for the first time in my career.”19 Cobb proceeded to hit three homers, a double, and two singles in six times to the plate—a masterful effort—and quickly labeled by experts as the greatest accomplishment of his career. As far as modern-day achievements went, he broke the total bases mark with 16 and tied the single-game home run record. The next day, Cobb added to his unparalleled streak by adding two more homers to his credits, and, in total, went 9-for-12 over the course of two days, with five round trippers and 25 bases. His batting average was up over .500 on the season and, once again, Cobb was the toast of the baseball universe.20

  The record books had to be adjusted again and, this time, Cobb went to the top of the list for home runs on consecutive days in the modern era, tying Cap Anson’s old National League mark set in 1884. Sportswriters went haywire lauding his remarkable play and words of praise and congratulations were offered via telegram from innumerable friends, including Detroit Mayor John W. Smith.21 The way Keener explained Cobb’s attitude prior to his onslaught and even the tone of Ty’s words explaining the situation in his autobiography, there was a terrific sense of individualism in his motivation. It was almost as if Cobb was out to prove something and put himself on the same plateau of slugging as Ruth.

  But, in 1925, the press expressed a more team-oriented tenor to Cobb’s work on May 5–6, which had nothing to do with individual home run achievements or proving his value as a power hitter. A journalist for the Detroit Free Press wrote that Cobb was focused on breaking the Tigers “jinx,” and had “announced his determination to do anything short of suicide” to turn the club’s losing habit around.22 Harry Bullion added, “Cobb bears his new laurels lightly. He seemed more pleased with the way his club performed in the two uprisings with the bats here.”23

  With Cobb leading the way, Detroit won both games versus St. Louis, 14–8 and 11–4, and there was widespread hope amongst Tigers fans that it was the dawn of a new day for the team as a whole.

  The Tigers didn’t win their tenth ballgame until May 19, and remained at the tail end of the league through the end of the month. Finally, Detroit launched a massive push, and won nine-straight between June 16 and 27, fighting into fourth place. At Boston on June 19, Cobb resumed his longstanding feud with Howard Ehmke, flustering the Red Sox pitcher with his excitable words from the coach’s box. Disjointed by the disruptive behavior, Ehmke balked and, in retribution, placed one high and inside when Cobb was at the plate later in the game. Ducking out of the way, Cobb naturally reacted, stepping toward the mound in a rage. Although the game resumed without a brawl, gossip circulated that Cobb and Ehmke were going to participate in an organized fight of some sort. This story was denied by both parties.24

  Perhaps ending their dispute in the ring was a better alternative than tangling nearly every time Ehmke took the mound when Detroit played Boston. They went at it again in the third inning of a game at Navin Field on July 8, after Cobb smacked a liner off the glove of first baseman Phil Todt. As Todt went after the ball, Ehmke judiciously ran over to cover the bag. Cobb, of course, doing whatever he could to reach first safely, slid hard, and one of his spikes grinded into Ehmke’s heel. The latter promptly offered a kick to the base-runner and the two were prepared to lock horns, only to have the umpire break things up.25

  Despite some optimism, Detroit was proving to be a fourth or fifth place team, and Cobb admitted that his club was overrated.26 Batting was the team’s principal bright spot, but the Tigers suffered from a sincere inability to hit in the clutch. And this wasn’t a new problem for Cobb’s athletes. The 1925 season was shaping up to be the third year in a row that Detroit led the majors in men left on base, and a total of 1,232 would ultimately be stranded.27 Regardless of how much Cobb tried to persuade his men to bunt, sacrifice, and hit scientifically to drive in runs, his players were faltering in a big way. But if the perspective was adjusted a little bit, it could be that Cobb himself was the one failing to provide the necessary leadership to mold his club into a winner. It appeared that either his players weren’t listening or he was unsuccessfully managing them.

  Cobb’s friends were undismayed by the league standings and arranged a special “Ty Cobb Day” event at Navin Field on August 29, plus a banquet that night at a ritzy Detroit hotel. Acknowledged as a celebration in honor of his twentieth anniversary in the majors, the happening was actually being commemorated during his twenty-first season. However, since he only played briefly in his first year (1905), 1925 did mark his twentieth full season in the big leagues. That afternoon, Cobb went 2-for-4 with a double, two runs, and an RBI in a 9–5 defeat of Philadelphia. An estimated 20,000 people attended the festivities, in addition to several bands, and Cobb “cheerfully” shook hands with over three hundred fans near the Detroit dugout prior to the contest.28 In the evening, he was regaled by speeches from American League President Ban Johnson, Tigers President Frank J. Navin, Philadelphia manager Connie Mack, umpire Billy Evans, and a few others.

  Mayor John W. Smith presented Cobb with a grandfather clock, a testimonial gift on behalf of the City of Detroit. To make the purchase, he actually appropriated public funds in the amount of $1,000, and sold the c
oncept to the city council by explaining, “Two names alone in Detroit history are associated with the supreme degree of achievement in their respective fields. They are those of Henry Ford and Tyrus Cobb.”29 The councilmen wholeheartedly agreed and authorized the gift. The legendary Honus Wagner, whose all-around baseball accomplishments were just as revered as Cobb’s, sent a note to be read during the banquet, stating, “I have always had great respect for Ty both as a man and as a ball player. He has been a credit to the game and his sterling work on the diamond has been the means of making many a fine young ball player.”30

  The season concluded with the Tigers finishing in fourth place, 16.5 games behind the pennant-winning Washington Senators, and in possession of an 81–73 record. Attendance at home fell off by over 190,000 patrons versus 1924 totals, and while Cobb was well regarded, fan support had clearly waned in response to the club’s struggles. In his own plight, Ty dealt with a number of issues from hip trouble to lingering pain in his lower extremities. He fought off a summer slump and was even suspended for a handful of days after a vigorous argument with umpire Clarence Rowland. At his lowest point, he even benched himself to get Heinie Manush in a game. Always searching for a way to gain an advantage, Cobb adjusted his batting stance from a crouch to a more upright position and found steady success.31 He hit .378 in 121 games, and was fifth in the majors in average. His prodigy, Harry Heilmann, won the league title with a .393 average.

  On October 7, 1925, Cobb returned to Pittsburgh for Game One of the World Series between the Pittsburgh Pirates and Washington Senators. He buried the hatchet with John McGraw and mingled with Babe Ruth again in the press box, and appeared at home plate for a photo-op with Honus Wagner and Babe Adams as recollections of the 1909 Series were shared.32 Interested in escaping the hubbub of baseball, Cobb ventured into the Northern Ontario woods to hunt moose. He ended up missing Pittsburgh’s title victory in seven games, but preferred his own achievement, bagging a moose head trophy with an antler width of more than 45 inches.33 From Canada, he ventured to Shreveport, Louisiana, in early November, to duck hunt.