War on the Basepaths Read online

  A certain amount of irony existed in Cobb’s signing with the Athletics. Billy Evans, the longtime umpire and writer, recalled that some of his greatest battles were against Philadelphia and, in a syndicated article, referenced his infamous spiking of Home Run Baker. Philadelphia was also the scene of immense fan demonstrations against Cobb and where death threats were levied, making it mandatory for special police units to guard the player from bodily harm. He had fond moments in the city as well. One of the most personal occurred on June 12, 1915, when he was warmly honored by Philadelphia fans during an on-field ceremony organized by the Masons and given an expensive double-barreled hammerless shotgun.39 Cobb knew the fans were a loyal bunch, and gaining their favor earlier in his career had been a chore, but now that he was in the fold, things were going to be much different.

  Feeling physically good and motivated to “show the public that [he could] still reach dizzy heights in baseball,” he joined the Athletics at their Fort Myers, Florida, camp on March 7, 1927.40 Mack’s club featured a striking mixture of youthful talent and veterans, and Cobb, Eddie Collins, Zach Wheat, and Jack Quinn, each hovering around the forty-year-old mark, made-up the senior contingent. Adding the experience of Mack and the wisdom of coach Kid Gleason, Philadelphia was privy to an unparalleled baseball intellect. Cobb acquainted himself with the players he didn’t already know, worked with the rookies, and bonded with his new roommate, outfielder Al Simmons. In just three seasons, Simmons had displayed the makings of a superstar, and would glean much from Cobb’s teachings.41

  The press jumped on the story of Cobb’s ejection at St. Petersburg on March 17 for aggravating umpire Frank Wilson in the fourth inning of an exhibition against the Boston Braves, and affirmed that he was up to his old, rebellious tricks.42 And Cobb certainly was. He was doing what he always had, shouting disparaging remarks at opposing players from the dugout and employing psychological warfare. Interestingly, even though he was in full rebel mode, he refrained from showing any sign of dissension toward Mack, and completely trusted the latter’s leadership. He was in his twenty-third year of major league ball and had been a manager himself, but still didn’t second-guess Mack for a second. His respect for him was too great. The 1927 season opened with Cobb in right field at New York on April 12 before a massive crowd of 60,000, but Philadelphia was turned back, 8–3.

  Cobb got off to a flying start, doing everything imaginable to prove his critics wrong. He was batting at a terrific clip and amazingly stole home twice in April, both within a week’s time. Sportswriter James C. Isaminger wrote that Ty was playing “as if he shed ten years.”43 Despite the perception that he was quick to temper, Cobb displayed a mellower personality on the field. In a game against Washington at Shibe Park, an obnoxious fan got on his case, recklessly shouting from the crowd. Unhesitant, Cobb was ready to interact with the spectator, but rather than issuing a challenge to fight, he asked, “Do you think it is fair to yell at us in such a manner when we are trying our best to bring a pennant to Philadelphia? What have we done to deserve it? Give us encouragement and not abuse.” The man was humbled by Cobb’s mild-mannered and logical response. He walked down, apologized and shook the player’s hand.44

  While Cobb was doing his best to keep his temper in check, journalists weren’t buying the composed Cobb in any shape or form. For them, he’d forever be the maniacal madman of the basepaths, and the spin surrounding an incident on May 5 at Philadelphia highlighted the kind of sensationalism that normally followed him. In that game, he drove a ball over the right-field fence in the eighth inning, seemingly tying the game at three apiece against Boston. Umpire Red Ormsby decided that the ball had veered foul and called Cobb back to the plate to continue his at bat. The audience reacted loudly and Simmons’ wordy protest earned him a first class ticket to the clubhouse. Cobb was surprisingly calm in the matter and returned to the box, where he “accidentally” brushed against Ormsby. The latter deemed the move hostile and ejected him.45 The national press painted the story as yet another of Cobb’s long line of rowdy shenanigans, claiming that Ty had incited thousands of Philadelphia fans to riot. Cobb denied all of it and felt the entire tale was “grossly over colored” for effect.46

