Volume 46, Number 1

Spring, 2017

Baseball Research Journal, Volume 46, Number 1

Copyright © 2017 Society for American Baseball Research, Inc.

Editor: Cecilia M. Tan

Design and Production: Lisa Hochstein

Cover Design: Lisa Hochstein

Fact Checker: Clifford Blau

Proofreader: Norman L. Macht

Cover photo courtesy of Larry Lester

Published by:

Society for American Baseball Research, Inc.

Cronkite School at ASU

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Phone: (602) 496–1460

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Distributed by the University of Nebraska Press

Paper: ISBN 978-1-943816-39-2

E-book: ISBN 978-1-943816-38-5

All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or part without permission is prohibited.

Contents

Letter from the Editor Cecilia M. Tan

FIGURES IN BASEBALL HISTORY

Hothead: How the Oscar Charleston Myth Began Jeremy Beer

Marvin Miller and the Birth of the MLBPA Michael Haupert

The Many Faces of Happy Felton Rob Edelman

RARITIES AND LUCK

“Little League Home Runs” in MLB History: The Denouement Chuck Hildebrandt

Doubleheaders with More Than Two Teams David Vincent

The Chances of a Drafted Baseball Player Making the Major Leagues: A Quantitative Study Richard T. Karcher, J.D.

Calculating Skill and Luck in Major League Baseball Pete Palmer

PHYSIOLOGY

The Effect of Stride Length on Pitched Ball Velocity Stephen P. Smith, Easton S. Smith, Thomas G. Bowman

SETTING THE HISTORICAL RECORD STRAIGHT

“With a Deliberate Attempt to Deceive”: Correcting a Quotation Misattributed to Charles Eliot, President of Harvard Richard Hershberger

A Pitching Conundrum Brian Marshall

More Than Ballplayers: Baseball Players and Pursuit of the American Dream in the 1880s Marty Payne

The “Strike” Against Jackie Robinson: Truth or Myth? Warren Corbett

AWARD WINNERS

The Path to the Sugar Mill or the Path to Millions: MLB Baseball Academies’ Effect on the Dominican Republic Thomas J. McKenna

Chadwick Awardees

Peter Bjarkman John Thorn

Dan Levitt Mark Armour

Larry McCray John Thorn

Lyle Spatz Mark Armour

Contributors

Letter from the Editor

I would like to take this space to express how grateful I am for SABR’s existence. I grew up in a baseball-loving household, with a shrine to Thurman Munson on my wall (I was at summer camp when his plane crashed). But there were occasional judgmental people who felt it necessary to belittle the game or people’s devotion to it. It’s “just a game,” they would say. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we spent our time and energy being devoted to something “more important?”

In a word, no. Baseball makes the world a better place, and SABR has given me myriad ways to appreciate that fact. Among SABR members I never have to try to prove that baseball is an important part of the cultural fabric of the United States. They know. They’ve written the articles and theses and books on the subject. The history of the country and the sociological underpinnings of our culture are reflected in baseball, and are intertwined with it. Pick an important thread in American history since the Civil War and you’ll probably find a baseball angle in it: waves of immigration, segregation, westward expansion, urban decay, urban renewal, capitalism, labor disputes…. Need I go on?

Among SABR members I also never have to argue the importance of data—collecting, correcting, preserving, and interpreting data with an open mind. SABR members understand that no matter how passionate we are about a team or the game itself, that passion is misplaced if we aren’t looking at the game with open eyes. Science gives us the flexibility to re-evaluate in the face of new information rather than being trapped by outdated dogmas. The proof is in the way every major league team has adopted some form of a sabermetric approach in order to remain competitive. Data analysis and decision science works. I find it not at all incongruous that one of the country’s top political analysts, Nate Silver, cut his teeth at Baseball Prospectus.

Another thing I’ve learned from baseball: both teams matter. The teams don’t just compete with each other, they also have to cooperate within the rules in order for their mutual goal of a win-loss outcome to be reached. For the people to accord it the importance it has, baseball had to prove it was not corrupt, that the feelings of the fans were respected by true competition and not an outcome manipulated by gamblers (or even crooked owners) to improve the bottom line. The rules of the game and the integrity of what takes place on the field are crucial to fan participation. If the fans abandoned the game, it would no longer have the sway in our culture that it does. I admit I’m a little leery of some of the proposed changes (eliminating the four pitches from the intentional walk?) but at least I have general faith that the commissioner and owners understand not to strangle the golden goose.

So I have faith that baseball will endure, even in the current fractured political climate. It has endured through World Wars, race riots, and natural disasters, after all. Then there’s my other favorite American institution: our democracy. I must also have faith that our democratic institutions will endure because I am an optimist, but if the people lose faith, could democracy fade, as well? SABR and baseball have taught me to respect history, respect science, respect the rules, and respect your opponent. Those, to me, are American values, not political ones. They are the torch I carry here at the BRJ. You will find them reflected again and again in the search for knowledge and understanding in each article herein. I am grateful to SABR members for never giving up the quest to know more and better than before.

– Cecilia Tan, Publications Director

April 2017

Hothead: How the Oscar Charleston Myth Began

Jeremy Beer

April 11, 2015, marked the centenary of Oscar Charleston’s debut in American professional black baseball. The event passed without fanfare. Even though Charleston was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1976, many of today’s devoted baseball fans do not recognize his name, and when Charleston is thought of at all, it is often as a talented but temperamental hothead. There are many reasons for Charleston’s neglect, including his early death and lack of descendants. One of the unfortunate consequences of this neglect has been the persistence of a false image of Charleston as a dangerous loose cannon, bordering on psychopathic. Charleston began to gain this reputation because of an event that occurred at the end of his rookie season. The story of how that happened is usually highly condensed and often mangled. It deserves to be told in full.

Ranked in 2001 by Bill James as the fourth-greatest player of all time, Charleston may have been the most respected man in black baseball in the years before Jackie Robinson signed with the Brooklyn Dodgers.[1] As James pointed out, Charleston is “regarded by many knowledgeable people as the greatest baseball player who ever lived.”[2] One of those people was a longtime Cardinals scout named Bernie Borgan. Soon after former Negro Leagues catcher Quincy Trouppe started scouting for the Cardinals in 1953, Borgan told him, “Quincy, in my opinion, the greatest ball player I’ve ever seen was Oscar Charleston. When I say this, I’m not overlooking Ruth, Cobb, Gehrig, and all of them.”[3]

Buck O’Neil claimed that Charleston was even better than Willie Mays, whom O’Neil regarded as the greatest major leaguer he had ever seen. O’Neil described Oscar as “like Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Tris Speaker rolled into one.”[4] In a poll of twenty-four Negro League historians conducted around the turn of the millennium, Charleston received more votes for greatest player in Negro Leagues history than anyone else.[5] While the data are incomplete, Gary Ashwill’s sabermetrically-oriented Seamheads.com currently estimates that Charleston compiled more Win Shares than any other player in black baseball history.[6] Charleston even played a role in the game’s integration. He probably became the first black man to work as a scout for a major league team when Branch Rickey began using him to evaluate Negro League players for the Dodgers. The Dodgers only signed future Hall of Fame catcher Roy Campanella because of Charleston’s advice.[7] In the face of this, Charleston's obscurity seems highly unjustified.

Mark Ribowsky, among others, has given us the image of Charleston as a barely human berserker. “With his scowl and brawling tendencies, Charleston was a baleful man, and he enjoyed watching people gulp when he got mad,” wrote Ribowsky in his not entirely reliable history of the Negro leagues.[8] Charleston was an “autocrat,” he claimed, a man with a “thuggish reputation” who was “barbaric on the basepaths.”[9] He was “a great big snarling bear of a man with glaring eyes and a temper that periodically drove him beyond the edge of sanity.” Oscar may have “compiled a long record of achievement on the field,” but he also had “a police record almost as long.”[10]

Those who have dug into the sources know that such a portrait is wildly distorted. No contemporary sports writer or anyone who knew Charleston personally ever called him a thug, and Charleston emphatically did not have a substantial police record. While he was happy to join fights in progress, he infrequently started them. And although as a young man, especially, he had a quick temper, he was not, to use Ribowsky’s adjective, “barbaric.”

Then, too, context matters. In both black baseball and the majors, violence was vastly more common during the first decades of the twentieth century than it is today. Ballplayers almost routinely got into fights with opposing ballplayers, with their own teammates, with coaches and managers, with umpires, and with fans. As Charles Leerhsen demonstrates at length in his new, judicious biography of Ty Cobb, it was a time in which fighting and violence were integral to the game—and, arguably, American society as a whole. “The drama critic George Jean Nathan, an avid baseball fan, counted 355 physical assaults on umpires by players and fans during the 1909 season alone.”[11]

Oscar Charleston, in fact, was characteristically self-disciplined and reasonably good-humored, not to mention significantly more intellectual than most of his ballplayer peers, black or white. Numerous extant photos show him smiling. Accounts do not dispute that Charleston was exceptionally tough, and we know he had a passion for boxing.[12] But John Schulian, who spoke to a number of ex-teammates and relations for his splendid Sports Illustrated essay on Charleston, told me that “you get the feeling…that here is this rough ballplayer who would fight anybody, crash into anything, take out fielders, but was a real puppy dog.”[13] Rodney Redman, whose father knew Charleston well, and who himself was close to Charleston’s brother Shedrick, said that he never heard anything negative about Oscar: “My father only said good things about him.” Mamie Johnson, who played for Oscar on the 1954 Indianapolis Clowns, said, “What I would say is that he was a beautiful person.” Did she enjoy playing for him? “Oh yes, he was great.” James Robinson, who played for Oscar on the 1952 Philadelphia Stars, remembers him as “mild” and “friendly.” Clifford Layton, another member of the 1954 Clowns, recalls Charleston as “a very intelligent man” whose “personality was beautiful.”[14]

In short, Charleston was certainly not a dark-souled, frightful hooligan. So how has this image taken hold?

Early Life and Army Baseball Overseas

Oscar McKinley Charleston was born in Indianapolis on October 14, 1896. Tom and Mary Charleston, along with three sons, had likely arrived earlier that year, migrating to Indiana by way of Nashville.[15] The Charlestons moved frequently—living in at least ten different homes while Oscar was a child, mostly on the north side of the vibrant, black Indiana Avenue neighborhood—and they were a spirited lot.[16] Mary was once hauled into court for greeting a deputy with an ax. Brothers Roy, Berl, and Casper each had multiple run-ins with the law.[17] Roy eventually channeled his thymos well enough to become a locally prominent boxer.[18]

Oscar finished the eighth grade at Indianapolis Public School No. 23, but he did not attend high school, where he would have been prohibited from playing on school athletic teams in any case.[19] After finishing school, he likely went to work to supplement the family income. He also reputedly spent time as a batboy for the ABCs, whose home park was located within just a few blocks of the peripatetic Charlestons’ Indiana Avenue homes.[20]

Alas, you can’t be a batboy forever, and the work then available to a black teenager in Indianapolis could not have been particularly rewarding. The United States military offered an attractive alternative. So in early 1912, fewer than two years after he had completed his eighth grade year, Oscar Charleston decided to join the Army. Giving his birthday as October 14, 1893 (rather than 1896), he enlisted on March 7, 1912. Oscar was accepted and assigned to the 24th Infantry, Company B. On April 5, he shipped out for the Philippines.

During his three years of service in the Philippines, Charleston’s prowess on the diamond made him a star. There were “few more popular baseball players in the islands than Charleston,” claimed the Manila Times, and “everybody knows that he is the boy to make good in any position.”[21] The position at which Charleston made good was not center field, where he would later excel, but pitcher. In July 1914, after the completion of the 1913–14 professional Manila League season in which Charleston’s all-black 24th Infantry regiment had fielded a team, he was chosen by Manila’s Cablenews-American newspaper to be its starter in an exhibition game against the rival Manila Times. Just seventeen at the time, Charleston hurled a one-hit shutout for this integrated all-star team, striking out ten and walking two. He also hit a triple.[22] (The catcher for the Manila Times club that day was Charles Wilber Rogan, later known as “Bullet” or “Bullet Joe,” and possibly the greatest two-way player of all-time.[23] Rogan was Charleston’s usual receiver on the 24th’s regimental squad, which obviously had a heck of a battery.)

Charleston is shown here in the uniform of the Santa Clara Leopardos,circa 1923. The 1923–24 Leopardos, for whom Charleston played, were considered the best Cuban team in history— a team so dominant that halfway through the season the league simply declared them champions and then reorganized.

We get a glimpse into this period of Charleston’s life from a letter he saved in his personal scrapbook. Dated August 1, 1914, the letter was written by an acquaintance stationed at the headquarters of the Philippine Constabulary in Manila. The all-star game in Manila had prevented Charleston from keeping an appointment with the writer, who excuses him for his absence. After all, “All of us and 90% of the fans around Manila, believe that in addition to being the best pitcher in the Philippine Islands, you are also all around, the best ball player in this neck of the woods.” The writer signs off by assuring Oscar that “Captain Loving and Mr. Waller join me in wishing you success in all your undertakings.”[24]

Among other things, this letter indicates that at a young age Oscar was already taking delight in, and had a talent for attracting, thoughtful companions. The Captain Loving mentioned in this letter was Walter Howard Loving, leader of the constabulary band, which he had led at William Howard Taft’s inaugural presidential parade in Washington, DC. In 1914, Loving was in the midst of a long and distinguished military career that would include serving as an undercover agent for the US government during World War I. Few black Americans in the Philippines would have been more prominent than Loving. To have established a friendly acquaintance with him as a seventeen-year-old private must have been quite a thrill.[25]

Charleston’s scrapbook and photo album make clear that throughout his life he maintained an interest in music and ideas, and that he tended to seek relationships with others who shared these interests and who were striving to rise socially. This very much includes his two wives, Hazel Grubbs and Jane Blalock Howard, who were highly intelligent and came from respectable, ambitious, pillars-of-the-community sorts of families.[26] A rounded view of Charleston’s life indicates, in other words, that he would have hated being regarded as a thug—a fact which makes his early troubles controlling his temper all the more poignant. Not until late in his life was Charleston able to consistently overcome this family legacy.

Beginning with the ABCs

After his discharge from the Army in March 1915, Charleston headed home to Indianapolis, where he presented himself to Indianapolis ABCs manager C.I. Taylor. (Taylor’s full name was Charles Isham, but he was universally known by his initials.) Taylor had purchased a half interest in the ABCs in 1914 from Thomas Bowser, a white bail bondsman who had bought the team from Ran Butler in 1912. In the last years of Butler’s ownership, the ABCs’ talent and fan support had declined. The late Butler years saw the team playing mainly at home, presumably to save money, and using gimmicks like a 793-pound umpire known as Baby Jim to lure folks to games.[27] It took just one year for Taylor to begin to change the ABCs’ fortunes dramatically.

Rube Foster is more commonly named as early black baseball’s most important institutional pioneer, but C.I. Taylor was nearly as formidable as Rube—and significantly less given to chest-thumping egotism than his rival. Like the rotund Foster, the thin C.I. was a southern minister’s son. He was also an Army veteran and a graduate of Clark College in Atlanta. Aside from his consuming commitment to baseball, this background played out in predictable ways: C.I. believed in self-help, discipline, practice, conditioning, and strategy—“scientific” baseball, as it was called at the time. He detested rowdiness, drunkenness, and gambling, and surrounded himself with intelligent, well-mannered men. At least two of his players published poetry, many were recruited from black colleges, and a number went on to successful managerial careers. C.I. was civically active, too, the sort of man who served on YMCA fundraising committees. His managerial efforts led to increased community support for the ABCs, more stadium improvements, and—gradually, haltingly—a more female- and family-friendly game environment.[28]

Oscar Charleston poses with his second wife, Jane Grace Blalock of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, whom he married in November 1922. The photo was probably taken in Cuba, where Oscar played winter ball, shortly thereafter

Of course, winning was also high on the list of things in which C.I. believed. There he had an advantage, for three of his brothers—Ben, Candy Jim, and Steel Arm Johnny, all of them college men like C.I.—were exceptional ballplayers themselves. They didn’t always play for C.I.’s teams, but when they did, they were a tremendous help. When C.I. came to Indianapolis from West Baden, Indiana, where he had been leading a team called the West Baden Sprudels, he brought Ben, a first baseman, with him. From the Sprudels he also brought to Indy pitcher William “Dizzy” Dismukes (later to become Buck O’Neil’s beloved mentor), outfielder George Shively (a resident of Bloomington, Indiana), and light-hitting shortstop Morty “Specs” Clark.

Thanks to C.I., by early in the 1915 season the ABCs had accumulated a good deal of talent. Taylor, Shively, Clark, third baseman Todd Allen, and catcher Russell Powell formed the position-player core. The starting pitching rotation was anchored by Dismukes and Louis “Dicta” Johnson, an accomplished spitballer (at the time a perfectly legal, if unhygienic, pitch). Former Sprudel second baseman Elwood “Bingo” DeMoss—according to Bill James, the best bunter in Negro League history—came on board in early May.[29]

Shortly after Oscar got back to Indianapolis in spring 1915, he presented himself to C.I. Taylor for a tryout.[30] Taylor knew he had something special on his hands. By April 9, he was telling the local papers that he had signed a “crack southpaw.”[31] Two days later, at Northwestern Park, a couple of blocks from where his family now lived, Oscar’s stateside career in professional black baseball began.[32] Taking the mound against the semi-pro Indianapolis Reserves, he notched a shutout, giving up two hits in the first inning, but only one more the rest of the game. He also struck out nine, walked none, and pitched six perfect innings.[33]

Oscar’s start seemed to augur a future as a mound ace, but the second game Charleston pitched in 1915 for this talented ABCs team complicated things. Against a team of white minor-league players calling themselves the All-Leaguers, he gave up six runs in the ABCs’ loss. He also homered to right and was robbed of another hit when the left fielder snared a line drive. The 18-year-old Oscar’s home run was “one of the longest drives seen at the local park” and the longest ever to right field, claimed the Indianapolis Freeman. Charleston had not been back in the States for a month, but he was already being hailed as “one of the most promising young pitchers seen at Northwestern park. He pitches like a veteran, besides fielding his position and batting in great fashion. The fans should watch this youngster, he will be one of the best.”[34]

The following Sunday, Taylor had Oscar in center field for a rematch with the All-Leaguers. The ABCs had been left with a hole in the outfield when Jimmie Lyons jumped to the St. Louis Giants, so to the outfield Oscar went.[35] He homered yet again in the ABCs’ 14–3 victory.[36] Charleston’s bat was far too valuable not to be in the lineup every day. Oscar would start on the mound four days later, but for the rest of the season he would serve only occasionally as a starting pitcher. No one complained. Oscar’s fielding, base-running, and his power, in that order, stood out much more than his pitching.

By June, when the Indianapolis Freeman ran photos of the speedy ABCs outfield of George Shively, Charleston, and midseason addition Jim Jeffries, the paper was claiming that “[t]his trio of outer gardeners looks to be the best in the game.”[37] In the black game, at least, that was probably not an exaggeration. Even when Charleston screwed up—as he did on June 24, when he misplayed an easy fly to center against the Chicago American Giants, allowing the winning run to score in the five-game series’ rubber game—he was liable to redeem himself in short order. Thus, a few days after that costly error against the Giants, when the ABCs took on the Cuban Stars before a record crowd at Northwestern Park, he made what the Star called “two remarkable running one-handed catches,” one of which led to a double play.[38]

Against the Indianapolis Merits, one of the city’s strongest white semipro teams, “Charleston made a circus catch in deep center, pulling the ball down with one hand,” helping to win what was billed as the city championship for the ABCs, 14–1.[39],[40] Given the short, thin mitts then in use, in 1915 the one-handed catch was comparatively rare, and one gets the impression from contemporary newspaper accounts that Charleston was one of its first impresarios. The press frequently reported that his fielding “featured,” the era’s adjective of choice. Sometimes it was “sensational,” and once it was so good that fans were “startled.” In August, the Freeman praised Charleston for playing center field “for all there is in it.”[41] Oscar’s range was most impressive to observers, but his arm was good, too. In games against top-tier opponents, he finished second on the team to George Shively with nine outfield assists.[42]

The 1915 ABCs liked to run—that was part of scientific baseball, as taught by Taylor and practiced in the big leagues with such flair by Cobb. Against the Fort Wayne Shamrocks, for example, the team stole nine bags.[43] Charleston was not the team’s most prolific base stealer, but he held his own with speedy teammates like Shively and DeMoss. In fifty-seven games, he stole fourteen bases and legged out five triples, tied for tops on the team. For a while, later in the year, Taylor batted him leadoff.

Oscar’s power came and went in this rookie season, fading down the stretch as the ABCs faced better pitching and as pitchers seeing Oscar for the second and third time made adjustments. But homering in three of your first six games leaves a lasting impression, especially when they are no-doubters, and especially when you are playing in the Deadball Era. (Against top competition, the mammoth Pete Hill’s six home runs was highest among elite black professional clubs in 1915.) Oscar was the “slugging soldier,” the “heavy-hitting outfielder,” even though he only hit one more homer the rest of the year.[44] At this point in his career, he was only a decent hitter. Overall, he batted .258 against top opponents in 1915. His teammates Shively and Ben Taylor hit significantly better. Oscar’s best series came against the talented Cuban Stars in June, when he went 7-for-19 with a home run, a double, and three stolen bases and helped the ABCs win four out of five.

Charleston may not have been the ABCs’ best player—not yet—but the well-rounded quality of his game led the Freeman to dub him, on one occasion, the “Benny Kauff of the semi-profs.” Kauff manned center field for the Brooklyn Tip-Tops of the upstart Federal League. Brash and flashy, he was well known to locals, first, because he had played center field for the Federal League’s pennant-winning Indianapolis Hoosiers in 1914, and second, because prior to Dizzy Dean he was probably the greatest trash-talker in baseball history. Kauff had no problem saying things like “I’ll make them all forget that a guy named Ty Cobb ever pulled on a baseball shoe,” and “I’ll hit so many balls into the grandstand that the management will have to put screens up in front to protect the fans and save the money that lost balls would cost.” To top it off, he dressed, in the words of Damon Runyon, like “Diamond Jim Brady reduced to a baseball salary size.” With respect to their games the comparison of Charleston to Kauff was not totally inapt, but, unlike Benny, Oscar did not boast in the press—and he didn’t have the funds to indulge in diamond tiepins and silk underwear.[45]

On the whole, in 1915 Charleston did as well as anyone might hope for an 18-year-old rookie. But there is one indication that there may have been trouble behind the scenes. For a period of at least three games in July, Oscar did not play for the ABCs. No reason for his absence was given in the Star or in the Freeman, but when he returned to the team Elwood Knox of the Freeman referred to his being “back in the fold again.”[46] Perhaps he had been injured. Perhaps he and C.I. had butted heads. Perhaps Oscar was having trouble controlling that troublesome family temper.

The Indianapolis Post-Season Brawl

On September 9, 1915, the ABCs played their last game of the year against a top-tier nonwhite team, winning 4–2 against the Cuban Stars. They had gone 37–25–1 against the top clubs, and they had absolutely rolled through lesser competition, including contests with white teams like the Chicago Gunthers, the Indianapolis Merits, and the unforgettably named Terre Haute Champagne Velvets.[47]

No matter who they had faced in 1915, Dizzy Dismukes and Dicta Johnson had been fantastic at the top of the ABCs rotation, with Dismukes throwing a no-hitter against the Chicago American Giants on May 9 and matching the New York Lincoln Stars’ Dick “Cannonball” Redding pitch-for-pitch in a 1–1, 15-inning tie in which both pitchers went the distance. First baseman Ben Taylor had shown himself one of the best hitters not playing in organized baseball, and Shively and DeMoss had also had fine seasons. The ABCs had gone 9–3 against the Chicago American Giants, 13–9 against the Cuban Stars, and 4–4–1 against the Lincoln Stars, the three teams that were their top competition—in the argot of the time, the “fastest” teams out there.[48] No one doubted that the ABCs were a very good team.This is how things stood in late September 1915, as the ABCs prepared to undertake what was becoming an annual tradition of postseason games against white all-star teams at Indianapolis’s Federal Park. Since the middle of the season the ABCs had been playing their Sunday home games at this new stadium, thanks to growing crowds that their usual home field of Northwestern Park simply could not accommodate. These all-star teams—the term was used loosely—consisted largely but not exclusively of Indianapolis natives returning home after their seasons in organized ball had ended, as well as players from the high-minors Indianapolis Indians and other city teams.

The papers loved these games. The daily Star promoted them heavily, breathlessly reporting who and who would not play for the all-star teams, inserting editorial asides about the relative strength and hopes of the teams, printing trash talk, playing up the racial rivalry angle, and fairly openly taking the side of the white teams as the games went on. For the brawl that occurred on October 24, the white press shoulders at least a little of the blame.

The first games were scheduled for Sunday, September 26. “The colored champs”—the ABCs, that is—“had fairly easy sailing on their trip over the state” recently, admitted the Star; the ABCs had beat up on teams from Kokomo, Rochester, Columbus, and other Indiana burgs. But “Sunday it is thought they will meet with stronger opposition.”[49] The white all-stars would include players from various leagues in and levels of the minors. The ABCs would be tested, predicted the Star. “The A.B.C.s always take delight in polishing off any league teams, but they probably will be forced to step at their best today to turn the trick.”[50] Eh, not really. The team of mostly low-minors “all-stars” that showed up on September 26 was no match for Taylor’s club, which won the first game, 12–1, and the second, mercifully shortened after five innings by darkness, 7–0. Collectively, Dicta Johnson and Dismukes gave up seven hits on the day. Charleston went 2-for-8 with two stolen bases. The ABCs stole 11 bags in game one alone. “Manager Taylor of the A.B.C.s has drilled so much base running knowledge into his colored champs that it is going to take an all-powerful outfit to grab a game from them,”[51] conceded the Star.

The white players set out to put together such a club. Frank Metz, who played first base for the American Association’s Indianapolis Indians, organized a new squad to take on the ABCs the following Sunday. The Indians’ Joe Willis, who had had a brief major-league career with the Cardinals, would pitch, and several other Indians and players from the Louisville Colonels would join in. “It looks like the A.B.C.s are due for a trouncing Sunday when they battle Frank Metz’s All-Stars at Federal Park,” chortled the Star.[52] The all-star outfield was “expected to show something in the way of distance slugging,” and Smiling Joe Willis’s left-handed pitching would “prove quite puzzling to the colored champs.” Willis even called his shot: “[T]he big fellow says he’ll win if given a few runs.”[53] Metz’s all-star team proved much better than the previous Sunday’s, but still it could not beat the ABCs, the game ending in a 3–3 tie after 12 innings. Dismukes pitched seven innings of no-hit ball in relief of Dicta Johnson, and Charleston went 3-for-5 with a stolen base. Three thousand fans saw a “spicy game” full of “swell stops and neat catches,” but no winner.[54]

By now the big-league season was over, and there was no more messing around. Indianapolis native son Donie “Ownie” Bush was coming back to town, and he would lead the all-stars the following Sunday against the ABCs, just as he had the previous year, when his all-stars had gone 2–2 against Taylor’s club.[55] Bush, twenty-eight, couldn’t hit his way out of a paper bag, but he was fast, exceptionally disciplined at the plate (he had led the America League in walks five times already), and a slick fielder at shortstop. That combination of talents was good enough to place him third in the MVP voting of 1914. With him would not be Ty Cobb, who had better things to do, but three other Tigers teammates: outfielder Bobby Veach, who had led the AL in both doubles and RBIs that year; George “Hooks” Dauss, who had won twenty-four games with a 2.50 ERA and was also an Indianapolis native; and George Boehler, a reliever from nearby Lawrenceburg, Indiana. Also scheduled to play was the Yankees’ Paddy Baumann, yet another Indianapolis man who as a utility player had just hit .292.[56] This new all-star team was a different beast. Bush’s club beat the ABCs, 5–2, on October 10. Dauss and Boehler frustrated the ABC batters with curves, striking out 12. Oscar went 0-for-4.

The ABCs were a “disappointed lot.”[57] Two games remained in the series, and these were the only contests all year in which they could show to others, and to themselves, how well they stacked up against major-league, or at least near-major-league, competition. Then, too, the racially tinged needling of the white papers had to rankle. As the Star wrote the next week, apropos of nothing at all, “The All-Stars expect, next Sunday, to teach Tom Bowser’s men their A.B.C.’s.”58 Taylor had his club practicing all week. On Thursday, Bush announced that the Brooklyn Robins’ Dutch Miller would be added as the all-stars’ catcher. C.I. responded by welcoming back Jimmie Lyons as his right fielder. Unfortunately, Dismukes had decided to head to Honolulu with Rube Foster’s American Giants, so Dicta Johnson would start this time for the ABCs, while for the all-stars the White Sox’s Reb Russell would fill in for Hooks Dauss, whose wife had taken ill. Russell had just posted a 2.59 ERA for the Sox, so this was not necessarily a downgrade.

Four thousand five hundred fans showed up at Federal Park on the afternoon of Sunday, October 17. They watched Dicta Johnson throw a masterful game, giving up only four hits over eleven innings. The ABCs, sporting new uniforms for the occasion, finally won, 3–2, on Ben Taylor’s walk-off (the term wasn’t used then) base hit that scored Shively from second. It was far from a boring game. In fact, “until the deciding run was registered in the eleventh the fans were kept in an uproar by sensational plays on both sides.”59 Oscar, who had turned 19 three days earlier, went 2-for-4 with a double off the Mississippian Reb Russell, who “would no doubt draw the color line in the future,” chuckled the black Freeman.[60]

The rubber game was set for the next Sunday, October 24. Excitement was high, and it built even more when it was reported first that Benny Kauff himself was headed to town to play for the all-stars, and next that Cannonball Redding, “the best colored hurler in the business,” would pitch for the ABCs.[61] Redding wasn’t just coming to Indianapolis from New York for one game. In early October, C.I. had announced that his club would undertake a Cuban tour immediately after the season’s end. The ABCs were scheduled to leave right after this final game of the season, and Redding would accompany them. Reb Russell, allegedly angry over his defeat, would take the mound again for Bush’s club.The day finally arrived. The all-star team wasn’t at its best. Kauff had not made it, and neither Veach (who had only played the first game) nor Miller would play. Bush, Baumann, and Russell were the team’s only true big-leaguers. Perhaps that only put the ABCs more on edge. Not only were they tired from the long season, but with the all-stars not even at full strength the ABCs had to win this game—especially with five thousand screaming fans in the stands.

The all-stars scored first, plating one in the top of the second. In the meantime, the ABCs were having trouble solving Russell. When the fifth inning began, it was 1–0 all-stars. Donie Bush made it to first. Then he took off on Redding. ABCs catcher Russell Powell threw to second, where Bingo DeMoss was covering. The throw beat Bush, but umpire Jimmy Scanlon, who was white, signaled safe.[62] That’s when all hell broke loose.

Like Tris Speaker, to whom he would later be frequently compared, Charleston played a famously shallow center field, and when Bush started for second he no doubt sprinted in to back up the play. After Scanlon’s safe signal, he was already close to the action when he saw DeMoss lose it. DeMoss pushed Scanlon, then swung at him. Scanlon put up his fists, and the men began to grapple. A moment later, Oscar, still running at top speed, arrived and clocked Scanlon. His punch to the umpire’s left cheek left him gashed, bloodied, and lying on the ground.[63]

Umpires were not immune to the violence that was common on the field in those days. Earlier that season at Northwestern Park, an umpire had allegedly hit Chicago American Giants outfielder Pete Hill over the head with a pistol—the mere fact of pistol-packing umpires gives one some idea of the temper of that era.[64] But still, for a black man playing in a mixed-race game to slug a white umpire who was already engaged with another black player was to cross any number of lines, and Charleston must have known that immediately. If he didn’t, the enraged fans that began to stream onto the field probably clued him in. Players from both teams also began to converge on the action at second base. The police—twelve patrolmen and six detectives—were close behind. The scene was chaotic. Just who fought whom is unclear, but it seems that most of the combat now took place between fans—it was very nearly, said the next day’s Star, a full-fledged “race riot.” The police used their billy clubs freely to break up the fighting. Several drew revolvers, but did not use them. The players themselves, from both teams, tried to restore order. Finally, the police gained control of the situation and the fans returned to the stands.

Oscar, if the Star’s account can be credited, had slipped away. The Star claimed that “he kept on running” after decking Scanlon, and if that was true it was the last time he ever ran away from a fight. He may have been genuinely scared for his life. The Indianapolis of 1915 wasn’t all that friendly to blacks in the first place, and blacks who assaulted white representatives of authority were not exactly assured of dispassionate justice.[65] “The police had considerable trouble finding” Oscar, reported the Star, but eventually they located him. He and Bingo were placed under arrest and carted off to jail. The game, amazingly, then continued, Scanlon still umpiring. The ABCs, perhaps pondering whether and how they would get out of the park unscathed, managed just one hit in the game and were defeated, 5–1.

C.I. Taylor was embarrassed, dismayed, furious. Not only did he deeply wish to make baseball a more reputable activity, his entire identity was centered on being a respected member of the Indianapolis community. He knew that this ugly incident in a white ballpark would be held against all of the African American residents of the city as proof of their ineradicable savagery, especially at a time when a fresh wave of black migrants from the South was contributing to heightened racial tensions. But he had made arrangements to take this team to Cuba, and, probably realizing that the best thing to do was to get the club out of town as quickly as possible, he went forward with his plans. His co-owner Tom Bowser bailed Oscar and Bingo out of jail, and by evening the ABCs were embarked on their journey.

When the team’s train stopped in Cincinnati, Taylor wired the Star with a statement. He made it clear where his sympathies lay. Not with his young players—and especially not with Oscar.

That was a very unwarranted and cowardly act on the part of our center fielder. There can be no reason given that will justify it. Umpires Geisel and Scanlon are gentlemen. I am grateful to Bush and Bauman (sic) and all the players of the All-Stars for their earnest efforts to ward off trouble and their kind words to me after the incident.

The colored people of Indianapolis deplore the incident as much as I do. I want to ask that the people do not condemn the A.B.C. baseball club nor my people for the ugly and unsportsmanlike conduct of two thoughtless hotheads. I can prove by the good colored people of Indianapolis that I stand for right living and clean sport.

I have worked earnestly and untiringly for the past two years in an effort to build a monument for clean manly sport there and am sorely grieved at the untimely and uncalled for occurrence at Federal Park today. Again I ask that the people do not pass unjust judgment on my club or me.[66]

It must have been an awkward trip to Florida. Bingo DeMoss had started the fight, but it was Oscar who took all of the heat. His actions had escalated things terribly, but from his point of view, he had come to a teammate’s aid.[67] Was that entirely wrong? It would remain true throughout his career: Oscar didn’t usually start fights, but he loved to join them. And when he came to your aid, it was with fists flying. The man was simply not a natural peacemaker.

The next day, Oscar and Bingo were formally charged with assault and battery, and their case continued until November 30. A couple of days later they and the rest of the ABCs disembarked in Havana.

Letters from Cuba

By the time he reached Cuba, Oscar had cooled off. On November 1 he sent a statement to the Freeman. It is the first time we hear his voice in the historical record:

Realizing my unclean act of October 24, 1915, I wish to express my opinion. The fact is that I could not overcome my temper as oftentimes ball players can not. Therefore I must say that I can not find words in my vocabulary that will express my regret pertaining to the incident committed by me, Oscar Charleston, on October 24th.

Taking into consideration the circumstances of the incident I consider it highly unwise and that is a poor benevolence. I am aware of the fact that some one has said that they presume I am actuated by mania, but my mind teaches me to judge not, for fear you may be judged.

Yours respectfully,

Oscar Charleston[68]

Was the “some one” who had accused Oscar of “mania” C.I.? It isn’t clear. In any case, the apology was good enough for the Freeman, which encouraged readers to accept it. The paper emphasized that Oscar had “become exceedingly sorry.”

An apology was due from Mr. Charleston, a fact which finally dawned on him. He has done the very graceful thing in acknowledging his error, and which leaves him no less a man. The bravest are the tenderest. Considerable harm has been done because of the happening, and which a string of apologies from here to Cuba could never altogether righten. However, he has helped some, and he has set himself right individually and with his team and race.[69]

C.I., on the other hand, remained angry, even after a few days in the Caribbean. He remained eager to deflect any blame from landing on his own head. Four days after Oscar wrote his apology, Taylor sent from Cuba another statement about the whole affair in which he partially excused DeMoss but continued to take Charleston to task.

I am very grieved over the most unfortunate and degrading affair pulled off by DeMoss and Charleston. Umpire Scanlon was wholly blameless. His decision might have been questionable, but there is not one word that can be said justifying the perpetrators of that unfortunate and untimely happening. It was an awful climax of my last year’s work.

I feel that I should not be censured for the conduct of these two men. Neither should our club, for I do not believe that there is any man on the club outside those two who would have committed such an ungentlemanly and unsportsmanlike act. Every member has expressed to me his deepest regrets. And, too, I believe that if DeMoss had any idea that things would have turned out as they did he would not have raised a hand to push the umpire. Remember we are not trying to shadow him for his actions. He needs no defense—he was wrong. But knowing him as I do, I am fully convinced that his conduct was worse than his heart.

As far as Charleston is concerned, he really doesn’t know. He is a hot-headed youth of twenty years [actually nineteen; either C.I. was mistaken or Oscar had lied about his age] and is irresponsible, who is to be pitied rather than censured.[70]

It all added up to a bad time for Oscar in Cuba, a place black teams had been visiting in the late autumn almost every year since 1900. Following the established tradition of the “American Series,” the ABCs were installed at Havana’s Almendares Park, where they played twenty games against three Cuban teams—Habana, Almendares, and San Francisco—between October 30 and December 2.

In subsequent years, Oscar would perform so well in Cuba that he would become a national legend. But with the brawl still fresh and his manager criticizing him in the press, in 1915 he could not get going. He batted .191, showing no power (he had only two extra-base hits in 77 plate appearances), and was caught stealing on half of his attempts. Taylor started him on the mound once and he was hammered, giving up ten runs, eight earned.

Certainly the competitive and proud Oscar must have been in a sour mood, which couldn’t have helped advance the cause of reconciliation with C.I. On November 25, midway through the ABCs’ Cuban tour, Taylor announced that he had kicked Oscar off the team. He had “persisted in disobeying club rules.”[71] The expulsion didn’t last long: Oscar missed exactly one game. After the ABCs played their last game on the island on December 2, finishing their tour with a record of 8–12, Charleston returned to Indianapolis with the team.[72]

The Consequences

Charleston and Bingo had missed their November 30 trial date, of course—costing Bowser his $1,000 bond—and were promptly rearrested upon their return to Indianapolis. Their trial took place on December 7, Scanlon testifying for the prosecution. Judge Deery dealt with them leniently. Neither would have to serve any time. Oscar was fined ten dollars plus court costs, and Bingo five dollars plus costs.[73] The legal drama was at an end, but the ramifications of the brawl were still playing out. Several days before the trial, the police used the fight as an excuse to declare that no games between black and white teams would henceforth be allowed in the city. “It occurs to me that it is time to call a halt in baseball playing between whites and blacks when two teams of mixed colors can not play a game without trouble,” announced a police captain. It was a good time to make such an announcement, since blacks could be blamed for the decision. “I have talked to several witnesses, and there is no doubt but what the two colored players incited trouble.”[74] The city’s decision looked like a blow to the ABCs, who had played a couple dozen games against white teams in 1915. This step backwards was exactly what C.I. Taylor had feared.

A few years later, Donie Bush, enraged by a call, punched umpire Bill Dinneen “in the stomach and jaw” in a major league game. He wasn’t even ejected—not until after the inning ended, anyway, when he threw a ball at Dinneen.[75] Bush and Charleston weren’t so different from each other after all, or from the other rough-edged players of the Jazz Age. Both were intense, competitive, widely respected men. It’s not too surprising to learn that, sometime after the ugly incident at Federal Park, these baseball lifers began to call each other friend.[76]

Perhaps because he was black, Charleston’s temper exacted a far higher reputational cost than did Bush’s. As player, manager, and scout, Oscar Charleston would go on to compile one of the finest baseball résumés of any player of any race.[77] Yet more than a century later, the capsule narrative about him remains distorted by the ugliness that marred the end of his rookie season. That is how the myth began, and one of the reasons why the full truth about Charleston remains obscured.

Notes

1. Bill James, The New Bill James Historical Abstract, rev. ed. (New York: Free Press, 2001), 358. James defends this ranking at some length in the pages that follow.

2. James, The New Bill James Historical Abstract, 189.

3. Quincy Trouppe, Twenty Years Too Soon: Prelude to Major-League Integrated Baseball, rev. ed. (St. Louis, MO: Missouri Historical Society Press, 1995 [1977]), 118.

4. Buck O’Neil, I Was Right on Time: My Journey from the Negro Leagues to the Majors (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 25.

5. William F. McNeil, Cool Papas and Double Duties: The All-Time Greats of the Negro Leagues (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2001), 192.

6. See http://www.seamheads.com/NegroLgs/player.php?ID=134&tab=2. First developed by Bill James, a win share is a comprehensive measure of player value that takes into account, at least theoretically, both offense (including baserunning) and defense.

7. See Peter Golenbock, Bums: An Oral History of the Brooklyn Dodgers (Mineola, NY: Dover, 2010 [1984]), 114; and Joe King, “Campanella Not Antique But Modernizer,” The Sporting News, July 18, 1951, 3. My thanks to Neil Lanctot for leading me to these sources.

8. Mark Ribowsky, A Complete History of the Negro Leagues, 1884 to 1955 (New York, NY: Birch Lane Press, 1995), 87.

9. Ribowsky, A Complete History of the Negro Leagues, 277.

10. Mark Ribowsky, The Power and the Darkness: The Life of Josh Gibson in the Shadows of the Game (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 45–46.

11. Charles Leerhsen, Ty Cobb: A Terrible Beauty (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2015), 331. Leerhsen documents the violence characteristic of baseball during the Cobb era in numerous other places throughout this biography.

12. Charleston’s personal scrapbook and photo album attest to this judgment. The scrapbook includes numerous boxing-related clippings, including a Cuban-newspaper story about Charleston going into the ring himself in Cuba. Oscar’s brother Roy was a prominent and successful fighter in Indianapolis. The Charleston scrapbook and album are kept at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City, Missouri. They were acquired by historian Larry Lester from Charleston’s niece Anna Bradley, who seems to have acquired them from Oscar’s sister Katherine. Lester also acquired and donated to the museum Oscar’s collection of Cuban cigarette baseball cards.

13. John Schulian, telephone interview, November 7, 2015. Schulian’s article on Charleston is the best piece ever written about the man. It is collected in Schulian’s Sometimes They Even Shook Your Hand: Portraits of Champions Who Walked Among Us (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2011).

14. Rodney Redman, telephone interview, December 28, 2015; Mamie Johnson, telephone interview, August 12, 2015; James Robinson, telephone interview, December 28, 2015; Clifford Layton, telephone interview, August 21, 2015.

15. The Charlestons probably arrived in Indianapolis in 1896 (1) because the first year in which they are known to have lived in Indianapolis is October 1896, when the newspapers mentioned the birth of a new son, and (2) because in contrast to later editions, the Charlestons are not listed in any Indianapolis city directory prior to 1897, which implies they moved to the city in 1896 too late to be included in that year’s directory. It is possible that the 1896 (or even earlier) directories missed them, of course, but given the frequency with which they were listed thereafter, it isn’t all that likely.

16. City directories make it clear that the Charlestons lived in at least ten different places before Oscar enlisted in the Army in 1912. From Oscar’s birth until he was four, the Charlestons lived in the Martindale neighborhood on Indianapolis’s northwest side, and after that in the Indiana Avenue neighborhood, but no one address and no one street was home for very long.

17. For the story about Oscar’s mother, Mary, see Indianapolis News, August 24, 1901, 6, and September 3, 1901, 9. Several newspaper accounts reveal that Oscar’s brothers Roy and Berl had multiple run-ins with the law. See, e.g., for Roy, Indianapolis News, November 7, 1900, 8, and for Berl, Indianapolis Journal, January 9, 1903, 8. Oscar’s brother Casper is listed as a ward of the Julia E. Work Training School in the small town of Plymouth, Indiana, in the 1910 United States census. The facility, known as Brightside, served as a home and training center for, among others, juvenile delinquents and “incorrigible” children sent there by the courts.

18. See, for example, “Ash Gets Shade in Ten-Round Contest,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 16, 1911, 7; “In the Field of Sport,” Indianapolis Freeman, June 29, 1912, 7; “The New Crown Garden,” Indianapolis Freeman, July 13, 1912, 5; “In the Field of Sport,” Indianapolis Freeman, November 16, 1912, 7; and “Boxing Contest at the Indiana Theater,” Indianapolis Freeman, November 23, 1912, 6.

19. Oscar’s sister Katherine said that Oscar’s highest educational level was the eighth grade in the questionnaire she filled out for the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1976. This questionnaire is also the source of the claim that Oscar attended P.S. No. 23.

20. That Oscar served as a batboy for the ABCs was stated in many articles written about him later in life. Since he was in all likelihood the source of this information, it is probably true, though I have not been able to confirm it.

21. The article from the Manila Times was published in the Indianapolis Freeman on January 1, 1916. The Freeman was an African American newspaper that covered the Negro leagues closely.

22. This information comes from Geri Strecker’s bio of Joseph Coffindaffer, available at http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/c6fd7724. The Manila Times provided extensive coverage of the buildup to this all-star game and of the 1913–14 Manila League season as a whole.

23. This is the opinion of Larry Lester; in fact, he claims that given his prowess on the mound and at the plate, Rogan is the greatest player of all time, period. See William F. McNeil, Cool Papas and Double Duties: The All-Time Greats of the Negro Leagues (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2001), 183.

24. This letter is included in Charleston’s personal scrapbook, which is kept at the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.

25. For information on Loving, see, e.g., Robert Yoder, In Performance: Walter Howard Loving and the Philippine Constabulary Band (Manila: National Historic Commission of the Philippines, 2013).

26. Charleston was married to Hazel Grubbs, of Indianapolis, from 1917 to 1921. Her father, William, was a highly respected school principal, and her mother, Alberta, just as highly respected a music teacher. Oscar married Jane Blalock in 1922. Her father, Martin Luther Blalock, was a prominent A.M.E. minister in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. By the time of Oscar’s death in October 1954, Oscar and Jane had been separated for a number of years..

27. Paul Debono, The Indianapolis ABCs: History of a Premier Team in the Negro Leagues (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co.), 41. Although I have pieced together what follows from primary sources, Debono’s book is a valuable source of material for and helpful guide to ABCs history.

28. The portrait of Taylor here is drawn based on information taken from numerous contemporary newspaper articles, but see also Debono, The Indianapolis ABCs, 30–71, inter alia.

29. James, The New Bill James Historical Abstract, 176.

30. Dizzy Dismukes, “Dismukes Names His 9 Best Outfielders,” Pittsburgh Courier, March 8, 1930, 14. This article is also included in Charleston’s personal scrapbook.

31. “A.B.C.s and Reserves Play at Northwestern,” Indianapolis Star, April 9, 1915, 10.

32. 1812 Mill. The house—and most of the street—is gone today, as is every other of the ten or more in which Charleston lived as a youth, as far as I can tell.

33. “A.B.C.s Shut Out the Reserves by 7–0 Score,” Indianapolis Star, April 12, 1915, 10.

34. “A.B.C.’s Lose to the All Leaguers before Large Crowd—Pitcher Charleston Looks to Be a Wonder,” Indianapolis Freeman, April 24, 1915, 5.

35. Lyons was known, like numbers of obviously good outfielders in the Negro leagues, as the “black Ty Cobb,” a designation often wrongly implied to have been more or less exclusively used for Charleston.

36. “Colored Boys Slug Ball, Beating All-Stars, 14 to 3,” Indianapolis Star, April 26, 1915, 8.

37. “The Fast and Hard Hitting Out Field of the A.B.C. Ball Team,” Indianapolis Freeman, June 19, 1915, 4.

38. “Cuban Stars Defeat the A.B.C.s in Flashy Game,” Indianapolis Star, June 28, 1915, 8.

39. “Merits Have Been Hitting Ball Hard; Play A.B.C.s Sunday,” Indianapolis Star, June 4, 1915, 10.

40. “A.B.C.’s in Form and Merits Have No Chance,” Indianapolis Freeman, June 12, 1915, 4.

41. “Notes of the A.B.C.’s and Lincoln Stars,” Indianapolis Freeman, August 21, 1915, 4.

42. These statistics and all others, unless otherwise noted, are taken from Gary Ashwill’s invaluable Seamheads.com, which provides the best currently available Negro leagues stats (they are more reliable than those found at baseball-reference.com). Seamheads counts only games against top-flight competition. For our purposes here, that means solely games against major black professional teams.

43. “A.B.C.s Win at Fort Wayne,” Indianapolis Star, September 15, 1915, 8.

44. “A.B.C.’s Trim Gunthers,” Indianapolis Freeman, July 17, 1915, 4; “Notes of the A.B.C.’s,” Indianapolis Freeman, July 17, 1915, 4.

45. This information on Kauff is taken from David Jones’s excellent SABR Bio Project article on Kauff. See http://sabr.org/bioproj/person/4a224847.

46. “Notes of the A.B.C.’s,” Indianapolis Freeman, July 17, 1915, 4.

47. By my count. For what it’s worth, Taylor reported an overall 71-26-3 record going into the game on October 24 against Donie Bush’s All-Stars. Since they played a few games before Oscar arrived, and I am probably missing a few games, Taylor’s claim is probably not too inflated. Champagne Velvet was the name of a pilsner made by the team’s sponsor, the Terre Haute Brewing Company. The brand, allegedly quite popular in Indiana during the first half of the twentieth century, has been recently revived by Bloomington’s Upland Brewing Company.

48. Seamheads gives a triple slash line of .293/.385/.437 for Ben Taylor, .298/.385/.382 for Shively, and .214/.365/.274 for DeMoss. Those lines translate to OPS+s of 172, 156, and 106, respectively. Although these are the best stats we have, keep in mind that they should be taken with a grain of salt, as box scores are sometimes incomplete or contradictory, and some are missing entirely. Charleston’s OPS+ in 1915 was 125.

49. “Stars Play A.B.C.s,” Indianapolis Star, September 21, 1915, 11.

50. “A.B.C.s and Stars Play Double-Header,” Indianapolis Star, September 26, 1915, 21.

51. “A.B.C.s Too Fast for Minor Leaguers,” Indianapolis Star, September 27, 1915, 9.

52. “Chance for All-Stars,” Indianapolis Star, October 1, 1915, 13.

53. “Southpaw in Shape,” Indianapolis Star, October 2, 1915, 13. Both quotes at the end of this paragraph come from this source.

54. “Stars and A.B.C.s in a Drawn Battle,” Indianapolis Star, October 4, 1915, 8.

55. See Scott Simkus, “ABCs vs. Donie Bush All-Stars, 1914,” published on the Agate Type website at on December 5, 2006.

56. All of the statistics in this paragraph taken from Baseball-Reference.com.

57. “Work for All-Stars,” Indianapolis Star, October 12, 1915, 13.

58. “Williford at Indiana,” Indianapolis Star, October 13, 1915, 10.

59. “Russell Beaten in Mound Duel,” Indianapolis Star, October 18, 1915, 10.

60. “A.B.C.’s Beat All-Stars,” Indianapolis Freeman, October 23, 1915, 7.

61. “Crandall to Be in All-Stars’ Lineup,” Indianapolis Star, October 24, 1915, 18. The statistics at Seamheads.com show that Redding had compiled a 1.06 ERA over 119 innings in 1915. No one had such numbers at hand at the time, of course.

62. Bush claimed that DeMoss missed the tag. The Chicago Defender, in its game report, states squarely that “Scanlon called what should have been an out safe.” October 30, 1915, 7.

63. My account of this game is taken from the following articles: “Last Game Taken by the All-Stars,” Indianapolis Star, October 25, 1915, 14; “Race Riot Is Balked by Police,” Indianapolis Star, October 25, 1915, 1; “All-Stars Take Last Game,” Indianapolis Freeman, October 30, 1915, 7; “Fight Ends A.B.C. Game,” Chicago Defender, October 30, 1915, 7.

64. “American Giants in Fierce Riot at Hoosier City,” Chicago Defender, July 24, 1915, 7. (The title of the article was sensationalist; there had been an on-field fight, but no riot.) It is also worth noting here that in 1916, DeMoss almost touched off another riot when he punched a white umpire in the face after being called out at home in a game against the Chicago American Giants. Charleston played in that game but was no part of the trouble. Why DeMoss has escaped being portrayed as a troublemaker is unclear. Perhaps it is the friendly-sounding nickname?

65. After all, in 1915 we are not that distant from the 1920s, when an estimated 27 to 40 percent of native-born white men in Indianapolis were official members of the Ku Klux Klan. See The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1994), 879.

66. The text of Taylor’s wire was published in “In the Field of Sport,” Indianapolis Freeman, October 30, 1915, 7.

67. Indeed, this was the Chicago Defender’s view of the matter: “Charleston came to DeMoss’ aid,” it reported. October 30, 1915, 7.

68. “Charleston’s Unclean Act—He Is Very Sorry,” Indianapolis Freeman, November 13, 1915, 7.

69. “Mr. Charleston,” Indianapolis Freeman, November 13, 1915, 4.

70. “Manager Taylor Regrets A.B.C. Trouble,” Chicago Defender, November 6, 1915, 7.

71. “Charleston Dropped by the A.B.C. Club,” Indianapolis Star, November 26, 1915, 8.

72. For statistics and information about the A.B.C.s trip to Cuba, see Seamheads.com, from which these statistics are taken, and Severo Nieto, Early U.S. Blackball Teams in Cuba: Box Scores, Rosters and Statistics from the Files of Cuba’s Foremost Baseball Researcher (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2008). Note that Nieto’s statistics differ slightly from those on Seamheads.

73. “Baseball Verdict Withheld,” Indianapolis Star, December 8, 1915, 2; Indianapolis Star, December 9, 1915, 13.

74. “Baseball Color Line Is Drawn by Police as Result of Fight,” Indianapolis Star, December 5, 1915, 11.

75. Leerhsen, Ty Cobb, 328.

76. So said Indianapolis Indians business manager Ted Sullivan in 1954: “We were all great friends—Charleston, Donie, and I.…” Quoted in “The Pres Box,” Indianapolis Recorder, June 5, 1954, 11.

77. William McNeil’s veterans ranked Charleston as the best manager in the leagues’ history. Charleston was named the greatest player in Negro league history in his poll of historians. See his Cool Papas and Double Duties, 172 and 192, respectively.

Marvin Miller and the Birth of the MLBPA[1]

Michael Haupert

“The unionization of professional athletes has been the most important labor relations development in professional sports since their inception.”[2]

Journalist Studs Terkel called Marvin Miller “the most effective union organizer since John L. Lewis,” long-time president of the United Mine Workers and founder of the Congress of Industrial Organizations.[3] Actually, he may have sold Miller short. Miller took over a moribund group of what he cosidered among the most exploited workers in the country, while at the same time being irreplaceable in their work, and turned them into arguably the most powerful labor union in American history.[4] Last year marked fifty years since Marvin Miller’s arrival on the baseball scene, and this is the story of how it happened.

Marvin Julian Miller was born April 14, 1917, in the Bronx. He was the first child of Alexander and Gertrude Wald Miller.[5] Shortly after his birth, his parents moved to Brooklyn, thus Miller grew up rooting for the Dodgers. Young Marvin was inculcated in the importance of unions at an early age. He walked a picket line with his father—a clothing salesman—and his mother was active in the New York City teachers’ union. He graduated with a degree in economics from New York University in 1938. Prior to taking over the leadership of the MLBPA, he worked for the National War Labor Board, the International Association of Machinists, the United Auto Workers (UAW), and the United Steelworkers of America (USWA).

Miller cut his teeth on union issues while working for the USWA. He joined them as a staff economist in the research department in 1950, ultimately rising to chief economist and assistant to the president. In those roles he also served as a member of the union’s basic negotiating committee—the front lines of labor negotiations that would steel him (pun intended) for his future work in baseball. In 1950 the USWA, along with the UAW, were considered the twin pillars of American union strength. USWA membership exceeded a million in the first half of the 1950s, and the USWA had more than 2300 locals throughout North America.[6] By the time he took over the MLBPA, his negotiating skills were finely honed and his devotion to labor causes was well established. When he first arrived on the baseball scene he was an unknown to the general public, but in labor circles his skills were well respected.

Miller’s path to baseball began unexpectedly. In early 1965 the USWA concluded a bitter presidential election that resulted in the ouster of David McDonald, Miller’s boss and mentor. The shake-up led Miller to begin looking for alternate employment. After exploring opportunities with the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and a faculty position at Harvard, he was asked to interview for the executive directorship of the MLBPA. Miller was unenthusiastic about the position, but when he learned that Robin Roberts was heading the search committee, he agreed to an interview out of deference to Roberts's heroic on-field accomplishments.

When asked later in life how he could have turned down a position at Harvard for the fledgling ballplayers union, Miller explained that he thought academic jobs were likely to come along again, but the chance to build a union was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In addition, he reasoned that because the MLBPA was totally ineffective, anything he did would be a big improvement. He loved baseball and a good fight, so it seemed like a natural fit.[7]

Player unions before the MLBPA

The MLBPA was the fifth attempt by ballplayers to organize themselves. Until the introduction of the reserve rule prior to the 1880 season, players could shop their services to multiple teams. The reserve rule, however, altered the labor market, tipping the salary negotiation scales heavily in management’s favor. This certainly did not go unnoticed by the players, and just five years later they made their first attempt to level the playing field with the formation of the Brotherhood of Professional Base Ball Players in 1885. The Brotherhood eventually created its own league, the Players League, which collapsed—taking the Brotherhood down with it—after its only season in 1890.

The next attempt at unionization occurred during the heat of the National League war with the upstart American League. The Protective Association of Professional Baseball Players had a brief run, but faded into insignificance when the leagues settled their differences. Attorney David Fultz then established the Baseball Players Fraternity in 1912 and it survived until 1918, after which he accepted the presidency of the International League. In 1946 the short-lived American Baseball Guild was organized by Robert Murphy, a Boston attorney. It lasted one year, and is perhaps most famous for an aborted mid-season strike by the Pittsburgh Pirates. Murphy’s lasting legacy is a spring training per diem for players, known to this day as “Murphy money.”

Though Murphy and the Guild quickly disappeared, his efforts spurred some changes. In an effort to ward off any future attempts to unionize, the owners worked with a player representative from each team and established a minimum salary of $5000 with a maximum salary reduction of 25% from one year to the next. The biggest prize in the eyes of the players was the creation of a pension. It was originally funded by player contributions and proceeds from the sale of World Series radio and television rights. Eventually revenues from the All-Star Game became a central source of pension funds. The players took the pension plan very seriously, but it was not well funded, and by 1949 was nearly insolvent.[8]

The formation of the MLBPA

The underfunded pension became the grain of sand that irritated the players into action. It might have been the most important thing that ultimately led to the hiring of Miller. In 1953 players began to question the fund, wanting more information and the ability to monitor it. Management stonewalled this request, but eventually agreed to meet with the players on the issue. Each club selected a player representative to do so, but there was no formal organization in place that could take action.

In August 1953 the player reps took matters into their own hands and hired attorney Jonas Norman Lewis to serve as their liaison with the owners at the pension committee meeting. Lewis had been with a law firm that represented the New York Giants for many years, and one of his clients was the Harry Stevens concession firm. His selection was an indication of the naiveté of the players in all matters legal. In an April 1954 article in the Labor Law Journal, Lewis described himself as “a lawyer primarily interested in labor cases from management’s side,” and opined that strikes were an unfair labor practice. He defended baseball’s reserve system and the antitrust exemption baseball enjoyed, as well as expressing the opinion that ballplayers should feel lucky to have their jobs and enviable wages.[9] Walter O’Malley, who abhorred the very idea of a players’ union, reminded Lewis that he was an “owners’ man,” and tried in vain to talk him out of accepting the position.[10]

When Lewis arrived for the meetings, the owners refused to allow him in the room. Over the next few years the players kept him on retainer and turned to him for advice on various issues. Despite his background, Lewis fought hard for the ballplayers.

Miller almost didn’t become head of the MLBPA.

He wasn’t the search committee’s first choice,

and after interviewing he was rebuffed from the job.

When he was later pursued by the committee after

their deal with another candidate went sour,

Miller nearly turned them down,

but then agreed to accept the position

if the players elected him.

In December 1953, while the owners held their winter meetings in Atlanta, the players gathered there as well—though separate from the owners—and formed the Major League Baseball Players Association, chartered in New York. Lewis filed the paperwork and Bob Feller was elected the first president of the MLBPA, holding the position until 1959.

Though Lewis was devoted to the players, he was not a full-time employee and resisted becoming one. As a result there was no central office, offseason communication was sparse, and the MLBPA languished. While Lewis was committed to the players, he did not feel they reciprocated that commitment to their own cause, citing their reluctance to pay union dues. The players fired Lewis in February 1959, grousing about his lack of commitment to their cause and complaining that he refused to tour the spring training camps to meet with them.[11]

Later that year Feller stepped down, and the association hired Frank Scott on a part-time basis as executive director to oversee the organization’s trivial operations. Scott had previously served as the traveling secretary for the Yankees. He developed relationships with many players in that role, and after leaving, he served as a go-between, an early iteration of an agent, for some of them to secure endorsements and paid guest appearances.

Scott proposed that the players create a central office for their association, staffed by a full-time position that he would fill. The players agreed and Scott set up headquarters in a New York hotel where he also ran his agent business. For the first time, the players saw an active role for themselves, describing the purpose of the central office as an instrument for ballplayers to register their views and opinions on matters pertaining to Association policy or player welfare. Scott’s first major initiative was to hire a legal advisor. The players stated that their most pressing interests in the new attorney were to protect the pension and give them a voice in complaining about playing conditions. Judge Robert C. Cannon got the job ahead of a list of candidates that included former commissioner Happy Chandler, future owner Edward Bennett Williams, and Richard Moss, the man who would hold the position under Marvin Miller.

Judge Cannon

Cannon certainly had the pedigree for the job. His father, an attorney, once represented Shoeless Joe Jackson, and had previously attempted to unionize the players. The younger Cannon was strongly advocated for by Bob Friend, the influential Pirates player rep. However, he was another hire that exposed the players’ weak grasp of labor relations. Upon his appointment, Cannon voiced with pleasure that he was well received by baseball authorities and club owners. He also admitted in his application that he was not an authority on pensions, but espoused his belief that baseball was an important influence on American youth and as a result players should set a good example on and off the field. At one meeting with owners he told them his “primary concern will be what’s in the best interest of baseball. Second thought will be what’s best for the players.”[12]

Cannon was actually more interested in leading the owners than he was in representing the players. He coveted the commissionership. In positioning himself for the job, he once described Ford Frick as “a good man…[who] did not have the training to be commissioner.”[13] He felt that a judicial background was necessary to be a successful commissioner, along with a love of baseball—a description of his own qualifications. When Frick retired in 1965, Cannon, still serving as legal advisor to the players, launched an unsuccessful bid for his office. Instead, the owners chose retired Air Force General Spike Eckert. Cannon’s interest in the commissionership should have sounded alarm bells with the players, but they believed his cozy relationship with ownership was an asset to their cause.

Electing a new leader

Pensions, not salaries, were the primary concern of the players in 1965. By then the MLB pension fund was accruing $1.6 million per year. Each player was making an annual contribution of $344 with teams contributing 95 percent of the All-Star Game's ticket revenue (a game in which the players participated for free) and 40 percent of the broadcast fees from the All- Star and World Series games.[14] Robin Roberts and Jim Bunning, two of the more vocal player reps, voiced a suspicion shared by many that the owners were under-valuing the media revenues in order to reduce their pension obligations to players. This was easy enough to do since the rights were sold as a package, bundled with the Game of the Week broadcasts. The players felt overmatched. Ralph Kiner argued that ballplayers needed legal representation because they were “the worst businessmen in the land.”[15] Dodgers outfielder Al Ferrara was more blunt, noting that the players “were getting screwed by all kinds of people.”[16] The players needed some legal muscle because the owners were evasive about the pension, evading player questions about its operation and steadfastly refusing to open the books for the players to examine. The seeds of distrust between players and management were sown long before Marvin Miller arrived on the scene.

But the search for a full-time leader was complicated by the underlying hostility that ballplayers had toward unions as a result of a very effective propaganda campaign run by the owners and fostered by the press. Players had been taught that baseball was a game, not a business; the owners were sportsmen, not businessmen; the commissioner was there to serve the game, not the owners (by whom he was hired and to whom he answered). The party line was that players should feel privileged to be able to play for a living while the average American had to work for a living. Unions, they were reminded, meant work stoppages, mafia involvement, and violence. The most important issue in that list was work stoppage. No work meant no pay, and few players could afford to miss a paycheck.

Miller was approached about interviewing for the baseball job by George Taylor, a professor at the Wharton School of Business, and a well-known labor advisor. Taylor, who was assisting the MLBPA in identifying potential leaders, had originally approached Lane Kirkland, a high-ranking official (and eventual president) of the AFL-CIO, but had been rebuffed. Miller was his second choice, but a solid one, given his background and accomplishments with the steelworkers.

The search committee consisted of Roberts, Bunning, Harvey Kuenn, and Bob Friend. The other candidates interviewed for the job included Judge Cannon (Friend’s favorite—so much so that he didn’t even bother interviewing Miller), Detroit attorney Tom Costello (Bunning’s early choice), and Bob Feller, who actively campaigned for the job. Others known to be considered for the job were Hank Greenberg and Giants Vice President Chub Feeney.[17]

Miller nearly sabotaged his own candidacy. During the interview he strongly argued against the suggestion that his legal advisor might be former Vice President Richard Nixon. He told the players that because the MLBPA was a small organization, it could not afford any incompatibility in a union with just two professionals. He urged them to let their director, whoever that may be, pick his own legal counsel.

After meeting with the committee, Miller developed a strong desire for the job. He wrote to Roberts expressing his interest, highlighting the near perfect fit between the players’ needs and his skills. He sought to soothe the fear that a labor leader like himself would bring teamster tactics and mafia connections to the game by convincing Roberts that harmonious relationships between players and owners must prevail without any sacrifice of player interests.

Despite Miller’s outstanding credentials, the committee recommended Judge Cannon, and in January of 1966 at a player rep meeting overseen by Commissioner Eckert and his aide, Lee MacPhail, the nomination was seconded, and on the second ballot he was unanimously recommended. All that remained was a pro forma vote of the rank and file. Ten days later, before his election could be held, his swift unraveling began.

Cannon had campaigned for the position, but then had second thoughts when he realized how much money he would lose in his foregone judicial pension if he switched jobs. Instead of turning down the job, he sought to renegotiate the contract, asking for a raise to cover his lost pension, and resisting the requirement that he relocate to New York.

In a sign of how interested the owners were in seeing Cannon take the position, Pirates owner John Galbreath offered to reimburse his lost pension. Cannon refused the offer, claiming to have lost interest in the position because he had “got it up to here with players who kept talking about money.”[18] That was certainly the pot calling the kettle black. And it was a lucky break for the players.

The players—including Friend—were turned off by what they viewed as blatant greed and withdrew the offer. Contrite, they turned to Miller, who, with wounded pride, initially rebuffed them. After intense personal lobbying by Roberts and a humbled Bob Friend, he ultimately agreed to take the position if the players elected him.

The process, however, did not go smoothly. Judge Cannon and MLB executives were actively working behind the scenes to quash Miller’s election. While the players may have been reticent about hiring a labor leader, the owners were downright mortified at the idea. The last thing they wanted was an experienced, skilled, and knowledgeable adversary across the table from them. Naturally, they preferred things the way they used to be, without any organization on the part of the players. But if they had to negotiate with a players union, far better that it be led by a friendly face like Judge Cannon.

The owners quickly acted to discredit Miller. Before he even had a single meeting with the rank and file, newspaper articles appeared quoting players antagonistic to the idea of a professional labor man leading their association. They relied on heavy doses of anti-union propaganda to sway the players, and inserted coaches and managers into the meetings with Miller to both spy and intimidate.

The players were afraid that if they unionized Miller would lead them out on strike. They had been brainwashed by MLB executives that this was the inevitable outcome of a Miller leadership and unionization, stoking fears that only a few well paid superstars could financially weather any kind of walkout.[19]

Miller’s first meeting was with the Angels at their spring training site in Palm Springs. After a brief presentation he received the silent treatment. He only got the response, and a tepid one at that, after pointing out that because their pension plan had not kept up with inflation it had actually eroded in value.

From Palm Springs, he headed to Arizona to meet with the Giants, Cubs and Indians, and received an equally unenthusiastic reception. Miller was not informed of the vote totals at the time, which was probably good, since the players in the Cactus League opposed him overwhelmingly (102–17). The Giants were unanimous in their rejection of his nomination.[20]

The owners’ smear campaign was effective in the western camps, but failed in the east when they overplayed their hand. The day before Miller met with the Dodgers in Vero Beach, Buzzie Bavasi visited the clubhouse. He warned the players that they should be afraid of unions, reminding them they had families to feed, and unions meant strikes, which meant no work and no paycheck. Cannon was also deployed, distributing pamphlets to every clubhouse warning the players against hiring a labor man who would bring racketeering and goon squads to the game. The approach backfired. The players concluded that if ownership was so against the union, it must be good for the players.

By pointing out that by legal definition the players were already a union, despite their name—Major League Baseball Players Association—Miller was able to assuage their fears. While he did not promise that he would never lead them on strike, he did emphasize that the players would set the tone and enumerated the advantages of a well-timed strike if the stakes were worthwhile. Finally, he implored them to become active in their association so that they, and not he, would dictate its direction and the issues they wanted to address.

In the western camps the votes were conducted publicly by managers. In Florida the player reps took control and saw to it that the players ran the elections, conducted as secret ballots. The difference was staggering. In the east Miller was supported by a vote of 472–34.

Baseball would never be the same. On April 12, 1966, the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA) announced the second executive director of what had been, up to that point, a largely ineffective association. Miller was about to change that.

The first hurdle

Having failed in their attempt to prevent Miller’s election, the owners changed strategy, attacking on two fronts. While he may have been elected, Miller was not yet under contract, a situation they sought to exploit. Additionally, the owners had intimate knowledge of MLBPA finances, especially their weaknesses. Once again they deployed Judge Cannon.

The Judge was assigned to draft the newly elected executive director’s contract. On its face, this seemed reasonable, since he was the legal counsel for the MLBPA. However, he was also the jilted suitor whose real desires lay in serving the owners. Not surprisingly then, the contract Cannon originally produced was refused by Miller.

Miller and the players had agreed on a five-year deal with a July 1, 1966, start date at $50,000 per year with an annual expense account in the amount of $20,000. But Cannon proffered a two-year contract with a starting date of January 1, 1967. The later date was significant because it meant Miller would not be representing the players during negotiations over the pension contract, which was about to expire.

The contract also included a three-day-notice termination clause if Miller was accused of public ridicule or moral turpitude. The vagueness of this clause was troubling enough, but the fact that there were no directions in the contract on how his expense account was to be managed opened him up to a virtually infinite number of moral turpitude charges. Miller insisted that the contract spell out reimbursement requirements, include the same good-conduct clause that appeared in player contracts, and begin on the original agreed-upon date. He compromised on length, signing a two and a half year pact.

At the same time they were trying to outflank Miller with the contract, the owners applied pressure to the association’s weak finances. When Miller was hired, the association’s assets totaled $5,700 and some used furniture in a rented New York office.[21] The primary source of association income came from the owners. Players paid $50 in annual dues, which was not nearly enough to cover the costs of running the association. The owners enhanced the amount with funds from their own coffers (sort of: the funds actually were diverted from the amount owners had agreed to contribute to the pension fund). This was a blatant violation of the Taft-Hartley Act, but neither the owners, their legal advisors, nor Judge Cannon seemed to be concerned.

When Miller was elected instead of Cannon, as management had expected, they suddenly became aware of the Taft-Hartley Act and announced they were legally prohibited from providing any funds, thus starving the association of cash. They had no problem violating federal law when they thought Cannon would get the job, but suddenly got religion when Miller was the new hire. Miller, who was familiar with the Taft-Hartley Act, readily supported MLB’s decision. However, it meant he had a serious cash flow problem. MLB’s refusal to fund the union was less about the law than it was about putting a financial stranglehold on the union. However, it turned out to be a legal blunder. By admitting they were prohibited from funding the position by federal law, they had de facto conceded that MLB was a business, that it was engaged in interstate commerce, and that the MLBPA was indeed a union as defined under federal law, all of which would come back to haunt the owners in the future.[22]

To fund the association in his first year Miller negotiated a group license agreement with Coca Cola to put player images on the underside of their bottle caps. The owners sought to scuttle the plan by refusing to license team logos. In reply, Coke simply airbrushed the team logos off the baseball caps and proceeded with the plan. The result was a $60,000 infusion of cash, more than enough to tide over the office. During his career Miller would negotiate several such licensing agreements for the players, which produced substantial amounts of ancillary income.

Pension negotiations

The final salvo fired by the owners was to employ delaying tactics on the negotiations over the soon-to-expire pension agreement. They scheduled a June 6 meeting to discuss the pension. Holding such a meeting during the season was extraordinary, apparently signaling its importance. However, when Miller and the players showed up, no effort was made to negotiate. The owners initially refused to allow Miller to participate, since he was not yet under contract. Commissioner Eckert changed his mind, however, when Miller informed him that if he was not invited, none of the players would attend.

Having failed to exclude Miller, management sought to outflank the union altogether by announcing the new pension plan they had unilaterally decided upon, and then prepared a press conference to unveil it. Miller was initially stunned by the owners’ chutzpah, but recovered in time to pull Commissioner Eckert aside and point out to him that they were about to violate federal labor laws.

The owners called off the press conference and set up a series of meetings to discuss the pension plan. The old plan had allocated 40 percent of the national TV money for the All-Star Game and World Series to the pension. As the value of TV rights rapidly escalated, MLB did not want to share that wealth. Instead, they proposed to contribute $4 million per year. Miller wanted to review the television contract, but the owners refused.

Miller shakes hands with Ray Grebey,

chief labor negotiator for the baseball owners

from 1978 through 1982.

Miller proposed that the players’ contribution to their own pension be eliminated, commensurate with the way private pension plans were evolving.[23] The $344 that players had previously contributed to the pension would instead be converted to dues. The $50 in dues they had been paying would revert to the players. Thus, players would see a $50 increase in their take-home pay without losing either their pension or union membership. The owners had to approve the dues check off and agree to transfer those funds to the union, which they eventually did. All but two players signed up for the dues contribution. The degree of support stunned the owners and was a delightful surprise to Miller.

Negotiations got nowhere until Miller learned that MLB had previously broken the law by withdrawing $167,440 from the pension fund to redistribute among the owners. Using this as a bargaining chip, he finally closed the pension deal. The owners approved the elimination of the player contribution and the players accepted the fixed pension contribution. Miller was criticized for this concession, but he concluded that a straight cash contribution was better for the players, since it was impossible to enforce the 40 percent clause without access to the television contract.

The owners had hoped that by stalling they would force Miller—who at the time still had no clear plan for funding his office—to abandon the cause. Instead, it enraged the players, and they consolidated their support behind Miller. In retrospect, the owners probably could not have done anything to better galvanize union support.

By the end of 1966, Miller’s biggest victory was the pension plan, but the most important one was solidifying the union. He added leadership and expert counsel with Richard Moss, his former colleague from the USWA, and put the union on firm financial footing with the dues check off (which cost the players nothing) and the Coca Cola money. More importantly, the union no longer depended on the owners for funding, and their leader, Marvin Miller, was anything but their shill. Quite to the contrary, Miller was more pro-player than many of the players were. And while some took a while to trust him and buy into the idea that baseball players needed a union, they all backed him in time.

Miller’s legacy

In his first six months on the job Miller delivered a new pension plan for the players. In his second year he went one better, negotiating the first basic agreement in professional sports, signed in February 1968. But the best was yet to come. Before he retired in 1982, the players had gained the right to arbitration for disciplinary issues and salaries, overturned the reserve rule, increased the size of their pensions, and saw salaries rise by nearly two thousand percent—all without the Armageddon predicted by the owners.

“This will be the end of baseball as we knew it,” lamented Braves GM Paul Richards in reference to the dangers of negotiating (my emphasis) a collective bargaining agreement with the players. Richards was right, it was the end of baseball as the owners knew it. He just had no idea how much better things would get. Player salaries skyrocketed, attendance boomed, television revenues soared, franchise values exploded, and state-of-the-art, publicly funded stadiums sprouted like mushrooms. The owners are very protective of their financial records, but there is no evidence to support the claim that the rise in power of the MLBPA harmed the owners. They have been forced to share a bigger piece of the revenue pie, but the pie has grown exponentially since Marvin Miller arrived on the scene, allowing both sides to grow rich far beyond anything they could have imagined a half century ago.

Author’s Note: An earlier version of this article first appeared in the Spring 2016 issue of Outside the Lines, the newsletter of the Business of Baseball committee.

Bibliography

Abrams, Roger, Legal Bases: Baseball and the Law, Philadelphia, Temple University, 1998

Burk, Robert F., Marvin Miller, Baseball Revolutionary, Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2015

Haupert, Michael, Haupert Baseball Salary Database, private collection, 2016

Haupert, Michael, “Marvin Miller Takes the Helm,” Outside the Lines, 22, no. 1 (Spring 2016), pp 26–32

Korr, Charles P., The End of Baseball As We Knew It: The Players Union, 1960–81, Champaign, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2002

Leahy, Michael, The Last Innocents: The Collision of the Turbulent Sixties and the Los Angeles Dodgers, New York: Harper Collins, 2016

Lewis, J. Norman, “Picketing in New York State,” Labor Law Journal, 5, no. 4 (April 1954), pp 263–69

Lowenfish, Lee, The Imperfect Diamond: a history of baseball’s labor wars, New York: Da Capo Press, 1980

Miller, Marvin, A Whole New Ballgame: The Sport and Business of Baseball, New York: Birch Lane Press, 1991

Swanson, Krister, Baseball’s Power Shift, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2016

Notes

1. Abrams, 73.

2. Burk, 3.

3. Miller, 31.

4. Burk, 3.

5. Burk, 69.

6. Miller, 31.

7. Korr, 17.

8. Lewis (1954).

9. Lowenfish, 186.

10. Lowenfish, 191.

11. Korr, 28.

12. Korr, 33.

13. Burk, 100.

14. Lowenfish, 185.

15. Leahy, 352.

16. Burk, 101.

17. Korr, 32.

18. In 1966 only four players earned six figure incomes: Sandy Koufax $130,000, Willie Mays $125,000, Don Drysdale $105,000 and Mickey Mantle $100,000. Nine more earned between $50,000 and $100,000. Haupert Baseball Salary Database.

19. Burk, 106.

20. Burk, 100.

21. Swanson, 114.

22. For example, the steel industry had eliminated worker contributions in 1949.

23. Burk, 115.

The Many Faces of Happy Felton

Rob Edelman

Happy Felton, an all-around entertainer of a long-gone era, aggressively and successfully marketed his skills as a dance-band leader, musician, master of ceremonies, actor, comedian, and radio-stage-vaudeville performer for two decades beginning in the late 1920s. Then he won fame in television’s infancy as the creator and host of Happy Felton’s Knothole (or, Knot-Hole) Gang—a kiddie-oriented television program broadcast live from Ebbets Field. The Knothole Gang is as much a part of the Golden Age of post-war Brooklyn—and the era’s Dem Bums nostalgia—as Jackie and Pee Wee, Newk and Gil and Hilda Chester.

Francis Joseph Felton was born on November 30, 1907, in Bellevue, Pennsylvania. His parents were Francis Joseph Felton Sr., a metallurgist, and Elmira P. Felton. Young Francis was attracted to music, studying violin and even appearing at age seven as a soloist with the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. “I played the fiddle, with Victor Herbert conducting,” he fondly recalled in 1946.[1] He also was drawn to baseball, but his mother discouraged his participation because his position of choice was catcher and she feared that his fingers might easily be broken. But his love of the horsehide was not deterred. “Every Saturday morning, my father took me into Pittsburgh for a fiddle lesson,” he noted in 1953, “and if I played well, we’d go to the Pirates game in the afternoon.”[2] He did play football at Bellevue High School, where he also headed his own musical group, the West Belle Melody Boys.

Upon graduation, Felton entered Allegheny College. He matriculated with the intention of graduating with the Class of 1929 but dropped out after one year, enticed by the potential of a show biz career.[3] During his brief time at Allegheny, he formed his own orchestra, The Artists of Rhythm; he also acquired his nickname after playing a character named “Doctor Happy” in a play. At 6-foot-2 and weighing anywhere between 230 and 280 pounds—down from his peak of 300—the budding entertainer found one of his first jobs in a carnival where he “shilled in the crowd for a concoction called Pop Johnson’s Snake Oil Elixir.”[4] Other gigs included playing drums in a circus, appearing in vaudeville in an act known as Adele Jason and The Boys, and performing with The Four Ambassadors singing group.[5] In May 1927 he even debuted on Broadway, albeit in the less-than-auspicious The Seventh Heart, a three-act musical charting the goings-on among the Palm Beach upper-crust; the show folded after an eight-performance run at the Mayfair Theatre. “…[T]here is as yet no law against the production of plays of this sort; there is, on the other hand, no law compelling persons to go and see them,” wrote The New York Times.[6] Added Alexander Woollcott, the esteemed critic, “‘The Seventh Heart’ is, I am told, one of the most feeble and paltry attempts at playwriting ever tenderly exhibited in this city.”[7]

Between gigs Felton—like so many other show-biz wannabees—waited tables and washed dishes in restaurants. Yet he remained determined to win permanent employment. “For eight days in a row, I went to Paul Whiteman’s office to get a job in his band,” he recalled in 1952. “On the ninth day, his secretary told me Mr. Whiteman had left town two weeks earlier and wouldn’t be back until the following month. So I said to her: ‘I’ve been sitting here eight days; why didn’t you tell me?’ She said, reasonably enough: ‘You didn’t ask.'” Felton added that he met with Whiteman upon his return but the bandleader brushed him off by telling him, “You’re too fat. You just wouldn’t fit on our chairs.”[8]

Felton’s first steady work came as the emcee of The Goodrich Silvertown Orchestra (also known as The Silvertown Cord Orchestra), a radio show consisting of music and comedy and sponsored by the B.F. Goodrich tire manufacturer. The show, which aired on WEAF in New York, eventually began touring various venues. “…‘Happy’ Felton, the inimitable master of ceremonies with the Silvertown unit, will have a host of material with a local touch…,” promised the Rochester (New York) Democrat and Chronicle prior to a December 1928 gig.[9] Felton’s Silvertown success soon led to his forming his own aggregation of singers and dancers in addition to bandsmen. The group, which was advertised under different names, spent over a decade appearing on radio stations as well as traversing the country playing at assorted venues and occasionally making records.

In an early booking, from October 1929, “Happy Felton and His Pep Boys Orchestra,” hyped as “A Nationally Known Orchestra,” performed at the Orange Fair in Fredericksburg, Virginia; the engagement was marketed as “Something Entirely New For County Fairs.”[10] That December, he and his group completed a gig at the Steel Pier in Atlantic City and arrived in Binghamton, New York, to play at a Phi Delta fraternity dance; the booking, according to the Binghamton Press, was “creating much interest among the younger set and promises to be one of the largest of the social functions planned for the holidays.”[11] Another, from October 1930, advertised “Dining & Dancing Nightly to Music by Francis Felton and his entertaining 11-pc. Band” at Le Paradis, “Washington’s Smartest Restaurant.”[12] A December 1931 booking featured “Francis ‘Happy’ Felton and his St. Georgians” appearing on the St. George Roof at the Hotel St. George in Brooklyn.[13] Cut to seven years later, when “Happy Felton and His Entertainers” headlined the College Inn at the Hotel Sherman in Chicago. “Come and Be Happy with Happy Felton,” was how the booking was advertised in The Chicago Tribune.[14] Typifying his success as an orchestra leader were his 27 appearances in stage shows at Broadway’s Loew’s State Theatre.[15]

Early on Felton earned raves for his work. “Happy Felton, with his pleasing voice and drollery, scored a hit as the master of ceremonies of one of radio’s finest and most popular bands,” wrote the Schenectady Gazette in 1932. “Young Felton…is considered one of the ‘finds’ of the entertainment world…”[16] Comedic quips were part of his shtick. Joked Art Arthur in the Brooklyn Eagle in 1933, “‘Happy’ Felton, orchestra leader, wired a New York music publisher from a Summer resort up-State, saying: ‘Please send me some music. If no music, send food’”[17] “He has always been amiable and smiling,” noted Boston Globe writer Marjory Adams in 1946. “That’s why he has never been called anything but Happy—even as a band leader…”[18]

In April 1941, Felton left his band when he and Jay C. Flippen replaced Ole Olsen and Chic Johnson in Hellzapoppin, their smash-hit vaudeville-style Broadway musical revue. The show closed that December, at which point Felton, Flippen, and other cast members took the show on the road to Philadelphia, Boston, and other cities. And on June 4, 1942, Felton married Vi Bradley, a musical composer and lyricist, at the St. Mark’s Reformed Church in Baltimore. Pamela, their one offspring, eventually became an elementary school teacher.

After completing his Hellzapoppin tour, Felton returned to the Loew’s State. But his band-leading days had ended and he was billed as “Comedian.” He expanded his resume by becoming a radio quizmaster. In August 1945, he was the master of ceremonies of Guess Who?—a WOR quiz show in which he asked contestants questions and cracked jokes. A television edition with Felton debuted in May 1949. He also briefly appeared in School Days, a non-network vaudeville-inspired variety-comedy TV show in which he played a schoolteacher presiding over a classroom of students who preferred dancing, singing, joke-telling, and acrobatics to book-learning.[19] Then in 1950, he hosted Ford Movie Night, a three-hour WOR-TV program featuring films, newsreels, and sports-reels.

Felton also briefly appeared onscreen. He and his orchestra were prominently featured in Music With a Smile (1938), a Vitaphone short. These films served as showcases for performers who might graduate to higher-profile feature work; such was not the case for Felton. He was uncredited in a pair of 1943 films, appearing as a nightclub emcee in Swing Shift Maisie, an entry in the Ann Sothern Maisie series, and a radio announcer in Whistling in Brooklyn, a Red Skelton comedy that prophetically features an extended sequence in Ebbets Field. Of his face-on-the-cutting-room-floor presence in A Guy Named Joe (1943), in which he was a baker who makes a cake for Irene Dunne, he explained, “I was given such a long shot that I looked small. And then you saw my hands holding the cake as I said, ‘Here’s a cake we made for you’.” That was the extent of Felton’s connection to the film.[20]

The ever-ambitious entertainer also extended his career beyond music and mirth. In early 1946, Flamingo Road—a play by Robert and Sally Wilder that was adapted from Robert Wilder’s novel—had its pre-Broadway tryout in Philadelphia and Boston. Felton (billed as “Francis J. Felton”) was cast as Sheriff Titus Semple, a conniving small-town political boss. “He is rounding out a career by essaying, for the first time, a dramatic role in a legitimate play,” noted the Boston Globe.[21] Flamingo Road made it to Broadway’s Belasco Theatre on March 19 but closed after seven performances. When the play was transferred to the screen as a Joan Crawford vehicle in 1949, Felton was replaced by an equally rotund actor: Sydney Greenstreet.