  Upon his return to Detroit on May 10, Cobb was roundly welcomed and honored with a special luncheon, an on-field ceremony, and dinner. Over 27,000 fans turned out for a weekday game at Navin Field to pay tribute, and Cobb was given several nice gifts, including an automobile. He told the audience at the luncheon that he was moved by their show of affection. “I am grateful to all of you,” he explained. “I am out today in another uniform, but I can’t work up that competitive spirit against Detroit. You can’t be sold on a town and its people for twenty-two years and then go against them in a competitive way all of a sudden. I have only friendship and gratitude in my heart for the Detroit players and the Detroit fans.”47

  Cobb was enjoying a remarkable run, hitting safely in 21-straight games in May, and briefly pushed his batting average over .400. A Philadelphia writer noted that Detroit regretted his departure, stating, “The Michigan city never realized just how great he was until they let go of him. Now they know he can never be replaced.”48 It was appropriate, though, that Detroit fans were witnesses to the history he made on July 18, 1927, when he became the first major leaguer in history to achieve 4,000 career hits.49 A few days later in Cleveland, he flashed great agility in working the delayed steal in the sixth inning. After the catcher mistakenly threw the ball into centerfield, Cobb raced to third in a full stride with no intention of stopping. In a glimpse of the Cobb of old, he rounded the bag, and with the ball sailing in from the outfield, slid safely underneath the tag to score.50

  The season wasn’t always picturesque, and Cobb sustained a handful of injuries. The worst was a severe charley horse, suffered during an exhibition at Buffalo in early May. He slumped at times and New York sportswriter Joe Vila offered an unsubstantiated report that he had been “playing for an individual record,” and not for the team. Vila was sure that he wouldn’t play for Mack in 1928.51 As a club, the Athletics were one of the hottest teams in baseball during the second half, and ordinarily, the kind of play Philadelphia demonstrated would have been enough to win a pennant. But the Yankees were even hotter. Led by Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Waite Hoyt, New York sauntered to a league title and then won the World Series over the Pittsburgh Pirates in four-straight games. The A’s finished with a 91–63 record, good for second place, and were 19 games behind the Yankees.

  With permission from management, and since the pennant race was decided, Cobb broke from the team early on September 21 to attend his annual expedition to Wyoming. Before he left, he told reporters that Mack had invited him to return in 1928 at the same salary, but he declined to make any decisions.52 However, upon his homecoming to Philadelphia following his western hunting jaunt, Mack informed him of his release on November 2. Facing a downturn in attendance, the Athletics were economizing, and Cobb’s tremendous paycheck was too much of a burden. Mack was not happy about the decision, telling him, “Ty, you meant a whole lot of us, and I am sorry that you will not be with us again. Your aid to us cannot be exaggerated.”53 Cobb accepted the news with dignity, and embraced the thought of spending more time with family. “I am still a young man in everything except baseball,” the forty-year-old said. “What I will do in the future is something I cannot tell.”54

  Charlie Cobb was “glad” about her husband’s imminent retirement, and the couple talked about a sightseeing trip to Europe. Over the subsequent weeks and months, Ty remained busy, and rumors sprouted up connecting him to the Atlanta minor league franchise, much like they had in late 1926. After the first of the year, Mack revealed his change of heart and wanted Cobb back. The two exchanged correspondence, and although Cobb told the newspapers he wanted to leave baseball behind, he was swayed by Mack’s “kind persistence.”55 On March 1, 1928, he announced that he signed a contract for the upcoming campaign in a deal valued at $35,000, and told a
reporter that he planned to do his best “to help the team win.”56 The Athletics were significantly enhanced by the signing of Cobb’s recent partner-in-arms, Tris Speaker, and Mack was pretty well convinced the team was headed for a championship.