Felton’s professional plight, as well as his tenaciousness, were reported by Ed Sullivan, the longtime New York Daily News syndicated columnist and iconic TV variety show host. “When he had a band, they called the 230-pound Unhappy Felton, because he was a worrier for good and sufficient reasons,” Sullivan wrote in 1952. “He fretted about business, he was unhappy about the band’s arrangements, he was continuously plagued by ‘clinkers’ sounded by the brass section. Yet Big Felton stood courageously on the bandstand and smiled toothily...” Added Ray Bloch, Sullivan’s musical arranger and orchestra conductor, “Happy was hardly a Toscanini, but he was always a nice guy, and he was resourceful.”[22]

Unsurprisingly then, it was his special rapport with children, which he exhibited throughout his career, that won him his Knothole Gang renown. In December 1938, while performing in Chicago, he and fellow bandleader George Olsen played Santa Claus for over 225 boys and girls on Christmas Eve as part of the “Chicago Tribune Good Fellow” campaign. “Happy Felton is a jolly, rotund fellow,” reported the paper. “And if he…makes his rounds in a Santa Claus suit, it’s two to one the children will think he’s the real thing. Happy tips the scales at 250 pounds and is as merry as Old Saint Nick himself.”[23] Then in July 1951, when The Knothole Gang was in its infancy, he plugged the Brooklyn Amateur Baseball Foundation’s fifth annual Sandlot Classic, to “make people of the boro [sic] conscious of the work of the Foundation and its aid to sandlot baseball.” The game was played at Ebbets Field on July 29, with receipts going to the Foundation which “supports 23 Brooklyn, Queens and Long Island sandlot leagues and some 15,000 sandlotters.”[24] That November, he impersonated Santa Claus in the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. “Bringing up the rear was…Santa Claus, in the person of Happy Felton of television and radio, (who) sat on his throne in a tinsel-decked sleigh,” noted The New York Times.[25]

So it was fitting that the ever-resourceful Felton conjured up his Knothole Gang. “I just thought about the ‘Knothole’ show for some time, but I didn’t think it would click on radio,” he told the Brooklyn Eagle in 1953. “TV was the answer. And in the summer of 1949 I told Walter O’Malley about it on a tuna-fishing trip and he liked it. Walter was only vice president of the Dodgers then. He brought me in to see Branch Rickey, then the president, and Mr. Rickey listened to us and said, ‘Mr. Felton, your idea has merit.’”[26]

Happy Felton’s Knothole Gang, a half-hour-long pre-game broadcast that aired live from Ebbets Field, premiered on WOR-TV on April 21, 1950, and was an immediate hit. Its focus was on its intended viewers: young Brooklyn Dodgers fans and sandlot ballplayers who were intent on improving their athletic skills. We take The Knothole Gang episode broadcast on June 26, 1956—one of the few that remains intact—as typical. The show opens with images of its three sponsors: Charles Kreisler Oldsmobile, department store and sporting goods chain Davega, and the Lincoln Savings Bank. (Other sponsors across the years ranged from a candy manufacturer to a movie theater chain.) Then the smiling, ever-loquacious Felton, who is garbed in a Dodgers uniform, appears on camera. “Good evening everybody,” he begins. “Here we are. Ebbets Field, Chicago Cubs are in here, and this is The Knothole Gang. This is the program where the stars of tomorrow talk to the stars of today. Boys from your neighborhood and boys from mine get to work out with the Dodgers.” He then introduces his sidekick, Bucky Walsh, who is Ed McMahon to Felton’s Johnny Carson. Walsh hypes the Lincoln Savings Bank and cites “the boys…three young shortstops from the St. Bernadette Little League” who are on the show and who hope to be chosen to appear on the next program. Felton, forever upbeat, then asks each lad, who is 11 or 12 years old, to cite his father’s profession and what he wishes to be when he grows up. He also asks them to name their favorite team. While one proudly cites the Brooklyn nine, a second mentions the Giants and the third chooses the Yankees. The host then interviews “the man who brought (each player) in here”—often the boys’ coach—and introduces the previous night’s winner. Felton then hypes the bank again and introduces a vice president and trustee.[27]

After briefly warming up on the field, the junior ballplayers meet Jackie Robinson. Each asks Jackie a baseball-related question, and then each fields grounders and flies thrown by the Dodger. “Stay right down on it,” Robinson cautions. “Stay right on it now… Charge it now.” The boys are stationed in right field, directly in front of a sign on the outfield wall that features a message that any viewer could not ignore: “Happy Felton’s Knot-Hole Gang Presented by Charles Kreisler Oldsmobile, Davega for Discounts, and The Lincoln Savings Bank.” As this unfolds, Ebbets Field organist Gladys Goodding’s pre-game entertainment can be heard in the background.[28]

After the workout, Robinson heads off to select the winner—and Walsh reappears and presents all three with “big league equipment,” including Robinson and Duke Snider Louisville Sluggers, Snider gloves, and a Lincoln Savings Bank account taken out in each boy’s name. The bank rep then resurfaces and tells the boys, “I hope that you will start to save and add to your account in the Lincoln whenever possible. You know, a savings account can be mighty mighty handy, For instance, you might need some new baseball equipment one of these days. Or maybe you might want to take a summer vacation down at the Dodgertown camp at Vero Beach. If you’ve got a little money saved up in the bank, then it’s easy.”[29]

Jackie reappears and announces his selection, who receives an autographed Robinson baseball. He is asked who he wants to meet, and he responds, “Pee Wee.” But that will happen on the next show. Felton and the previous winner then walk along the right field line toward the Dodgers dugout, where he too will chat with his choice: the ever-popular Pee Wee Reese. Their conversation consists of a question-and-answer session between the ballplayer and the boy. All the while, Felton hypes the show and sponsors. The episode concludes with Reese escorting the boy to the home team bench to “meet the players...meet the Dodgers.” Felton then signs off with a sincere “Hope you enjoyed the show. I get a kick out of it every night.” After a final plug of the sponsors he then reminds viewers to “stick around for Talk to the Stars,” his post-game program.[30]

With his Knothole Gang success, Felton conjured up an idea for a second show which began airing at the start of the 1951 campaign. On Happy Felton’s Talk to the Stars he conversed with the just-concluded game’s star players, one Dodger and one from the visiting nine. Fans were encouraged to phone in questions, which he posed to the players—who earned $50 for their participation, the same fee paid for Knothole Gang appearances. Regarding the show’s premiere, Felton recalled, “There were so many calls you couldn’t dial a phone anywhere in Brooklyn, Manhattan, the Bronx, or Long Island City without getting a busy signal.”[31] As a result the phone calls were replaced by questions submitted on postcards. By 1953, Felton and his staff were receiving over 5,000 cards each week.

Felton in Dodgers uniform, as he appeared

on camera during The Knothole Gang show.

Less than a month after the debut of Happy Felton’s Knothole Gang, Red Smith, writing in the Washington Post, observed, “It is, in this book, a solid show because it brings kids into the ball park; it sells baseball.” Smith described Felton as “an ample and genial actor who is himself a baseball fan…”[32] At the start of its fourth season, the show was labeled a “small miracle” by The New York Times’s Milton Bracker. By then Little League, American Legion, Catholic Youth Organization, and Police Athletic League players were solidly booked by the previous November, with hundreds more lining up to participate. “Once we got it started, it never changed,” Felton reported.[33] And in 1955, the show still was earning applause. It “performs a valuable service for youngsters interested in baseball,” noted J.P. Shanley in the Times. Shanley added that Felton “knows how to talk to youngsters without making them feel foolish or hostile…” And he concluded, “At a time when television entertainment for children is a matter of concern to parents, the ‘Knot-Hole Gang’ show is a refreshing presentation that can have a healthy influence on young viewers.”[34]

The show was so popular that, in late 1953, it was announced that Felton would produce a postgame show for the rival New York Giants, to be called Giant Pals, with Bud Palmer as host. “It’s just my production, my idea, that’s all,” he declared. “I won’t be doing the show. I wouldn’t dare. Brooklyn might disown me.”[35] Not surprisingly, the show never was produced, but Felton did win other TV assignments. One was the fifteen-minute-long Happy Felton’s Press Box— which preceded Dodgers road games—in which he interviewed members of the sports media. Another was Happy Felton’s Spotlight Gang, a Saturday morning NBC-TV program which featured “children in the studio audience watching European vaudeville acts on film.”[36] He also served as the on-field master-of-ceremonies for Ebbets Field events. In 1955, he and young Vin Scully co-emceed a fête honoring Pee Wee Reese. The following year, he soloed during a ceremony for Jake Pitler, the Dodgers first base coach. And he hosted countless Dodger-related events. For example, in June 1952 he was master of ceremonies at a women-oriented baseball clinic held at the Abraham & Straus department store, joining Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese and their spouses, manager Charlie Dressen, and vice president Fresco Thompson.

But the cornerstone of Felton’s success was his Knothole Gang, which eventually extended beyond television. Youngsters throughout the New York City metropolitan area were encouraged to become Knothole gang members; joining was free, and the perks included attending special Saturday morning events at Loew’s movie houses in which Felton and Dodgers ballplayers appeared in person. By May 1952, the Brooklyn Eagle noted that over 50,000 boys and girls were enrolled.[37] Three months later, the paper reported that the membership had “soared to over 65,000 youngsters.”[38] In May, Felton accompanied Pee Wee Reese and Clyde King to Brooklyn’s Pitkin Theater, where the players met their young fans and Take Me Out to the Ball Game (1949), the Gene Kelly-Frank Sinatra-Esther Williams baseball musical, was screened. Then in June, Gil Hodges and Bobby Morgan joined him onstage at the Kameo and Gates theaters. That September, Jackie Robinson and Billy Cox appeared at the Gates Theater. “Upwards of 2,500 boys and girls have already obtained tickets for this show,” reported the Brooklyn Eagle. “Prizes will be awarded to the boys and girls who ask the best baseball questions, with a special ball autographed by all the Dodger stars for the top question.”[39] As for these appearances, Felton declared, “There are bound to be some problems, smooth as things are going. After our first meeting, one mother called me up to beg me to say something to her son, who had shaken hands with ‘some ball player’ and was refusing to wash his hands thereafter.”[40]

Glitches occasionally surfaced during The Knothole Gang episodes. Back then, when major leaguers earned modest salaries, player Cal Abrams concocted a scheme to come away with an extra payday. On one occasion, the flychaser was mentoring the youngsters on the show. “I got hold of this one kid, and I said, ‘Look, I’m going to pick you as the best fielder, and in turn I want you to say that you want to talk to me in the dugout.’ That way I would get an extra $50. So he said, ‘All right.’ And so I was throwing the ball to the three kids, and Happy Felton says: ‘Cal, who do you think is going to make it?’ I said, ‘No. 3.’ And the kid I had made the deal with comes over, and Happy says, ‘Congratulations, here’s an autographed ball, a Baby Ruth candy bar. Now who do you want to talk to in the dugout?’ I’m waiting out there, and the kid says: ‘Carl Furillo’”[41]

On another occasion, Felton offered up a yarn whose content was more hype than fact. He recalled that “a tough li’l monkey came on [the show]...and asked to talk to Duke Snider. Our aim is to please, but this time it was a ticklish situation. The Duke, you see, was in a bad slump, having gone 0 for 21. It’s not a good idea to interview ’em when they’re low, but this kid was bent on talking to Snider. ‘Okay,’ The Duke snapped, when I went to him.…The boy was waiting for Duke in front of the cameras. He immediately took charge when the show began. ‘Gee, Duke,’ he said, ‘You are my idol, but this season you really stink!’ I thought Duke’s mouth was going to cave in…” Felton added that the boy wasn’t purposefully trying to sass Snider, as the youngster explained that he too had been slumping. “The Duke perked up,” continued Felton. “He was really interested now, had completely forgotten this was going over television. You’d have thought this was Ted Williams or Stan Musial he was comparing notes with. ‘What’d you do,’ he asked confidentially. ‘I went to Father O’Grady, and he told me I should go to bed and pray that I’d find the strike zone again,’ the boy said. ‘I did and I pulled myself right out of it.’ Duke Snider, to this day, hasn’t mentioned that conversation—but dawgonned [sic] it if he didn’t belt out three home runs and a single the very next afternoon.”[42]

Had Happy Felton’s Knothole Gang played to viewers in Cleveland, Cincinnati, or St. Louis, Felton’s celebrity would likely not have transcended the borders of Ohio or Missouri. But Brooklyn is in New York City, New York City is the nation’s media capital—and so Happy Felton became a nationally-known baseball personality. In October 1952, Republican Party presidential nominee Dwight Eisenhower appeared at a gathering sponsored by the National Arts and Sports Committee for Eisenhower. Among those present were Irving Berlin, Gene Tunney, Robert Montgomery, Dorothy Fields, William Gaxton, Helen Hayes—and Happy Felton.[43]

On September 24, 1957, the Brooklyn Dodgers played their final home game before leaving the Borough of Churches for the orange groves of Los Angeles. And as the Dodgers abandoned Brooklyn, Happy Felton’s Knothole Gang quietly faded away. By this time, thousands of Knothole Gang members were being admitted to Ebbets Field for free; on August 31, six thousand youngsters filled the seats for a Dodgers-Giants tussle. This program continued the following season in Los Angeles. Ex-major leaguer and Los Angeles native Tuck Stainback oversaw the “new” Knothole Gang which, according to the Los Angeles Times, was “so dear to Walter O’Malley’s heart.”[44] As the 1958 campaign got underway, O’Malley declared, “We hope to welcome more than 500,000 Knot-holers before this season ends.”[45] On May 3, the Los Angeles Times reported, “Proudest boy in Los Angeles today will be little Bobby Merwin, 8…He will become Charter Member No. 1 of the Los Angeles Dodgers Knot Hole Gang—the first of millions of youngsters who will be free guests of the Dodgers during this and future baseball seasons in Los Angeles.”[46] But Happy Felton was nowhere to be found. He was a part of the Dodgers' Brooklyn-based past, much like Hilda Chester, the Dodger Symphony, and the Abe Stark “Hit Sign Win Suit” ad on the Ebbets Field scoreboard.

Fortunately, Felton had little difficulty securing new work. On June 1, 1957, he was the “umpire-in-chief” on the premiere offering of It’s a Hit, a Saturday morning WCBS-TV quiz show for youngsters. Guesting on that first episode were Brooklyn’s Randy Jackson and Dick Williams—an ex-Dodger then with the Baltimore Orioles. According to The New York Times, “The quiz is patterned on the rules of baseball. Two teams of youngsters hit a ball attached to a fixed swinging stem. Through some magical gadgetry, an illuminated board shows whether the batter has made himself eligible for a home run, a single or has been declared out. If the board registers a hit, the young batter still has a problem: he must correctly answer a question or he becomes just another out. The team that gives the most right answers pushes the most runs across home plate.”[47] Billboard described It’s a Hit as a “delightful kids’ quiz…Happy Felton has never been more relaxed and warm than he is as emcee…”[48] The Times’s Jack Gould described It’s a Hit as “a thoroughly wholesome combination of competition and a sprinkling of knowledge, and even the parent may find it quite exciting. Mr. Felton is the firm but fair umpire of the game, of which an adult version might make good evening viewing.”[49] But this did not come to pass. It’s a Hit was no hit; its final episode aired on September 21.

Felton also won acting roles on TV series entries. One was “Be My Guest,” a comedy of American suburbia broadcast on The United States Steel Hour on August 27, 1958. Then on April 10, 1959, he appeared in “The Small Elect,” an episode of the mystery series The Further Adventures of Ellery Queen. He emceed a range of events, some of which were linked to baseball. One example: In December 1961, he was the master of ceremonies at a gathering honoring Roy Campanella given by the United Cerebral Palsy Association of Nassau County and held in the Cloud Casino at Roosevelt Raceway in Westbury, Long Island.

Happy Felton died in New York on October 21, 1964, at Manhattan’s Mount Sinai Hospital; the cause of death was not reported. He lived neither in Flatbush nor Bensonhurst nor Canarsie; his address was 180 East 72nd Street, Manhattan, and he was survived by his wife and daughter. Services also were held in Manhattan, at the Frank E. Campbell funeral home on Madison Avenue and East 81st Street. All these decades later, he may be long-forgotten—but he still is affectionately recalled by those who encountered him. “I don’t know the date but I met Happy, Pee Wee, Campy, and Gilliam—not 100 per cent sure about Gilliam—at the Williamsburg Savings (Bank)…,” recalled Frank Paciulli. “There was some kind of Dodger special occasion for the day. I have no idea what it was and it most likely was in the mid-1950s. The three baseball players and Happy were seated in a row at a long table as the line of kids passed by. I believe that the players and Happy shook every kid’s hand and I am pretty sure that each kid received an autograph from each one of them too.”[50]

Knothole Gang contestants and winners also recall the show. “I won as a second baseman,” remembered Ronald Schwartz. “Robinson selected me. The next night I chose to meet Pee Wee Reese…who was my idol.”[51] “When I was around 11 years old, my brother [Barry] and I appeared on the [show] prior to a Dodgers game against the St. Louis Cardinals,” declared Richard Zamoff, director of The Jackie Robinson Project and faculty advisor to the Jackie and Rachel Robinson Society at The George Washington University. “We were a shortstop-second base combination and, much to our delight, the guest Dodger that afternoon was Jackie Robinson. JR threw us a couple of grounders and popups and complimented us (and the other young players) on (our) skills and potential. Of course, he reminded us of the importance of practice and studying hard in school. What Barry and I probably remember most about that June afternoon is that it still feels good remembering it.”[52]

Decades later—in 1997, to be exact—the Brooklyn Dodgers had long been a memory and although construction wouldn't begin on a new ballyard until 2007, the New York Mets had begun agitating to replace Shea Stadium. Dave Anderson, a New York Times columnist who was old enough to have covered the team for the Brooklyn Eagle in the 1950s, suggested that in addition to restoring the quirkiness of Ebbets Field, the Mets ought to inaugurate a “pre-game TV show in the right-field bullpen. Put kids on it, along with one of the Mets, the way all those Brooklyn kids and all those Dodgers were on Happy Felton’s ‘Knothole Gang’ on Channel 9. Whichever Dodger appeared got $50, nice money then, but the Met millionaires should do it free.…”[53]

The Brooklyn Cyclones, the Mets’ Class A New York-Penn League affiliate, may have their “Tykeclones” kids club, but there was no Happy Felton to spur on a New York Mets Knothole Gang revival.

Notes

1. Marjory Adams, “Fat Felton Has ‘Fat’ Role as ‘Flamingo Road’ Villain,” Boston Globe, March 7, 1946: 10.

2. Dave Anderson, “Happy Felton Just A Big Kid at Heart,” Brooklyn Eagle, May 23, 1953: 8.

3. Email with Jodi Mihailoff, Secretary Alumni Affairs, 3 Allegheny College, July 19, 2016.

4. Dave Anderson.

5. “Happy Felton of ‘Knothole Gang,’ Baseball TV Show, Dead at 56,” The New York Times, October 22, 1964: 35.

6. “‘The Seventh Heart’ Opens at Mayfair,” The New York Times, May 3, 1927: 24.

7. Alexander Woollcott, “What’s Doing in New York,” The New York Times, May 8, 1927: B13–B14.

8. “Ed Sullivan’s Little Old New York,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, April 27, 1952: 8.

9. Display Ad, Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, December 16, 1928: 31.

10. Display Ad, The Free Lance Star, Fredericksburg, Virginia, October 21, 1929: 5.

11. “Phi Delta Fraternity Will Give Dance Dec. 27 at Monday Afternoon Club,” Binghamton Press, December 18, 1929: 22.

12. Display Ad, Washington Post, October 25, 1930: 11.

13. Display Ad, The New York Times, September 4, 1931: 3.

14. Display Ad, Chicago Tribune, December 3, 1938: 19.

15. In a 1953 Felton profile in the Brooklyn Eagle, Dave Anderson reported that he “first appeared on video in 1932…on a screen no bigger than your wrist in the General Electric experimental station in Schenectady, N.Y.” However, no copies exist of this programming, which was broadcast live. Records, airdates, and other information remain sketchy.

16. ‘Happy’ Felton At De 16 Witt Clinton,” Schenectady Gazette, April 9, 1932: page number indecipherable.

17. Art Arthur, “Reverting to Type,” Brooklyn Eagle, June 23, 1933: 26.

18. Marjory Adams.

19. School Days eventually morphed into School House, a 30-minute-long show that aired between January 18 and April 19, 1949, on the DuMont Television Network. By that time, Kenny Delmar had replaced Felton.

20. Marjory Adams.

21. “In ‘Flamingo Road,’ ‘Happy Felton’ Resumes His Real Name—Francis J Felton,” Boston Globe, February 24, 1946: D26.

22. “Ed Sullivan’s Little Old New York.”

23. “Leaders Strike Up the Band for Good Fellows,” Chicago Tribune, December 15, 1938: 22.

24. “Felton Bats for Sandlot Tilt,” Brooklyn Eagle, July 17, 1951: 13.

25. “Toyland Marches Small Fry Goggle.” The New York Times, November 23, 1951: 19.

26. Dave Anderson.

27. See Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsQuqhWhm8o

28. Ibid.

29. Ibid.

30. Ibid.

31. Dave Anderson.

32. Red Smith, “Maybe Bums Should Play the Youngsters,” Washington Post, May 14, 1950: C3.

33. Milton Bracker, “Television Juvenile Baseball Testing Ground,” The New York Times, April 26, 1953: X10.

34. J.P. Shanley, “Television: ‘Knot-Hole Gang’,” The New York Times, June 4, 1955: 33.

35. “Dodgers’ Felton To Produce TV Show for Giants,” Brooklyn Eagle, December 30, 1953: 15

36. Val Adams, “TV Shows to Star 2 Ventriloquists,” The New York Times, November 16, 1954: 40.

37. “Knot-Hole Gang Mothers To Be Loew Guests,” Brooklyn Eagle, May 7, 1952: 14.

38. “Bob Lanigan’s TV Review,” Brooklyn Eagle, August 3, 1952: 21.

39. “Jackie Robinson at Gates Saturday.” Brooklyn Eagle, September 10, 1952: 12.

40. Jane Corby, “At the Movies: Loew’s Theaters—Baseball-TV Tieup Makes a Hit With the Kids” Brooklyn Eagle, April 20, 1952: 29.

41. Richard Goldstein, “Cal Abrams, Part of Lore Of Dodgers, Is Dead at 72.” The New York Times, February 27, 1997: B10.

42. John McCallum, “Duke Snider Must Have Taken Stock in What the Boy Said,” Binghamton Press, July 25, 1953: 11.

43. “All Decisions My Own, Says 43 Eisenhower,” Los Angeles Times, October 18, 1952: 1.

44. “Dodgers Give Many Duties to Stainback. Los Angeles Times, April 14, 1958: D12.

45. “O’Malley Tells of Dodgers’ Youth Program,” Los Angeles Times, May 13, 1958: C3.

46. “North Hollywood Boy No. 1 in Knot Hole Gang,” Los Angeles Times, May 3, 1958: A3.

47. Jack Gould, “TV: Nehru Faces Nation,” The New York Times, July 8, 1957: 33

48. Bob Bernstein, “It’s a Hit (Net),” The Billboard, July 15, 1957: 20.

49. Jack Gould.

50. Email with Frank Paciulli, July 18, 2016.

51. Email with Ronald Schwartz, July 18, 2016.

52. Email with Richard Zamoff, July 19, 2016.

53. Dave Anderson, “Sports of the Times.”

“‘Little League Home Runs’ in MLB History”: The Denouement

Chuck Hildebrandt

At the SABR 45 convention held in Chicago in 2015, I presented a topic that had not previously been studied under the auspices of the Society for American Baseball Research: “'Little League Home Runs' in MLB History.”[1] A “Little League Home Run” (LLHR) is a play that occurs when a hitter puts a ball into play that, under normal circumstances, should result in a routine out or routine base hit, or a runner-on-error event such as reaching first on an overthrow, or taking an extra base on a bobbled ball by a fielder. But instead, the play takes on a life of its own as the fielders boot the ball and throw it around the field, committing multiple errors while the batter-runner—and all the runners before him—circle the bases and score, all the while laughing along with the laughing fans.

The presentation was fun to put together, and it must have been fun to watch, too, because SABR bestowed the Doug Pappas Research Award on me for it.[2] Also included was a nice check for $250, presumably for the purpose of funding further research into the phenomenon of Little League Home Runs. (Most of the cash award was, in fact, spent in the bar of the Palmer House Hotel while talking about the presentation with other SABRites.)

But I’m not writing this denouement merely to crow about my presentation or my award (or my drinking in fancy hotel bars). I’m writing it to share what happened after the convention that helped finalize the definition of the LLHR, as well as publish an updated list of all known and confirmed LLHRs as of the date of publication of this article, along with some fun facts and general observations about them.

Rethinking the Definition of a Little League Home Run

Because I received such positive feedback about the presentation, I hoped the idea could earn a feature write-up on a website targeted to baseball fans. Fortunately, FanGraphs agreed and allowed me to repurpose the presentation into a three-part article, complete with embedded video and audio of actual LLHRs, which was published later that summer.

Part I established the proposed definition of the LLHR.[3] As in the presentation, to be considered a LLHR the play needed to include the following elements:

• Two or more errors on the play.

• Batter scores on the play.

That was it. Simple, right? And the definition had to be simple since we needed to be able to query the play-by-play database maintained by Retrosheet—the universally acknowledged gold standard for the cataloguing of major league games throughout history—to uncover LLHRs for which we have no available video or audio evidence.[4] Querying on this proposed definition, the earliest instance of a LLHR in recorded history we could find (as of date of publication) occurred during the fourth inning of Game 6 of the 1911 World Series (nearly 28 years before the actual Little League organization itself was founded and available to lend its name to such a play).[5] The inaugural LLHR was hit by Jack Barry of the Philadelphia Athletics against the temporarily hapless New York Giants, and was served up by starter Red Ames. There is a hilarious description of the play that appeared in The New York Times the following day, which I hope you can read in the graphic on the previous page. It includes such classic lines as, “Then came a hysterical outburst of loose play by the Giants…” and “Making the circuit of the bases on a sacrifice hit is something new in baseball and the crowd almost died laughing—at the Giants.”

Ain’t 1911 sportswriting grand?

Part II of the article focused on the statistics and oddities peripheral to the phenomenon of the Little League Home Run.[6] At the time of the original presentation, of the 148,390 total games available to query in the Retrosheet database (through the end of the 2014 season[7]), a total of 258 Little League Home Runs had been identified, which worked out to 1.74 LLHRs per 1,000 games played. (Additional and updated information about LLHRs appears toward the end of this article.)

Part III was, to my thinking, the most interesting of all, and which did not appear in the original presentation at SABR 45 because of time constraints.[8] This final part called the entire premise of Part I into question by examining the original proposed definition and inviting online discussion among the article’s readers as to whether it should remain the proper definition, or whether it should be adjusted.

Also included in Part III were several videos of plays which might have been considered by many—including the TV and radio announcers calling those game—to be LLHRs, but which did not fit the definition as originally proposed. A clear example was a booming hit by the Cubs’ Kris Bryant against the Pirates’ Arquimedes Caminero, early in 2015, that one-hopped the wall for a double.[9] Bryant took third on the relay throw to the plate, intended to nab the lead runner, which bounced away from the catcher. As Bryant took a wide turn around third and put the brakes on, the catcher saw the opportunity to put Bryant out and threw to third. At that point, Bryant committed to the plate; the third baseman took the throw and threw back to the catcher, who dropped the ball, and Bryant plated the run.

The Cubs’ TV announcer called this play a Little League Home Run right away. However, the play did not meet our original definition either technically (only one error was made on the play) or aesthetically (Bryant had hit a booming drive over the center fielder’s head, which in an actual Little League game without fences would have allowed the batter to easily trot around the bases for a real live home run).

This specific play notwithstanding, it became clear that there could be many potential batter-scoring plays which might not satisfy the technical definition originally proposed, but which might fairly still be called a Little League Home Run if it could meet the premise of the play in spirit: an ordinary ball put into play that a bunch of kids in the field boot around and throw all over the place, turning what would normally be a routine out or hit into a four-base romp teeming with hilarity.

The LLHR Poll and the Results

The close of Part III included an online survey asking readers of the article to vote on what should or should not qualify as a Little League Home Run.[10] Of the eight questions asked, the first seven included video of a play, a written description of the play in case the video did not properly load for the survey taker, and the simple question: “Should this be considered a LLHR?” The available answers were “yes” or “no” with a text box for optional comments. The eighth question consisted of twenty short play descriptions, each with a yes/no radio button for voting, and a comment box for the question overall.

During the seven weeks the survey was open following the publishing of the FanGraphs article, 424 total responses were received, with 642 comments offered by respondents to flesh out their answers.

The first question (see screenshot), contained an example of an obvious LLHR which was intended to test the integrity of the answers. It was also the first LLHR shown in both the SABR 45 presentation and the Fangraphs article: Miguel Cabrera’s 2012 “shot” against Colorado.[11] Result: 414 of the 424 respondents, almost 98 percent, agreed that this should be a LLHR, with one respondent declaring, “That’s as little league as a little league home run gets.” Another wrote, “Rounding the bases on a grounder to the pitcher is the epitome of a LLHR” and a third chimed in with, “[This example] strikes me as something akin to the platonic ideal of a [Little League] home run.” Perhaps the best summarizing comment was, “If this doesn't fit the definition of a LLHR, I don't know what does.” The earnestness of the answers to this first question indicated that the respondent base was prepared to take the survey seriously, inspiring confidence in their guidance. (Humorously, though, one of the ten dissenters insisted that all Little League Home Runs “[need] to be hit into the outfield” to qualify, an opinion that also informed the remainder of his answers.)

The LLHR poll as it appeared online.

Most of the six remaining video questions yielded clear majorities one way or the other, all in the direction of the original definition. The voting on one play, however, ran so close that mathematicians might consider it a statistical dead heat. One 2011 play saw the Angels’ Peter Bourjos lining a sharp single into left field that skipped off the glove of a charging Rangers’ David Murphy and scooted all the way to the wall.[12] Murphy bolted after the ball, picked it up near the outfield wall and hurled it in, far too late to get the speedy Bourjos. Even though the play involved only a single defender, a full 49.6% thought this play should qualify as a LLHR. There were plenty of reasonable comments on both sides of the question. Some who thought it should qualify as a LLHR noted that “turning around to chase a ball that a fielder cleanly whiffed on collecting is quintessentially Little League,” and “these are the kinds of plays that happen in Little League all the time.” Those against the LLHR label for the play provided comments such as “feels like LLHR needs at least ONE bad throw (preferably two) to qualify” and that the play “lacks the Keystone Kops factor.”

The final question was perhaps the most important one, which could be asked only after respondents had seen the several video examples before it. The intention was to help crystallize in the respondent’s mind what a LLHR should look like in theory, and then to consider each of the options listed in the final question against their own mental benchmark to determine all the instances they believe should qualify as a LLHR. The results are listed in Figure 1 (opposite page). The double line in the middle of the table was added to easily separate those plays that received majority “yes” answers from those that received majority “no” answers. The answers in bold are those plays that qualify as a LLHR under the originally proposed definition.

As a quick scan reveals, most of the scenarios listed in this question that were voted affirmatively by the majority of survey takers adhered to the originally proposed definition—and on the flip side, no play which fit the original definition was voted down by the majority of survey takers. However, two plays that had not been considered before were voted by the majority as qualifying for the Little League Home Run label, and they are both single-error plays involving the infield.

Intuitively, this makes sense: if a batter hits a ball on the infield, the expected result would be a routine out, or a routine fielder’s choice. If the batter is a fast runner, he might get an infield single. But something dramatically unusual must happen for a batter to make it all the way around the bases on such a play, even if it involves only one official error committed. Maybe the errant throw past first rolls all the way down the line and the batter runs clear around the bases before the ball can be retrieved and heaved plateward. Reasonable conjecture suggests this scenario was probably more likely to occur in the more expansive ballparks of the game’s earliest days, given the amount of foul ground they typically contained. Perhaps in the same basic bad throw scenario, when the throw back in arrives at the plate the batter-runner gets caught in a rundown between third and home before eluding a missed tag by the catcher and scoring.

Another possibility would be on a bloop pop up down the line behind first base, the ball pops out of the second baseman’s mitt on a collision with the first baseman and the ball shoots past the right fielder down the line while the batter-runner comes around to score. Yet one more would be a clean base hit to the outfield that returns a throw to the infield to make a play on a runner, but at some point an errant throw gets heaved back into the outfield which allows the batter-runner to complete his trip around the bases. All of these could fairly be classified as legitimate Little League Home Runs, even without commission of a second error.

Of the comments from survey takers on the one-error scenario, this one perhaps encapsulates it best: “I think if there is only one error on the play it needs to be [on] a routine [hit ball] (that a little league fielder might mess up), [i.e., not] fielding a softly hit ball and if rolling to the wall, throwing the ball back to the infield…and it going past the fielders…”

And that, right there, is the essence of the Little League Home Run. It’s not necessarily that a batter-runner happens to score on a play that was not credited as a home run, and it’s not that a big league batter crushes an extra-base hit—as they all can and that only the very best Little Leaguers could ever hope to—and happens to score on a throw past third that sails into the dugout. It’s the routine play: the little dribbler, the bloop pop-up, the ordinary single—all of which should result in nothing more than station-to-station movement at most, but which suddenly and randomly becomes a wild free-for-all because of temporary and random defensive incompetence.

And if a player does happen to hit a clean double, but comes around to score on two errors, then that too reflects a level of defensive ineptitude that, despite the big league nature of the hit, also reflects the spirit of the Little League Home Run.

Therefore, as of publication date, for the purposes of querying the Retrosheet play-by-play database to identify potential events throughout history, the definition of the Little League Home Run is revised to encompass balls put into play during which:

The batter scores, and either

• Two errors are committed on the play; or

• One error is committed on the play, which is not an extra-base hit, and the error is charged to a non-outfielder.

By describing the one-error plays in this way, the chance that the batter could come home on a routine error committed on a double or triple is eliminated, since it is practically impossible to produce an infield extra-base hit. However, whether the ball is hit to the infield or to the outfield, for a batter to score on a single or non-hit with only a single error charged to an infielder, it would almost certainly have to include a wild throw, or the egregious miss of a throw, that sends the ball to the outfield, thus setting off hair-on-fire desperation to retrieve and return the ball, resulting in the hilarity that is the Little League Home Run.

This also helps explain why the Bourjos play, which drew a virtual 50–50 split vote, ultimately does not fit the description of a Little League Home Run: it occurs on a routine error typical of outfielders, rather than a rare and uncommon error. And the voting results bear this out: even though almost 50% of voters voted “yes” when viewing it, when the same play in theory was flatly described in the survey question as “Outfield single and one error,” only about 34% of respondents voted yes on it; and when it was alternately described as “Ball hit to outfield and one error,” it received even fewer positive votes: 26.5%. Given this, we should continue to regard plays like the Bourjos hit not Little League Home Runs.

An Excel file listing all Little League Home Runs, as well as providing links to newspaper accounts and box scores, will be hosted by SABR at http://sabr.org/little-league-home-runs.This file can also be accessed on Google Drive at http://bit.ly/llhr-database, and will be updated annually as Retrosheet brings more seasons online. (NOTE: Access to newspaper accounts that are linked to within the database may require a website subscription or library membership.)

Acknowledgments

The Little League Home Runs project could not have been accomplished without help along the way from some terrific people. First and foremost among them is Tom Ruane of Retrosheet, who supplied query after query after query in our quest to identify LLHRs throughout history; as well as his compatriot Mark Pankin, for helping to identify for removal certain plays that showed up in those queries but that newspaper accounts confirmed as being incorrectly scored. Also, thanks to Jacob Pomrenke of SABR and Sean Forman of Baseball-Reference.com for supplying key tools and promotional support for the project; Dave Cameron and Carson Cistulli of Fangraphs for featuring the three-part LLHR article series on the website; David W. Smith, Daniel Hirsch and Mike Emeigh, all of whom supplied Retrosheet queries early in the project; and finally, a big thanks to Patrick Gallagher, Adrian Fung, Alain Usereau, Simon Dukes, Mark Pankin (again), Bill Nowlin, Amy Watts, and Cecilia Tan for helping us nail down those last few media account confirmations of Little League Home Run plays.

Fun Facts and General Observations About LLHRs

There were originally 355 plays in consideration as Little League Home Runs: 329 have been confirmed by media accounts and are discussed here; one other has confirmation pending as of date of publication. Three have been rejected because of circumstances surrounding the plays and the remaining 22 have been rejected because the media accounts conflicted with the play as recorded in Retrosheet’s play-by-play database. In addition, one confirmed LLHR originally credited to Ted Simmons has been changed and properly credited to Joe Torre, per newspaper accounts. Retrosheet has confirmed the veracity of the newspaper accounts and has committed to correcting these 22 plays in their database to match those accounts.

Ironically, the first known mention in newspaper accounts of the term “Little League Home Run” found thus far did not refer to the phenomenon contemplated by this research study, but refers instead to Dusty Rhodes’ pinch-hit World Series home run that barely scraped over the Polo Grounds right field wall 258 feet from home plate in Game 1 of the 1954 World Series. The term was coined in a column written by Marty Levin, sports editor for the Wilmington (DE) Morning News.[13]

The first mention of the term “Little League Home Run” that does refer to that which this study defines as such appeared in the game account of Denny Doyle’s LLHR hit on June 1, 1974. The beat writer was Jeff Prugh of the Los Angeles Times.[14]

As of publication date, there have been three days on which two Little League Home Runs were hit: May 30, 1933 (Bob Johnson, Jim Levey), June 30, 1991 (Alfredo Griffin, Will Clark), and June 16, 2012 (Miguel Cabrera, Edwin Encarnacion).

A surprising number of pitchers have hit Little League Home Runs: 18 in all, about 5.5 percent of the total. That may seem strange at first blush, but it makes sense as you think a little more about it: when pitchers bat, they typically bunt with a runner on first and/or second with less than two out, and as infielders rush in to grab the ball and hurry the throw to a base, it seems more likely they will throw the ball away and yield the LLHR.

Ted Simmons was originally thought to have hit three Little League Home Runs, only one of two players to have done so. However, when newspaper accounts were consulted, two of them were found to have been two separate plays instead of a single LLHR play, with Simmons stopping on base on the first play each time and then scoring on a teammate’s at bat—one of which was on Joe Torre’s own Little League Home Run!

Tony Fernandez of the Toronto Blue Jays hit Little League Home Runs in back-to-back at bats on two different days (June 15 and 16, 1988) against two different teams (Cleveland Indians, Detroit Tigers) in two different cities (Toronto, Detroit).

Joe DiMaggio’s three-run Little League Home Run against the Cincinnati Reds in Game 4 was the hit that scored the winning runs to clinch the 1939 World Series for the New York Yankees.

Despite there having been 24 Little League Home Runs hit in the ninth inning or later, there has been only one walk-off LLHR in history found as of publication date: Manny Mota’s two-run “shot” to turn a 1–0 deficit into a 2–1 win for the Pittsburgh Pirates over the New York Mets on August 27, 1963. (Of those 24 LLHRs, 19 were hit by the visiting team.)

Notes

1. To view or download a copy of the presentation, go to this link: https://goo.gl/dKXYJE. To hear an entertaining audio version of the presentation, go to this link: http://bit.ly/sabr45-chuck. NOTE: These links are case sensitive.

2. “SABR 45: Hildebrandt, Grilc win 2015 presentation awards,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://sabr.org/latest/sabr-45-hildebrandt-grilc-win-2015-presentation-awards.

3. “Little League Home Runs in MLB History, Part I,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://www.fangraphs.com/blogs/little-league-home-runs-in-mlb-history-part-i.

4. “The Directory of Major League Years,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/index.html.

5. “October 26, 1911 World Series Game 6, Giants at Athletics,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/1911/ B10260PHA1911.htm

6. “Little League Home Runs in MLB History, Part II,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://www.fangraphs.com/blogs/little-league-home-runs-in-mlb-history-part-ii.

7. Figure is from a Retrosheet query provided by David W. Smith, founder of Retrosheet, in an email to the author, August 4, 2015.

8. “Little League Home Runs in MLB History, Part III,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://www.fangraphs.com/blogs/little-league-home-runs-in-mlb-history-part-iii.

9. “Must C: Bryant’s Crazy Trip,” accessed March 17, 2017, http://m.mlb. com/video/topic/11493214/v82131183/must-c-curious-bryants-little-league-home-run.

10. The survey, currently closed, resided at https://www.surveymonkey.com/ r/LLHR2015.

11. “Miguel Cabrera hits a ‘Little League’ Home Run against Colorado,” accessed March 17, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wbVozp4qsQ (case sensitive).

12. “Bourjos’ RBI Single,” accessed March 17, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y35wMWdk1pA (case sensitive).

13. Marty Levin, "Sports Gazing," Wilmington (DE) Morning News, September 30, 1954.

14. Jeff Prugh, “Ryan’s No-Hit Bid Ends in 8th,” Los Angeles Times, June 2, 1974.

15. Seasons with play-by-play available for fewer than 99% of regular season games. Seasons with play-by-play for 40.0-49.9% of games: 1921, 1943; 50–59.9%: 1941, 1942; 60–69.9%: 1938, 1939, 1940; 70–79.9%: 1922, 1932, 1934, 1935, 1936; 80–83.7%: 1925, 1927, 1930, 1931, 1933, 1937.

Appendix: Little League Home Runs by the Numbers

The Complete List of Confirmed Little League Home Runs

Below is the full list of all 329 Little League Home Runs, confirmed as of publication date, as both recorded in the Retrosheet play-by-play

archives, and subsequently confirmed through newspaper, audio or video accounts. This list is updated through the end of the 2016 season.

As more play-by-play accounts of historical seasons come online through the heroic efforts of the Retrosheet crew and volunteers, there

should be more Little League Home Runs discovered in the game’s antiquity, as well as new Little League Home Runs that will have been hit as future games themselves become history.

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

1 10/26/1911 Jack Barry PHA NY1 E1/TH1/SH.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(UR)(E9/TH3);B-H(UR) Error-1 2

2 10/2/1919 Ray Schalk CHA CIN S9.1-H(UR)(E9/TH2);B-H(UR)(E5/THH) Single 2

3 10/5/1920 George Burns CLE BRO S3/P34D.B-H(E3/TH2) Single 1

4 5/17/1921 Hi Myers BRO SLN S1.2-H(E1/TH)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E3/TH)(UR) Single 2

5 5/21/1921 Pete Kilduff BRO PIT S7.2-H;B-H(E1)(E1/TH)(UR) Single 2

6 7/20/1921 Austin McHenry SLN BRO S7.B-H(E7)(E7/TH) Single 2

7 8/20/1921 Walter Schmidt PIT BSN S5/BG.3-H;B-H(E5/TH)(E9/TH)(UR) Single 2

8 4/21/1922 George Sisler SLA CHA S5/BG.1-H(E5/TH1)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

9 6/16/1922 Marty Krug CHN BSN E9/F.B-H(E9/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-9 2

10 8/13/1922 Rabbit Maranville PIT CIN E4/8S/F.B-H(NR)(UR) Error-4 1

11 8/16/1922 Frankie Frisch NY1 PIT S9.1-H(E9)(NR);B-H(E4/TH3)(NR)(UR) Single 2

12 4/29/1925 Lew Fonseca PHI NY1 S7.3-H;2-H;1-H(THH)(E2/TH2)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

13 5/23/1925 Bob Meusel NYA CLE 5E3.B-H(E1/TH3)(NR)(UR) Error-3 2

14 5/27/1925 Bibb Falk CHA DET FC5.3XH(525);2-H(NR)(UR);BXH(54E3)(NR)(UR)# Fielder's Choice 1

15 6/19/1925 Tris Speaker CLE WS1 S1/G.1-H(E1/TH1)(NR)(UR);B-H(E9/TH3)(NR)(UR) Single 2

16 7/7/1925 Johnny Mokan PHI CIN E5/TH1.2-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E3/TH3)(NR)(UR) Error-5 2

17 7/12/1925 Tris Speaker CLE BOS D9.B-H(E9)(E6/TH3)(NR)(UR) Double 2

18 9/5/1925 Russ Wrightstone PHI NY1 E8/F8D.B-H(E4/TH3)(NR)(UR) Error-8 2

19 5/7/1927 Rube Bressler CIN BSN S8.1-H(E8)(NR);B-H(E4/TH)(NR) Single 2

20 5/23/1927 Heinie Manush DET CLE S8.3-H;1-H(E8)(NR)(UR);B-H(E8/THH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

21 6/10/1927 Billy Zitzmann CIN PHI S9.2-H;1-H(NR)(E9)(UR);B-H(NR)(E5)(UR) Single 2

22 6/16/1927 Art Reinhart SLN NY1 S7.B-H(E7)(E7/TH)(NR) Single 2

23 7/24/1927 Homer Summa CLE PHA FC1/THH.3XH(NR)(12E4)(UR);2-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 1

24 8/19/1927 Luke Sewell CLE PHA S8/THH.1XH(863452E5)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR)# Single 1

25 9/21/1927 Ossie Bluege WS1 SLA S7.3-H;2-H(NR)(E7)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E3)(UR) Single 2

26 5/13/1930 Tommy Thevenow PHI PIT S9.3-H;2-H;B-H(E9)(E2)(NR)(UR) Single 2

27 5/30/1930 Hod Ford CIN PIT S8.3-H;2-H;B-H(E4/THH)(NR)(UR) Single 1

28 5/31/1930 Luke Sewell CLE DET S6.3-H;2-H(E6)(UR);1-H(E9)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 2

29 6/1/1930 Kiki Cuyler CHN PIT FC6.1-H(E6/TH2)(NR)(UR);B-H(E9/THH)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

30 7/6/1930 Taylor Douthit SLN PIT D9.1-H;BXH(5E2)(E9/TH) Double 2

31 7/12/1930 Al Lopez BRO NY1 S5.B-H(E5/TH1)(E3/TH3)(UR) Single 2

32 5/25/1931 Irv Jeffries CHA CLE D7.B-H(E6)(E4/TH)(UR) Double 2

33 8/13/1931 Eric McNair PHA DET S5.2-H(NR)(E5/TH)(UR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 1

34 5/30/1932 Don Hurst PHI BRO S9.1-H(E9)(NR)(UR);B-H(E3)(NR)(UR) Single 2

35 7/7/1932 Ski Melillo SLA BOS S7.2-H;B-H(TH)(E2/TH)(NR) Single 1

36 7/23/1932 Pinky Whitney PHI BRO S5.3-H;2-H(E5)(NR);B-H(E3)(NR)# Single 2

37 9/10/1932 Max Bishop PHA CLE E8/F.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E4)(NR)(UR) Error-8 2

38 5/30/1933 Bob Johnson PHA BOS D8.3-H;1-H(E1)(UR)(NR);B-H(E6)(NR)(UR) Double 2

39 5/30/1933 Jim Levey SLA DET E6/G.3-H(NR)(UR);1XH(1E5)(UR);B-H(UR)# Error-6 2

40 6/9/1933 Jimmie Wilson SLN CHN FC1.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR);BXH(86E2)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

41 7/1/1933 Billy Urbanski BSN CIN E6/G.B-H(E6/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-6 2

42 8/7/1934 Bob Johnson PHA BOS FC5.3-H(E5/THH)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR)# Fielder's Choice 1

43 9/13/1934 Joe Vosmik CLE NYA D8.B-H(E8)(E8/TH) Double 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

44 9/20/1934 Tony Lazzeri NYA DET S9.3-H;1-H(E9)(E3)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 2

45 5/11/1935 Gus Suhr PIT NY1 D9.B-H(E9)(E5)(NR)(UR) Double 2

46 6/17/1935 Hank Leiber NY1 SLN D7.3-H;2-H;1-H(E2)(NR);B-H(E2)(NR)(UR) Double 2

47 6/2/1936 Wally Millies WS1 SLA S.3-H;B-H(E2)(UR)# Single 1

48 8/5/1936 Lew Riggs CIN PIT D9/89.1XH(94E2)(NR)(UR);B-H(E2/TH3)(NR)(UR) Double 2

49 7/14/1937 Luke Sewell CHA PHA E6/TH.B-H(E3/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-6 2

50 9/14/1937 Red Barkley SLA PHA S8.1-H(E8)(UR);B-H(E2)(NR)(UR) Single 2

51 7/6/1938 Leo Durocher NLS ALS S5/BG.1-H(E5/TH1)(UR);B-H(E9/THH)(UR) Single 2

52 7/14/1938 John Whitehead CHA PHA FC5/SH.1-H(UR)(NR);B-H(E3)(UR) Fielder's Choice 1

53 5/30/1939 Jake Early WS1 PHA D8.1-H;B-H(E8)(E6/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

54 6/19/1939 Rip Russell CHN BRO S7.1-H(E4)(NR);B-H(E3/TH3)(NR) Single 2

55 8/18/1939 Cookie Lavagetto BRO BSN S5/BG.B-H(E5/TH1)(E9/TH3)(NR)(UR) Single 2

56 9/10/1939 Hank Greenberg DET CHA S.2XH(99);1-H(E2)(UR)(NR);B-H(E6)(UR)(NR)# Single 2

57 10/8/1939 Joe DiMaggio NYA CIN S9.3-H;1-H(E9)(UR);BXH(9E2)(UR) Single 2

58 6/4/1940 Frankie Gustine PIT BSN S3.3-H(UR);2-H(E3/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

59 6/16/1940 Rollie Hemsley CLE PHA D7.3-H;B-H(E7)(E8)(NR)(UR) Double 2

60 7/27/1940 Joe Kuhel CHA NYA E8.B-H(E8/TH)(UR) Error-8 2

61 9/4/1940 Buddy Rosar NYA WS1 D9.1-H;B-H(E9)(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

62 5/19/1941 Lonny Frey CIN BSN S9.1-H(E9)(NR);B-H(E5)(NR) Single 2

63 7/15/1942 Vern Stephens SLA PHA S3.1-H(E4)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR) Single 2

64 7/28/1942 Gee Walker CIN PHI S4.B-H(E4/TH1)(E3/TH2)(E5)(NR)(UR) Single 3

65 7/17/1943 Whitey Wietelmann BSN BRO S.2-H;B-H(E8)(E2)(UR)(NR) Single 2

66 6/25/1944 Ab Wright BSN NY1 E5/TH.3-H;1-H(NR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Error-5 2

67 8/4/1944 Buck Etchison BSN BRO D.2-H;B-H(E9/TH)(E5/TH) Double 2

68 9/9/1944 Rudy York DET CLE S8.1-H(NR)(E8)(UR);B-H(NR)(E2/TH)(UR) Single 2

69 5/13/1945 Johnny Barrett PIT PHI D8.3-H;2-H(UR);1XH(842E5)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1)(NR)(UR) Double 2

70 6/10/1945 Ray Sanders SLN PIT E7/F.1-H(E6/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-7 2

71 7/13/1945 Dutch Meyer CLE NYA S8.B-H(E8)(E4/TH) Single 2

72 7/22/1945 Dick Sipek CIN NY1 E8/F.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E7)(NR)(UR) Error-8 2

73 8/13/1945 Roy Cullenbine DET NYA E1/SH.2-H(NR);1-H(E4)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

74 6/22/1946 Wally Judnich SLA WS1 S9.1-H(NR)(E9);B-H(NR)(E4/TH) Single 2

75 6/24/1946 Dick Whitman BRO CIN S.1-H(E9)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR)(E4)# Single 2

76 8/8/1946 Ken Keltner CLE CHA S7.BXH(76E2)(E7)(NR) Single 2

77 6/6/1947 Jackie Robinson BRO CHN S7.3-H;2-H(UR);1-H(E1/TH2)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

78 7/4/1947 Earl Torgeson BSN PHI S8.1-H(E8)(NR)(UR);B-H(E5)(NR)(UR) Single 2

79 6/11/1948 Claude Corbitt CIN PHI E9.B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Error-9 2

80 6/21/1948 Allie Reynolds NYA CLE E1/BG/TH3.1-H(NR);2-H(NR);B-H(E7/THH)(UR) Error-1 2

81 4/25/1949 Marty Marion SLN CIN FC5.3XH(526);B-H(E6/TH2)(UR)# Fielder's Choice 1

82 6/3/1949 Sid Gordon NY1 CHN S.3-H;1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

83 7/5/1949 Paul Lehner SLA CHA S9.3-H;2-H;1XH(9E2)(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Single 2

84 4/19/1950 Clyde McCullough PIT SLN E5/TH.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(E5)(UR) Error-5 2

85 6/24/1950 Preacher Roe BRO PIT E1/TH/BG.2-H(NR);1-H(NR);B-H(E7/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

86 7/25/1950 Granny Hamner PHI CHN S8.2-H;B-H(E3)(NR)(UR) Single 1

87 8/6/1950 Whitey Lockman NY1 PIT S5.1-H(E5)(NR)(UR);B-H(E8)(NR)(UR)# Single 2

88 8/8/1950 Mike Goliat PHI BRO D7/L.1-H(RBI);B-H(E7/TH2)(E8/THH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

89 7/31/1951 Fred Marsh SLA BOS S9.3-H;2-H;1XH(9E3)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

90 4/16/1952 Bobby Thomson NY1 PHI D7.1-H(E7)(NR);BXH(7E2)(NR) Double 2

91 6/6/1952 Pete Castiglione PIT NY1 S8.3-H;2-H;B-H(E3/TH)(UR) Single 1

92 6/17/1952 Phil Rizzuto NYA DET D7/F7D.B-H(E7)(E7) Double 2

93 9/14/1952 Jackie Jensen WS1 DET S9.2-H;1-H(E2)(UR)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 1

94 5/26/1953 Bob Nieman DET CLE E7/F.3-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E6)(UR) Error-7 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

95 6/8/1953 Bob Miller PHI CHN S8/L.2-H(UR);1-H(E8/TH3)(UR);B-H(E1/THH)(UR) Single 2

96 6/19/1953 Mel Clark PHI CIN S.2-H;1-H(E8)(NR);B-H(E1)(NR)(UR) Single 2

97 6/25/1954 Jim Rivera CHA BOS S8.B-H(E8)(E8/TH) Single 2

98 7/23/1954 Dick Littlefield PIT CIN S7.1-H(E7)(UR);2-H;B-H(UR)(E7/TH) Single 2

99 8/7/1954 Wally Moon SLN PIT FC4.3-H(E4/TH);B-H(E2/TH)(E8)(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 3

100 8/22/1954 Hank Thompson NY1 PIT S2.1-H(E2)(UR);B-H(E2)(UR)# Single 2

101 9/1/1954 Bob Talbot CHN BRO S9/L.3-H;1-H(E9/TH)(UR);B-H(E5/TH)(UR) Single 2

102 4/17/1955 Jim Gilliam BRO PIT D9/F.B-H(E9/TH)(E4/TH)(UR) Double 2

103 6/14/1955 Andy Carey NYA DET E1/TH1.3-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-1 1

104 6/19/1955 Roy Campanella BRO SLN S9/G.2-H;1-H(E9)(UR);B-H(E9/TH)(UR) Single 2

105 8/2/1955 Jim Delsing DET WS1 S8.1-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

106 5/19/1956 Al Kaline DET BAL D7.B-H(E7)(E7)(NR)(UR) Double 2

107 9/2/1956 Billy Martin NYA WS1 D7.1-H(E6/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

108 5/5/1957 Willie Mays NY1 CHN 34(1)/FO.B-H(E4/TH1)(E2/TH3)(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

109 5/26/1957 Bob Speake CHN MLN S6.B-H(E6/TH)(E9/TH) Single 2

110 4/18/1958 Tom Morgan DET CLE 56(1)/FO/BG.B-H(E6/TH1)(E3/TH2)(E8/TH3)(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 3

111 7/25/1958 Harry Anderson PHI LAN D7/L.1-H(E4);B-H(E5) Double 2

112 9/3/1958 Red Schoendienst MLN PHI E5.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);BXH(3E2)(NR)(UR) Error-5 2

113 5/3/1959 Dale Long CHN PHI S9.2-H(E3/TH)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

114 5/11/1959 Bob Boyd BAL WS1 S8.2-H(E8/TH)(NR);B-H(E1)(NR) Single 2

115 6/9/1959 Willie Tasby BAL CLE S1/BG.2-H(E1/TH);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E9/TH)(UR) Single 2

116 7/29/1960 Jim Lemon WS1 CHA S7.2-H(RBI);1-H(E7/TH)(NR);B-H(E1/THH)(NR) Single 2

117 7/5/1961 Carl Warwick SLN LAN S7/L.2-H(E2/TH);B-H(NR) Single 1

118 8/3/1961 Marv Breeding BAL MIN S7.2-H;1-H(E1/TH)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

119 4/14/1962 Julian Javier SLN CHN S7/L.2-H;B-H(E5/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 1

120 4/21/1962 Manny Jimenez KC1 CHA S7.2-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

121 6/7/1962 Curt Flood SLN CIN S5.1-H(E5)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR) Single 2

122 8/15/1962 Bill Mazeroski PIT LAN S8/L.3-H;2-H;B-H(E8/TH)(E2/TH)(UR) Single 2

123 4/9/1963 Mickey Mantle NYA KC1 S9.B-H(E6)(UR) Single 1

124 5/20/1963 Vic Davalillo CLE LAA S5/BG.B-H(E5)(E3)(UR) Single 2

125 7/16/1963 Don Demeter PHI LAN S7/G.3-H;2-H;B-H(E7/TH)(E1/TH)(NR) Single 2

126 8/27/1963 Manny Mota PIT NYN S8.1-H(NR)(E8)(UR);B-H(E9)(UR) Single 2

127 5/10/1964 Pedro Gonzalez NYA CLE FC5.2X3(524);3-H(E4/TH)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 1

128 5/12/1964 Larry Brown CLE BOS S5.1-H(E5);B-H(E3) Single 2

129 5/31/1964 Willie Davis LAN PIT S8/L.1-H(E8)(UR);B-H(E4/TH)(UR) Single 2

130 6/11/1964 Frank Robinson CIN HOU D7.B-H(E4)(E4)(UR) Double 2

131 7/14/1964 Ron Hunt NYN CHN FC1.3-H(E2)(UR);1X3(21512);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

132 8/11/1964 Sam Bowens BAL BOS S8.B-H(E3/TH)(UR) Single 1

133 5/30/1965 Donn Clendenon PIT NYN S8.1-H(E8)(UR)(NR);B-H(E6)(NR)(UR) Single 2

134 7/27/1965 Curt Flood SLN SFN E5.B-H(E2)(UR)(NR) Error-5 2

135 8/10/1965 Jim Gilliam LAN NYN S8.2-H;B-H(E8)(E1)(UR) Single 2

136 8/15/1965 Willie McCovey SFN PHI E1/TH.2-H(UR)(NR);1-H(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Error-1 2

137 9/22/1965 Donn Clendenon PIT NYN S8.3-H(UR);2-H(UR);1-H(E5)(UR);B-H(E1)(UR)# Single 2

138 5/22/1966 Tommie Agee CHA CLE S.B-H(E3/TH1)(E7/TH)(NR)(UR)# Single 2

139 5/30/1966 Brooks Robinson BAL MIN FC5.1-H(E5/TH2)(NR)(UR);B-H(E2)(UR) Error-5 2

140 6/28/1966 Jesus Alou SFN SLN S9.1-H(E9/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

141 7/3/1966 Billy Murphy NYN PIT D8/89.B-H(NR)(E8)(E2)(UR) Double 2

142 8/11/1966 Boog Powell BAL NYA S7.1-H(E7)(UR);B-H(E1/TH2)(E8)(UR)# Single 3

143 9/9/1966 Glenn Beckert CHN SFN S5.3-H(UR);1-H(E6/TH)(UR);B-H(E3/TH)(UR)# Single 2

144 8/7/1967 Ron Hunt LAN SLN S/89.2-H;1-H(E8)(UR)(NR);B-H(E4)(UR) Single 2

145 8/20/1967 Bob Aspromonte HOU SLN D/9.1-H;B-H(E4)(E1) Double 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

146 9/28/1967 Tommy Harper CIN ATL S8.2-H(UR);1-H(E8)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1)(NR)(UR) Single 2

147 9/29/1967 Clay Dalrymple PHI SFN E2/TH.3-H(NR);1-H(UR)(NR);B-H(E7/TH)(UR)(NR) Error-2 2

148 5/4/1968 Mike Shannon SLN SFN E4.3-H(RBI);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E7)(UR) Error-4 2

149 6/7/1968 Reggie Jackson OAK BAL S9.B-H(E9)(E4) Single 2

150 7/3/1968 Johnny Bench CIN HOU S7.3-H;B-H(E7)(E7)(NR)(UR) Single 2

151 8/20/1968 Pete Ward CHA DET D9.B-H(E9)(E1/TH)(UR) Double 2

152 4/9/1969 Jay Johnstone CAL SE1 D9.1-H;B-H(E9)(E9) Double 2

153 5/4/1969 Sonny Jackson ATL LAN S9.2-H(RBI);1-H(E3)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

154 8/5/1969 Tommie Agee NYN CIN D8/78.B-H(NR)(E8)(E3) Double 2

155 9/30/1969 Bobby Bonds SFN SDN S7.3-H;2-H;B-H(E7)(E1)(UR) Single 2

156 10/1/1969 Billy Conigliaro BOS WS2 E9/F.B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Error-9 2

157 5/23/1970 Steve Huntz SDN SFN S8.B-H(E8)(E8/TH) Single 2

158 6/3/1970 Tony Taylor PHI CIN S8.2-H(E2)(NR);B-H(E1)(NR) Single 2

159 9/19/1970 Johnny Bench CIN ATL S8.1-H(E8)(NR)(UR);B-H(E4)(NR)(UR) Single 2

160 5/7/1971 Mickey Lolich DET KCA E1/SH.2-H(NR);B-H(NR) Error-1 1

161 6/8/1971 Joe Torre SLN ATL S5.3-H(E5/TH)(NR);1-H(E3/TH)(UR);B-H(UR) Single 1

162 7/4/1971 Chris Short PHI MON E1/TH2/SH.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-1 1

163 8/11/1971 Phil Roof MIN BAL D/89.B-H(E1)(E2)(UR) Double 2

164 5/9/1972 Ken Holtzman OAK MIL E1/SH.2-H(NR);1-H(NR);B-H(NR)(E9)(UR) Error-1 2

165 5/12/1972 Thurman Munson NYA CAL S9.B-H(E9)(E4)(NR)(UR) Single 2

166 5/13/1972 Claude Osteen LAN PHI E1/SH.1-H(E9)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

167 5/29/1972 Bert Campaneris OAK TEX D9.B-H(E9)(E4) Double 2

168 7/8/1972 Bud Harrelson NYN LAN S1/BG.2-H(E1)(NR)(UR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Single 2

169 9/23/1972 Joe Decker CHN SLN E1/BG.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E7)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

170 9/29/1972 Gary Thomasson SFN ATL S9.1-H(E9)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR)# Single 2

171 10/1/1972 Ernie McAnally MON PHI S8.3-H;2-H;B-H(E8)(E2)(NR) Single 2

172 9/7/1973 Garry Maddox SFN HOU S7.3-H;2-H;1-H(E7)(NR)(UR);B-H(E5)(NR)(UR)# Single 2

173 9/17/1973 Jim Holt MIN KCA D9.1-H(E9)(NR)(UR);B-H(E5)(NR)(UR) Double 2

174 5/22/1974 Dwight Evans BOS NYA S9.2-H;B-H(E2/TH3) Single 1

175 6/1/1974 Denny Doyle CAL DET D9.B-H(E9)(E7) Double 2

176 6/5/1974 Jim Cox MON HOU S.2-H;B-H(THH)(E2/TH2) Single 1

177 6/28/1974 Chris Speier SFN LAN S5.1-H(E5)(UR);B-H(E4)(UR)# Single 2

178 8/9/1974 Craig Kusick MIN BAL S8.1-H(E5)(UR);B-H(E9)(UR) Single 2

179 9/18/1974 Cesar Cedeno HOU LAN S9.2-H(E9)(NR);B-H(E9)# Single 2

180 7/30/1975 Gary Carter MON CHN S5/BG.B-H(E5)(E3)(NR) Single 2

181 9/7/1975 Manny Trillo CHN PHI S6.2-H(UR);1-H(E7)(UR);B-H(E6)(NR)(UR) Single 2

182 9/28/1975 Craig Reynolds PIT SLN S9.2-H(E2)(UR);B-H(TH)(NR)(UR) Single 1

183 5/12/1976 Roy White NYA DET E8/F.2XH(82);1-H(E2)(UR);B-H(E1)(UR) Error-8 3

184 5/15/1976 Mike Hargrove TEX OAK FC1.2XH(1E6)(NR)(UR);B-H(UR)(NR) Fielder's Choice 1

185 5/30/1976 Frank Duffy CLE MIL D7.B-H(E7)(E3)(UR) Double 2

186 7/4/1976 Ray Burris CHN NYN E1/SH/TH1.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E9/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

187 7/24/1976 George Hendrick CLE DET S9.1-H(E9);B-H(TH)(E2) Single 2

188 9/28/1976 Felix Millan NYN MON S8.2-H;1-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

189 8/2/1977 Bill Robinson PIT HOU S8.1-H(E5)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 1

190 9/5/1977 Garry Maddox PHI PIT S9.B-H(E6)(E1)(NR) Single 2

191 4/8/1978 Bert Blyleven PIT CHN E3/TH/SH.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-3 1

192 4/21/1978 Wayne Gross OAK SEA S5/G.B-H(E4)(E5)(UR)(NR) Single 2

193 5/31/1978 Andre Dawson MON CHN S7/G.2-H(UR);B-H(E7)(E2)(UR) Single 2

194 6/12/1978 Ed Ott PIT HOU D9.B-H(E9)(E4) Double 2

195 8/10/1978 Butch Hobson BOS CLE E3/P.B-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-3 2

196 9/9/1978 Gary Alexander CLE DET D8.1-H(E8)(UR);B-H(E3)(UR) Double 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

197 9/10/1978 Willie Montanez NYN PIT E4.2-H(NR);B-H(E4)(NR)(UR) Error-4 2

198 5/5/1979 Clint Hurdle KCA CLE E4.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-4 2

199 5/22/1979 Dale Berra PIT MON E1.2-H(NR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

200 6/13/1979 Rodney Scott MON ATL E5/SH.1-H(NR);B-H(E4)(UR) Error-5 2

201 6/20/1979 Bill Madlock SFN PIT S8/L.2-H;B-H(E2)(E1)(NR)(UR) Single 2

202 7/4/1979 Jerry Royster ATL SFN S5.1-H(E5)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR) Single 2

203 9/30/1979 Elliott Maddox NYN SLN S9.2-H;B-H(THH)(E2/TH2)(UR) Single 1

204 8/14/1980 Ted Simmons SLN CHN S1.2-H(E1)(NR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Single 2

205 8/19/1980 Cliff Johnson CHN ATL E4.B-H(E3)(NR)(UR) Error-4 2

206 9/22/1980 Bobby Grich CAL MIL S8.2-H;1XH(8E5)(UR);B-H(E1)(UR) Single 2

207 9/30/1980 Guy Sularz SFN LAN D8.B-H(E8)(E6) Double 2

208 10/1/1980 Carney Lansford CAL MIL E9/F.B-H(E4)(UR) Error-9 2

209 5/7/1981 Johnny Grubb TEX CHA E1/SH.1-H(NR);B-H(E9/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

210 5/23/1981 Mario Soto CIN LAN S1/BG.2-H(E1/TH)(NR);1-H(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

211 5/31/1981 Dusty Baker LAN CIN S7.3-H;2-H;1-H(E2/TH3)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 1

212 8/23/1981 Bobby Grich CAL CLE E1/SH.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E9)(UR)(NR) Error-1 2

213 4/13/1982 Lou Whitaker DET TOR E1/TH2/SH.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-1 1

214 7/2/1982 Rafael Ramirez ATL CIN S8.2-H;B-H(E5)(NR)(UR) Single 1

215 10/9/1982 Mark Brouhard MIL CAL S8/G46.2-H;1-H(E8/TH3)(UR);B-H(E5/THH)(UR) Single 2

216 4/22/1983 Willie Wilson KCA TOR FC1.3XH(1);B-H(E1) Fielder's Choice 1

217 5/4/1983 Lou Piniella NYA KCA 52(3)/FO.2-H(E2/TH1);1-H(NR);B-H(NR) Fielder's Choice 1

218 5/17/1983 Lenny Faedo MIN OAK E4.2-H(NR);B-H(E9)(UR) Error-4 2

219 8/13/1983 Hal McRae KCA BOS S.2-H(RBI);B-H(E2)(E1)(NR)(UR) Single 2

220 9/13/1983 Randy Bush MIN CHA E7.B-H(UR)(E7)(NR) Error-7 2

221 9/23/1983 Mario Soto CIN SDN FC3/TH2/SH.1-H(E3)(NR);B-H(NR) Fielder's Choice 1

222 5/1/1984 Damaso Garcia TOR TEX S9.2-H;1-H(E9)(NR);B-H(E9)(UR) Single 2

223 8/30/1984 Jack Perconte SEA DET S1/BG.1-H(E1/TH1)(NR);B-H(E9/THH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

224 4/30/1985 Donnie Scott SEA MIL S.2-H;1-H(E2/TH)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

225 5/29/1985 Rick Manning MIL CLE FC6/G.3XH(6251);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 1

226 6/5/1985 Jack Perconte SEA DET S5.B-H(E5/TH1)(E9/TH3)(UR) Single 2

227 7/14/1985 Darryl Motley KCA CLE S5.1-H(E5)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Single 2

228 7/25/1985 Terry Pendleton SLN SDN S.2-H(UR);1-H(E8)(NR)(UR);B-H(E2)(NR)(UR) Single 2

229 8/21/1985 Juan Beniquez CAL NYA S9.1-H(E9/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

230 5/17/1986 Julio Franco CLE TOR E9/SF.3-H;1-H(E8)(UR);B-H(UR) Error-9 2

231 6/24/1986 Eric Davis CIN HOU E1/TH1.B-H(E9/TH3)(UR) Error-1 2

232 7/8/1986 Darryl Strawberry NYN CIN S9.1-H(E9);B-H(E4)(UR) Single 2

233 5/1/1987 Mike Scioscia LAN SLN D7/L5.1-H(E7)(UR);B-H(E7)(UR) Double 2

234 9/1/1987 Candy Maldonado SFN MON E6.3-H;1XH(62);B-H(E2)(UR) Error-6 2

235 9/19/1987 Gerald Young HOU SDN S.B-H(E4)(E2)(UR) Single 2

236 6/15/1988 Tony Fernandez TOR CLE D9/L9L.3-H;1-H(E9/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(E7/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

237 6/16/1988 Tony Fernandez TOR DET S5/BG5S.B-H(E5/TH1)(E9)(E9/TH3)(UR) Single 3

238 7/27/1988 Jeffrey Leonard MIL NYA E1/G.1-H(E1/TH1);B-H(E1/THH)(UR) Error-1 3

239 8/6/1988 Dave Gallagher CHA CAL S8.B-H(E8)(E8/TH) Single 2

240 6/5/1990 Cory Snyder CLE DET S5.1-H(E5/TH)(UR);B-H(E9/TH)(UR) Single 2

241 7/22/1990 Geno Petralli TEX DET S9/L9.2-H(NR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Single 1

242 8/21/1990 David Justice ATL SLN E4.B-H(E4/TH)(UR) Error-4 2

243 9/18/1990 Willie McGee OAK CHA S6/G56.B-H(E6/G)(E7/TH) Single 2

244 9/22/1990 Frank Thomas CHA SEA S7/L7.2-H;B-H(E5/TH)(UR) Single 1

245 5/11/1991 Barry Bonds PIT ATL S9/G3D.1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 2

246 6/30/1991 Will Clark SFN SDN S/L34D.1-H(E9/TH)(NR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

247 6/30/1991 Alfredo Griffin LAN ATL S/G56S.2-H(E5/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E3/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

248 7/5/1991 Ryne Sandberg CHN SLN E5/TH/G5.2-H(NR);B-H(E3/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-5 2

249 7/17/1991 Tim Teufel SDN MON 52(3)/FO/G5.2-H(E2/TH1);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 1

250 7/24/1991 Pat Kelly NYA SEA FC1/G13.3XH(1E5)(UR);2-H(E2/TH)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

251 8/2/1991 Barry Bonds PIT SLN S9/G3D.1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(TH)(NR)(UR) Single 1

252 8/23/1991 Juan Gonzalez TEX KCA E4/F9LS.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Error-4 1

253 10/4/1991 Gary Pettis TEX OAK S6/L6D.2-H;BXH(TH)(E2/TH)(8E2)(NR)(UR) Single 2

254 4/12/1992 Lloyd McClendon PIT PHI S/L78S.2-H;1-H(E7/TH)(E5)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 2

255 5/16/1992 Travis Fryman DET KCA D/F78XD.B-H(E7/TH)(E3/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

257 7/12/1992 Deion Sanders ATL CHN E8/F78D.2-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E5/TH)(UR) Error-8 2

257 8/9/1992 Sid Bream ATL LAN D9/G3D.3-H;2-H;1-H(E9/TH)(NR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

258 9/19/1992 Mark Carreon DET BOS E4/P34.B-H(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-4 2

259 4/27/1993 Brian Williams HOU SLN E1/TH/SH/BG23.1-H(NR);B-H(E6/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

260 6/11/1993 Greg Myers CAL SEA S7/G56.3-H;2-H;1-H(E7/TH)(E1/TH)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 2

261 8/13/1993 Dave Gallagher NYN PHI S9/L9S.2-H;1-H(E3/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 1

262 9/4/1993 Dion James NYA CLE S8/G6M.2-H;1-H(E8/TH)(E5/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 2

263 9/15/1993 Albert Belle CLE TEX 5(2)/FO/G5.1-H(E5/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

264 9/25/1993 Andujar Cedeno HOU LAN S7/L7.2-H;1-H(E2/TH)(UR);B-H(E7)(UR) Single 2

265 5/3/1994 Derek Bell SDN PHI FC1/G15.3-H(UR);2-H(E1/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Fielder's Choice 2

266 4/26/1995 Roberto Kelly MON PIT S5/G25.3-H;1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(E9/TH)(NR) Single 2

267 9/26/1995 Rusty Greer TEX OAK E5/G56.2-H(NR);1-H(E2/TH)(UR);B-H(UR) Error-5 2

268 7/20/1996 Hal Morris CIN PIT S7/F7S/R6.3-H;2-H;1-H(E7)(E2)(UR)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 2

269 8/10/1996 Quinton McCracken COL ATL S5/BG5S.2-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(E9)(NR)(UR) Single 2

270 5/14/1997 Rondell White MON SDN D7/L78S/R62/U1/R5/U7.1-H;B-H(E6/TH)(E1/TH)(NR) Double 2

271 8/6/1997 Luis Gonzalez HOU PHI S5/G56S/R3/U9.B-H(UR)(NR)(E5/TH)(E9/TH) Single 2

272 4/7/1998 Tom Lampkin SLN COL D7/L78XD.3-H;B-H(UR)(NR)(E7/TH)(E6/TH) Double 2

273 5/26/1998 Miguel Cairo TBA OAK S5/G56S.1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

274 7/29/1998 Kenny Lofton CLE SEA S5/G25.1-H(E5/TH)(NR);B-H(E9/TH)(NR) Single 2

275 8/7/1998 Jose Cruz TOR OAK D9/L89XD.B-H(E9)(E9/TH)(UR)(NR) Double 2

276 5/15/1999 Chad Allen MIN OAK S3/G3.B-H(E1/TH2)(UR)(NR) Single 1

277 5/14/2000 Willie Greene CHN MON S7.B-H(E3/TH) Single 1

278 6/24/2000 Pat Burrell PHI MON S7.2-H;1-H(E5/TH);B-H(NR)(UR) Single 1

279 6/27/2000 Mitch Meluskey HOU ARI D9/9D.2-H;1-H;B-H(E4/TH)(E1/TH)(UR)# Double 2

280 7/18/2000 Carlos Lee CHA MIL S7/7S.1-H(E7/TH)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(UR) Single 2

281 7/19/2000 Marquis Grissom MIL PIT S9.B-H(E9)(E9/THH) Single 2

282 8/12/2000 Kenny Lofton CLE SEA D/78.B-H(E8)(E6/TH3)(UR) Double 2

283 8/17/2000 Todd Hollandsworth COL NYN D8/89D.1-H;B-H(E4/TH)(E1/TH)(UR) Double 2

284 9/12/2000 Benny Agbayani NYN MIL S8/8S.3-H;2-H(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Single 1

285 4/23/2001 Julio Lugo HOU ATL S8/8S.2-H;B-H(E8)(E8/TH) Single 2

286 6/4/2001 Cristian Guzman MIN CLE S1/BG1.3-H;B-H(E1/TH)(UR)(NR) Single 1

287 7/31/2001 Brad Fullmer TOR MIN E9/F.B-H(E3/THH)(NR)(UR) Error-9 2

288 8/5/2001 Bobby Higginson DET OAK S9.B-H(E9)(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Single 2

289 8/9/2001 Chad Allen MIN CLE S8.2-H;1-H(E8/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(E1/TH)(UR) Single 2

290 5/26/2002 Alex Rodriguez TEX KCA S8/78.2-H;B-H(E8/THH)(E2)(UR) Single 2

291 6/9/2002 Jose Valentin CHA MON S9/9S.2-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR);B-H(UR)(NR)# Single 1

292 7/13/2002 Jeff Kent SFN COL D7.1-H;B-H(E6)(E3/TH)(UR)(NR) Double 2

293 8/23/2002 Bubba Trammell SDN FLO E5/G.2-H(E7)(UR);1-H(UR)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Error-5 2

294 6/19/2004 Alex Gonzalez FLO TEX D8/L.1-H(E4)(NR)(UR);B-H(E2/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

295 7/27/2004 Rob Mackowiak PIT ATL D7/F.3-H;2-H;1-H(UR);B-H(E2)(E2/TH)(UR)(NR) Double 2

296 9/22/2004 Anderson Machado CIN ATL E1/TH1/BG.1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E3/THH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

297 7/29/2005 Johnny Damon BOS MIN S9/L.2-H;1-H(E2)(UR)(NR);BXH(3E5)(UR) Single 2

298 8/5/2005 Damian Miller MIL PHI D9/L.1-H(E9/TH);B-H(E4/TH)(UR) Double 2

# Date Player Team Against Event Description (Retrosheet) Reached # Errors

299 8/7/2005 Nook Logan DET CLE S7/F.2-H;1-H(E2)(UR);B-H(E3/TH)(UR) Single 2

300 4/12/2006 Jim Edmonds SLN MIL D9/L.3-H;2-H;1-H;B-H(E9)(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

301 5/14/2006 Jose Lopez SEA ANA S9/G.1-H(E5/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 1

302 7/4/2006 Royce Clayton WAS FLO D9/L.1-H;B-H(E9)(E4/TH)(UR) Double 2

303 7/18/2006 Reggie Abercrombie FLO WAS S5/BG.B-H(NR)(E5/TH)(E4/TH) Single 2

304 8/19/2006 Rafael Furcal LAN SFN E1/TH1/SH/BG.2-H(NR);B-H(E4/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-1 2

305 4/24/2007 Khalil Greene SDN ARI S7/L.2-H;B-H(E1/TH)(UR)(NR)(TH) Single 1

306 8/4/2007 Carlos Lee HOU FLO D7/F.B-H(E3/TH)(E7/TH)(UR)(NR) Double 2

307 8/15/2007 David DeJesus KCA TEX S9/G.1XH(963452);B-H(E2/TH)(UR) Single 1

308 8/17/2007 Ken Griffey Jr. CIN MIL E5/TH/FO/G.1-H(E9/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(NR) Error-5 2

309 9/25/2007 Kazuo Matsui COL LAN S7/L.2-H;B-H(E2/TH)(TH)(NR) Single 1

310 8/10/2008 Ryan Raburn DET OAK D7/L.1-H;B-H(E6/THH)(E1/TH3)(UR) Double 2

311 6/24/2009 Jason Kendall MIL MIN D8/L.1-H;B-H(E6/THH)(E1/TH3)(NR)(UR) Double 2

312 6/27/2009 Erick Aybar ANA ARI S1/BG.B-H(E1/TH1)(E9/TH3)(UR) Single 2

313 8/24/2009 Angel Pagan NYN PHI E4/P.B-H(E4/TH2)(UR)(NR) Error-4 2

314 8/9/2010 Chris Johnson HOU ATL S7/G.3-H;2-H;1-H(E2/TH)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 1

315 5/26/2011 Jose Reyes NYN CHN D9/L.B-H(UR)(E9/TH2)(E4/TH3) Double 2

316 6/16/2012 Edwin Encarnacion TOR PHI S7/L.1-H(E6/TH)(NR);B-H(NR) Single 1

317 6/16/2012 Miguel Cabrera DET COL S1/TH1/G.B-H(E1)(E2/TH3)(UR) Single 2

318 7/25/2012 J.D. Martinez HOU CIN D7/F78.3-H;B-H(E7/TH2)(E3/TH3)(UR) Double 2

319 8/24/2012 Luis Cruz LAN MIA S5/G.2-H(E5/TH1)(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E9/TH3)(UR) Single 2

320 8/3/2013 Howie Kendrick ANA TOR S8/G.2-H;1-H(E2/TH)(UR);B-H(UR)(NR) Single 1

321 8/14/2013 Rajai Davis TOR BOS S1/G+.B-H(UR)(E1/TH1)(E9/TH3) Single 2

322 3/31/2014 Wil Myers TBA TOR S1/G.1-H(E1/TH)(NR);B-H(E9/TH)(NR) Single 2

323 6/29/2014 Wilin Rosario COL MIL E5/FO/G.2-H(NR)(UR);1-H(NR)(UR);B-H(E2/TH3)(NR)(UR) Error-5 2

324 9/20/2014 Reed Johnson MIA WAS D8/F.B-H(E8/TH)(E1/TH)(NR)(UR) Double 2

325 5/2/2015 Logan Schafer MIL CHN E6/TH/G.B-H(E3/TH)(NR)(UR) Error-6 2

326 6/17/2015 Steven Souza TBA WAS S1/BG.1-H(E1/TH)(UR)(NR);B-H(E9/TH)(UR)(NR) Single 2

327 7/29/2015 Andrew McCutchen PIT MIN S9/L.2-H;1-H(E9)(UR)(NR);B-H(E5)(UR)(NR) Single 2

328 9/30/2015 Darwin Barney TOR BAL E1/TH.3-H(UR)(NR);1-H(UR)(E3)(NR);B-H(UR)(NR) Error-1 2

329 7/27/2016 Christian Bethancourt SDN TOR D89/L.1-H;B-H(UR)(NR)(E8)(E4/TH) Double 2

Doubleheaders with More Than Two Teams

David Vincent

A modern fan goes to the ballpark to see two teams battle each other. This is almost always a single game on one day at one venue. However, baseball had a tradition for many years of playing two games on Sundays and holidays such as the Fourth of July, a tradition that has disappeared from the schedule. In 2016, the 30 major league teams played 14 doubleheaders due to weather issues—with none scheduled before the season began. In 1949, when there were 16 teams in the league, two games were played on the same day 163 times. The original schedule included 111 doubleheaders.

In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, most two-game sets were played as a morning and afternoon pair requiring a separate ticket for each, but many were played as one single-admission event, while in the twenty-first century, two games on one day are almost always played as two single games, one afternoon and one evening. These separate-admission sets are not considered “doubleheaders” under Major League Baseball's Official Rules but colloquially— and for purposes of this article—the term includes all instances where two games were played in one day, whether single or separate admission.

Most doubleheaders featured the same two teams in both games, but there are a number of these sets in major league history that do not fit this pattern. Many of these featured three teams in one ballpark, but others are even more unusual. Most of these unusual game sets were played in the nineteenth century and this article runs through the 2016 season. All schedule and game result information has been taken from Retrosheet, with additional detail from contemporary news accounts.

Three teams in one set

Three teams playing two games in one day in one ballpark has occurred 17 times. In most cases, the home team played in both contests, but that was not the case twice. See Table 1 for a complete list of these doubleheaders. Note that the italicized lines indicate doubleheaders with the team in the “Visitor 1” column playing both games against two different home teams.

Teams felt free to change the published schedule to suit their needs in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries for reasons such as playing games on days that would draw a bigger crowd, resulting in more money for the owners. As noted earlier, Sundays and holidays were the biggest days for attendance at the ballpark. Travel issues also contributed many times to schedule changes during the year, as did inclement weather.

The most recent instance of this odd scheduling occurred on September 25, 2000, in Cleveland. On September 10, the White Sox and Indians had been rained out in Cleveland in the last meeting of the year between the two clubs. This game was rescheduled for the afternoon of September 25, causing the White Sox to return to Cleveland for the day and giving the Indians an unusual day/night twin bill, since the Minnesota Twins were already set to play them on that date. The Tribe won that afternoon game, 9–2, but the Twins prevailed in the night cap, 4–3. This is the only time that three American League teams played in one doubleheader.

On September 12, 1951, the New York (now San Francisco) Giants were rained out in St. Louis. This being the Giants' last trip to St. Louis and the last meeting of the year between the clubs, the New Yorkers remained in town to make up the game the next afternoon. After beating the Giants that Thursday afternoon, 6–4, the Cardinals played their scheduled contest against the Boston (now Atlanta) Braves that evening. The visitors beat the Redbirds, 2–0, in the second game.

Before 1951, it had been 52 years since the last time that three teams played in the same ballpark on the same day. There were 10 of these doubleheaders during the 1899 season. That year, the National League’s Cleveland Spiders played 42 games at home and 112 away. Most of their best players were sent to the St. Louis Perfectos (Cardinals), also owned by the Cleveland owners. Although the original schedule had an even split of home and road games, the Cleveland season did not play out that way. The club was not drawing fans and opponents refused to travel to the banks of Lake Erie since their share of the gate would not pay for their expenses. Cleveland ended with a 20–134 record and folded after the season. During that 1899 National League season, seven of the ten unusual doubleheaders featured Cleveland as one of the visiting teams, as their schedule was reworked during the season. The Spiders also acted as home team, although in Chicago, for one other doubleheader. None of these unusual doubleheaders had been planned before the season started.