  At Augusta, Cobb did a little training with the New York Giants and joined Philadelphia when his teammates arrived for an exhibition at Warren Park on March 16. In the camps of both teams, he proved an influential coach, working extensively with younger players. He ventured with the Athletics to Fort Myers—their spring headquarters—but was forced to return to Augusta after Charlie became sick. Her condition was such that she needed an operation, but mended quickly.57 Cobb dispelled the story that he’d cleaned up in the stock market and was retiring, and made the trek to Philadelphia. There, he aided the Athletics in their win over the Phillies for the local city title.58 The season opened on April 11, 1928, but Philadelphia wasn’t as strong as it appeared and lost its first four games. The absence of Al Simmons because of rheumatism in his legs was a crucial reason for the team’s slow start.59

  Cobb’s batting eye was sharp in the early going, and his average was over .350 for the first month. His fielding and base-running were subpar on occasion, and it was obvious that his legs were tired. Columnist Westbrook Pegler remarked, “It was both inspiring and depressing to see Ty hobble around the baseball field.” Other journalists called him “grandpa” or “old man” in their reports, and crowds razzed him, but the criticism likely served to motivate him all the more. He ran into a cocky twenty-two-year-old in Leo Durocher, an infielder for the Yankees, who was verbally aggressive toward just about everyone, and showed no fear against Cobb. As legend has it, Durocher told him, “Don’t flash your spikes at me or I’ll show you how to really spike a guy.”60 That kind of repartee never impressed Cobb, and he was all too willing to exchange barbs or even punches if need be, but their bickering never developed that far.

  On June 21, 1928, at Yankee Stadium, a game was contested in which thirteen future Hall of Famers took part. That included managers Connie Mack and Miller Huggins, plus Cobb, Speaker, Simmons, Eddie Collins, Lefty Grove, Jimmie Foxx, and Mickey Cochrane from the Athletics. For New York, there was Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Earle Combs, and Tony Lazzeri.61 The Yankees won the game, 4–0, and were essentially steamrolling over the American League for the third year in a row. For Cobb, his play was somewhat erratic, and he slumped pretty badly in late May and into June. He managed to rebound, but his slowing agility left him susceptible to injury. In the outfield against Boston in early July, a ball glanced off the side of his head after a tricky hop. On July 18 against Detroit, he took a pitch on his right wrist and exactly a week later, he was struck by a ball again, suffering a bad bruise.

  Cobb started his final game on July 26, 1928, at Comiskey Park in Chicago, and went 2-for-5 with a double in a 5–1 victory. While nursing his wounds, Cobb watched as Mack lined his outfield with Simmons, Bing Miller, and George “Mule” Haas, moved Ossie Orwoll from the mound to first base and placed Jimmie Foxx at third, initiating a brilliant period of winning for the A’s. In fact, the team won 10-straight from July 25 to August 2 and advanced from eleven games behind the Yankees to only 4.5. New York’s lead diminished more in the days that followed and, at one juncture, the Athletics briefly moved into first place. Notably, the turnaround for Philadelphia was done without Cobb or Speaker in the regular lineup. Their leadership and influence from the sidelines were valuable to the club, nonetheless.

  Sportswriter Frank G. Menke wrote, “Cobb is something of a bench warmer now, but he never became such until he had established every existing durability record, and bench warmer that he is, he still possesses a walloping record of around .333 for this season.”62 On September 3, 1928, at Washington’s Griffith Stadium, he appeared as a pinch hitter in the first game of a doubleheader, and smashed a double off Washington’s Bump Hadley. This would mark Cobb’s final major league hit. Ironically, twenty-three years before, he doubled in his first major league hit, that one was off Hall of Famer Jack Chesbro. Cobb played his final game on September 11 at Yankee Stadium before 50,000 people, and was unsuccessful in a pinch hitting role for Jimmy Dykes in the ninth inning. The moment wasn’t acknowledged as historic at the time because nobody knew whether Cobb would perform again or not.

  But days later, on September 17 in Cleveland, Cobb made a decision about his future. He issued a statement to reporters, announcing that“Never again, after the finish of the present pennant race will I be an active player in the organization to which I have devoted twenty-four seasons of what for me was hard labor.” Acknowledging that it had been a “privilege” to play for Mack, he was retiring for good, and explained his intention to be around his family. “I scarcely know my children,” he told a reporter, and he hoped to change that.63 The pennant race remained tight until the end, but the Athletics couldn’t upend New York, finishing in second place with a record of 98–55 and 2.5 games back. Cobb and his family, who maintained a residence in Bala Cynwyd, on the western border of Philadelphia, soon packed up their belongings and headed back to Augusta.