Table 1. Doubleheaders with Three Teams

MO/DY/YEAR LG Visitor 1 Visitor 2 Home Note

06/17/1884 NL New York Philadelphia Boston (1)

06/17/1885 NL Philadelphia New York Boston (1)

09/14/1887 AA Cincinnati Cleveland Metropolitan

09/15/1887 AA Cincinnati Cleveland Metropolitan

10/08/1898 NL St. Louis Cleveland Chicago (2)

06/11/1899 NL Louisville Cleveland Cincinnati

06/25/1899 NL New York Cleveland St. Louis

07/09/1899 NL Louisville Cleveland St. Louis

08/06/1899 NL Louisville St. Louis Cincinnati

08/20/1899 NL Cleveland Louisville Chicago

09/03/1899 NL Louisville Cleveland Cincinnati

09/10/1899 NL Cleveland Louisville Cincinnati

09/24/1899 NL Louisville St. Louis Cleveland (3)

10/08/1899 NL Cleveland Louisville Chicago

10/15/1899 NL St. Louis Louisville Chicago

09/13/1951 NL New York Boston St. Louis

09/25/2000 AL Chicago Minnesota Cleveland

(1) Scheduled as three-team set before the season

(2) St. Louis played both games as visitor; Cleveland and Chicago home teams in Chicago

(3) Louisville played both games as visitor; St. Louis and Cleveland home teams in St. Louis

One 1899 doubleheader of note was played on September 24 in St. Louis. The Louisville Colonels had been scheduled in Cleveland on August 21 and in St. Louis on September 6. Both of these contests were moved to September 24 in St. Louis. The Colonels played as the visiting team twice that day, beating the Perfectos (Cardinals) in the first game and the Spiders in the second contest. The second game was stopped after seven innings due to darkness.

As the 1898 season wound down, the St. Louis Browns (Cardinals) were scheduled to host the Cleveland Spiders on Saturday, October 8, and the Chicago Orphans (Cubs) on Monday, October 10. Both of these games were transferred to Chicago and played on October 8. Teams did not like to play on Mondays because they drew fewer fans and many Monday games at the turn of the twentieth century were moved to other, more profitable, days. On this October Saturday, the last place Browns beat Cleveland, 4–3, in an afternoon contest called after seven innings to allow the Spiders to catch a train. Once Cleveland had left, Chicago played as the visiting team in their own home park and beat St. Louis, 4–3. These two results put Chicago into fourth place ahead of Cleveland, where they finished the season.

On September 14 and 15, 1887, the Metropolitans of the American Association hosted three-team doubleheaders on consecutive days. The Cincinnati Reds and Metropolitans were rained out on June 17 and September 12 and those games were rescheduled for September 14 and 15, when the Metropolitans were scheduled to play the Clevelands. These four games were played at the St. George Play Grounds on Staten Island, with the postponed games played in the morning and the scheduled games in the afternoon. New York lost all four contests to the visitors. To add to the confusion, Cincinnati left the Play Grounds after their morning games each day and went to Brooklyn to play the Brooklyns in the afternoon. Thus, the Metropolitans hosted two games against two opponents and Cincinnati visited two ballparks to complete a separate doubleheader. Four teams played a total of three games on each of those days spread between two ballparks.

The Boston Beaneaters (Atlanta Braves) of the National League played a scheduled three-team doubleheader on June 17, 1885. June 17 is the Bunker Hill Day holiday in Boston. In the morning, Boston lost to the Philadelphias, 5–3. After lunch, they lost to the New York (San Francisco) Giants, 10–0. The Philadelphias took the train to Providence to play the Grays in the afternoon, losing that contest, 10–4. The Philadelphia team played a split doubleheader that day as the visitor in two cities.

One year earlier, on June 17, 1884, the Beaneaters hosted another scheduled “triple double.” In the morning they hosted and lost to the New Yorks (San Francisco Giants), 7–6, in a 12-inning contest. That afternoon, the Bostons were beaten by the Philadelphias (Phillies), 7–2. During their lunch break, the New Yorks traveled to Providence for an afternoon contest against the Grays. New York lost that second game. The Gothams thus played two teams in two cities that day, which is the subject of the next section.

A Tale of Two Cities (and four teams)

Some large metropolitan areas, such as New York and Chicago, have had multiple teams within their confines. Most often, these clubs are in different leagues but sometimes they are not. The close physical distance between Brooklyn and Manhattan has allowed the National League to create some interesting scheduling. Other league cities have been close enough to allow teams easy travel between them. In the previous section, four days were cited on which a team played in two ballparks on one day: June 17, 1884, June 17, 1885, September 14, 1887, and September 15, 1887.

The first two featured a team traveling from Boston to Providence between games, while the latter two had a team traveling within the New York metropolitan area. On these days, Providence and Brooklyn played one game while Boston and Metropolitan played two.

Table 2 shows all instances of days when teams played two games in two ballparks. In most cases, both visiting teams traveled to the other park but there are a few in which only one team traveled. All of these doubleheaders were on the original league schedule unless otherwise noted in the table.

Table 2. Doubleheaders with Four Teams and Two Ballparks

September 13, 1951, was the first time in 52 years that three teams had played in the same ballpark on the same day. The New York Giants were held over in St. Louis an extra day to make up the previous day’s rainout. The Cardinals played the Giants in the afternoon and the Boston Braves in the evening. Al Brazle (top) and Gerry Staley (bottom) both pitched for St. Louis that day, Brazle losing the nightcap after Staley had notched a save in the earlier game.

On Decoration Day (May 30) 1883, both the National League and American Association scheduled four teams/two cities doubleheaders. In the NL, the Cleveland Blues played in Boston in the morning and in Providence in the afternoon. The Buffalo Bisons reversed the travel path that day, taking the train 41 miles to Boston for their second game of the day.

The Association teams had a tougher travel day on that 1883 date. The Cincinnati Red Stockings played in New York in the morning and took the train to Philadelphia, a distance of about 95 miles, to play the Athletics in the afternoon. The Columbus Buckeyes played the Athletics in the morning and the Metropolitans in the afternoon.

A few weeks later, on July 4, 1883, the Boston and Providence National League teams each made the New York/Philadelphia trek between games of a doubleheader. This is the only instance of the Beaneaters and Grays doing the traveling, as they usually were hosts for this sort of game set.

On May 30, 1884, the two league schedules featured three sets of traveling doubleheaders, which is the most of these unusual scheduling quirks in one day. In the National League, the Philadelphias (Phillies) and the New Yorks (San Francisco Giants) split games between Boston and Providence. Philadelphia moved southwest from Boston while New York traveled in the opposite direction.

In the American Association, the St. Louis Browns (Cardinals) played the Metropolitans in the morning and the Brooklyns (Los Angeles Dodgers) in the afternoon. The Indianapolis Hoosiers reversed the travel that day. The other four-team set in the AA had the Columbus Buckeyes in Washington in the morning and in Baltimore in the afternoon. The Cincinnati Reds were scheduled to play the Orioles in the morning and the Washingtons in the afternoon, thus reversing the movement of the Buckeyes. However, the morning game in Baltimore was moved to the previous day, thus avoiding the 40-mile commute between games.

On July 4, 1884, the Union Association got into the act with the only unusual schedule in the league’s one-year existence. The Baltimore Monumentals and the Washington Nationals each hosted two teams for Independence Day twin-bills. The Cincinnati Unions played in Baltimore and then traveled to Washington while the St. Louis Maroons played the Nationals in the morning and then the Monumentals in the afternoon.

For the third consecutive Decoration Day, the 1885 National League scheduled a set of games in two ballparks featuring four teams, with the Boston Beaneaters (Atlanta Braves) and Providence Grays again hosting the contests. The Detroit Wolverines started the day in Boston and then took the train to Providence for the afternoon game. The Chicago White Stockings (Cubs) played the Grays in the morning but were rained out in Boston that afternoon, with the make-up played on July 24.

The last of these sets not already mentioned occurred on Monday, May 31, 1886, which that year was the Decoration Day remembrance. These traveling sets were not in the original American Association schedule. The Cincinnati Reds were scheduled to play the Brooklyns in Brooklyn on May 28 and the Louisvilles were set to play the Metropolitans the same day. These games were moved to May 31, with the Reds playing in Brooklyn and then in New York City with the Louisvilles taking the opposite path.

During 1899 National League season, seven of the ten three-team doubleheaders featured the Cleveland Spiders as one of the visiting teams. The hapless Clevelands, gutted by their owners who had purchased a second team and transferred most of the talent, drew so few fans to their home ballpark that other teams refused to travel there. Cleveland’s schedule was reworked such that they played the majority of their games on the road, ending with 42 home games, 112 road games, and a major league worst record of 20–134.

Four Teams and Two Leagues in One Day

The last set of games to be discussed in this article involve two games played in one ballpark in one day with each game representing a different league. All of these games were played in New York. Table 3 shows the complete list of these games.

From 1883 through 1885, the National League’s New York team (sometimes called the Giants in 1885) shared a home field with the Metropolitans of the American Association. The Metropolitans joined the AA in 1883 and they shared the Southeast Diamond of the Polo Grounds for three seasons, then moved to Staten Island for the last two years of their existence.

In 1885, the two squads were both scheduled to play home games on Wednesday, August 26. The Association contest was played at two o'clock in the afternoon that day and the League game followed. The Metropolitans beat the Baltimore Orioles, 8–2, in the first game and the Gothams beat the Providence Grays in the second game, 6–0. One admission allowed the patron to see both games.

The Giants’ first scheduled home game of the 1885 season was rained out on May 1. That contest, against the Boston Beaneaters (Atlanta Braves), was rescheduled for August 28, which originally was an open date for the two clubs. That Friday afternoon, just as had been done two days previously, the Metropolitans played their scheduled game at two. The home team lost to the Athletics of Philadelphia, 4–2. Then the National League makeup game was played, with the home team victorious, 3–1. As had been the case on the 26th, one ticket allowed a fan to see both games.

Table 3. Two Games in One Park in Different Leagues

MO/DY/YEAR GM LG Visitor Home

08/26/1885 1  AA Baltimore Metropolitan

2 NL Providence New York

08/28/1885 1 AA Athletic Metropolitan

2 NL Boston New York

09/10/1885 1 AA Louisville Metropolitan

2 NL Providence New York

09/23/1885 1 AA St. Louis Metropolitan

2 NL Buffalo New York

09/24/1885 1 AA Cincinnati Metropolitan

2 NL Buffalo New York

09/26/1885 1 AA Cincinnati Metropolitan

2 NL Buffalo New York

04/15/1998 1 AL Anaheim New York

2 NL Chicago New York

The Giants and Metropolitans staged four single-admission doubleheaders in September 1885. In each case, the Mets were scheduled to play at home. The Giants' schedule called for games on the road but

all four games were transferred to New York with the permission of the league. The Association game was played first in all cases.

On Monday, April 13, 1998, a steel beam fell from the upper deck structure at Yankee Stadium and landed in the empty lower seating bowl. This occurred in the afternoon just as the Yankees were about to start batting practice and caused the postponement of games that night and the following, April 13 and 14. The Anaheim Angels were in New York to start a three-game series. The two postponed contests were made up in August. The third game of the series was played as scheduled on April 15. However, this game was transferred to Shea Stadium, the home of the New York Mets. The contest was played in the afternoon and the Yankees beat the Angels, 6–3. Both teams then vacated the stadium and two more teams moved into the clubhouses. That evening, the Mets beat the Chicago Cubs, 2–1, in their scheduled contest. The Yankees were scheduled to play the Tigers at Yankee Stadium on April 17 through 19 but that series was moved to Detroit. The scheduled series for the Yankees in Detroit that would have been played later in April was moved to New York. (Fans of quirky doubleheaders may recall the Yankees and Mets have also played some odd two-team sets. In "interleague play" in 2000, 2003, and 2008, weather cancellations forced the rescheduling that resulted in the two teams playing in one stadium in the afternoon and the other in the evening.)

Baseball schedules can be affected by many external influences, such as weather. These factors can cause unusual scheduling quirks, some of which have been detailed in this article.

The Chances of a Drafted Baseball Player Making the Major Leagues: A Quantitative Study

Richard T. Karcher, J.D.

INTRODUCTION

In June of each year, Major League Baseball conducts its amateur draft (known as the “First-Year Player Draft” or the “Rule 4 Draft”). The MLB amateur draft, which was first held in 1965, consists of forty rounds (under the current collective bargaining agreement) plus the supplemental rounds for compensatory picks earned by teams based on departing free agents who reject qualifying offers, plus competitive balance picks. In general, the following players are eligible to be drafted and sign a professional contract: high school players who have graduated and have not attended college, four-year college players three years after first enrolling at the institution, or after their twenty-first birthdays (whichever occurs first), and junior college players at any time.

The purpose of this study is to determine a drafted baseball player’s chances of making the major leagues based upon the round a player is drafted, age when drafted and signed (high school or college player), and position (pitcher or other position player). Historical data were compiled for all players drafted and signed through the twentieth round from 1996 through 2011. In each round for the 16 drafts combined, calculations were made to determine the sum and percentage of signed high school pitchers, high school position players, college pitchers, and college position players who made it to the major leagues and who played in the major leagues more than three years. Players drafted after 2011 were not included within this study in order to give all drafted and signed players an ample opportunity to reach the major leagues.[1] Allan Simpson conducted a similar study on players drafted and signed from 1965 to 1995 based solely on the round a player is drafted (not categorized by the four player groupings used in this study).[2] The results of this study are compared against the results of Simpson’s study to identify evolving draft patterns and trends.

The results of this study can assist scouts and front office personnel concerning appropriate allocation of resources in the acquisition of talent through the draft, as well as agents and coaches when giving career advice to players and their parents. However, a few limitations should be noted. Because this study entails descriptive (as opposed to explanatory) research, the data analyses do not proffer explanations for why the results are what they are. This study therefore provides empirical evidence for future explanatory research. It should also be noted that the results of this study do not take into account either the number of years it takes for players to make it to the major leagues (based on round, age, or position) nor the kind of impact the players will have when they make the major leagues (based on round, age, or position).[3]

Method

Historical data for this study were collected from two Internet sources, The Baseball Cube and Baseball-Reference.com.[4],[5] A master spreadsheet was created with separate tabs for each draft year from 1996 to 2011. For each round in each draft year, four separate player categories were created: high school pitchers, high school position players, college pitchers, and college position players.[6] The data collection process first entailed searching the draft database on The Baseball Cube, round by round, each year from 1996 to 2011. For each round in a particular draft year, The Baseball Cube database provided data on the drafted players who signed in that round and whether they were high school pitchers, high school position players, college pitchers, or college position players. The number of players drafted and signed in that round, with respect to each of the four categories, was recorded in the master spreadsheet. The Baseball Cube also provided the drafted players in that round who played in the major leagues (for any length of time), and this number was also recorded in the spreadsheet, for each of the four categories. Then, for each player in that round who played in the major leagues, Baseball Reference was used to determine the number of years that the player played in the major leagues, and the number of players in that round who played in the major leagues more than three years was recorded in the spreadsheet, for each of the four categories. This process was repeated for each round for each draft year from 1996 to 2011. For purposes of this study, “played in the major leagues” means a player had at least one appearance or at-bat prior to August 1, 2016, and “played in the major leagues more than three years” means a player had at least one appearance or at-bat in more than three seasons. “More than three seasons” was used as the criterion because, once a player is added to the 40-man roster, he is typically eligible for optional assignment to the minor leagues in three different seasons.[7]

For rounds 1–5, calculations were made to determine for each round for the 16 drafts combined: (1) the sum and percentage of players drafted, proportioned by player category; (2) the sum and percentage of drafted players who signed, proportioned by player category; (3) of all players signed, the sum and percentage of players who played in the major leagues, proportioned by player category; and (4) of all players signed, the sum and percentage of players who played in the major leagues more than three years, pro-portioned by player category. For rounds 6–10, the same calculations were made but uncategorized. Rounds 11–15 were combined and rounds 16–20 were combined, and the same calculations were made uncategorized for each of the two cohorts.

RESULTS

Tables 1 through 12 set forth the sum and percentage totals by round (1–10) and combined rounds (11–15 and 16–20):

1. First Round and Supplemental First Number Percent

Players drafted 745 –

High school pitchers 172 23.1

High school position players 184 24.7

College pitchers 231 31.0

College position players 158 21.2

Players signed 724 97.2

High school pitchers 162 21.7

High school position players 180 24.2

College pitchers 226 30.3

College position players 156 20.9

Played in the major leagues 483 66.7 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 97 13.4

High school position players 102 14.1

College pitchers 162 22.4

College position players 122 16.9

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 339 46.8 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 55 7.6

High school position players 76 10.5

College pitchers 113 15.6

College position players 95 13.1

2. Second Round and Supplemental Second: Number Percent

Players drafted 496 –

High school pitchers 120 24.2

High school position players 136 27.4

College pitchers 134 27.0

College position players 106 21.4

Players signed 470 94.8

High school pitchers 113 22.8

High school position players 125 25.2

College pitchers 128 25.8

College position players 104 21.0

Played in the major leagues 232 49.4 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 52 11.1

High school position players 43 9.1

College pitchers 67 14.3

College position players 70 14.9

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 148 31.5 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 26 5.5

High school position players 32 6.8

College pitchers 44 9.4

College position players 46 9.8

3. Third Round and Supplemental Third Number Percent

Players drafted 490 –

High school pitchers 94 19.2

High school position players 119 24.3

College pitchers 142 29.0

College position players 135 27.5

Players signed 458 93.5

High school pitchers 80 16.3

High school position players 108 22.0

College pitchers 136 27.8

College position players 134 27.3

Played in the major leagues 182 39.7 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 33 7.2

High school position players 34 7.4

College pitchers 57 12.4

College position players 58 12.7

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 99 21.6 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 20 4.4

High school position players 19 4.1

College pitchers 25 5.5

College position players 35 7.6

4. Fourth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

High school pitchers 98 20.4

High school position players 101 21.0

College pitchers 161 33.5

College position players 120 25.0

Players signed 446 92.9

High school pitchers 88 18.3

High school position players 90 18.8

College pitchers 155 32.3

College position players 113 23.5

Played in the major leagues 156 35.0 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 28 6.3

High school position players 27 6.1

College pitchers 54 12.1

College position players 47 10.5

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 83 18.6 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 18 4.0

High school position players 13 2.9

College pitchers 27 6.1

College position players 25 5.6

5. Fifth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

High school pitchers 78 16.3

High school position players 91 19.0

College pitchers 169 35.2

College position players 142 29.6

Players signed 442 92.1

High school pitchers 62 12.9

High school position players 75 15.6

College pitchers 165 34.4

College position players 140 29.2

Played in the major leagues 147 33.3 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 24 5.4

High school position players 20 4.5

College pitchers 50 11.3

College position players 53 12.0

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 82 18.6 (of players signed)

High school pitchers 13 2.9

High school position players 8 1.8

College pitchers 28 6.3

College position players 33 7.5

6. Sixth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

Players signed 443 92.3

Played in the major leagues 108 24.4 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 47 10.6 (of players signed)

7. Seventh Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

Players signed 445 92.7

Played in the major leagues 91 20.4 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 40 9.0 (of players signed)

8. Eighth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

Players signed 443 92.3

Played in the major leagues 87 19.6 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 41 9.3 (of players signed)

9. Ninth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

Players signed 437 91

Played in the major leagues 78 17.8 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 34 7.8 (of players signed)

10. Tenth Round Number Percent

Players drafted 480 –

Players signed 422 87.9

Played in the major leagues 74 17.5 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 35 8.3 (of players signed)

11. Eleventh-Fifteenth Rounds (Combined) Number Percent

Players drafted 2,400 –

Players signed 2,066 86.1

Played in the major leagues 262 12.7 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 108 5.2 (of players signed)

12. Sixteenth-Twentieth Rounds (Combined) Number Percent

Players drafted 2,400 –

Players signed 1,958 81.6

Played in the major leagues 194 9.9 (of players signed)

Played in the majors 3+ yrs 86 4.4 (of players signed)

DATA ANALYSES

1. Figure 1 shows that a higher percentage of drafted players in all rounds signed from 1996 to 2011 than from 1965 to 1995. In Simpson’s study of drafted players from 1965 to 1995, the percentages of players who signed were 95.8% in the first round, 89.4% in the second round, 86% in the third round, 84.1% in the fourth round, 81.3% in the fifth round, 76.1% in rounds 6–10 combined, 70.7% in rounds 11–15 combined, and 65.8% in rounds 16–20 combined. In this study of drafted players from 1996 to 2011, the percentages of players who signed in those rounds were 97.2%, 94.8%, 93.5%, 92.9%, 92.1%, 91.25%, 86.1%, and 81.6%, respectively.

2. In each of the first five rounds, more college players sign in proportion to high school players. Figure 2 compares the percentage of drafted players in each cohort who signed in each round from 1996 to 2011.

3. College players drafted in the first five rounds had a greater chance of both playing in the major leagues and playing in the major leagues more than three years than high school players, with the greatest percentage difference in the first and second rounds. This is partly due to the fact that a higher percentage of drafted college players sign in proportion to drafted high school players (as explained in No. 2 above), which results in college players making up a much higher percentage of all players signed who make it to the major leagues (as reflected in the results section above). But even when separate percentage calculations are made within each cohort, a greater percentage of college players than high school players played in the major leagues and (with the exception of the third round) played in the major leagues more than three years. Figure 3.1 compares the percentage of signed college players and signed high school players in each of the first five rounds from 1996 to 2011 who played in the major leagues, and Figure 3.2 compares the percentage of those who played in the major leagues more than three years. Because high school players drafted in 2010 and 2011 were much less likely (due to their age) than college players drafted in 2010 and 2011 to have played in the major leagues more than three years as of August 1, 2016, players drafted in 2010 and 2011 (although included in the results section as having played in the major leagues more than three years) were not counted in the calculations in Figure 3.2.

4. College pitchers are the most drafted players in the first five rounds; they made up 31.1% of all players drafted in rounds 1–5 combined from 1996 to 2011. However, their chances of making it to the major leagues, and playing more than three years, were not as good as college position players drafted in the first five rounds. Signed college position players had a 6–7% greater chance than signed college pitchers: 350 of the 647 position players (54.1%) compared to 390 of the 810 pitchers (48.1%) played in the major leagues, and 234 of the 647 position players (36.2%) compared to 237 of the 810 pitchers (29.3%) played in the major leagues more than three years.

5. Players drafted in the first three rounds from 1996 to 2011 had close to the same chance of making the major leagues, and playing for a few years, as the players who were drafted in the same round from 1965 to 1995. Compared against the results of Simpson’s study, there was a differential in the range of ±0-4% with respect to the percentage of signed players drafted in those rounds who played in the major leagues and who played in the major leagues more than three years.

a. Of the signed players drafted in the first round from 1996 to 2011, 66.7% played in the major leagues (compared to 67.0% from 1965–95) and 46.8% played in the major leagues more than three years (compared to 49.5% from 1965–95).

b. Of the signed players drafted in the second round from 1996 to 2011, 49.4% played in the major leagues (compared to 46.5% from 1965-95) and 31.5% played in the major leagues more than three years (compared to 28.8% from 1965–95).

c. Of the signed players drafted in the third round from 1996 to 2011, 39.7% played in the major leagues (compared to 36.2% from 1965–95) and 21.6% played in the major leagues more than three years (compared to 23.9% from 1965–95).

6. However, players drafted in the fourth and fifth rounds from 1996 to 2011 had a significantly greater chance of making the major leagues, and playing for a few years, than the players who were drafted in the same round from 1965 to 1995.

a. Of the signed players drafted in the fourth round from 1996 to 2011, 35% played in the major leagues (compared to 28.3% from 1965–95) and 18.6% played in the major leagues more than three years (compared to 17.3% from 1965–95).

b. Of the signed players drafted in the fifth round from 1996 to 2011, 33.3% played in the major leagues (compared to 28.5% from 1965–95) and 18.6% played in the major leagues more than three years (compared to 14.8% from 1965–95).

7. Players drafted and signed beyond the first five rounds from 1996 to 2011 had the same chances of playing in the major leagues as the players drafted and signed in the same round from 1965 to 1995 (a differential in the range of ±0-1%).

a. In rounds 6-10 combined from 1996 to 2011, 20% played in the major leagues (compared to 20.4% from 1965–95).

b. In rounds 11-15 combined from 1996 to 2011, 12.7% played in the major leagues (compared to 12.1% from 1965–95).[8]

c. In rounds 16-20 combined from 1996 to 2011, 9.9% played in the major leagues (compared to 9.8% from 1965–95).

8. However, players drafted and signed beyond the first five rounds from 1996 to 2011 had a slightly lesser chance of playing in the major leagues more than three years than the players drafted and signed in the same round from 1965 to 1995 (a differential in the range of -(minus) .9%–2.4%). The percentage of players in the three cohorts from 1996 to 2011 who played in the major leagues more than three years was 9% for rounds 6–10 combined (compared to 11.4% from 1965–95), 5.2% for rounds 11–15 combined (compared to 6.1% from 1965–95), and 4.4% for rounds 16-20 combined (compared to 5.6% from 1965–95).

CONCLUSION

The overall takeaway from this study is that, in the top five rounds, generally college players are much more valuable picks than high school players and college position players are more valuable than college pitchers. In the top five rounds, college players not only have a greater chance than high school players of making the major leagues and playing in the major leagues more than three years, but also more college players sign in proportion to high school players.

Acknowledgements

I want to especially thank my research assistant, Joseph Barroso, Jr., for his countless hours and attention to detail collecting the necessary data to make this study possible.

Notes

1. There were no revisions to the collective bargaining agreement during the time period covered by this study that would have any significant impact on the results. All players drafted and signed during the time period covered by this study were not subject to the revised collective bargaining agreement that brought significant changes to the draft in 2012. Starting with the 2012 draft, each team is allocated a “bonus pool” which establishes an amount it can spend in the aggregate on players drafted in the first ten rounds and a team is penalized if it goes over its threshold.

2. Allan Simpson, “Will he play in the big leagues?,” Baseball America, 2002, http://www.baseballamerica.com/online/draft/chances051002.html.

3. In a 2011 study on players drafted since 1965, Rany Jazayerli concluded that “very young players” (defined as those who are younger than 17 years and 296 days on draft day) return more value than expected by their draft slots. The study categorized draftees into five distinctive groups based on their age and being drafted in the early rounds. See Jazayerli, Rani, “Doctoring The Numbers Starting Them Young, Part One,” Baseball Prospectus, October 13, 2011, http://www.baseballprospectus.com/article.php?articleid=15295. See also Jazayerli, Rani, “Doctoring The Numbers Starting Them Young, Part Two,” Baseball Prospectus, October 14, 2011, http://www.baseballprospectus.com/article.php?articleid=15306.

4. www.thebaseballcube.com.

5. www.baseball-reference.com.

6. The two college player categories include junior college players.

7. See Major League Rule (MLR) 11.

8. N.B. the Baseball America study incorrectly calculated 333 out of 2,749 (12.1%) as 8.3%. See Simpson, Baseball America, 2002,

http://www.baseballamerica.com/online/draft/chances051002.html.

Calculating Skill and Luck in Major League Baseball

Pete Palmer

One of my favorite topics is the contributions of skill and luck in baseball. I recently ran one thousand simulations of a 162-game schedule that is the same as is currently being used in the majors (two leagues of 15 teams, three divisions each, with interleague play) where every team was the same and games could be decided by a coin flip (a random number generated by the computer). Of course you would not expect each team to win 81 games, but you would expect that the wins would show a bell-shaped curve centered at 81 wins.

This is of course what happened.

The width of the distribution is characterized by its standard deviation, defined as the square root of the sum of the squares of the difference between the team wins and 81, all divided by the number of teams. You would expect about two-thirds of the value to be within plus or minus one standard deviation, and 94 percent to be within two.

There is a formula which defines what this number should be in binomial distribution—the special case of the normal distribution where there are only two outcomes, like heads or tails, or in this case, wins or losses. The formula is simply the square root of the win probability times the loss probability times the number of trials, or games. For a 162-game season, this would be the square root of ½ times ½ times 162, which is 6.36. In my simulation, of course, each season out of the 1000 that I ran would not be exactly that value, but the number should be close. It turns out the season value was 6.35 with a range of plus or minus 0.9. If I combined the data into 10 year periods, the range was down to 0.3, as expected, reduced by the square root of 10.

If you assume luck and skill are independent—the luck factor for a season is the 6.36 wins calculated and the total variation is what happened on the field—then you can calculate the skill factor. It is simply the square root of total squared minus luck squared. I took the data by decades from 1871 to the present. The Union Association (1884) and Federal League (1914–15) were excluded.

Table 1.

Years   Teams Total Luck Skill

1871-1880  86 10.59 3.68  9.93

1881-1890 164 15.40 5.36 14.44

1891-1900 121 15.84 5.84 14.72

1901-1910 160 16.49 6.07 15.33

1911-1920 160 14.41 6.10 13.06

1921-1930 160 13.96 6.19 12.51

1931-1940 160 14.99 6.18 13.66

1941-1950 160 14.39 6.19 12.99

1951-1960 160 13.46 6.20 11.95

1961-1970 206 12.85 6.35 11.17

1971-1980 248 11.63 6.34  9.75

1981-1990 260  9.98 6.25  7.78

1991-2000 282 10.51 6.23  8.46

2001-2010 300 11.74 6.36  9.87

2011-2016 180 10.95 6.36  8.91

A variation in the luck factor of 0.3 wins or so would result in a change in skill of about 0.2.

What this shows is the skill factor, which was around 13 wins for 1901–1950, has been reduced significantly so that it has now been around 9 since 1971. This is a team skill factor, not a player skill factor, so basically the teams have become more evenly matched. It also shows that over the course of a full season, the skill and luck factors are almost equal. If you assume the 9 wins (.055 pct) would be constant for any length schedule, then you need 81 games before the skill factor and luck factor are equal. In 81 games, the skill factor would be 81 x .055 or 4.5 wins, while the luck factor (sqrt (81⁄4) would also be 4.5.

Next I modified my simulation to use teams that were not the same. I chose teams with a standard deviation equal to 9 wins derived from the previous table. I ran 1000 seasons, each with a different set of expected team win percentages. I noted the number of teams within each win range and the number of expected wins for each team that actually won games in that range. I derived a formula for the probability of one team beating another, which is the difference in overall win probability of the teams plus one half.

The results show the actual range is quite a bit broader than the expected one. From the previous table we would expect the actual range to have a standard deviation around 12, which it did. The important column is E/A, which is the expected number of wins for a team that actually won games in range. For example, a team that actually won 59 to 61 games was expected to win 67.4 games, which was 6.5 wins more than actual. Only 8 percent of the number of teams that won 59–61 games won more games than expected. Looking at the 89–91 range, those teams expected to win only 86.5 games and 70 percent of those teams won more games than expected.

Table 2.

Wins  Exp  Act  E/A   Dif  More

41–43   0    4  58.0 –16.0 0.000

44–46   0   19  58.3 –13.3 0.000

47–49   0   40  60.7 –12.7 0.000

50–52   0   96  62.5 –11.5 0.000

53–55  66  194  63.9  –9.9 0.026

56–58 127  332  65.2  –8.2 0.054

59–61 267  551  67.4  –7.4 0.078

62–64 526  919  69.5  –6.5 0.103

65–67 988 1333  71.6  –5.6 0.131

68–70 1681 1847 73.5  –4.5 0.178

71–73 2333 2298 75.4  –3.4 0.237

74–76 3207 2773 77.1  –2.1 0.309

77–79 3918 3055 79.2  –1.2 0.366

80–82 3963 3091 81.1  –0.1 0.466

83–85 3789 3080 82.7   1.3 0.559

86–88 3140 2780 84.9   2.1 0.619

89–91 2356 2293 86.5   3.5 0.706

92–94 1653 1751 88.5   4.5 0.763

95–97 1011 1359 90.4   5.6 0.815

98–100 512 928  92.5   6.5 0.867

101–103 261 589 94.1   7.9 0.912

104–106 135 304 96.5   8.5 0.928

107–109 67 194  98.0  10.0 0.954

110–112 0 96   100.1  10.9 1.000

113–115 0 42   103.3  10.7 1.000

116–118 0 21   101.9  15.1 1.000

119–121 0 6    106.8  13.2 1.000

122–124 0 1    109.0  14.0 1.000

I then looked at actual data showing change in wins in the following year. I used all teams 1901 to date and found, not surprisingly, that teams tended to show wins closer to .500. In fact the change was almost identical to the change found in the simulation above. Thus I believe that the so-called regression to the mean is simply due to luck. Of course, we don’t know the true team win probabilities of the actual teams, but it does seem likely that they are similar to the simulation, and a real life 90 win team is probably an 86.5 wins team that was lucky. Wins were normalized to 162 games to account for varying length seasons. Diff1 is the difference between wins this year and next. Diff2 is the difference in team wins expected and actual from the previous table. The table below is from a much smaller sample, so the numbers would be less uniform.

Table 3.

Wins Teams Next  Diff1 Diff2

38–40    2 66.5  27.5

41–43    4 60.5  18.5  16.0

44–46    8 61.0  16.0  13.3

47–49   10 58.2  10.2  12.7

50–52   15 65.1  14.1  11.5

53–55   40 65.5  11.5   9.9

56–58   47 65.5   8.5   8.2

59–61   64 67.5   7.5   7.4

62–64   85 70.8   7.8   6.5

65–67  130 71.4   5.4   5.6

68–70  125 73.0   4.0   4.5

71–73  155 77.1   5.1   3.4

74–76  204 78.8   3.8   2.1

77–79  192 80.7   2.7   1.2

80–82  168 80.6  -0.4   0.1

83–85  204 82.4  -1.6  -1.3

86–88  221 84.1  -2.9  -2.1

89–91  177 86.6  -3.4  -3.5

92–94  159 87.4  -5.6  -4.5

95–97  148 89.8  -6.2  -5.6

98-100 105 90.7  -8.3  -6.5

101-103 68 94.5  -7.5  -7.9

104-106 34 94.8 -10.2  -8.5

107-109 17 99.0  -9.0 -10.0

110-112 12 103.0 -8.0 -10.9

113-115 6  98.6 -15.4 -10.7

116-118 4  97.0 -20.0 -15.1

119-121 1 105.3 -14.7 -13.2

This method can also be used to look at player performance. The variation in batting average due to luck uses the same formula, except the probability of success is more like 0.25 rather than 0.50. For a full season of 500 at-bats, the variation in hits is the square root of 0.25 times 0.75 times 500, which is 9.7, or about 20 percentage points. The table below shows batting average by decades for all players with at least 300 appearances (at bats plus walks) in a season. Total, luck and skill are in batting average points, that is 37 is .037 on batting average. The variation in skill level has decreased, which indicates that the average level has probably increased, making it harder for the best players to exceed it. However some of the decrease may be due to power hitters who sacrifice batting average for homers. The standard deviation from year to year is 1.4 (square root of two) times the yearly value, so that means five percent of the players can change more than 60 points just due to luck.

Table 4.

Years  Players App  Avg Ttl Luck Skill

1901-1910 1239 493 .265 37 21 30

1911-1920 1319 499 .272 36 21 29

1921-1930 1299 512 .300 35 21 28

1931-1940 1348 518 .289 32 21 24

1941-1950 1297 508 .273 30 21 22

1951-1960 1269 506 .273 30 21 21

1961-1970 1722 512 .263 30 20 22

1971-1980 2158 508 .268 30 21 21

1981-1990 2208 499 .268 28 21 19

1991-2000 2374 499 .276 31 21 22

2001-2010 2622 509 .274 28 21 18

2011-2016 1538 500 .264 30 21 21

* Note: Although the chart shows appearances (AB + walks), actual at-bats were used to calculate the variance in batting average. AB are usual around 40 fewer than appearances. Example: 1901–10 it was 456, so sigma is sqr (456 *.265 *.735)/456 o 21 pts. Appearances give credit to players who walked, but I used batting average as the criterion and didn’t want too many columns.

Normalized on-base plus slugging (NOPS) is a better measure of batting than average, though. The definition is on-base average (OBA) player over OBA league plus slugging average (SLG) player over SLG league minus 1, all times one hundred. The league averages do not include pitcher batting. This is then adjusted for park by dividing the player park factor (PF). PF is basically runs scored per inning at home over runs scored per inning away plus one divided by two. So a park where twenty percent more runs were scored at home than on the road would have a PF of 1.10. NOPS correlates directly with runs in that a player with a 120 NOPS produces runs at a rate 20 percent higher than the league average. The standard deviation for NOPS is a bit more complicated. Slugging average is driven by home runs, so homer hitters have a higher standard deviation.

I ran a simulation where all players each year from 1901 through 2016 with 300 or more plate appearances were run through 100 seasons. The league standard deviation came out 15 points, although it was more like 14.5 for the first half of the period and 15.5 for the last half, where homers were more frequent. If I divided the league in half by homer percentage in 2016, the top half had 16.5 and the bottom half 14.5. I will use 15 for analysis. This table shows that the variation in skill level has remained fairly constant with a slight dip recently, which as with batting average may indicate a rise in average skill.

Table 5.

Years Players App NOPS Total Luck Skill

1901-1910 1239 493 104 28 15 23

1911-1920 1319 499 104 28 15 23

1921-1930 1299 512 104 30 15 25

1931-1940 1348 518 103 28 15 24

1941-1950 1297 508 105 27 15 23

1951-1960 1269 506 105 27 15 23

1961-1970 1722 512 105 28 15 24

1971-1980 2158 508 104 26 15 22

1981-1990 2208 499 104 25 15 19

1991-2000 2374 499 104 27 15 22

2001-2010 2622 509 104 25 15 20

2011-2016 1538 500 105 24 15 18

So for NOPS, five percent of the players can change 40 or more points from year to year due to luck alone.

For pitchers, I would use normalized ERA, which is simply league ERA over pitcher ERA times 100. Again, a 120 NERA will result in 20 percent less runs allowed than an average pitcher. I do have a quarrel with the way earned runs are given, though. A pitcher is always charged with runs that score by players he has allowed on base. It would be fairer if they were shared when a relief pitcher comes in. For example, if a pitcher left with the bases loaded and none out, he would be charged with 1.8 runs. This is the number of runs usually scored by the 3 runners. If the relief pitcher got out with no runs scored, he would get minus 1.8 runs.

The actual value varies a bit from year to year and league to league, and does have a random factor associated with it. If runs were individual events like goals in a hockey game, the standard deviation would be the square root of the average number of runs, but in baseball scoring one run can often lead to another and a grand slam homer can score four in one blow, so the actual value is the square root of twice the number of runs. In the bases loaded case, the 1.8 figure is 701 scored in 389 cases for 2015 AL. The square root of 1402 over 389 is about 0.1. A runner on third and none out scores about 82 percent of the time, while a runner on first with two outs comes in only 13 percent.

For ERA, the luck factor is calculated the same way. A pitcher with 180 innings and an ERA of 4.00 would have allowed 80 runs, and the luck factor would be the square root of 160 times 9 over 180 or 0.63, a fairly hefty figure. That means five percent of the pitchers could have their ERA off by more than 1.26 due to luck alone. For NERA, the luck factor if the league ERA was 4.00 would be 0.63 divided by 4.00 times 100 or 16. The table below shows all pitchers with 150 or more innings from 1901 to the present by decades.

Table 6.

Years Players Innings ERA NERA Total Luck Skill

1901-1910 658 253 2.65 112 28 16 23

1911-1920 745 232 2.85 110 26 16 20

1921-1930 711 217 3.93 110 20 15 13

1931-1940 663 212 3.91 111 21 15 15

1941-1950 627 207 3.48 113 22 16 16

1951-1960 576 207 3.65 110 20 15 13

1961-1970 768 216 3.40 110 22 16 16

1971-1980 918 219 3.52 109 20 15 13

1981-1990 836 204 3.72 109 21 15 15

1991-2000 819 197 4.05 113 25 15 20

2001-2010 905 194 4.10 111 23 15 18

2011-2016 529 189 3.76 109 23 16 17

I did a study of all players with at least 300 at bats their first two years and sorted by difference in NOPS and whether they made 300 at-bats in their third year. What it showed was that most players who did worse their second year improved in their third year, while most players who did better their second year didn’t do as well in their third year. About 30 percent of those who were worse their second year did not get a third year, while only 10 percent of those who were better did. In the 30-point change area, those who improved were 37 points higher in year two, but only 5 points higher in year three. So it appears that a big improvement is considered a trend, when it is really mostly luck. The 30-point players who improved did do a little better the third year (up 7 points), while those who did worse only went up 4, but that is a pretty small difference. (See Table 7.)

A handy rule for determining simulated series winners is that the probability of winning a seven-game series is equal to twice the one game percentage minus one half. So a .550 team will win the series sixty percent of the time. If you actually do the math, it turns out that a .500 team will win .500 of the time, obviously, while a .550 team will win .608, a .600 team will win .710 and a .650 team will win .800, but the rule of thumb is close enough.

I ran four separate runs of 5000 162-game season simulations based on playoff structure. The first was one league of 30 teams with no playoffs. The winner was the first place team at the end of the season.

The next case was 2 leagues of 15 teams with the league winners in the playoff. Then I tried two leagues of two divisions each and 4 teams in the playoffs. Finally it was two leagues, three divisions and a wild card, eight teams in the playoffs. As the number of playoff teams increased, the probability of the best team making the playoffs also increased, but the likelihood of the best team winning went down.

In real life, we do not know which team was really the best, but if we assume that it was the team with the best record during the season, then that team has won the World Series five times since 1995 when the wild card was introduced, although in one case there was a tie for the best. That works out to about 20 percent, consistent with the above table. The average rank of the World Series winner was fourth out of eight. If the playoffs were completely random, the average rank would be 4.5. The worst team has won 4 times.

In a season, the variation due to luck is about 6.3 games or about 40 percentage points. In a 7 game series, the variation is the square root of ½ times ½ times 7 which is 1.32 games or 188 percentage points. For a single game it is the square root of ½ times ½ times 1 which is .5 wins or 500 percentage points. The average difference in team skill in a game is about 55 percentage points, but if you include home/away and variation among starting pitchers, the actual difference per game is around 100 points or one run. We established that the variation due to chance is the square root of twice the number of runs involved. This means the variation of the difference in runs for a single game would be the square root of 18 or 4.25. This is over four times the variation due to skill.

Looking at other sports as comparisons, the skill factor is much more important in basketball and football. With fewer players on a basketball team, one star player can make a big difference. Football has a much shorter season, so the luck factor is higher per game, but skill still wins out. If you assume the skill factor would be the same regardless of the length of the season, then for a 162-game season basketball would be about 150 points of winning percentage, football about 140, and baseball 55 as shown above. Trying to hit a round ball with a round bat introduces a lot of variability which does not exist in other sports.

Table 9.1. Basketball

Years   Teams Total Luck Skill

1946-1950  48 10.03 3.85 9.26

1950-1960  88  9.25 4.20 8.24

1960-1970 103 11.90 4.49 11.02

1970-1980 192 10.92 4.53 9.94

1980-1990 236 12.35 4.53 11.49

1990-2000 280 13.23 4.44 12.47

2000-2010 296 12.17 4.53 11.29

2010-2016 180 12.58 4.45 11.76

Table 9.2. Football

Years   Teams Total Luck Skill

1920-1929 167 2.46 1.45 1.99

1930-1939  98 2.68 1.64 2.12

1940-1949 129 3.02 1.67 2.51

1950-1959 121 2.49 1.71 1.82

1960-1969 232 2.99 1.82 2.37

1970-1979 268 3.00 1.88 2.33

1980-1989 280 2.84 1.94 2.08

1990-1999 291 2.98 2.00 2.21

2000-2009 318 3.09 2.00 2.36

2010-2015 192 3.07 2.00 2.33

If all baseball teams were equal, the standard deviation year to year would be 9 games (the square root of 324/4), or alternately the square root of 2 times the in season variation (square root of 162/4 or 6.36). That means every year there should be one or two teams with differences of 18 just by luck. Below are results by decade. The real difference between teams is only about 7 games a year. There were 166 teams who gained 18 or more games from one year to the next, going from 67 wins to 90 on the average. However, the next year, they dropped back to 85, just like any other team. Likewise there were 156 teams who dropped 18 or more wins, going from 91 to 68, but won 75 the following year. Wins were normalized to 162 games to allow for schedule differences.

Table 10.

Years   Teams Total Luck Skill

1901-1910 144 15.3  9.0  12.4

1911-1920 160 14.8  9.0  11.7

1921-1930 160 11.6  9.0   7.3

1931-1940 160 11.9  9.0   7.8

1941-1950 160 12.6  9.0   8.8

1951-1960 160 10.6  9.0   5.6

1961-1970 198 11.0  9.0   6.2

1971-1980 246 10.3  9.0   5.0

1981-1990 260 11.8  9.0   7.6

1991-2000 278 12.2  9.0   8.2

2001-2010 300 11.0  9.0   6.3

2011-2016 180 11.4  9.0   7.0

Conclusion

Most people think luck is a lot less important than it is. A team’s record from year to year includes a great deal of luck, and luck contributes about equally as skill to a team’s eventual regular season record. (And in the postseason, it’s nearly all luck.)

The Effect of Stride Length on Pitched Ball Velocity

Stephen P. Smith, Easton S. Smith, and Thomas G. Bowman

One philosophy of pitching holds that pushing off the rubber as hard as possible and landing as far from it as possible generates the most velocity, while another holds that shortening stride length and "pulling off" the rubber will generate the most. In both theories, stride length is a critical component, both for establishing the timing of the kinetic chain of events and for distributing mechanical energy from the lower body to the throwing hand.[1] Velocity is an asset pitchers have always wanted; so what is the best way to achieve an increase in velocity? The purpose of this study is to examine the effect on pitched ball velocity with variations from a pitcher’s normal stride length—10 percent greater than normal and 10 percent less than normal.

To throw the ball hard, a pitcher needs to maintain excellent and consistent mechanics. These mechanics should be taught early in a child’s baseball career. Fleisig, et al. examined differences between youth, high school, college, and professional baseball pitchers.[2] Their study showed that all kinematic parameters improved as the player progressed to higher levels. They also found that there were greater risk factors associated with higher level pitchers due to greater joint force and torque associated with increased strength and muscle mass. Fleisig presumes that if young baseball players can be taught efficient mechanics at an early age, then the risk factor for specific arm and shoulder surgeries can be decreased. Those mechanics demonstrate that pitchers can throw harder with greater, rather than worsened, recovery rates.

According to Fleisig et al. joint force and torque have been highly scrutinized due to the increase in ulnar collateral ligament (UCL) surgeries ("Tommy John" surgery).[3] Perhaps another area of pitching mechanics that needs to be scrutinized is the impact of lower body mechanics. The kinetic chain starts from the ground up, so it makes sense to examine that chain from its origin even if at first glance it is unclear how stride length impacts ground reaction forces, joint biomechanics, momentum transfer, and pitched ball velocity.

Previous research has provided a glimpse of what overstriding can do with regard to exertion, but not much exists on the effect stride length has on pitched ball velocity.[4] What little research has been done indicates that stride length has little to do with resulting velocity.[5] Beyond actual velocity generated by a pitcher in a single pitch, one must also account for the exertion required to pitch repeatedly throughout the course of a game. If a change in stride length resulted in reduced exertion over the course of the game, then in addition to faster recovery times perhaps there is a reduced loss of velocity over the course of pitches thrown.

Matsuo et al. investigated the differences between 29 collegiate and professional pitchers who threw with ball velocities above 85 miles per hour (MPH) and 23 college pitchers whose velocities were below 77 MPH.[6] They concluded that height, humeral length, radial length, peak knee flexion angular velocity, maximum shoulder external rotation (MER), lead knee extension angular velocity at the instant of ball release (REL), forward trunk tilt at REL, time to peak maximum elbow extension angular velocity, and time to peak shoulder internal rotation angular velocity all differed significantly between the low- and high-velocity groups.

Crotin, et al. demonstrated that a shorter stride length can decrease exertion faced by a pitcher.[7] Exertion was measured through a nine-minute resting baseline heart rate (HR), salivary cortisol, salivary alpha amylase, self-reported exertion scores, baseline blood glucose, and baseline lactate scores. They concluded that a longer stride length is physiologically more demanding. Another finding in this study showed that mean velocity was unaffected by stride length. Stride length in Crotin's study was determined by desired stride length equal to 67% of the pitcher’s height. Over stride length was 76% of body height and under stride length was 52% of body height.

These previous studies did not study stride length as a relative influence on pitched ball velocity. The current study examines the effect of stride length on pitched ball velocity. It was hypothesized that by reducing a pitcher’s average stride length by 10 percent, there should be a slight increase in pitched ball velocity. Additionally, it was hypothesized that increasing stride length by 10 percent beyond each pitcher’s stride length should reduce pitched ball velocity.

Methodology

Participants

Participants were 30 males 18 to 22 years of age who were members of a Division 3 college baseball team. Approval from the college’s Institutional Review Board was obtained prior to administering the testing protocol and informed consents were signed by each participant. Each participant was required to have been a member in good standing with the baseball program and free from any pre-existing arm or shoulder injury.

A total population sample was employed to determine if the measurable factors would influence pitched ball velocity. Each participant warmed up using a modified version of the Velocity 18 throwing program.[8] The Velocity 18 program is a warm-up consisting of throwing varying distances (45', 60', 90', 120', 90', and 60') for two minutes each using a four-seam fastball grip.

The purpose was to be consistent with getting each participant thoroughly warmed up in the exact same fashion, and to do so in a way that would minimize the risk of injury.

Procedure, Instrumentation, and Independent Measures

Data collection occurred through participant observations. Objective tests aimed at determining if stride length had an impact on pitched ball velocity were administered as follows:

Once participants were warmed up they were placed on an indoor portable mound with a 10-inch rise—standard for a college baseball mound. They were asked to go through their normal pitching routine simulating a normal pitch. The researcher then marked the landing spot with standard silver duct tape. The researcher then calculated a landing spot that was 10 percent longer than normal and also a landing spot that was 10 percent shorter than normal. Each spot was marked with silver duct tape. Each piece of tape was marked with a “1” (10 percent shorter), “2” (normal), or “3” (10 percent longer). Participants were allowed to familiarize themselves with each landing area prior to delivering a pitch. The researcher then sat behind a protective net 60 feet 6 inches away with a Jugs II radar gun (Tualatin, OR, USA) and recorded pitched ball velocity for each pitch.

Pitching Sequence

In order to equalize fatigue, the pitches were thrown from random stride locations. The researcher would call out the number corresponding to the landing spot for the pitcher and the pitcher would land on the corresponding numbered piece of duct tape. Upon completion of each pitch the researcher would record the speed of the pitch using a calibrated Jugs II radar gun.

Results

Statistical Analysis

Comparisons between velocity and stride length (normal stride, 10 percent shorter than normal, and 10 percent longer than normal) were made using a repeated measure ANOVA with MPH as the dependent variable. Means and standard deviations were calculated and a 95 percent confidence interval was obtained. All calculations were completed in Statistical Package for the Social Sciences (version 23). The a priori alpha level was set to P≤.05.

Data Collection

Scores were obtained for each participant in one testing session. Thirty pitches with maximum effort were delivered in a randomized order and velocity was recorded in MPH for later analysis. All participants fully completed the testing session.

Table 1 illustrates the mean velocities for each treatment. Table 1 also illustrates that a stride length that was 10 percent shorter than normal resulted in an average velocity increase of .8 MPH versus a normal stride length and a stride length 10 percent greater than normal was over a full 1 MPH slower on average than 10 percent shorter than normal.

In addition to the mean differences, a 95 percent confidence interval was obtained to show that the data demonstrate there was a 95 percent chance the upper and lower velocities would fall between the listed data in Table 2. This is an important statistic because it demonstrates on average the upper and lower velocities were at their best at the 10 percent shorter treatment.

The basis for the current research study was to see if reducing a pitcher’s stride length by as little as 10 percent could increase velocity. According to a repeated measure ANOVA, the stride length significantly altered pitch velocity (F2,522=14.01, P<.001). 90% (mean=76.9 MPH) produced significantly faster pitch velocities than 110% (mean=75.8 MPH) 100% (mean=76.1 MPH). Finally, there were no significant differences in velocity across pitch number (F9,522=1.81, P=.07). In order for a repeated measure ANOVA to be valid some assumptions need to be made. The first assumption is that trials are equal and all possible combination of trials are equal. This study followed both assumptions. Because of this, it is unlikely that the statistical analysis resulted in a Type 1 error (rejecting the null hypothesis).

Discussion

The present study was designed to examine the effect stride length has on pitched ball velocity in 30 college baseball players comparing their normal stride length, a stride length 10 percent less than normal, and 10 percent greater than normal. The rationale for the basis of the study was the ongoing debate of the push versus pull philosophies when teaching individuals to pitch. Previous studies demonstrated that certain physiological variables contribute to velocity and to exertion, but none examined the relative effect on velocity.[9] Results of the present study demonstrated that there were statistical differences between stride lengths and pitched ball velocity.

This study should be interpreted with reservation due to the following limitations: 1) This study was conducted with 30 college baseball players who were not assessed on mechanical efficiency but have been trained at a level where they were qualified enough to play baseball at the Intercollegiate level and 2) 30 subjects do not generalize itself to the entire population. This study should be replicated and scrutinized in the research community; however, it does give some substance to the market of baseball coaches that subscribe to the philosophy that pulling off the rubber will create a mechanical advantage to be able to throw at a slightly higher velocity. A secondary benefit to slightly higher velocities should also include less exertion and greater recovery rates.[10]

Despite the limitations of the study, it may benefit coaches to investigate the stride length of their current pitchers and assess the distance that the stride foot travels.

Conclusions

There are many factors that determine velocity when pitching (mechanics, strength, etc.) but one must also consider the relative impact that stride length has on pitched ball velocity. Coaches should consider an examination of lower body mechanics when teaching the skill of pitching in addition to their usual focus on upper-body mechanics. The next step should include researching the ideal stride length for the optimization of velocity, mechanical efficiency, and recovery. Some research has suggested the ideal stride length for professional pitchers is between 80% and 85% of body height.[11] However, it has been researched that collegiate pitchers on average have even shorter stride lengths.[12] There is still much research to be done to help advance the game in a safe and scientifically supported fashion. n

Bibliography

Crotin, R.L., Kozlowski, K., Horvath, P., and Ramsey, D.K. “Altered stride length in response to increasing exertion among baseball pitchers.” Medicine & Science in Sport & Exercise, 46 (2014): 565–71.

Dun, S., Loftice, J., and Fleisig, G.S. “A biomechanical comparison of youth baseball pitches: Is the curveball potentially harmful?” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 36 (2008): 686–92.

Elliott, B., Grove, J.R., and Thurston, B. “A three-dimensional cinematographic analysis of the fastball and curveball pitches in baseball.” Journal of Sports Biomechanics, 2 (1986): 20–28.

Escamilla, R.F., Barrentine, S.W., and Fleisig, G.S. “Pitching biomechanics as a pitcher approaches muscular fatigue during a simulated baseball game.” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 35 (2007): 23.

Escamilla, R.F., Fleisig, G.S., Zheng, N., Barrentine, S.W., Wilk, K.E., and Andrews, J.R. “Biomechanics of the knee during closed kinetic chain

and open kinetic chain exercises.” Medicine & Science in Sport and Exercise, 4 (1998): 556–69.

Fleisig, G.S., Berrentine, S.W., Zheng, N., Escamilla, R.F., Andrews, J.R. “Kinematic and kinetic comparison of baseball pitching among various levels of development.” Journal of Biomechanics, 32 (1999): 1,371–75.

Fleisig, G.S., Kingsley, D.S., and Loftis, J.W. “Kinetic comparison among the fastball, curveball, change-up, and slider in collegiate baseball pitchers.” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 34 (2006): 423–30.

Lin, H.T., Su, F.C., Nakamura, M., and Chao, E.Y.S. “Complex chain of momentum transfer of body segments in a baseball pitching motion.” Journal of Chinese Institute of Engineers, 26 (2003): 861–68.

Matsuo, T., Escamilla, R.F., Fleisig, G.S., Barrentine, S.W., and Andrews, J.R. “Comparison of kinematic and temporal parameters between different pitch velocity groups.” Journal of Applied Biomechanics, 17 (2001): 1–13.

Seroyer, S.T., Nho, S.J., and Bach. “The kinetic chain in overhand pitching: Its potential role for performance enhancement and injury prevention.” Sports Health, 2 (2010): 135–36.

Stoddin, D.F., Fleisig, G.S., McLean, S.P., and Andrews, J.R. “Relationship between biomechanical factors to baseball pitching velocity: Within pitcher variation.” Journal of Applied Biomechanics, 21 (2005): 44–56.

Notes

1. S. Chao, “Complex Chain of Momentum Transfer of Body Segments in a Baseball Pitching Motion,” Journal of Chinese Institute of Engineers, 26 (2003): 861–68; S.T. Seroyer, S.J. Nho, and Bach, “The Kinetic Chain in Overhand Pitching: Its Potential Role for Performance Enhancement and Injury Prevention,” Sports Health, 2 (2010): 135–36.

2. G.S. Fleisig, S.W. Berrentine, N. Zheng, R.F. Escamilla, J.R. Andrews, “Kinematic and Kinetic Comparison of Baseball Pitching Among Various Levels of Development,” Journal of Biomechanics, 32 (1999): 1,371–75.

3. G.S. Fleisig, S.W. Berrentine, N. Zheng, R.F. Escamilla, J.R. Andrews, “Kinematic and Kinetic Comparison of Baseball Pitching Among Various Levels of Development,” Journal of Biomechanics, 32 (1999): 1,371–755.

4. R.L. Crotin, K. Kozlowski, P. Horvath, and D.K. Ramsey, “Altered Stride Length in Response to Increasing Exertion Among Baseball Pitchers,” Medicine & Science in Sport & Exercise, 46 (2014): 565–71.

5. Stoddin, D.F., Fleisig, G.S., McLean, S.P., and Andrews, J.R. “Relationship between biomechanical factors to baseball pitching velocity: Within pitcher variation.” Journal of Applied Biomechanics, 21 (2005): 44–56.

6. T. Matsuo, R.F. Escamilla, G.S. Fleisig, S.W. Barrentine, and J.R. Andrews, “Comparison of Kinematic and Temporal Parameters Between Different Pitch Velocity Groups.” Journal of Applied Biomechanics, 17 (2001): 1–13.

7. R.L. Crotin, K. Kozlowski, P. Horvath, and D.K. Ramsey, “Altered Stride Length in Response to Increasing Exertion Among Baseball Pitchers,” Medicine & Science in Sport & Exercise, 46 (2014): 565–71.

8. Tom House, “The Program,” Velocity Plus Armcare, accessed October 31, 2016, www.velocityplusarmcare.com

9. R.L. Crotin, K. Kozlowski, P. Horvath, and D.K. Ramsey, “Altered Stride Length in Response to Increasing Exertion Among Baseball Pitchers,” Medicine & Science in Sport & Exercise, 46 (2014): 565-571; T. Matsuo, R.F. Escamilla, G.S. Fleisig, S.W. Barrentine, and J.R. Andrews, “Comparison of Kinematic and Temporal Parameters Between Different Pitch Velocity Groups.” Journal of Applied Biomechanics, 17 (2001): 1–13.

10. R.L. Crotin, K. Kozlowski, P. Horvath, and D.K. Ramsey, “Altered Stride Length in Response to Increasing Exertion Among Baseball Pitchers,” Medicine & Science in Sport & Exercise, 46 (2014): 565–71

11. R.F. Escamilla, S.W. Barrentine, and G.S. Fleisig,”Pitching Biomechanics as a Pitcher Approaches Muscular Fatigue During a Simulated Baseball Game,” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 35 (2007): 23; B. Elliott, J.R. Grove, J.R.and B, Thurston, “A Three-Dimensional Cinematographic Analysis of the Fastball and Curveball Pitches in Baseball,” Journal of Sports Biomechanics, 2 (1986): 20–28.

12. S. Dun, J. Loftice, and G.S. Fleisig, “A Biomechanical Comparison of Youth Baseball Pitches: Is the Curveball Potentially Harmful?” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 36 (2008): 686–92; G.S. Fleisig, D.S. Kingsley, and J.W. Loftis, “Kinetic Comparison Among the Fastball, Curveball, Change-up, and Slider in Collegiate Baseball Pitchers,” American Journal of Sports Medicine, 34 (2006): 423–30.

“With a Deliberate Attempt to Deceive”: Correcting a Quotation Misattributed to Charles Eliot, President of Harvard

Richard Hershberger

“Well, this year I'm told the team did well because one pitcher had a fine curve ball. I understand that a curve ball is thrown with a deliberate attempt to deceive. Surely this is not an ability we should want to foster at Harvard.”

This quotation is best known from its appearance in Ken Burns’s documentary Baseball, read (in the words of historian John Thorn) with “proper snoot” by George Plimpton.[1] It is ascribed there, as is usual, to Charles Eliot, President of Harvard University from 1869 to 1909.

The epigram is utterly delightful, combining clueless-ness with get-off-my-lawn curmudgeonliness. Coming from no less than the president of Harvard, it is irresistible.

It is not, however, well attested. It has not been found in Eliot’s published writings, nor ascribed to him in any contemporary source. It is notably absent from the Yale Book of Quotations, a recent and rigorous contribution to the quotations-book genre, which includes two other quotations from Eliot. Its doubtful provenance is enough to make one of a skeptical bent suspect it of being too good to be true. This is why this, from 1884, is notable:

During the recent convention of representatives from Harvard, Yale, and other colleges to consider the subject of athletics, one of the speakers unbosomed himself thus:

Athletics have come to the pass where they are no longer fair and open trials of strength and skill, but on the contrary, as at present conducted, they train the young men to look upon victory as the rewards of treachery and deceit. That this is the case, anyone who has seen the game of baseball as it is played by the so-called best college nines will at once admit. For the pitcher, instead of delivering the ball to the batter in an honest, straightforward way, that the latter may exert his strength to the best advantage in knocking it, now uses every effort to deceive him by curving—I think that is the word—the ball. And this is looked upon as the last triumph of athletic science and skill. I tell you it is time to call halt! when the boasted progress in athletics is in the direction of fraud and deceit.[2]

This paragraph from the New York Clipper is clearly a more prolix form of the epigram. The pithier received version might be a tighter rendition by the same speaker, or it might have been improved by others in later repetition, but both forms include the distinctive element that make it so attractive today: the curve ball described as deceitful, stated in the voice of moral condemnation.

This discovery allows us to place the epigram in its historical context. The complaint did not come out of the blue, but was a part of an ongoing discussion about the place of college athletics—a discussion that continues to this day.

Gentlemen and Players

Baseball had a long history at Harvard, going back to 1858 when students at Harvard’s Lawrence Scientific School founded the Lawrence Base Ball Club.[3] Harvard commenced intercollegiate play in 1865, beating Williams College, 35–20. In 1868 things got serious when Harvard first played Princeton and, above all, Yale (winning 17–16 and 25–17 respectively).[4] They also played non-collegiate clubs and, when the time came, against professional clubs. There lay the objection.

Eliot’s vision of the role of college athletics was informed by the assumptions of Victorian English society. English society was hierarchical, with fine gradations. The most important division was that between the gentry and the non-gentry. The gentry were defined by shared dress and speech and education: gentlemen were men who acted like gentlemen. Paramount to this was that gentlemen did not work for a living. Ideally they were supported by landed estates, or failing this, investment income from stocks and bonds. The reality was never actually so clear, of course. Certain professions, such as medicine and the law, were open to gentlemen. But others, such as manufacture and trade, were not.

Playing sports professionally was completely out of bounds. A professional athlete was by definition therefore not a gentleman. This is not to say that gentlemen did not engage in competitive sports. Quite the contrary: the English gentry were enthusiastic about athletic competition, but only against other gentlemen. This is the origin of the “amateur ideal” familiar until recent years from the modern Olympic games. Calling it amateurism is a euphemism. The original motivation was to limit competition to those with the means to compete without financial reward.

Cricket was the notable exception to the rule that gentlemen only competed against gentlemen. Organized cricket long predated the Victorian ideals of sport, and developed along different lines. Cricket clubs routinely combined dues-paying members and paid working-class employees—respectively “gentlemen” and “players”—playing together on the same field. This was not out of any sense of egalitarianism. Interactions between the groups were carefully circumscribed. The gentlemen and the players had different entrances and different dressing rooms, and just to be certain that there was no confusion, game accounts gave the names of the gentlemen with the title “Mr.” while players were given their bare surnames.

Eliot shared this worldview. There were gentlemen and there were non-gentlemen. Harvard students fell into the first class, and it was his job to ensure that they were taught how to act like proper gentlemen. This did not translate exactly to American society. Many Harvard graduates went on to business careers not available to English gentlemen. But the English gentry, with its rules of conduct, was the ideal to be copied as closely as possible.

A Harvard man playing professionally obviously was beyond the pale. The question was what, if any, interaction was permissible between college and professional athletes? Was it like cricket, where they could compete together under clearly circumscribed conditions? Or did they have to be completely separate?

The cricket model did not translate well to America, where all men are created equal and every man is a “Mr.” This comes through in the aftermath of the tour of England in 1874 by the Bostons and the Athletics of Philadelphia baseball clubs. They played a series of exhibition baseball games against one another and cricket matches against local clubs. They were professionals, and so their hosts treated them as such: with courteous hospitality, but the courtesy and hospitality one offers to one’s social inferiors, not one’s equals. This didn’t go over well, and upon their return the players were full of complaints. An explicit example comes out in an interview of Athletics’ catcher John Clapp:

R: How did they receive and treat you?

C: Well, they seemed rather indifferent, just as if they didn’t think either we or our game amounted to much.

R: You saw, I suppose, that they were slightly conceited?

C: Slightly? Slightly ain’t the word for it! Confoundedly conceited!

R: And you didn’t like it?

C: No, none of us did. I’m every bit as good as any Englishman, I don’t care who he is. We outbatted them and outfielded them all the time, but they grunted about “form,” and called us “sloggers,” until we laughed more than we sneered.[5]

American ballplayers simply did not know their place. Eliot worried that this attitude would be contagious, making any interaction with them a threat to the amateur ideal. This first comes out in the mid-1870s, as seen in this excerpt from Eliot’s annual report as President of Harvard:

Base-ball, foot-ball, cricket, running, jumping, and various other athletic exercises, are practised there [Harvard’s Jarvis and Holmes fields] during October, November, April, May, and June. While the [Harvard College] Corporation have given the best possible evidence of their desire to foster these manly sports, they have felt compelled to discourage by every means in their power the association of students with the class of persons who make their living by practising or exhibiting these games; to dissuade students from making athletic sports the main business, instead of one of the incidental pleasures, of their college lives; and to prohibit altogether the taking of money for admission to witness the sports upon the College play-grounds.[6]

Competition and coaching

Eliot, over the next few years, raised further concerns about the over-emphasis on sport—or perhaps he realized that a pure class argument was not compelling. College sport, in his new critique, was growing too competitive. The athletes’ training regime grew too time-consuming and open to only a small number of top performers rather than the student body as a whole.[7] Worst of all, it bred a belief that winning was the only goal, that “games should be played to win, and that whatever promotes winning should be done.”[8] This was antithetical to Harvard’s mission:

The athletic sports ought to cultivate moral as well as physical courage, fair-dealing and the sense of honor. If any form of unfaithfulness, unfairness, or meanness is tolerated in them, they become sources of wide-spreading moral corruption. If students do not find their sense of honor cultivated and refined by their College life, they may be sure that their education is failing at its most vital point.[9]

Matters came to a head when students started pooling their funds to hire professionals to coach them over the winter and early spring. This exemplified to Eliot everything that was going wrong in college sport: an extraordinary measure taken merely for the purpose of winning, and which would inevitably inculcate the culture of professionalism.[10]

Harvard responded by instituting a standing committee of three faculty members to supervise athletic competition. It forbade games with professional clubs, restricted match games to Saturdays, and reined in professional trainers, only allowing by special permission.[11]

The Harvard faculty athletics committee called an intercollegiate meeting to be held in New York City over the 1883–84 winter holiday. Professional coaches were at the top of the agenda. An agreement was adopted at a follow-up meeting in February to ban such coaches.[12] Even this modest achievement proved for naught, as Brown, Yale, Dartmouth, and Penn all refused to ratify it.[13]

The Harvard faculty nonetheless stuck to their guns. The faculty strictly enforced the ban on any competition against professionals. April games with the National League Boston Club were an institution, so this did not go over well with the students. A faculty-student meeting, a student petition, and a mass meeting of the student body resulted.[14] Eliot, speaking to the Boston Association of High School Teachers, described baseball as a “wretched game.”[15]

Further complaint arose from the case of William Coolidge. He had played for the Harvard nine as an undergraduate and then as a student at Harvard Law School (as was legitimate under the eligibility rules of the day). In 1884 he retired from the Harvard nine to concentrate on his studies. He was happy to fill in for the Beacon Club of Boston when they needed a player for a game with the professional Boston Club. The immaculately amateur Beacons were composed mostly of Harvard graduates, and Coolidge anticipated no difficulty arising from this. But later in the season the Harvard team asked him to fill a temporary vacancy, but the faculty athletic committee declared him ineligible for having played against professionals.[16]

Charles Eliot Norton

The preceding is by way of setting the context for the famous denunciation of the deceitful curve ball. Eliot’s longstanding unease about collegiate competitive sports was coming to a climax, resulting in his expostulation at the winter holiday meeting.

Everything about this quotation seems consistent with Eliot’s views. It would be tempting to declare the case closed, with the attribution to Eliot confirmed. There is only one problem. He was not at the meeting:

During the holidays a meeting of representatives from the faculties of the chief colleges met in New York to discuss athletics. This convention arose from Dr. Sargent’s visit to the various colleges and was called by the Athletic Committee of Harvard. There were present Prof. Norton and Dr. Sargent, from Harvard; President McCosh of Princeton; Professor Richards of Yale; Mr. Goodwin of Columbia and many other presidents and professors.[17]

The two Harvard delegates were Dr. Dudley Allen Sargent and Professor Charles Eliot Norton. It is most likely that the denunciation of the curve ball came from Professor Norton.

At right, Charles Eliot Norton, the likely source of the quotation.

At left, his more famous cousin, Charles Eliot, president of Harvard.

The Eliots are a “Boston Brahmin” family, highly

connected with Harvard and the Unitarian Church.

This conclusion relies on the assumption that the denunciation came from a Harvard delegate. This is not certain, but there are reasons to believe it to be true. The quotation has always been associated with Harvard, and Harvard was the driving force behind the meeting. Most of the other schools were decidedly less enthusiastic about the agenda. If someone was going to stand up and bloviate this way, we would expect it to be someone most committed to the cause.

Once we assume that it was one of the Harvard delegates, Norton is the obvious candidate for two reasons. The first is the similarity of names between Charles Eliot and Charles Eliot Norton. This similarity was not coincidental. The men were cousins. Eliot was the far more famous of the two. It is easy to see how a colorful quotation would be transferred in memory to the more famous cousin.

The second reason to believe it was Norton rather than Sargent is that Sargent was the wrong age. The particular curmudgeonry of the quotation bespeaks a man from an earlier era. The key is the portion of the original quotation that was italicized: “For the pitcher, instead of delivering the ball to the batter in an honest, straightforward way, that the latter may exert his strength to the best advantage in knocking it, now uses every effort to deceive him by curving—I think that is the word—the ball.” It is tempting to focus on the part about the curve ball, but the objection is to any attempt to pitch the ball in such a way that the batter cannot hit it.

Baseball was an English folk game brought to America by English colonists and played in unnumerable variants throughout Anglophone North America, most typically as a schoolyard game. Modern baseball derives from a particular form that arose in New York City, adapted for organized adult play. This version began to spread in the late 1850s, and by the late 1860s was played in towns and cities across the nation.

As the New York game grew in popularity it also grew in competitiveness. This affected how it was played, as clubs looked for an edge. One place they looked was to the pitching. The pitcher’s original role was simply to deliver the ball to the batter to hit, like a modern batting practice pitcher. The point—and the fun—of the game was in running the bases and the fielders catching and throwing the ball. As clubs looked for an edge, their pitchers started using fast balls and changes of pace and careful placement of the pitch to get batters to hit weakly, or even to strike out.

These developments did not meet universal approval among the older generation. Reminiscences of old-time baseball were common, including comparisons of and commentary on the pitching. Here is a typical example, describing the old-time game as played in Perry County in central Pennsylvania:

The object of the pitcher was not to throw a ball that could not be hit, but one that could be hit. This added interest and made the game much more lively than [modern] baseball.[18]

The author of the Perry County reminiscence thinks the old game superior because it was “more lively.” Implicit is the critique, hardly unknown even today, that the modern form involves too much throwing of the ball between the pitcher and the catcher. The Harvard critique is similar, but stating it in moralistic terms. The proper role of the pitcher, in this statement, is to deliver the ball for the batter to hit. When he instead tries to take on the fielder’s role of putting the batter out, he has failed to perform his duty. The curve ball had become widespread in the mid-1870s, and it loomed large in the baseball imagination. This explains the curve ball’s prominence in the Harvard critique, but the fast ball and change of pace served the same undesirable—even illegitimate—function.

The Harvard condemnation is the critique of someone whose playing days preceded the 1850s, or at least the 1860s, and therefore the rise of the fast ball. Norton was the right age, while Sargeant was too young, and generally has the wrong biography.

Dudley Allen Sargeant was born in 1849. He was graduated from Bowdoin College in 1875 and Yale Medical School in 1878. He long promoted physical exercise. He ran the Bowdoin gymnasium even before he was a student there. In 1879 he was appointed Assistant Professor of Physical Training at Harvard, where he also was director of the gymnasium until his retirement in 1919.

Charles Eliot Norton was a generation older, born in 1827. He was graduated from Harvard in 1846. After a brief stint with a trading firm he decided to devote himself to literature and the arts. He spent twenty years in Europe before returning to Harvard in 1874, where he was appointed Professor of the History of Art until he retired in 1898.

It is easy to construct a coherent narrative for Norton for the curve ball quotation. He likely played ball in his youth, as did most American boys. He was overseas during much of baseball’s development from a schoolyard game to a competitive sport, and in any case his adult biography does not suggest any interest in sports. When baseball was brought to his attention many years later he was surprised by the changes since his youth. His response was shocked disapproval, and he let this be known.

A similar narrative is much harder to imagine for Sargent. He was a boy when baseball pitching began its transformation. In later years he was in regular contact with baseball players, if only in his capacity as director of the gymnasium. Even if he preferred the old way of pitching, he would certainly not be shocked by it.

Conclusion

The epigram condemning the curve ball is, in its usual form, a modified version of a longer statement made in 1884. This statement was most likely made not by Charles Eliot, President of Harvard, as is usually claimed, but by Charles Eliot Norton, Professor of the History of Art at Harvard.

The evidence for this conclusion is indirect, but strong. Eliot was not listed among the persons attending the meeting where the statement was made. The statement is always associated with Harvard, and Harvard was the driving force behind the meeting, so it is likely that it was a Harvard delegate who spoke it. Of the two listed delegates, Charles Eliot Norton is by far the likelier candidate by biography, and the similarity of names explains the misattribution to his more famous cousin.

Postscript

The quotation came from the growing concern among the Harvard faculty of the rise of competitive intercollegiate sports. The efforts to rein in college athletics were, of course, doomed, but not because of baseball. The worry about baseball was already falling out of date by 1884. Baseball, with the mismatch of the academic calendar and the baseball season, was never really well adapted to intercollegiate competition. Football, on the other hand, was made for college. Intercollegiate competitive football had been growing slowly and sporadically through the 1870s, but took off in the 1880s. Eliot soon transferred his critiques from baseball to football, condemning especially its brutality, making his earlier concerns about the degrading influence of baseball seem quaint.

Notes

1. Email from John Thorn dated June 17, 2016, to the SABR 19cbb listserv.

2. “Give the Batsman a Chance” New York Clipper, Vol. XXXI No. 44 (January 19, 1884), 744, column 3. Emphasis in the original.

3. “Lawrence Base Ball Club. Records of the Lawrence Base Ball Club : an inventory” http://oasis.lib.harvard.edu/oasis/deliver/~hua06007.

4. “Harvard University Base Ball Club. Records of Organized Baseball at Harvard: an 4 inventory” http://oasis.lib.harvard.edu/oasis/deliver/ ~hua02006.

5. The (Philadelphia) All-Day City Item, September 13, 1874.

6. Annual Report of the President of Harvard College 1873–1874, 22–23.

7. Annual Report of the President of Harvard College 1881–1882, 16–19.

8. Annual Report of the President of Harvard College 1882–1883, 22–23.

9. Annual Report of the President of Harvard College 1883–1884, 32.

10. The Chicago Tribune of January 2, 1881, reported that George Washington Bradley, of the Providence Club, had been hired by Dartmouth students to coach them. It is probably not the first such instance. When Harvard students instituted the practice is unclear.

11. Annual Report 1881–1882, 17.

12. Cincinnati Enquirer, November 25, 1883; Harvard Crimson, February 14, 1884. Unfortunately, the exact dates of the two meetings are not reported.

13. Harvard Crimson, February 28, 29, March 3, 1884.

14. Harvard Crimson, January 21, March 1, 4, 1884.

15. Sporting Life, April 23, 1884.

16. Sporting Life, May 7, 1884.

17. Harvard Crimson, January 5, 1884. It is very unlikely that Eliot was included among the “other presidents and professors.” The named individuals all came from schools now in the Ivy League. The unnamed mass of presidents and professors came from inferior institutions.

18. The (Philadelphia) Times, August 3, 1890.

A Pitching Conundrum

Brian Marshall

In the 1912 season Rube Marquard, the left-handed pitcher of the National League (NL) New York Giants, won nineteen consecutive games and it was thought at the time to be one game shy of the record. The record was thought to be twenty, set by John Perkins “Pat” Luby, a right-handed pitcher for the NL Chicago Colts in the 1890 season. About the time of Marquard’s feat, it was also reported that Jim McCormick, a right-handed pitcher for the Chicago White Stockings, had actually set the record at twenty-four consecutive wins during the 1886 season.[1],[2] Confusion ensued and after some research into the respective seasons for Luby and McCormick it was found that neither of their achievements were as long as previously portrayed.[3],[4] Luby’s 1890 season only amounted to seventeen consecutive wins and McCormick’s 1886 sixteen; both fell short of the eighteen consecutive game mark that had been set by Charles “Old Hoss” Radbourne of the Providence Grays in 1884.[5] The plot then thickened because, for some unknown reason, by 1912 Tim Keefe’s nineteen consecutive win season of 1888 had apparently fallen through the cracks—yet today nineteen consecutive wins in a single season represents the MLB record. The record is held by both Keefe and Marquard, both Giants, although Marquard’s mark is further distinguished by the fact that it begins with the first game of the 1912 season, April 11.

The 1950 rule defining pitching wins has been used as the criterion to define the number of pitching wins for Radbourne in the 1884 season although a conundrum has become apparent.[6],[7] The conundrum results from the fact that, if the 1950 rule defining pitching wins is to be applied to Radbourne’s pitching wins in the 1884 season, then it should also be applied to Keefe’s wins during his consecutive game win streak in 1888.[8] The applicable portion of the 1950 ruling, which was new that season, is provided from Division 10—The Rules of Scoring, Determining Winning and Losing Pitcher as follows:

Rule 10.16. Determining the winning and losing pitcher of a game often calls for much careful consideration.

(a) Do not give the starting pitcher credit for a game won, even if the score is in his favor, unless he has pitched at least five innings when replaced.

(b) The five inning rule to determine a winning pitcher shall be in effect for all games of six or more innings. When a game is called after five innings of play the starting pitcher must have pitched at least four innings to be credited with the victory.

(c) If the starting pitcher is replaced (except in a five inning game) before he has pitched five complete innings when his team is ahead, remains ahead to win, and more than one relief pitcher is used by his team, the scorer shall credit the victory (as among all relieving pitchers) to the pitcher whom the scorer considers to have done the most effective pitching. If, in a five inning game, the starting pitcher is replaced before pitching four complete innings when his team is ahead, remains ahead to win, and more than one relief pitcher is used by his team, the scorer shall credit the victory (as among all relieving pitchers) to the pitcher whom the scorer considers to have done the most effective pitching.

(d) Regardless of how many innings the first pitcher has pitched, he shall be charged with the loss of the game if he is replaced when his team is behind in the score, and his team thereafter fails to either tie the score or gain the lead.[9]

When Rube Marquard (top) ran a win streak to 19 games in 1912, people seemed to have forgotten two previous streaks, the 1884 18-game run by Charles “Old Hoss” Radbourne (middle, posing with an unidentified teammate), and the 1888 streak of 19 wins by Tim Keefe (bottom).

The 1950 rule book not only instituted the new ruling regarding the definition of a winning and losing pitcher, it also exhibited a brand new format of ten “divisions,” as they were called at the time. The 1949 rule book had exhibited the rule format that had been in vogue dating back to the nineteenth century.[10] But for the following season, the rule book was revised and amended—or to use the rule book term, the rules were “recodified.”

The Pitcher Performance Comparison

In order to discuss the conundrum properly, it is useful to compare the 1888 Keefe streak of nineteen with the 1884 Radbourne streak of eighteen. The biggest baseball story in 1884 wasn’t the number of consecutive wins by the Providence Grays or that Charlie Sweeney or Hugh Daily struck out nineteen in a single game; it was the overall season performance of Charles “Old Hoss” Radbourne.[11] His season was nothing short of incredible, leading the National League in virtually every significant pitching category including wins, strikeouts, ERA, innings pitched, games started, and complete games. There is also one category they didn’t have a counting statistic for and that was dogged determination, or “guts,” if you will. The funny thing is that Radbourne’s magical season almost didn’t happen because early on Providence management was leaning toward Charlie Sweeney. Radbourne would have played second fiddle to Sweeney, except Sweeney threw it all away and left the team. Radbourne stepped up and the rest, as they say, is history.

Radbourne pitched in 75 of his team’s 114 games played during the regular season, including 22 consecutive, won 18 consecutive pitching starts (see Table 1, page 72) and pitched nine complete games in 11 calendar days, winning all nine. The nine games were part of his eighteen consecutive game win streak, from August 27 through September 6, and one of the nine was an 11-inning game. In an article written by Frank Bancroft, who managed the Providence Grays in 1884, the following quotation made by Radbourne himself in 1884 appears: “I will win or pitch my right arm off.”[12]

Radbourne effectively did pitch his right arm off in 1884. The same article also included the following quotation regarding Radbourne’s dogged determination:

Morning after morning upon arising he would be unable to raise his arm high enough to use his hair brush. Instead of quitting he stuck all the harder to his task going out to the ball park hours before the rest of the team and beginning to warm up by throwing a few feet and increasing the distance until he could finally throw the ball from the outfield to the home plate.[13]

The 1884 season was also important in National League history for the fact that it was the first season the rules did not define or restrict the pitching arm’s movement. The pertinent section of the 1883 rule book read as follows, from Class IV, Definitions: “Rule 27. A Fair Ball is a ball delivered by the Pitcher, while wholly within the lines of his position and facing the Batsman, with his hand passing below his shoulder, and the ball passing over the home base at the height called for by the Batsman.”[14]

The corresponding rule from the 1884 rule book deleted the “with his hand passing below his shoulder” and read as follows:

Rule 27. A Fair Ball is a ball delivered by the Pitcher, while wholly within the lines of his position and facing the Batsman, and the ball passing over the home base at the height called for by the Batsman.[15]

Lack of restrictions regarding arm movement during the pitching motion opened the door for pitchers to pitch overhand (O/H) in the National League for the first time, introducing a major change to the way the game was played. Strikeouts were becoming a bigger part of the game at that time, increasing in 1884 in the National League, and in recent years in the other two major leagues where underhand pitching remained the norm, the Union Association (UA) and American Association (AA).

The following season another rule change would again impact National League pitching, this time defining how the feet should be positioned and aimed at eliminating the “jumping tactics” of Radbourne himself.[16] In 1885, the new rule read as follows, from Class IV, Definitions:

Rule 27. A Fair Ball is a ball delivered by the Pitcher while standing wholly within the lines of his position, and facing the batsman [sic], with both feet touching the ground while any one of the series of motions he is accustomed to make in delivering the ball to the bat, the ball, so delivered, to pass over the home base and at the height called for by the batsman [sic]. A violation of this rule shall be declared a “Foul Balk” by the umpire, and two Foul Balks shall entitle the batsman to take first base.[17]

Other changes to the rules were made between 1884 and 1888, but this is one key difference that brings attention to the pitching technique of Radbourne.[18]

Now to Keefe. The 1888 season began slowly for him when it was reported that as of April 20, he was holding out for an increase of $500 in salary and then signed on April 27, for $1000 more than his salary in 1887, which was listed as $3000.[19],[20] As a result of the hold-out Keefe did not participate in any of the first nine games of the season and pitched his first game for New York on May 1, 1888, a 6–1 victory over Boston—the first of a league-leading 35 wins that season. But the nineteen-game win streak was yet to come.

The Keefe streak took place over 49 calendar days, from June 23, to August 10, 1888. The Radbourne streak had spanned 31 calendar days, August 7 through September 6, 1884. Table 1 compares the two streaks. During the Keefe streak the New York Giants played 38 games while the Providence Grays played only 20 during the Radbourne streak. Ed Conley pitched for Providence during the two games that Radbourne didn’t, while four other pitchers—Mickey Welch, Ed Crane, Stump Weidman, and Bill George—pitched for New York in the remaining 19 games that Keefe didn’t pitch. Radbourne’s eighteen consecutive wins, in as many starts, were complete games, while Keefe pitched seventeen complete games in his nineteen consecutive wins in as many starts. Interestingly, in the two games Conley pitched during Providence’s twenty-game win streak, Radbourne played right field and shortstop respectively. Keefe typically wasn’t in the game unless pitching, although there was one exception during the streak: the July 16 game.

The two games that Keefe did not complete only amounted to a total of 7.1 innings pitched, which is why his total innings for his streak was 162.1 and Radbourne’s was 166. The first of the two games was on July 16, 1888—Game 9 of the nineteen-game streak. Keefe started but pitched only the first two innings before being replaced by Bill George. George pitched the remaining seven innings to finish the game, which the Giants won, 12–4, over the Chicago White Stockings. This game was interesting right from the start in that the designated umpire, Tom Loftus, did not show up and Chicago was forced to accept New York’s pitcher, Mickey Welch, as the umpire for the game.[21] George started the game in right field but, in order to save Keefe for the game the following day, was summoned to the pitcher’s box to begin the third inning and Keefe finished the game in right field.[22] Keefe did, in fact, pitch the following day, July 17, against the Chicago White Stockings, going nine innings in a 7–4 victory, his tenth consecutive win. It was the only time during the streak that Keefe pitched on back-to-back days. Keefe pitched in consecutive games on July 2 and 4 (the latter in the first game of two played that day) but they were not on back-to-back days.