  Entering a world post-baseball was both exciting and frightening for Cobb. He had expressed a desire to play twenty-five seasons during interviews, but the ninety records that he had established, the amazing .367 lifetime batting average he attained, and the 54 steals of home plate, spoke volumes about his commitment to the national pastime. He had nothing left to prove. Ed R. Hughes of the San Francisco Chronicle reflected on his accomplishments, and wrote that Cobb was “one of the truly greats and those who saw him at his best will never forget him.”64 An editorial in the Philadelphia Inquirer stated that his retirement would “be heard with regret by tens of thousands of fans who were always sure of good entertainment when Cobb was in the game.” Considering his great financial stability, the newspaper added that Cobb “deserves all he has because he has given all that he had to the patrons of the game.”65 It is true, and it is arguable that any man ever loved baseball more than Ty Cobb.

  17

  IMMORTALIZED IN BRONZE

  The departure of Ty Cobb from the major leagues was inevitable, and baseball was going to enter the 1929 season without him on an active roster for the first time in nearly a quarter century. Of course, a significant void was going to be left in his wake, and although the national game was bigger than one man, his contributions and achievements wouldn’t be forgotten anytime soon. For Cobb, he was walking away from the sport on his own terms, and that was important to him. As early as 1913, he had expressed a desire to eventually retire from baseball while still exhibiting some semblance of success on the diamond.1 The forty-one-year-old batted .323 in 95 games in 1928, and later said, “There was nothing wrong with my eyes or the upper part of my body,” when he retired. “I could throw and hit with the rawest rookie,” but his legs “couldn’t stand the strenuous exercise.”2

  Washington Senators star Clyde Milan, a speedster who fought Cobb for stolen base honors in the early 1910s, spoke with the Georgian around 1928. He recalled Cobb telling him that he was leaving baseball “simply because playing was getting to be work for him.”3 The wear and tear, plus his extraordinary mental and physical exertion—continuous for over two decades—had finally exhausted the seemingly infinite boundaries of Cobb’s endurance. He told a reporter in 1931, “During my twenty-five years in the game, I had become its slave. And that is why I got doggoned tired of it.”4 He wanted other things out of life, far from the constant demands and the grueling hassle of baseball. His love for the sport unquestionably remained, but he was ready to sever his arterial ties once and for all … or so he believed at the time.

  It is arguable how productive Cobb would have been in 1929 had he elected to continue his career. As a part-time player, mostly used in pinch-hit situations, he would have been an asset in the crunch, and his veteran perspective would’ve been a major aid to younger athletes. Having Cobb on the bench was a positive in many ways, but his days as a regular outfiel
der were long gone. Cognizant of his deterioration, Cobb was protective of his image. He knew that he could no longer steal multiple bases in a game, race in from centerfield to snag a tough fly, and fleetly proceed from first to third on a bunt. He figured that playing in a reduced state of ability was altering his standing in the eyes of baseball fans. “I didn’t want to, at my age and weight, disillusion a lot of people,” he explained with surprising candor.5

  Cobb appeared convinced he was doing the right thing and he had plenty of ideas for the near future, but was he mentally equipped to live without baseball? Was he ready to watch his fellow major leaguers report for spring training and stand idly on the sidelines for the first time in his adult life?6 Financially stable, he didn’t need any form of employment, and without a job or a schedule dictating his plans, he was facing an extended period of leisure. To some that would be an exciting prospect. But for a person of Cobb’s high strung nature, it was disconcerting. “He shouldn’t have retired at forty-one,” Cobb’s daughter Shirley later told biographer Don Rhodes. “A man with that much energy shouldn’t retire at that age.”7

  Concerns over inactivity were not necessarily a problem for Cobb in late 1928. He was booked to tour Japan with several other American ballplayers by the Osaka Mainichi Shimbun newspaper for a series of games and baseball demonstrations. Cobb had always wanted to travel, and, in fact, planned to honeymoon with his wife Charlie in Asia following the 1908 season. The offer to barnstorm, including a nice guarantee, came at just the right time, and Cobb wasn’t about to pass it up.8 Since he was able to bring his wife and three of his children on the journey abroad, it was altogether a special opportunity, and the Cobbs looked forward to the venture with great optimism.