The second of the two games Keefe did not complete was on August 3, 1888, game 16 of the nineteen-game streak. Keefe only managed to complete 5.1 innings due to being hit with a batted ball after Dick Johnston had flied to George Gore. Keefe was replaced by Ed Crane, who pitched the remaining 3.2 innings to complete the game. A Boston newspaper described the hit: “Wise batted a stinging ball that hit Keefe on the muscles of his pitching arm and the New Yorker was obliged to retire, Crane being called in to take his place.”[23]

Keefe’s top performance from a strikeout point of view came on July 23, 1888, when he struck out 14 (in nine innings) against the Boston Beaneaters, while Radbourne’s top strikeout performance was 12 in an 11-inning game on August 9, 1884, also against the Beaneaters. During the streak Radbourne gave up 11 hits on August 28, 1884, against the Chicago White Stockings while Keefe gave up 12 hits in two separate games—June 23 and July 20, 1888. The July 20 game, against the Philadelphia Quakers, was a 10-inning affair. A game-by-game breakdown for the Radbourne streak is shown in Table 2 (page 74), and the Keefe streak in Table 3 (page 75). One large disparity: 15 of the 18 games during Radbourne’s streak were at home while only nine of the 19 games were at home for Keefe.

The HBP (Hit by Pitch) statistics don’t appear in the tables because in the 1884 National League, a batter was not awarded first base upon being hit. Accurate numbers aren’t readily available for all years, but Keefe had developed a reputation as a beanball artist. Keefe hit five batters in a single game (the National League record at the time) on June 12, 1885, vs Boston Beaneaters.[24] The following nugget from the December 1885 issue of Sporting Life provides some insight into Keefe’s practices:

KEEFE has a habit of trying how near he can pitch the ball to a batsman’s head without hitting him, and thus intimidates the man. He hits more men than all the other League pitchers combined. It was for Keefe’s sake that the rule giving a batsman a base when hit by the pitcher was adopted by the American Association when he was with the Mets, and it was for Keefe’s benefit that the New York Club secured its defeat at the recent League meeting.[25]

During the Keefe streak four other significant baseball-related events took place:

1) The New York Giants sported brand new uniforms well into the season that apparently Keefe selected.[26],[27]

2) Buck Ewing’s consecutive game streak at the catcher position.

3) The notice to the New York Giants, owned by the Metropolitan Exhibition Company, from the Central Park Board, of New York, that the fences on the Polo Grounds across One Hundred and Eleventh Street had to be removed.[28]

4) John Ward’s book was published.[29]

The Pitching Conundrum

The thinking on August 16, 1888, was clear: Tim Keefe had won nineteen consecutive games in nineteen consecutive starts and it was stated as such (“.…Keefe had won 19 straight games.…”) in The New York Times.[30] To this day Keefe’s record of nineteen straight is still the MLB standard, although it was tied by Rube Marquard in 1912. But in game nine of the nineteen-game streak, on July 16, 1888, Keefe’s pitching in only the first two innings but being awarded a win presents a conflict with the 1950 rules. Hence, the conundrum. Are the 1950 rules even applicable to nineteenth century games? They come into play because they have been applied to the wins recorded in Radbourne’s 1884 season. The Giants were ahead 9–0 at the time Keefe left the July 16 game, and they went on to win 12–4, but based on the 1950 rules Keefe should not be credited with a win. That represents conundrum issue number one. Why was Keefe credited with a win on July 16?

A publication that may shed light on the thinking of the time as it relates to the scoring is another Spalding publication: HOW TO SCORE: A Practical Textbook for Scorers of Base Ball Games, Amateur and Expert. In a section entitled “Crediting or Charging the Pitcher,” the following is stated:

.…The nearest to a set of rules on the subject that can be codified may be formulated as follows: .…If the pitcher who first works has been taken out at any stage of the game with the comparative score in favor of his opponents, should the game be eventually won by his team, credit must be to the second pitcher. Should the game be lost the first pitcher is charged with the loss.[31]

With regard to the “Crediting or Charging the Pitcher” section, and with particular respect to the game of July 28, 1884, when Old Hoss Radbourne went into the game, at the start of the sixth inning to replace Cyclone Miller, who had pitched five complete innings, the Philadelphia Quakers were leading, 4–3. Not a hit was made off of Radbourne and his team went on to win, 11–4. Based on the “Crediting or Charging the Pitcher” section, Radbourne should be declared the winning pitcher because that was the general school of thought at the time.

Upon further review, on that same basis it may be that Radbourne should also be credited with the win for the July 8, 1884, game with the Buffalo Bisons. The score was tied 5–5 after nine innings pitched by Charlie Sweeney, and Radbourne pitched in the tenth when Providence went ahead 6–5 and won. The July 8 game was mentioned by Sweeney when he spoke in 1897 (from San Quentin prison) and his statement lends credence to the fact that giving the win to the finishing pitcher if the team went ahead to win was the general thinking of the time. Sweeney stated, “In Buffalo I pitched my first game after my arm was hurt. The score was tied in the ninth inning, when Bancroft said to me: ‘Had you not better let Radbourne go in, Charlie; your arm is pretty sore yet?’ I said, ‘alright if he wants to.’ He went in and he won in the tenth inning.”[32]

The Radbourne games of July 8 and 28, 1884, represent conundrum issue number two because of their impact on Radbourne’s overall win total in the 1884 season.

To advance the “general thinking of the time” theory, consider that both the 1885 Spalding Guide and the Boston Journal newspaper credit Radbourne with 60 wins.[33] So does Elwood A. Roff’s Base Ball and Base Ball Players published in 1912.[34] Reviewing the 1950 rules in detail exposes the fact that Radbourne should be credited with a minimum of 60 wins for the 1884 season and not 59. The official National League pitching statistics for the 1884 season that were published in 1885 Spalding Guide and the Boston Journal newspaper both indicate the same numbers, except for the average bases on balls statistic: 74 games played (should be 75), 62 games “won” (includes the two tie games), 1.09 average runs earned (81 earned runs), 5.90 average assists on strikes (437 strikeouts), 7.09 average base hits (525 base hits) and 1.28 average bases on balls (95 bases on balls). The fact that 60 wins—plus two tie games, which weren’t wins—were included in the 62-win number lends credence to the 60 win number for Radbourne. The official 1884 pitching statistics only list 74 games pitched, yet we know Radbourne pitched in 75 games which implies that one game was omitted, leaving room for the July 8 game to be accommodated—presuming that it is credited as a win for Radbourne. If the July 8 game is credited as a win, it would give Radbourne a total of 61 wins, 12 losses and 2 ties in 1884, totaling 75 games pitched.

Summary

On the surface the Radbourne and Keefe consecutive game win streaks appear to be similar. They differ by only a single game. But upon closer examination, the performances are very different. Among the key differences:

a) number of calendar days for each streak

b) number of team games played during each streak

c) number of complete games

d) number of innings pitched

e) pitching in consecutive games on consecutive days

f) number of home games

g) high or low ball pitching requirement

h) number of called balls for a base on balls

i) foot positioning

j) size of pitching box

k) bat cross section and handle wrapping

The comparison isn’t really apples-to-apples because of these differences, and delineation in the record books should reflect this. Radbourne and Keefe pitched from pitching boxes with slightly different dimensions and, though the rules of the time did not define a pitching “mound,” that did not stop the groundskeepers from adjusting the height of the pitching box.[35] Another interesting fact—this one related to the bat—was that the rules of the time did not stipulate that the bat had to be one piece as they do today, which is why a 13-piece bat was able to be used by Chicago.[36]

Regarding the two conundrum issues, either the general thinking of the time must be accepted, or if the 1950 rules are to be applied it should be done consistently for both pitchers’ seasons. Applying the 1950 rules would result in the Keefe nineteen-game streak being scratched. Given that Cummings’ How to Score shows there was an acceptable method for determining the winning pitcher at the time, there is little reason to apply the 1950 rules anachronistically. This researcher is in favor of accepting the general thinking of the time, which would mean Radbourne should be credited with a minimum of 60 wins—maximum of 61—for the 1884 season and Keefe’s nineteen-game record would remain. n

Notes

1. George L. Moreland. Balldom: “The Britannica of Baseball.” New York, NY: Balldom Publishing Company, 1914. 304 pages. Reprinted in 1989 by Horton Publishing Company.

2. Francis C. Richter. Richter’s History and Records of Base Ball: The American Nation’s Chief Sport. Philadelphia, PA: Francis C. Richter, 1914.

3. Elwood A. Roff. Base Ball and Base Ball Players: A History of the National Game of America and the Important Events Connected Therewith From its Origin Down to the Present Time. Chicago, IL: E. A. Roff, 1912, 95–96.

4. An interesting comment related to the number of wins by McCormick comes from Sporting Life, Volume 23, Number 16, July 14, 1894, page 4. “LEAGUE GOSSIP; GENERAL COMMENT−Under present rules no League pitcher will ever duplicate McCormick’s famous record of nineteen [sic] consecutive victories. Nowadays just as soon as a pitcher’s chest begins to swell out over a few victories some team is sure to come along and hit it with an axe.”

5. Charles “Old Hoss” Radbourne’s last name was apparently arbitrarily spelled with and without an “e” on the end by various literature sources, newspapers, et cetera throughout the course of his baseball career. There simply wasn’t any consistency but at the time of his death Sporting Life used the Radbourne spelling. See “RADBOURNE’S RELIEF: Death Ends the Suffering of a Noted Man,” Sporting Life, Volume 28, Number 21, February 13, 1897, page 1. The Radbourne spelling is also on his gravestone, which is why this researcher elected to go with the Radbourne version.

6. Edward Achorn. Fifty-nine in ’84. New York, NY: Harper-Collins Publishers, 2010, 209.

7. Edward Achorn. “Hoss Radbourn: 59 or 60?” in Inventing Baseball: The 100 Greatest Games of the Nineteenth Century, edited by Bill Felber, 2013. Phoenix, AZ: Society for American Baseball Research, 170–71.

8. Regarding the 1950 rule on pitching wins, this discussion is confined to Radbourne and Keefe. This isn’t to say, or imply, there were not other performances that could be discussed in relation to the 1950 rule, including the Marquard streak of 1912 and others. Other performances would be best discussed in an article that deals solely with the topic of the 1950 ruling.

9. J.G. Taylor Spink, compiled by. Baseball Guide and Record Book 1950. St. Louis, MO: Charles C. Spink & Son (The Sporting News), 1950, 570, 571.

10. J.G. Taylor Spink, compiled by. Baseball Guide and Record Book 1949. St. Louis, MO: Charles C. Spink & Son (The Sporting News), 1949.

11. The 1884 season saw the Providence Grays win twenty consecutive games to tie the record set by the Chicago White Stockings set in 1880. The 1880 White Stockings went twenty-two consecutive games undefeated; they had won a game, then tied a game, then won twenty in a row for a total of 22 games undefeated.

12. Frank C. Bancroft. “Old Hoss” Radbourn.” Baseball Magazine, July 1908, 12–14.

13. Ibid.

14. Spalding’s Base Ball Guide and Official League Book for 1883. Chicago, IL: A. G. Spalding & Bros., 1883, 74–75.

15. Spalding’s Base Ball Guide and Official League Book for 1884. Chicago, IL: A. G. Spalding & Bros., 1884, 86.

16. “BASEBALL RULES CHANGED: Yesterday’s Session Of The Delegates Of The League Clubs,” The New York Times, Friday, November 21, 1884, 2.

17. Spalding’s Base Ball Guide and Official League Book for 1885. Chicago, IL: A. G. Spalding & Bros., 1885, 112.

18. There was also another rule change, although unrelated, concerning the short right field fence of the Chicago grounds that may be of interest to readers. The fence of the Chicago grounds was only 196 feet from home plate and 131 home runs had been hit there by the Chicago players in 1884. The new rule, Rule 65 (1), defined that a ball had to be hit over the fence a minimum of 210 feet from home plate for it be declared a home run, otherwise it was to be scored as a double. See Spalding’s Base Ball Guide and Official League Book for 1885, page 120.

19. “GOSSIP OF THE GAME: Tim Keefe Wants More Salary,” The Chicago Tribune, Saturday, April 21, 1888, 7.

20. “Keefe Signs a New York Contract,” The Chicago Tribune, Saturday, April 28, 1888, 3.

21. “DALY’S THROW TO SECOND: The Ball Hits Pitcher Baldwin On The Head,” The Chicago Tribune, Tuesday, July 17, 1888, 3.

22. “NEW-YORK WINS EASILY: The Giants Defeat The Chicago Club 12 To 4,” The New York Times, Tuesday, July 17, 1888, 2.

23. From a Boston newspaper account of the game on 1888 Boxscore Microfilm at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY.

24. The five batters that Keefe hit on June 12, 1885, were Joe Hornung, John Morrill, Jim Manning, Jack Burdock, and Ezra Sutton.

25. Sporting Life, Volume 6, Number 8, December 2, 1885, page 1.

26. The brand new uniforms were apparently selected by Keefe. The players were measured for the new black jersey suits, as they were called, at Spalding’s on July 14 which the team debuted on July 28, 1888. The new uniforms were described in The New York Times as follows: “As the New-Yorks marched upon the field yesterday they could hardly be recognized. The uniform of white pants and shirts and maroon stockings had been cast aside, and the men came out in a new outfit. It consisted of black shirts, knickerbockers, stockings, and caps of the same color, a white belt, and the words ‘New-York’ in white raised letters across the breast. The uniform is made of jersey cloth, and is tight-fitting.” From “NEW-YORK IN THE LEAD: The Giants Even With Detroit For First Place,” The New York Times, Sunday, July 29, 1888, 3.

27. See also “SHORT STOPS,” The New York Times, Sunday, July 29, 1888,page 3, and “League Notes,” The Chicago Tribune, Wednesday, July 18, 1888, 3.

28. The original Polo Grounds were bounded on the South by 110th Street, the North by 112th Street, the East by Fifth Avenue and on the West by Sixth (aka Lenox) Avenues, just north of Central Park. At the time One Hundred and Eleventh Street had been closed then fenced off to enclose the ball field. See “The Polo Grounds in Danger,” Sporting Life, Volume 11, Number 11, June 20, 1888, page 2 and “THE POLO GROUNDS MUST GO: An Adverse Decision Rendered by Judge Ingraham,” The New York Times, Sunday, July 15, 1888, 3.

29. John Montgomery Ward. Base-Ball: How To Become A Player: With the Origin, History, and Explanation of the Game. Philadelphia, PA: The Athletic Publishing Company, 1888. SABR reissued a reproduction of this book in paperback in 1993 under the title Ward’s Baseball Book, and again in 2014 under the original title Base-Ball: How to Become a Player.

30. “ANSON’S RECORD BREAKERS: New-York “Chicagoed” The First Time This Year,” The New York Times, Thursday, August 16, 1888, page 3.

31. J.M. Cummings. HOW TO SCORE: A Practical Textbook for Scorers of Base Ball Games, Amateur and Expert, part of the Spalding’s Athletic Library, Group 1, No. 350. New York, NY: American Sports Publishing Company, 1919, 52–53.

32. “SWEENEY SPEAKS: From His Prison Cell He Scores Frank Bancroft,” Sporting Life, Volume 28, Number 24, March 6, 1897, 11.

33. Spalding’s Base Ball Guide and Official League Book for 1885, 28–29; “THE PITCHING: The Work Accomplished by the Twenty-four Pitchers,” Boston Journal, Morning Edition, Thursday, October 16, 1884.

34. Elwood A. Roff. Base Ball and Base Ball Players. Chicago: E. A. Roff Printer and Publisher, 1912, 66.

35. “As the pitchers’ box on the Brooklyn grounds is very high....” a statement which appeared in “MURNANE’S MISSIVE,” Sporting Life, Volume 15, Number 6, May 10, 1890, 12.

36. “Secretary Brown sent Capt. Anson a new bat a few days ago, and the first thing the old man did was to take the club and Sullivan, Sunday, and Darling out to the Washington grounds, where he began practicing. The stick is made of thirteen pieces of wood and the long, slender handle is wound with twine.” From “Around the Bases,” The Chicago Tribune, Thursday, September 8, 1887, 3.

More Than Ballplayers: Baseball Players and Pursuit of the American Dream in the 1880s

Marty Payne

This essay is intended as an exploratory survey of baseball players of the 1880s, what they did in the offseason, and how—or if—they planned for their future economic security. The purpose is to examine how the individuals of this era responded to the economic opportunities offered by their baseball careers and their pursuit of the ever-so-nebulous American Dream.

In 1880 the organizing of professional clubs to determine a national champion was but nine years old and the concept was still evolving. Offseason and post-baseball employment, although not new ideas, were growing concerns as the number of seasonal professionals increased with the era’s proliferation of major and minor baseball leagues. Sources indicate players were willing to try many occupations and schemes in a changing and dynamic decade. The emphasis of this survey is on what players did when not playing baseball in order to discern any trends that might emerge. In this wide-ranging survey, the activities of obscure players become as important as those of the renowned.

The activities of 269 players of the 1880s were taken into consideration. While some material comes from the SABR Biography Project (BioProject) which includes valuable genealogical sources, much of the information is sourced from brief snippets in weekly periodicals and daily newspapers. Considering the latter source, the trends offered here should be viewed as anecdotal rather than hard data. It should also be noted that since many players pursued more than one activity and all activities were included, the sum of the percentages proffered are greater than the whole. Yet it is hoped that noting these activities and trends can help put baseball players of the 1880s into some historical and cultural context.

An Era of Change

The 1880s were a decade of transition in American history. Within nine months of July 14, 1881—the date Billy the Kid was gunned down—the Earps and the Clantons fought it out at OK Corral and Jesse James was assassinated. Although these events were fodder for the dime novels and significant contributors to the growing mythology of the American “Wild West,” that frontier was already being tamed. By the beginning of the 1880s, both the Sioux and the Comanche had been effectively subdued, and later in the decade Geronimo and most Apache were captured and ignominiously shipped off to Florida, virtually ending Native American opposition to Anglo-American expansion.[1] That growth was being spurred by the prolific extension of the railroads and telegraph into the Great Plains. In 1870 the estimated bison population was 5.5 million. By 1889 there were but 541 American bison remaining.[2] The improvement and increased use of mass production farming equipment opened the middle of the continent to the last wave of settlers moving west. Within the span of many baseball players' careers, the geographical void once called the Great American Desert was transformed into the Corn Belt. The already established American passions of real estate and mining speculation came with the mass migration. Financial and intellectual tycoons the likes of Rockefeller, Carnegie, Edison, and Tesla were making their impact. Implementation of technologies like the telephone, telegraph, electric lights, steel, and trolley systems were transforming the urban American landscape as well.

Players came from all social and economic strata of American society. A few were first generation immigrants while many more were second generation stock. Some were considered native born, which did not mean Native Americans, rather they were of Anglo-Saxon heritage of multiple generations. Our current perception that a high percentage of early professional players met the contemporary definition of immigrants is mirrored in this observation from an 1886 issue of The Sporting News: “The players on the diamond are of various nationalities. Nava of Baltimore is a Spaniard, McKeon, Reddy Mack, and Pete Browning are Italians, while only a few are Americans.”[3] This statement seemingly ignores the large number of second generation Irish-Americans playing the game, yet tacitly acknowledges them, and embodies the nineteenth-century perception that even native-born second-generation players were still "foreigners" when it states there are "few Americans" playing the game. The number of first and second generation immigrant players may have been nearly thirty percent.[4] Regardless of national or ethnic background, all players of the 1880s exercised the new social and economic status provided them by baseball to seek further opportunity—with varying degrees of intensity and imagination.

Earning Potential & the Wealthy

The need for a player to seek employment depended on the circumstances of the individual. The average baseball salary in the 1880s was around $2,000. In 1880 the highest salaried player was Cap Anson at $1,900, but by 1889 Fred Dunlap and Buck Ewing were bringing in $5,000 each, while others were reportedly making as much as $4,000. Owners may have often paid their star players more than the contract indicated. Bench or change players sometimes signed for $1,200–$1,500. The average American’s income of the era ran between $800 and $900 a year, but census records—which excluded many better-paying positions—cite a figure of $376. Many of the players considered in this essay possessed either a skilled trade or education that would have allowed them to make up to $1,000 or more annually outside of baseball. Whether a player worked or not during the offseason, or after his career ended, depended on his earning ability as a player, marketable skill set in the work world, his education, and ambition.[5]

By 1889 Buck Ewing was reportedly making a salary of $5,000 a year—$125,262 in inflation-adjusted 2017 dollars. But most players of the 1880s did not find baseball so lucrative that they could forego other forms of employment.

A handful of players were financially well off, those with money of their own or who stood to inherit significant fortunes. Pitcher Lev Shreve, briefly with Baltimore and Indianapolis, was reported to come from a wealthy family. Shreve was worth $75,000 in his own right and was said to play ball for the fun of it. Two-time 40-game winner Bob Caruthers was set for life with $50,000 and stood to inherit over $300,000 more from his mother in a well connected East Tennessee family. German immigrant Willie Kuehne, who spent most of his ten-year infielding career in Pittsburgh, was born in Leipzig, in modern day Germany, and inherited nearly $75,000 one midseason from a relative in the old country. Emil Gross, five-year catcher with three teams, gave up the demanding position when he inherited $50,000.[6]

Others, while not so notably wealthy, did come from prosperous or comfortable families. Future Hall of Fame inductee and 328-game winner John Clarkson was the son of a prominent, successful jeweler and business associate of Harry Wright. The business district in Ilion, New York, was named “Hotaling Block” because it was owned by Pete Hotaling’s family. The real estate was waiting for him after he roamed the outfield for six teams in a nine-year career. Some others who might be considered well into the middle class include eight-year, seven-team pitcher-outfielder Ed “Cannonball” Crane, whose father was a prosperous tailor, three-year Athletic outfielder Jud Birchall, whose family did well in textiles, and the popular second generation German immigrant and general utility man for the Baltimore Orioles, Joe Sommer, whose father was a successful hotelier. There are indications that nearly eleven percent of major league players had substantial financial support to fall back on if baseball did not work out for them.[7]

Working Men and Business Ventures

Not everyone was born to the manor. Players were often apprenticed to the trades while still in their teens, before baseball propelled them into a new financial status. Jocko Milligan was apprenticed to a blacksmith at Girard College for Orphans before turning to real estate investment during his ten-year catching career. Baltimore native Frank Foreman, who pitched for four different major leagues 1884–1902, was one of many machinists. Bricklaying, plastering, plumbing, and carpentry were among the many trades players learned and practiced.

The young Tim Keefe, on his way to 342 wins and a belated Hall of Fame induction, soured on the trades early when he was stiffed on a bill for a house he built. Buffalo-born George Myers—primarily a catcher in the National League for six years—was reported to have built his $5,000 home with his own hands. Matt Kilroy once tried to use his glassblowing skills as a bargaining ploy in his contract negotiations with Billie Barnie of the Baltimore Orioles. He stated he was perfectly willing to go back to his old job where he could make $20 a week. With a $2,600 offer on the table, no one took him seriously. Things were so rough-and-tumble in the baseball world of 1885 that Baltimore catcher Bill Traffley declared all players should get paid at least $6,000 a year for risking their lives on the diamond. A local newspaper responded that if the game was too dangerous for his liking, he could always go back to his old job as brakeman on a gravel train. Bill stuck to catching. Those apprenticed or later working at a trade came to thirty percent of the players noted.[8]

While some would continue in the trades, others would try to parlay their baseball wages into various investments. Although rarely specified in the sources, it is certain that their notoriety propelled players into new social and business circles. Through those contacts, they could find better jobs, as well as enter into business ventures on their own, with teammates, or in partnerships with avid, well-heeled fans who were happy to say they were a business associate with a local hero of the diamond. Nearly forty-three percent of the players considered in this essay ventured into assorted schemes, speculations, and opportunities.

After his bad experience in the construction business, Keefe put down his hammer, studied accounting and shorthand, opened a sporting goods store with fellow Metropolitan pitcher Buck Becannon, and invested in real estate in his hometown of Cambridge (MA) and Boston. It was reported he turned down a $30,000 offer for one piece of property, holding out for $50,000 because the city was looking to build a new library on the site.

While real estate was no more popular than other ventures, some did look to speculate in the expanding of the nation. Outfielder and yachtsman Ed Andrews became wealthy investing in land on Florida’s east coast during his eight-year career, and outfielder Abner Dalrymple actively tried to swap his ranch in Nebraska for one in California in 1888.[9]

Mickey Welch, whose Irish immigrant father was a ferrier by trade, tried his hand in a hotel, a saloon, cigar store, and a milk production venture with his sons. Then he hired on as steward of the Holyoke Elks Lodge, before working at the Polo Grounds later in life. After he blew his arm out, Matt Kilroy returned to his home town of Philadelphia where he gave up glass blowing and owned a popular restaurant and saloon near Shibe Park. It was the place for Philadelphia baseball fans to meet for many years before and after games.[10]

By far the most popular business or investment for a ballplayer of the 1880s was the saloon, sometimes included as part of a hotel, restaurant, or billiard room. Some were advertised as sports bars and were touted as meeting places where players and fans alike could commiserate about the latest baseball news over a beverage. Baseball-related names for these establishments were common. Orioles Catcher Bill Traffley couldn’t get his $6,000 and wasn’t going back to the gravel train, so he teamed up with pitcher and batterymate Hardie Henderson and opened up “The Battery” in Baltimore. Baltimore back-up catcher Dick Mappes went to the St. Louis Maroons the following year, where he and pitcher Jumbo McGinnis opened an establishment under the same name. While some saloons, like Kilroy's, were successful, other players probably should have stayed out of the business. When it was reported that knockabout second baseman Dasher Troy had opened a “gin mill” in New York, it was followed with the comment that Dasher need only find a dozen customers such as himself to have “no trouble making a go of it.” Former promising pitcher Fred Goldsmith was thought to have fallen far from his days as “Adonis of Chicago” when he turned up working a saloon in Detroit “…a plain fourteen-hours-a-day hired man.” Whether owners, managers, barkeeps, or salesmen, a little over sixteen percent player involvement was enough to prompt contemporary observations of a glut of players in this particular line of work, and that there were plenty of other opportunities available if they would only broaden their interest.[11]

Some pursued an education before, during, or after their playing days to enter a profession. Some of the better known universities mentioned were Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Penn State, Cornell, Brown, Northwestern, Holy Cross, and the University of Pennsylvania. After five years in the outfield with three clubs, Jimmie Manning graduated from the Massachusetts School of Pharmacy and entered that profession. Veteran catchers Doc Bushong and George Townsend, perhaps understandably given the nature of their position, became dentists. Hall of Fame inductee John Montgomery Ward, said by some to be the most accomplished individual to ever play baseball, and the aptly named Orator O’Rourke, became well known attorneys. Within two years of a one-game stint for Detroit in 1884, Walt Walker was elected prosecutor of Isabella County in Michigan.

Mark Baldwin, a workhorse pitcher for five teams in three different major leagues over seven years, and Cleveland’s three-game try out Doc Oberlander were among those who received medical degrees. Boston, Philadelphia, and Athletic back-up catcher Thomas Gunning took off his equipment to became medical examiner for New York City, and later assisted on the parents of Lizzie Borden murder autopsies. Ohio native Lee Richmond’s best years as a pitcher came with the shortlived Worcester Brown Stockings. He later put aside his medical degree—earned from The College of Physicians and Surgeons in New York City—to become a high school principal and teacher in Ohio where he taught Greek, math, physics, history, and chemistry, in addition to coaching and conducting the orchestra. In 1921 the multi-talented Richmond took on new responsibilities as professor and dean at the University of Toledo.

While playing for four major league teams in two years, Frank Olin was working on a degree from Cornell. He later ran a large commercial construction business in New Jersey specializing in power plants, mining facilities, and munitions factories. Over eight percent of the players looked at from this decade were found to have entered an educated profession.[12]

There was no shortage of artistic talent among baseball players of the era. Long John Reilly’s mother recognized her son’s abilities early and apprenticed him to prestigious Strowbridge Lithograph Co. where he specialized in circus posters and quickly earned a salary that rivaled his baseball earnings. Playing in Cincinnati, primarily for the Association club, he juggled the two lucrative careers. Reilly also painted artistically and was widely recognized for his talent. Mark Baldwin was another painter of note. He found the time between baseball, education, and a medical practice to specialize in landscapes.[13]

Norm Baker was a marginal pitcher for three American Association clubs in three years, but his first class baritone landed him lead roles in the offseason with the Ford Opera Co., for whom he appeared in Memphis. Baker may have been a bit of the diva, for he was said to be contrary and temperamental.

When he wasn’t playing football or running two to three miles a day to stay in shape, Emmett Seery patrolled the outfield for seven different clubs over nine years for all four major leagues between 1884 and 1890. In his spare time he sang in “The Chimey of Normandy" with the Peterson Opera in Indianapolis one winter. Sy Sutcliffe, who bounced through seven major league teams over eight years as a utility player, was another with a classical music bent and was “blowing the keys off a clarinet” for the Savannah Symphony Orchestra in 1886.[14]

The catcher known as “Doc” Bushong, shown here in an 1887 baseball card with the St. Louis Browns, became a dentist.

While actual acting ability could be lacking, their star status allowed many players to take to the stage. Cap Anson’s and King Kelly’s exploits in front of the vaudeville footlights are well documented. Arlie Latham, star third baseman for the St. Louis Browns of the 1880s and often referred to as “The Freshest Man on Earth," headlined in Lew Simmons’s minstrel shows but later tried his hand at acting as well. Due to make $90 a week in the Simmons backed farce-comedy, “Fashions," Arlie ended up suing for lost wages of $394.12 It doesn’t appear he ever acknowledged that his acting may have contributed to the show’s demise. Harry Stovey, whose best years came with the Athletics, was scheduled to tour with a Simmons show in 1886. In addition to being one of the better players of the decade, Stovey was a first rate clog dancer. It may have been facetiously reported that Harry was to dance to the tune of “Footsteps in the Sand.”[15]

For those not musically or artistically inclined, the era offered other opportunities. In the midst of a six-team, three-league, seven-year utility career, Dave Rowe spent the 1884 offseason mining in Colorado with no success. He then returned to play in 1885 and manage the Kansas City Cowboys the following year. Joe Moffet was a borderline major league player, while brother Sam showed more promise. Both debuted in the major leagues in 1884 only to toss aside their baseball careers for a chance to work the silver strike in Butte, Montana. They struck it rich. The West Virginia brothers pulled out the princely sum of $231,000 worth of silver and gold. Bitten by both the baseball and the mining bugs, Sam came back east three years later to play in the major leagues for two more years before returning to the mining business in Montana and Canada for good.[16] Although not a player, Pittsburg Allegheny owner and American Association president Dennis McKnight was another baseball figure with a mining payoff when his silver holdings in Mexico began to produce towards the end of the decade. McKnight was variously reported in Arizona or New Mexico, looking the cowboy, rubbing elbows with the brokers of El Paso, trying to raise the capital to expand his venture.[17]

While mining is a gamble, the hard work involved in it was not for everybody. Maryland native Dave Foutz spent some of his early years with his brother in the rough and ready minefields of Leadville, Colorado, where he learned games of chance. As a St. Louis Brown, Foutz once ran a floating poker game in San Francisco while playing winter ball there. The handsome Foutz fancied himself as much a professional gambler as a ball player. There is some question whether gambling allowed Foutz to play baseball, or if baseball allowed him to gamble. At least one contemporary newspaper felt that it was his baseball earnings that bankrolled his penchant for gambling, it being reported he once lost a season’s salary at the “green table” in New Orleans.

Six-year catcher and utilityman Dell Darling and two-year outfielder Jon Morrison were another pair looking for easy money-as train robbers. Not to be confused with the likes of the James or Younger brothers, this gang would board trains, furtively rummage through the luggage, and pass the loot off to accomplices at stops along the way. A hundred people were implicated in the scheme working out of Darling’s hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania.[18]

During a seven-year career as a catcher, primarily with the Cincinnati “Porkopolitans” of the American Association, Kid Baldwin once tried his hand at sheepherding. It appears the Kid had a hard time keeping track of himself, much less a herd. It was later reported that he was engaged to a wealthy heiress, and a newspaper wag opined that Baldwin would “go through her wealth like a bullet through cheese.” Many players found jobs in the offseason as referees in the New England Polo League, for which the irrepressible Arlie Latham was turned down. Latham later found his dream job as Commissioner of Baseball of England, a post he held for seventeen years.

The fantasy camp concept is not exclusive to our era: When Mark Baldwin wasn’t going to medical school, playing baseball, or painting, he found the time to teach fans the art of pitching at a pricey $25 each. All told, “miscellaneous” jobs accounted for about sixty-four percent of ballplayers' employment activities.[19]

Sports and the Sporting Life

Many players hewed close to baseball and sports in general. Ten-year veteran Tom York, Hall of Fame pitcher Tim Keefe, and stalwart Louisville hurler Guy Hecker were among those who opened sporting goods businesses. Others simply invested, managed, or worked for them in some capacity. Apparently, the temperamental Norm Baker passed on one opera season and spent the winter hand stitching baseballs for Al Reach. It was said he could turn out three dozen balls a day.[20]

Harry Decker and Ted Kennedy were two players who turned their efforts and imaginations to the game they played. Decker was one of those players from comfortable circumstances in Chicago who would later exhibit an enigmatic, if not bizarre, tendency to criminal behavior. A catcher by trade with six teams in three major leagues in four years, he patented his designs of a pioneering catcher's mitt, and later worked and sold models through Al Reach, who manufactured them. The patent was later sold to Spalding, who marketed what would be known as the “decker.” The imaginative Decker also made improvements to the turnstile.

Kennedy, who lasted only two seasons in a major league pitching box, also patented his novel glove designs, which were subsequently sold to Al Spalding. Kennedy and Decker were responsible for at least some of the innovations that transitioned baseball from form-fitting to flexible padded gloves. Kennedy also opened a baseball school specializing in the art of throwing the curve ball. If you couldn’t physically make it to the class, he wrote a book, complete with diagrams, which an aspirant could purchase in order to learn the pitch at home. Kennedy then came up with an early pitching machine that was used by Jimmy McAleer and the St. Louis Browns prior to the 1904 season to improve their hitting. The pitching machine may have worked fine, but it did not have the noticeable effect on the Browns' batting averages McAleer had hoped for. The Browns went from seventh to sixth in league hitting while improving from .011 to.005 below the league average, but the team average actually dropped from .244 to .239. And while we may want to believe the story that the creative Kennedy died of electrocution while trying to invent the electric score board, his obituary states that the coroner attributed his early demise to fatty degeneration of the heart.[21]

The 1880s may have been a decade of dissipation and rowdy behavior for many players, but a significant number realized that they made a significant salary playing baseball, hence they could make more money—for a longer period of time—if they took care of themselves. While some may have espoused billiards, hunting, and fishing with tongue in cheek, others had a firmer grasp on what it took to stay in shape. Many went to the gym to work out or took up activities such as handball, football, polo, running, and skating, calculated to keep them in condition throughout the year.

Catcher Jocko Milligan was apprenticed to a blacksmith at Girard College for Orphans before turning to real estate investment during his ten-year career in the big leagues.

By 1886 Silver Flint had used his baseball earnings to buy his own gym in Chicago. Flint’s twelve years behind the plate, mostly with the Chicago Nationals, may attest to the success of his offseason conditioning. Little Hugh Nicol, a native of Scotland and described as the smallest man in baseball, is probably the pinnacle of those who chose to work out in the offseason. Always known as a fitness advocate the 145-pound Nicol was often referred to as an acrobat. After a bout with malaria, Hugh encountered a Professor Muegge who taught him a new regimen. In the offseason Nicol was hired by gyms as a manager or trainer, and other players followed his example by working out. Nicol, like Emmett Seery, was an early advocate of long distance running as a way to stay in shape, often completing the eighteen mile distance from Rockford, Illinois to Beloit on the Wisconsin border during the offseason. The diminutive yet strong and agile Nicol once took on the 315-pound wrestler, Frank Sully, beating the giant in a two out of three falls in the first two rounds.[22]

Most players were not as ardent as Nicol, but both The Sporting News and Sporting Life refer to many who were in the gym by January, with some starting immediately after the season ended or at least by Christmas. Nearly twenty percent of the players considered from the 1880s were found to have made a concerted effort to stay in condition during the offseason. This does not include the legion who would scramble in to the gym or run down to Hot Springs, Arkansas, just before the start of spring training.[23]

In 1886 there were three major league clubs that required their reserved players to participate in offseason training. The Sporting News advocated this program, “…that men having thousands of dollars invested in a business on which so much depends upon the physical conditioning of their men should pay so little attention to the matter of training these people…Take these same men and let them put the money they invested in base-ball into horse-flesh. Would they dare send their horses out on the trotting or running circuit in the spring without training them?” The writer continued, recommending… “vaulting, string jumping, horse, parallel, and horizontal bars, etc…three clubs in the country have their men working a systematic course of training,-the St. Louis League, the St. Louis American and the Cincinnati Club.”[24]

Winter Ball

Not every ballplayer of the 1880s worked or worked out in the offseason, nor did they idle away their time. When the baseball season ended, the south was still warm and without major league franchises. It was considered a prime market to take advantage of by baseball owners. In any given year four or more Association or League teams might embark on postseason tours. New York, Boston, Chicago, and the St. Louis clubs were among those extending their seasons into these untapped markets. These teams were sometimes supplemented with players from other clubs looking to earn extra money. They would tour the south before heading to California, which was referred to as playing on “the slope.”

Players were free to sign individual contracts in the offseason with teams in the south or west where weather allowed for extended seasons. California, naturally, was the most popular destination for those looking to play year round, but others played with teams throughout the south from El Paso to New Orleans, from Savannah to Havana, Cuba.[25] Winter play gave them a chance to stay in shape, stay sharp, or even improve their skills.

In addition to the trades and professions, baseball players gravitated to jobs as policemen, firemen, farmers, retailers, pool hustlers, bakers, and cigar rollers. Railroads were a major employer of the day, so many found work there. While subject to opportunities of their times and their individual limitations, ballplayers' pursuit of financial success is in some ways unique to their particular point in American history. Many squandered the opportunities that baseball fame and fortune provided in bars, bawdy houses, and gambling dens. But at an early point in organized professional baseball, others recognized the rare chance baseball provided them. They attempted to maximize their careers and earnings by training to stay in shape, and using their income for education or to otherwise invest in their prospects for the future.

Sources

Baltimore Day/Daily News 1882–91

Baltimore News American 1882–91

SABR American Association Notes

SABR Biography Project

The Sporting News 1885–89

Sporting Life 1886–89

Morris, Peter; The Catcher, Ivan Dee, Chicago, 2009

Dewey, Donald, Acocella, Nicholas; The Ball Clubs, HarperPerennial, 1993.

Haupert, Michael, Major League Baseball Salary Leaders, 1874–2012, Business of Baseball Committee Newsletter, Fall, 2013.

Clarence D. Long, Wages and Earnings in the United States, 1860-1890, Princeton University Press, 1960.

Members of the American Economic Association, The Federal Census Critical Essays, MacMillan and Co., New York, March, 1899.

Various writers, Railways of America, John Murray, London, 1890.

baseball-reference.com

Notes

1. Chief Joseph with the Nez Perce and the Sioux at Wounded Knee seem less a viable threat to Anglo-American migration than a fait accompli resistance.

2. For the increase of the railroads see Railways of America, for 1880 and 1889, including maps on pages 432 and 433. The estimated bison populations are from Wikipedia.com, specifically citing The American Buffalo, Conservation Note 12 for the bison population of 1870. For the nearly extinct population of 1889, Hornday, William T., The American Natural History, New York, C. Scribner and Sons, 1904.

3. “Funny Cracks,” The Sporting News, July 19, 1886, 5.

4. This percentage was estimated from the 81 SABR Biography Project pieces considered for this essay. Of those 24 were determined to be first or second generation immigrants.

5. For the top salaries of the decade see Major League Baseball’s Salary Leaders, 1874–2012, Michael Haupert, Business of Baseball Research Committee Newsletter, Fall 2012. Haupert cites $864 as an average annual income for the mid 1870s. For the census figures see The Federal Census Critical Essays, American Economic Association, MacMillan and Co., New York, 1899, 356. The chart indicating the earning abilities of skilled trades of 1880 is in Clarence Long, Wages and Earnings in the United States, 1860–1890, Princeton University Press, 1960, 94.

6. For Lev Shreve see Baltimore Daily News, September 21, 1887. All notes from the Baltimore papers were done by the author in the early 1990s and did not include headings or page numbers. Those sources have not been revisited since. Further citations from the two Baltimore sources in this essay will not have heading or page. The background of Bob Caruthers is in the SABR Biography Project, “Bob Caruthers,” by Charles F. Faber. For Caruther‘s connection to the wealthy and influential east Tennessee McNeal family see also, “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, November, 13, 1886, 5. Kuehne’s inheritence is cited in “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, August 11, 1886, 5 Emil Goss is found in “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, May 5, 1886, 5. Biography Project pieces cited in this essay are referenced for sources and footnoted to varying degrees of detail. For this and all further citations from the project the reader is referred to those documented pieces for primary sources. Ensuing citations from the project will be abbreviated as SBP.

7. See SBP for “Jud Birchall,” by Paul Hoffman. SBP, “John Clarkson,” by Brian McKenna. SBP, “Ed Crane,” by Brian McKenna. SBP, “Pete Hotaling,” by John F. Greene. 29 of the 269 players seem to have come from families of wealth or the comfortable middle class. Admittedly, this is an impressionistic projection since no specific definition of economic status was used, and sources merely needed to mention noteworthy property or a successful family business.

8. On Jocko Milligan see, SBP, “Jocko Milligan,“ by Ralph Berger. Frank Foreman, “Notes and Gossip,” Sporting Life, November 27, 1889, 7. SBP, “Tim Keefe,” by Charlie Bevis. The note on George Myers is from The Sporting News. November 25, 1886, 6. The Matt Kilroy hold out is found in the, Baltimore News American, April 4, 1888 and April 10, 1888. For Traffley’s opinion and the response see Baltimore Daily News, August 31, 1885. Traffley’s demand was triple the typical major league salary of the time, six times that of a skilled tradesman, and sixteen times that of a typical American laborer. 82 of the 269 players considered for the essay worked in the trades at some point in their lives. The trades included but not exclusive to the construction industry, blacksmithing, machinists, and other assorted skilled professions like butchers, bakers and confectioners, among others.

9. See SBP, “Tim Keefe,” by Charlie Bevis. Also on the real estate see “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, January 23, 1889, 2. On Ed Andrews see SBP “Ed Andrews,“ David Nemec; also Sporting News, October 25, 1886 5. Abner Dalrymple can be found in “Caught on the Fly,” Sporting News, January 14, 1888, 4; “Caught on the Fly,“ Sporting News, February 11, 1888, 5 and “Caught on the Fly,” Sporting News, February 25, 1888, 5.

10. For Mickey Welch see SBP, “Mickey Welch,” by Bill Lamb. For Kilroy’s post career see SBP, “Matt Kilroy,” by Charles F. Faber. 115 of the 269 players took the plunge into the world of business investment and speculation hoping for a big pay off.

11. The Traffley-Henderson venture is noted in the Baltimore News American, January 3, 1886. The Mappes-McGinnis in “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, November 20, 1886, 5. The opinion of Dasher Troy’s prospects are found in “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, October 5, 1889, 3. And Fred Goldsmith’s apparent fall from grace is found in “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, September 10, 1887, 5. 44 players of 269 were noted as being in the liquor business

12. On Jimmie Manning see “The Kid and Jimmy,” The Sporting News, October 12, 1889, 3. For Bushong see SBP, “Doc Bushong,” by Brian McKenna. George Townsend is mentioned in the Baltimore Daily News, October 9, 1890. See SBP, “John Montgomery Ward,” by Bill Lamb. Walt Walker is in “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, December 1, 1886, 3. Doc Oberlander is in “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, July 27, 1887, 5. See the SBP, “Mark Baldwin,” by Brian McKenna. Thomas Gunning is in “Louisville Briefs,” Sporting Life, December 14, 1887, 1, also SBP, “Thomas Gunning,” by Bill Lamb. See SBP, “Lee Richmond,” by John Houseman. SBP, “Orator O’Rourke,” by Bill Lamb; SBP. “Frank Olin,” by Guy Waterman. Research identified 22 of the 269 entering an educated profession.

13. See SBP, “John Reilly,” by David Ball., and “Mark Baldwin,” by Brian McKenna.

14. See SBP, “Norm Baker,” by David Nemec. The citation for Emmett Seery playing football is in “Loafing Season,” Sporting Life, January 20, 1886, 3. His running is found in “Caught on the Fly,“ The Sporting News, March 17, 1886, 2. The opera gig is from “Indianapolis Mention Notes,” Sporting Life, November 21, 1888, 6. Sy Sutcliffe is found in, “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, October 30, 1886, 5.

15. Arlie Latham’s stage woes are from “Local Jottings,” Sporting Life, April 24, 1889, 2. Stovey’s planned tour is from “Funny Cracks,” The Sporting News, June 7, 1886, 5.

16. Dave Rowe’s Colorado expedition is in the Baltimore Day (Daily News) September, 25, 1883. See SBP “Joe Moffet,” by Carole Olshafsky, and SBP, “Sam Moffet,” by Carole Olshafsky for their mining success. Sam’s return is from “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, June 1, 1887, 10.

17. For reports of Dennis McKnight’s mining exploits see, “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, February 16, 1887, 3. Also “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, Febrary 23, 1887, 5. See “From Pittsburg,” Sporting Life, October 26, 1887, 1. And “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, November 30, 1887, 5.

18. See SBP “Dave Foutz,” by Bill Lamb. For the gambling losses in New Orleans see “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, January 20, 1886, 3. The train robbery scheme is covered in SBP “Dell Darling,” by Brian McKenna.

19. See SBP, “Kid Baldwin,” by David Ball. The prediction of the heiress’s fortune is in “Funny Cracks,” The Sporting News, July 19, 1886, 5. See SBP on, “Arlie Latham,” by Ralph Berger. Mark Baldwin’s scheme for rich fans is from “Notes and Comments,” Sporting Life, February 9, 1887, 3.

20. Citations in newspapers for players involved in the sporting goods business are many. The citations used here are from SBP, “Tim Keefe,” by Charlie Bevis also; SBP, “Guy Hecker,” by Bob Bailey. See SBP, “Norm Baker,” by Dave Nemec for Baker’s prowress stitching baseballs. There were 173 notations of players working at miscellaneous positions. They included a multitude of railroad positions, firemen, policemen, clerks, and unidentified government positions, all requiring varying degrees of skills and abilities but not easily classifiable.

21. For Decker’s connection with Reach see “Local Jottings,” Sporting Life, November 20, 1889, 3. Peter Morris devotes a chapter to the strange life of Harry Decker in, The Catcher, 189–207. For Kennedy’s efforts see SBP, “Ted Kennedy,” by Craig Lammers. The Hall of Fame has possession of many of Kennedy’s glove designs, not all of which are practical, and a copy of his instructional book on the art of the curve. The league and Browns batting average comparrisons are from baseball-reference.com.

22. For Silver Flint see “The White Stockings, The Sporting News, March 17, 1886, 1. On Hugh Nicol, SBP, “Hugh Nicol,” by Charles F. Faber. For Nicol’s guidance from Professor Muegge see “Hugh Nicol’s New Job,” The Sporting News, September 27, 1886, 1. The bout with Frank Sully is found in “Little Nick As A Wrestler,” The Sporting News, December 11, 1886, 5.

23. The criteria the author used for serious training were those players who were working out by January. This allows for a break through the holidays. 52 players of the 269 were found to return to some sort of working out by the first month of a new year.

24. See “Training Players,“ The Sporting News, March 17, 1886, 2.

25. For the growing popularity of winter ball in the 1880s see “Caught on the Fly,” The Sporting News, November 20, 1886, 5. While these winter season players were not tracked for the purposes of this essay, they warrant a more thorough treatment as a means of both training and employment. If nothing else, professional baseball players were probably better traveled than most other segments of the American population of the decade.

The “Strike” Against Jackie Robinson: Truth or Myth?

Warren Corbett

“A National League players’ strike, instigated by some of the St. Louis Cardinals, against the presence in the league of Jackie Robinson, Negro first baseman, has been averted temporarily and perhaps permanently quashed.”

That’s the lede of Stanley Woodward’s story in the New York Herald Tribune on May 9, 1947, four weeks after Robinson’s debut on April 15.[1] The strike story has become part of the Robinson canon, a vivid illustration of the racist resistance he faced. It won the E.P. Dutton Award for best sports reporting of the year, and the writer Roger Kahn called it “the sports scoop of the century.” The Cardinals’ Enos Slaughter said of Woodward, “That son of a bitch kept me out of the Hall of Fame for twenty years.”[2]

Yet hard evidence of a strike plot is lacking. Woodward’s story was flawed, but his disciples—most prominently Kahn, author of The Boys of Summer—have defended his reporting for seven decades. Critics—led by St. Louis sportswriter Bob Broeg, who called the Tribune story “a barnyard vulgarism”—believe the “plot” was the product of some empty rants by players, plus a paranoid owner and a headline-seeking sportswriter.[3] Jules Tygiel, in his landmark book Baseball’s Great Experiment, concluded that it was “an extremely elusive topic.”[4] This review will explore the maze of conflicting evidence and try to arrive at the truth.

Woodward’s Scoop

Woodward’s indictment went like this: Some of the Cardinals had schemed to organize other teams to refuse to take the field against Robinson in the hope of driving him out of the league and preserving Major League Baseball for white men only. But National League president Ford Frick confronted the ringleaders and forced them to back down.

Woodward wrote, “Frick addressed the players, in effect, as follows: ‘If you do this, you will be suspended from the league. You will find that the friends you think you have in the press box will not support you, that you will be outcasts. I do not care if half the league strikes. Those who do will encounter swift retribution. And will be suspended, and I don’t care if it wrecks the National League for five years. This is the United States of America, and one citizen has as much right to play as another.’”

Dodgers broadcaster Red Barber called the speech Frick’s “finest hour.”[5] Other writers have quoted it ever since.

It never happened. Frick never spoke to any Cardinals players. Woodward acknowledged that the day after he broke his big story, and Frick said so, too.[6]

Woodward cited no sources, not even anonymous ones. He wrote, “It is understood…”, “it is believed…”, and “we can report…” He named no conspirators, probably because the paper’s lawyers wouldn’t let him. Robinson is the only player mentioned by name. The story resembled the “blind items” usually confined to gossip columns: Which married Broadway chanteuse was spotted canoodling with her co-star at Sardi’s? That may explain why the explosive report appeared in the sports pages, not on the front page, although Woodward blamed a racist editor.

No one disputes that Jackie Robinson faced intense racism within baseball. But the evidence for a potential league-wide player strike seems flimsy at best.

Dissecting the Scoop

As best events can be reconstructed so long afterward, here’s how it happened, based on published accounts: The Cardinals owner, Sam Breadon, picked up rumors that some of his players were talking about striking in protest against Robinson. Breadon’s source may have been Dr. Robert Hyland, the team physician. At the least, Hyland was the man responsible for letting the story out.

Sam Breadon was born poor and started his business career peddling popcorn at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair. He got rich selling cars—Pierce-Arrows— but never escaped his origins; he was tight with a dollar and always worried about where his next one was coming from. In his anxious mind, even the whisper of a strike sounded like the roar of a crisis.

According to both Frick and Breadon, the Cardinals owner had rushed to New York to report the rumors to the NL president. Frick told him that any strikers would be punished and the league would stand behind Robinson. Breadon met with the team leaders—shortstop Marty Marion and captain and center fielder Terry Moore—who assured him that the strike talk was only talk, a few players venting. In his memoir, Frick said Breadon reported back that it was “a tempest in a teapot.”[7]

Cardinals owner Sam Breadon rushed to New York to tell National League president Ford Frick that he had heard rumors some of his players were talking about striking in protest against Robinson. Frick told him that any strikers would be punished and the league would stand behind Robinson. Breadon then met with his team’s clubhouse leaders who assured him players were merely venting.

Exactly when Breadon talked to Frick has never been established. Woodward said the strike threat was the reason Breadon went to New York just before the Cardinals played in Brooklyn on May 6, but Frick said they had spoken two or three weeks earlier.[8] Breadon went to New York in May because his club had lost nine straight games and he was in a panic, not unusual for him. The day before Woodward’s story was published, the Cardinals finished winning two out of three from the Dodgers without incident.

The rumors had begun to leak out a few days before that series, when the Yankees went to St. Louis to play the Browns. Dr. Hyland had dinner with Rud Rennie, who covered the Yankees for the Herald Tribune, and confided that Breadon feared a possible strike that could destroy his ball club.

Rennie knew a hot story when he heard one, but he couldn’t write it without burning his friend Hyland. He passed the information to his boss, sports editor Woodward.

Stanley Woodward was a titan of the New York sportswriting fraternity. A massive former football tackle at Amherst College, Woodward liked to be called “Coach.” He was too old and too nearsighted for military service in World War II, so he volunteered as a war correspondent and parachuted into the Nazi-occupied Netherlands. Woodward was tough and blunt, and was fired in 1948 after he told the Tribune’s owner that her society golf tournament wasn’t worth covering.

How the alleged strike threat morphed from dinner-table chat to Herald Tribune headline is transparent. Although Woodward didn’t identify his source, he later told Roger Kahn that he had talked to Frick.[9] The NL president, a former New York sportswriter and Babe Ruth’s ghostwriter, knew how to plant a story without leaving fingerprints. And he was the hero of Woodward’s account. But Woodward misunderstood what Frick told him and mistakenly reported that Frick had spoken to the players.

After writing that the strike was “instigated by some of the St. Louis Cardinals,” Woodward switched targets two paragraphs later and said it had been “instigated by a member of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who has since recanted.” That is an unmistakable reference to Dixie Walker. The star right fielder, who came from Alabama, had circulated a petition against Robinson among his teammates during spring training and had written a letter to Dodgers president Branch Rickey asking to be traded rather than play with a black man. Walker was a Brooklyn favorite known as “The People’s Choice,” but when he appeared at Ebbets Field for the first time in 1947, Robinson’s partisans booed him.[10]

While Woodward didn’t name names, he laid blame on white southerners—“boys from the Hookworm Belt,” as he contemptuously called them. The Cardinals roster could have filled out a platoon in the Confederate Army. Terry Moore, born in Alabama, grew up in Memphis and St. Louis. Marty Marion’s South Carolina pedigree was said to trace back to the Revolutionary War “Swamp Fox,” Francis Marion. Manager Eddie Dyer and pitcher Howie Pollet came from Louisiana, Enos Slaughter from North Carolina, Harry Walker from Alabama. And Harry was Dixie Walker’s younger brother.

The Backlash

Woodward’s blockbuster sent other reporters scurrying to catch up. Of course, all the Cardinals denied it. “That’s an out and out lie,” Breadon shouted to St. Louis writer Sid Keener. “It’s New York again trying to stir trouble in our organization.”[11]

“Absurd,” manager Dyer said. “Nobody on the Cardinals ever thought of such a thing.” Then he added a key point: “I’d have known about it.”[12] Dyer had managed many of the Cardinals coming up through the farm system. Several worked for him in his Houston insurance business, and his wife, Geraldine, was the godmother of their children. Someone would have tipped him off if a strike had been percolating in his clubhouse.

Frick, however, confirmed that Breadon had come to him with the rumors. “I didn’t have to talk to the players myself,” Frick said. “Breadon did the talking. From what he told me afterward, the trouble was smoothed over.”[13]

The Cardinals players did not deny that there was bitter opposition to Robinson. They did deny that it amounted to anything more than noise. Terry Moore dismissed it as “some high-sounding strike talk that meant nothing.”[14] Stan Musial said, “I thought the racial talk was just hot air.”[15]

Years later, Frick told writer Jerome Holtzman, “I thought very little of it until the story broke. The way Woodward wrote it, you would have thought all the St. Louis players were against Robinson.”[16]

Alabama native Terry Moore (shown here with Johnny Mize) had been Cardinals team captain since 1941. He was implicated (though not named) in Woodward’s story. When a 1990 book named him and Enos Slaughter as leaders of the strike plot, the 82-year-old Moore demanded a retraction from the publisher.

As exaggerated as it was, the story reset the conversation about Robinson after he had played only 15 games. Most of the white press, while routinely referring to him as the “Negro first baseman,” had been tiptoeing around the racial angle. Sportswriters wanted to write about baseball, not social change.

Phillies manager Ben Chapman had already been widely condemned for his vicious bench jockeying of Robinson, the ugliest public incident of the year. (Chapman and Dixie Walker were close friends and had been roommates with the Yankees.) Now big-name sports columnists rallied to Robinson’s side, repeating Woodward’s accusations and defending Robinson’s right to play. Jimmy Cannon of the New York Post wrote, “There is a great lynch mob among us and they go unhooded and work without rope.”[17] The Sporting News, a longtime apologist for segregated baseball, editorialized that “the presence of a Negro player in the majors is an accomplished fact, which no amount of ill-advised strike talk can affect.”[18]

The African American sportswriter Sam Lacy thought the tide of support from Frick and the white press was a turning point signaling acceptance not just of Robinson, but of integration. Lacy wrote, “[A]t long last, it looks as though we have the wind at our backs.”[19]

The Fallout

The story quickly faded from the newspapers, but it has reverberated down through the decades as the Robinson saga has been told and retold. Generations of writers have recycled Woodward’s version, quoting the speech Frick never delivered. The sportswriter Jerry Izenberg, another Woodward acolyte, said, “All Stanley did was change history.”[20] That is not so. Even if there was a scheme to strike, it was dead by the time Woodward made it public.

Over the past 70 years, only a few players have recalled conversations or activities that seemed connected to a strike plot. Those memories were dredged up decades after the fact, long after the story had been embedded in baseball history. One of the Cardinals, backup first baseman Dick Sisler, told the historian Jules Tygiel, “Very definitely, there was something going on at the time whereby they weren’t going to play.”[21]

Manager Eddie Dyer (shown here with pitcher Red Munger) called the strike rumors “Absurd,” and told reporters “I’d have known about it.” Dyer had managed many of the players in the minors. Several worked for him in his Houston insurance business, and his wife was the godmother of their children. Someone would have tipped him off if a strike had been percolating.

In 1997, the fiftieth anniversary of Robinson’s debut, ESPN’s Outside the Lines reported that it had interviewed 93 of the 107 surviving players on other National League teams. Only three of them—all members of the Cubs—claimed that their club had voted to strike as part of a league-wide boycott on Opening Day. Five players—one Cub, two Pirates, and two Phillies—said their teams had voted against a strike. The other 85 either denied knowing anything or wouldn’t comment.[22]

The Cardinals could never escape the stain on their reputations. After a 1990 book, The Ballplayers, named him and Slaughter as leaders of the strike plot, 82-year-old Terry Moore had his lawyer write to the publisher demanding a retraction.[23]

The Plot Thins

Overlooked in the he-said, he-said is one incontrovertible fact: a team that refused to play against Robinson would forfeit the game. The Cardinals and Dodgers had tied for first place in 1946, when St. Louis won the pennant in the majors’ first playoff, and the teams were favored to fight it out again in 1947. A pennant meant a lucrative payday, a World Series share worth $5,000 or more for players, many of whom made less than $10,000 a year. It’s hard to imagine the level-headed Moore and Marion agreeing to give away games and endanger their Series checks. Marion said, “I never heard such a stupid thing in my life.”[24]

Shortstop Marty Marion was the Cardinals player representative. His South Carolina pedigree was said to trace back to the Revolutionary War “Swamp Fox,” Francis Marion. It would have taken his and Moore’s approval for the Cardinals players to take any collective action.

The Cardinals would not strike without Moore and Marion’s approval. Moore, the captain since 1941, was nearing the end of his career, but he still ruled the clubhouse as the enforcer of the Cardinals code: take the extra base, break up the double play, don’t even say hello to opposing players. Marion, a quieter figure, was the team’s player representative and had been the primary architect in creating the players’ pension plan the year before.

Who would stand against them? The 26-year-old Musial was the biggest star in the National League, but he described himself as a follower of his veteran teammates, not a leader.[25] Slaughter, a roughneck throwback to the Gashouse Gang of the 1930s, was close to Moore—they remained lifelong friends—and would never oppose the captain.[26] No doubt Harry Walker was doing a lot of talking, parroting his big brother. Unlike Dixie, Harry, an annoying individual who ran his mouth all the time, was no leader. He was traded just before the Cardinals’ first series in Brooklyn because manager Dyer wanted a more powerful bat in the outfield.

Besides Moore, Marion, and possibly Musial, no Cardinal had the clout to organize a strike. And the idea that a strike by one team would spread to the other seven sounds, frankly, crazy. Dixie Walker of the Dodgers was a respected leader who was elected National League player representative, but he had not led his own club out on strike. (Walker changed his tune about playing with Robinson. He gave the rookie batting tips and told Rickey he didn’t want to be traded. Rickey traded him anyway, after the 1947 season.)

Woodward’s “scoop” won’t die because it dramatizes the terrible burden Robinson had to carry in the face of opposition even from his peers. Robinson did endure indignities that no human should have to bear. On the day Woodward’s story appeared, Robinson was turned away from the Benjamin Franklin Hotel in Philadelphia, where the Dodgers had reservations. That same day he posed, with gritted teeth, for a photo with Ben Chapman, who had been ordered to make peace. Around the same time Rickey revealed that letters threatening Robinson’s life had been forwarded to the FBI.

All Talk, No Action

What is true, and what is “barnyard vulgarism”? Did Sam Breadon believe a strike by the Cardinals was a genuine threat? Yes, but he always believed doom was lurking around every corner. Did Moore and Marion convince him there was nothing to it? Yes. Were Moore and Marion lying? Circumstantial evidence says they were telling the truth.

Of course, many players didn’t want Robinson in their midst, and they weren’t all Cardinals or southerners. Carl Furillo of Pennsylvania later acknowledged his opposition (and regretted it) and Ewell Blackwell of California was openly hostile, to name just two.[27] But it’s a giant leap from saying “we gotta do something” to organizing a league-wide strike.

If there was a conspiracy, the sparse evidence indicates it most likely originated with Dixie Walker during spring training. As NL player rep, he had a network of contacts on other teams. But the most specific claim of Walker’s involvement is suspect. Eighty-year-old former Cub Dewey Williams told ESPN that Walker planned to trigger the strike with phone calls to other teams as soon as Robinson took the field on Opening Day: “Everybody was in the clubhouse sitting around and waiting for Dixie to call, which we thought sure he was gonna do.”[28] He didn’t. No one else has corroborated Williams’s version.

If there was such a plot, Walker either ran into opposition, changed his mind, or got cold feet. A strike faced an insurmountable hurdle. All the Dodgers and all the players on all seven other teams would have to go along—at the risk of suspension without pay, at the risk of forfeiting games, at the risk of public condemnation. As Terry Moore said when the story first surfaced, “I think I know enough to realize there is no such thing as a partial strike.”[29]

Pittsburgh Courier writer Wendell Smith, Robinson’s traveling companion in 1947 and the ghostwriter of his first autobiography, had no motive to play down the incident, but he did. He said it “was greatly exaggerated and made a better newspaper story than anything else.”[30]

Ford Frick probably came closest to the truth. “You know baseball players,” he told Jerome Holtzman. “They’re like anybody else. They pop off. Sitting around a table with a drink or two they commit many acts of great courage but they don’t follow through.”[31]

Notes

1. Stanley Woodward, “Views of Sport,” New York Herald Tribune, May 9, 1947, reprinted in The Sporting News, May 21, 1947: 4.

2. Roger Kahn, The Era, 1947–1957: When the Yankees, the Giants, and the Dodgers Ruled the World (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1993), locations 855 and 4929.

3. Bob Broeg, “Remembrance of Summers Past,” in John Thorn, ed., The National Pastime (SABR, 1982), 22.

4. Jules Tygiel, Baseball’s Great Experiment: Jackie Robinson and His Legacy (New York: Vintage, 1984), 186.

5. Red Barber, 1947: When All Hell Broke Loose in Baseball (Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1982), 175.

6. Woodward’s May 10 follow-up story was also reprinted in The Sporting News, May 21, 1947: 4.

7. Ford Frick, Games, Asterisks, and People (New York: Crown, 1973), 97.

8. Jerome Holtzman, The Commissioners (Kingston, New York: Total Sports, 1998), 101.

9. Kahn, Rickey and Robinson (New York: Rodale, 2014), 259.

10. “Unfortunate Booing of Walker,” Brooklyn Eagle, April 13, 1947: 20.

11. Sid Keener, “Breadon Flatly Denies Cards Wanted To Bar Robinson In Brooklyn Series With Birds,” St. Louis Star-Times, May 9, 1947: 25.

12 . “Strike Threat Over Robby Ended—Frick,” Brooklyn Eagle, May 9, 1947: 17.

13. Ibid.

14. Broeg, “Cardinal Players Deny They Planned Protest Strike Against Robinson,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, May 9, 1947: 9C.

15. Kahn, The Era, 57.

16. Holtzman, 101.

17. Quoted in Kahn, Rickey and Robinson, 264.

18. “The Negro Player Steps on the Scales,” The Sporting News, May 21, 1947: 14.

19. Sam Lacy, “Strike Against Jackie Spiked,” Afro-American (Baltimore), May 17, 1947: 1.

20. “A Conversation with Jerry Izenberg, Part III,” https://edodevenreporting. wordpress.com/2015/10/19/a-conversation-with-jerry-izenberg-part-iii-influences-and-more-memories/, accessed January 31, 2016.

21. Tygiel, 187.

22. Outside the Lines: Jackie Robinson’s Legacy, ESPN, February 28, 1997. Hank Wyse, Dewey Williams, and one unidentified player said the Cubs voted to strike. Phil Cavaretta of the Cubs, Al Gionfriddo of the Pirates, and Andy Seminick of the Phillies said their clubs voted to play; the other two players were not named.

23. W. Ray Raleigh letter to William Morrow and Company, June 23, 1994, in Moore’s file at the National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, Cooperstown, New York.

24. Peter Golenbock, The Spirit of St. Louis (New York: Harper Entertainment, 2000), 384.

25. Kahn, The Era, 56.

26. Later in 1947, Collier’s magazine published its own scoop, alleging that Musial and Slaughter had fought over the strike, and Slaughter had put Musial in a hospital. Musial did go to a hospital just as Woodward’s story was breaking, because he was sick with appendicitis. People who saw him shirtless said he showed no sign of a beating.

27. Kahn, Rickey and Robinson, 120; Arnold Rampersad, Jackie Robinson: A Biography (New York: Random House, 1997), 183.

28. Outside the Lines. Williams died in 2000.

29. Broeg, “Cardinal Players Deny.”

30. Tygiel, 188.

31. Jonathan Eig, Opening Day: The Story of Jackie Robinson’s First Season (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007), 94. Eig found Frick’s unpublished comment in Jerome Holtzman’s notes of the interview.

The Path to the Sugar Mill or the Path to Millions: MLB Baseball Academies’ Effect on the Dominican Republic

Thomas J. McKenna

This paper was written by Thomas J. McKenna, a home-schooled seventh grader in Lovettsville, Virginia, for the National History Day competition, where it won the Lee Allen History of Baseball Award, sponsored by SABR.

__________

For many Dominican children, a future in the sugar cane fields, the hotel or travel industry, or some other low-paying job may seem inevitable. But when Major League Baseball (MLB) began obtaining talent from the Dominican Republic (D.R.), Dominican boys could dream of making heaps of money hitting home runs. For a few, baseball became the path out of poverty, while the vast majority were left with a future draped in it. The road out of poverty ran through baseball academies built by individual MLB teams to develop talent. Many of these facilities offered no education beyond classes in the English language and American culture. When MLB teams first explored the D.R., they hit the talent lottery; but what MLB and the D.R. exchanged was extraordinary and complicated. Though MLB’s main objective was to obtain talent from the country, this operation created many side effects that still affect Dominican boys, their families, and communities today. Both harms and benefits result, but was the overall effect on the D.R. positive or negative?

Baseball Comes to the Dominican Republic

Baseball had been present in the D.R. long before the academies. When Cuban refugees fleeing the Ten Years’ War (1868–78) came to the D.R., they brought baseball, already popular in Cuba, with them.[1] The sport quickly caught on as an informal recreational sport. Alan Klein, a Professor at Northeastern University with years of experience studying Dominican baseball, states, “Dominicans didn't have an established sports tradition, so the game didn't have to compete [against other sports].”[2] However, other historians have argued that the Dominicans’ cricket roots helped baseball settle.[3] Life in many towns revolved around a booming sugar industry and sugar-grinding factories began to establish their own baseball teams.[4] “Workers were the core of the teams,” said Klein, “and they were rewarded for winning by not having to work. So, baseball was a way for them to avoid the backbreaking labor of cutting sugar cane. The competition between the refineries developed an exceptional brand of baseball.”[5] Baseball rose in popularity to the point that it could be considered a national pastime for the country, where every field is full of baseball-adoring Dominican boys. “It’s more than a game,” Dominican Winter League general manager Winston Llenas once remarked; “[i]t’s a national fever. It’s almost our way of life.”[6]

During the twentieth century, the Dominican baseball fields evolved into more than recreational spaces; they became banks of professional talent. In the early 1900s, the Dominicans established the Dominican Professional Baseball League, a stepping stone for a milestone in Dominican baseball history: Ozzie Virgil became the first Dominican-born player to play for a major league team in the United States in 1956 when he debuted for the New York Giants.[7] From the 1950s to late 1960s, much of the international talent in MLB came from Cuba.[8] However, in the early 1970s, due to political tensions between the newly communist Cuba and the US, “Castro stopped allowing players to emigrate to play in the major leagues and MLB turned more and more to the [D.R.] for their players,” said Klein.[9] The number of Cuban major leaguers dropped from 30 in 1970 to 13 five years later.[10] When MLB explored the D.R., they found the “well-built baseball infrastructure and some challenging economic conditions…[fostered] an environment for talent.”[11] MLB could also take advantage of the poverty of the D.R. and “cast a wide net by signing as many players as possible…”[12] MLB organizations could obtain and train players for a tiny price compared to the cost in the US.[13] “Teams prefer[ed] to sign twenty Dominicans at $5,000 apiece, rather than only two Americans at $50,000 each.”[14] By opening day 2015 the D.R. would be well represented with 83 players on MLB rosters.[15] The difficulty about the wealth of talent to be found was that teams could not obtain enough visas for the large number of players they signed to come to the United States to work and train.[16] To reduce the number of visas needed and to maintain their concept of “casting a wide net” (signing many players), the teams began building development facilities in the D.R.[17] The MLB academy system would unintentionally create jobs and business opportunities for the D.R.

The Era of the Academy

Before the official MLB academies began, one man built the first talent development facility on a patch of farmland north of Santo Domingo in 1973.[18] Epifanio “Epy” Guerrero, a Dominican-born player who played in the US minor leagues, became the leading scout in his native country, eventually working for four different teams and signing more Dominican talent than any other scout.[19] According to Fred Guerrero, Epy’s son and current Latin American scout supervisor for the Minnesota Twins, “it was very hard for [Epy] to get players to commute every day to his field, so he needed to build some sort of a house where he could house them so they wouldn’t have to commute…that’s where it all started.”[20] The facility grew in size and later became affiliated with the Blue Jays. Although Epy Guerrero passed away in 2013, his legacy will be remembered as the man who opened up the exploration of Dominican talent and laid the foundation for today’s MLB academies.[21]

Osvaldo José Virgil Pichardo, known in the US as Ozzie Virgil, was the first Dominican-born player to play for a major league team. In 1956 he debuted for the New York Giants and would go on to play for several teams over nine seasons in the big leagues.

Fourteen years after Epy Guerrero started his private academy, the LA Dodgers decided to experiment with the concept. In 1987 the Dodgers established the first MLB-affiliated academy “to give the Dominican rookies a chance to learn English and American culture, as well as train them in the Dodger way of playing.”[22] MLB academies started popping up in the D.R., and by 2003, all 30 MLB teams had active academies in the Dominican.[23] These facilities were places where players from age 16 through 21 could not only practice on smooth fields, but also build up their bodies by eating well, lifting weights, and sleeping on bunks with sheets.[24] “Here you get to eat every day,” a boy at an academy explained, “that’s not always the case at home.”[25] Some academies provided English classes to help break the language barrier.[26] Although the academies helped the ballplayers who were signed, they also helped the strongly-bonded communities they came from. According to Rob Ruck, a history professor at the University of Pittsburgh, “[M]ost Dominicans saw [the academy] as a very positive step toward cultivating more young Dominican ballplayers.”[27] He explains, “The subsequent development of academies by every MLB franchise represents a significant economic jolt for the nation's economy and has provided jobs for thousands on and off the field.”[28] The academy was a tremendous innovation, the start of a new age, and an expansion of MLB’s international presence.

The Costs and Benefits of the Academies

The costs and benefits brought about by the academies were unique and complicated; this was especially the case with player trainers known by some as buscones. “Buscar” in Spanish means “to look for,” so buscones looked for “talented middle school-aged boys…in an effort to train them in an unofficial baseball training facility until they reach[ed] the age of sixteen, the legal signing age.”[29] The buscone industry started because Dominican men saw a chance to make money from the pool of boys hoping to make it to the major leagues. If the boy was signed to an MLB team, the buscone that developed the player usually took 30 percent of the signing bonus as pay from the prospect.[30] One might think that this payment system encouraged the buscone to treat the player well, given that the only way he received pay was if his player signed with a team. Fred Guerrero claims that the buscone and the player have a “good trustworthy relationship,” and adds that, “players love their buscones as if they were family.”[31] However, the treatment a young boy received from a buscone could vary. Rob Ruck claims, “Parents, who are most often poorly educated and know little about the business of baseball, rarely serve as a check on less-than-ethical buscones.”[32] Although buscones seem to help some players on the narrow road through the academy, some will treat their players more like products than human beings: “[Buscones] might steal from a boy, enmesh him in career-damaging fraud and even administer PEDs [performance enhancing drugs].”[33] Since these buscones are not overseen by any organization, it is hard to quantify what treatment boys have received. The buscones can’t be simply classified as a cost or a benefit.

Pitcher Pedro Martinez wrote in his autobiography, “I didn’t see a better path because I saw no other path...I told my mother and father...I’m going to become a professional baseball player, and when I do, I will send my money home so none of you have to work anymore.” Martinez made that dream come true, but even some who don’t make the major leagues may come out ahead compared with staying in school.

Critics of the academy system believe that MLB’s presence in the Dominican Republic took an educational toll on Dominican boys. Between the ages of 12 and 14, many boys drop out of school to start their training with a buscone.[34] Without the distractions of school, they practice hard for four years with nothing but baseball to focus on, but one Dominican scout estimated that only one out of 40 players would make it to the academy.[35] The rest are left without an education. Even those who make it to the academies only receive English and American culture classes. Currently, only the Arizona Diamondbacks academy provides players with the chance to finish high school and receive a formal education.[36] In “Children Left Behind,” Adam Wasch argues that “MLB’s operation in the D.R. has had an effect on the education of young boys,” citing evidence from Nationmaster that he admits is “circumstantial.”[37] According to sources cited in Wasch’s paper, more boys dropped out of school compared to their girl counterparts throughout the secondary level.[38] Although Wasch may point to baseball as the vacuum that has been pulling Dominican boys out of school, some may have been going to work for their families in the sugar-cane fields, the hotel industry, or garment factories. MLB may not be the sole force plucking Dominican boys out of school and leaving them uneducated and vulnerable to an impoverished life.

A player's salary at an academy is a fortune compared to regular pay in the D.R. Diana Spagnuolo, author of Swinging for the Fence, remarks that “Players in their first year at an academy earn $600 US per month. Second-year players earn $700 and those in their third year earn $750 per month.”[39] For comparison, a low skills job in a clothing factory pays just $100 per month. In a barbershop one former ballplayer tried cutting hair for $3.75 per head.[40],[41] The disparity is such that even players who made it to an academy but were dropped after two years may have earned as much money in that time as their parents would in 13 years of work. As Klein emphasized: “Ballplayers have a better chance of feeding their families EVEN IF THEY NEVER MAKE IT TO THE MAJOR LEAGUES [sic]”[42] To Americans, education seems the smart path to take, but Klein argues, “We can tell inner city kids [in the US] to stay in school because if they do, there will be potential for [higher-paying] employment. But in the DR it's different. The man who was the bellhop at my hotel was a lawyer. He needed to work at this low level job because being a lawyer didn't pay enough.”[43] Although it may seem that MLB is a big corporation that takes these boys’ educations from their hands, boys who decided to pursue an education instead of a baseball career may not have landed more lucrative jobs as a result.

Not only did the academies financially enrich the players, they also directly and indirectly created jobs in Dominican towns and cities. Carrie Meyer, professor of economics at George Mason University, claims, “The total annual economic impact in terms of dollars spent in the Dominican Republic (excluding building costs) thus came to about $35 million in 2005.”[44] Employment directly related to the academies included construction workers, cooks, janitors, groundskeepers, and scouts.[45] There were also indirect opportunities created. Meyer observes, “The multiplier effects are felt throughout these poor communities.”[46] In addition to the buscones, jobs arose such as trainers, merchandise sellers, motorbike ride-for-hires to take fans to stadia, and many more. Spagnuolo agrees: “Overall, an academy's presence helps to create jobs and stimulate economic activity in its host community.”[47] Clearly, MLB enhanced the prospects of Dominican boys, their families, and their strongly-bonded communities.

In the encounter between the Dominican people and MLB academies, MLB has clearly benefited. In exchange for its investments, MLB had received All-Star and Hall of Fame caliber players for a fraction of what it would cost to recruit and develop the same talent in the United States. The other side of the transaction was a mixed blessing; sacrificing many Dominican boys’ educations in exchange for jobs, and a narrow path out of poverty for a lucky fraction. In some cases Dominican boys helped to support and feed their families while others received a golden ticket out of the impoverished country altogether. Pitcher Pedro Martinez’s words articulate the boys’ feelings of hope: “I didn’t see a better path because I saw no other path…I told my mother and father…I’m going to become a professional baseball player, and when I do, I will send my money home so none of you have to work anymore.”[48] This dream to make it through the narrow gate had consequences for those who chose to follow it. Yet, based on the evidence I have considered, the benefits of MLB academies overall outweighed the costs. n

Annotated Bibliography

Primary sources

Alfano, Peter. “Barriers to Advancement Thwart Hispanic Players.” The New York Times, May 4, 1987, Late Edition (East Coast), sec. C, C6. Accessed November 13, 2015. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

In this newspaper article, Peter Alfano, the reporter, exposed difficulties the Dominican players faced such as the language barrier and some racism from fans. It helped me understand how hard it was for Dominicans to make it to the major leagues before the academy system.

Chass, Murray. “Dodgers Get to Keep Beltre, but Are Penalized.” The New York Times, December 22, 1999, Sports, D1+. Accessed November 13, 2015. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.

In 1999, Adrian Beltre’s age was investigated after signing with the Los Angeles Dodgers. He was found to have signed one year earlier than the required signing age of 16. This is an example of what has been happening with age scandals ever since MLB began signing players from the Dominican Republic. More Dominican ballplayers lie about their identity or age than anybody can guess, but only a few are discovered.

Guerrero, Fred. Interview. January 27, 2016.

When I contacted Fred Guerrero, the son of scout legend Epy Guerrero, he responded to my list of questions about varying subjects on Dominican Baseball. He shared his opinions and experiences dealing with buscones and the Dominican people. One interesting fact was that buscones prefer to be called agents or trainers.

——— Telephone interview by the author. January 28, 2016.

Fred Guerrero, who is the son of Epy Guerrero, the father of the academies, is a scouting supervisor for the Twins. Also, Guerrero signed powerhouse Miguel Sano, who is now in the major leagues. In my phone interview, he shared stories about the early academies, remarked on the evolution of them, and discussed the excitement Dominicans bring to the game.

Marichal, Juan, and Lew Freedman. Juan Marichal: My Journey from the Dominican Republic to Coooperstown. N.p.: MVP Books, 2011.

This autobiography by Juan Marichal relates the story of his baseball career starting in the Dominican. This firsthand account provided me with compelling facts about childhood in the Dominican Republic. I used the first few chapters of this book for research on the life before the academies.

Martinez, Pedro, and Michael Silverman. Pedro. N.p.: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015.

Pedro Martinez’s autobiography describes his early life in the Dominican Republic, his path through the minors, and his stardom in the big leagues. I used the first part of the book to get a grasp of the impoverished life of Dominican families.

Wulf, Steve. “Standing Tall at Short.” Sports Illustrated, February 9, 1987, 132-35. Accessed January 18, 2016. http://www.si.com/vault/issue/702375/152/2.

This magazine feature described the path through the sandlots and the academies to the major leagues for specific Dominican Major League players like Tony Fernandez and Julio Franco. It also spotlights the small town of San Pedro de Macoris, a town that has produced a vast number of shortstops for MLB. This articles provided firsthand accounts from Dominican players to give me a sense of not only the poverty that Dominicans live in but also their love for the game.

Secondary Sources

“The Education Crisis Crippling Dominican Baseball Players.” Video file. YouTube. Posted by VICE Sports, June 18, 2015. Accessed September 30, 2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bVsbi79rUM.

This short documentary explains the education crisis in the D.R., and the Dominican’s baseball culture in general. This video helped with understanding the educational situation, gathering information on the current MLB academies, and grasping the aftermath for those who do not get signed or get released from an MLB team.

Goodman, Jared, dir. Rumbo A Las Grandes Ligas. 2008. N.p.: IndiePix, n.d. DVD.

Road to the Big Leagues shows the Dominicans’ love for the game of baseball. Dominican boys risk an education to take a shot at a professional baseball career. This system has produced many Dominican superstars in MLB, but it also has sent many impoverished boys back to the Dominican Republic.

Ghosh, Palash. “Huge Salaries and a Poverty-Stricken Country: The Economics of Baseball in the Dominican Republic.” International Business Times, January 24, 2014. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://www.ibtimes.com/huge-salaries-poverty-stricken-country-economics-baseball-dominican-republic-1546993.

Possibly my most important source for the economic side of the topic, this International Business Times article was well-balanced between statistics on and analysis of how the money Dominican players make can help themselves and their home communities. Ghosh's article emphasizes the art of acquiring cheap players from impoverished communities.

Jaffe, Jay. “Epy Guerrero, scout who helped open Dominican pipeline to majors, dies at 71.” Sports Illustrated, May 24, 2013. Accessed January 20, 2016. http://www.si.com/mlb/strike-zone/2013/05/24/epy-guerrero-scout-who-helped-open-dominican-pipeline-to-majors-dies-at-71.

This recent obituary summarizes the accomplishments that made Eoy Guerrero a Dominican baseball legend. The description of Guerrero’s original idea of an early academy helped me understand how the academy evolved.

Jessop, Alicia. “The Secrets behind the Dominican Republic’s Success in the World Baseball Classic and MLB.” Forbes, March 19, 2014. Accessed May 14, 2016. http://www.Forbes.com/sites/aliciajessop/2013/03/19/the-secrets-behind-the-dominican-republics-success-in-the-world-baseball-classic-and-mlb/#71456d1915f1.

In answer to the question of why there is a vast number of players from the Dominican playing in MLB, Alicia Jessop explains the economic conditions and baseball tradition in the Dominican Republic. Even though the economic shortcomings hold the Dominican children back, the poverty helps to drive the market for baseball talent up. Since MLB teams can sign players for cheaper contracts, they can sign more players.

Klein, Alan. E-mail interview by the author. January 4, 2016.

In my email correspondence with Professor Klein, he explained his view on conflicts such as the early days of baseball in the D.R., the startup of the academies, and the educational and economic crisis in the DR. In particular, he recounted a story of his bellhop in the D.R., who was originally a lawyer, but unlike in the US, lawyers did not get paid very much, so he needed to work a low-paying job. Klein’s insight on the education crisis—that boys who did get an education could be as unlikely to get a job as those who didn’t—made it clear how there may not be jobs in the first place for Dominican boys.

Knopper, Steve. “The Lure of Baseball in the Dominican Republic.” The New York Times, October 29, 2015, Travel. Accessed February 7, 2016. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/travel/dominican-republic-baseball.html?_r=2.

In Steve Knopper’s travel article about baseball in the Dominican describes the enthusiasm Dominicans have for baseball, the buzz of winter league games, and the life of the communities revolving around the beloved game of baseball.

Kurlansky, Mark. The Eastern Stars. New York, NY: Riverhead Books, 2010.

Mark Kurlansky’s book takes the reader into the impoverished land of the Dominican Republic to reveal the cricket games, the sugar cane fields and the ballfields. He focuses on the rich history of the small town San Pedro de Macoris, the so-called town of the shortstops. The book provided a detailed background on baseball in the D.R.

“Major League Ballplayers by Birthplace.” Baseball Almanac. Accessed January 19, 2016.

Baseball Almanac is a database that collects several different statistics, dates, and numbers related to baseball. Taking a step back and seeing baseball history by the numbers reminded me that baseball is a sport that has to be seen through different lenses to be fully grasped. Significantly, I used this website for the stat on the decline of Cuban ballplayers in MLB.

Major League Baseball. “Opening Day Rosters Feature 230 Players Born Outside the US” mlb.com. Last modified April 6, 2015. Accessed January 15, 2016. http://m.mlb.com/news/article/116591920/opening-day-rosters-feature-230-players-born-outside-the-us.

This press release from MLB.com reports the stunning number of ballplayers from the Dominican Republic in 2015. I used this press release to show how much impact the D.R. has made on MLB.

Meyer, Carrie A., and Seth Kuhn. “Effects of Major League Baseball on Economic Development in the Dominican Republic.” Last modified 2008. Accessed May 10, 2016. http://mason.gmu.edu/~cmeyer/Meyer-MLB%26DR.pdf.

My first and only source based on a study came from a college quite local to me. This study of the economic effects of MLB in the Dominican Republic conducted and written by Carrie Meyer and Seth Kuhn found its way into a newspaper feature written in 2014. Meyer’s resource helped me get real numbers on economic development while also teaching me about the complex issue of money’s impact in history.

Pelotero. Directed by Ross Finkel. 2011. N.p.: Strand Releasing, n.d. DVD.

Pelotero is a documentary that presents two Dominican ballplayers, or peloteros, trying to make it to the big leagues. It shows the stress of training, tryouts, and, hopefully, signing. This documentary conflicted with other sources in its view of the treatment of players by buscones. Pelotero helped me understand the ins and outs of trying to make it in the Dominican Republic.

Ruck, Rob. “Baseball’s Recruitment Abuses.” Americas Quarterly, Summer 2011 edition. Accessed May 11, 2016. http://americasquarterly.org/node/2745.

This article gives an in-depth examination of the road to the academy. Rob Ruck provided me with plenty of information on the buscones and PEDs. Ruck exposes the buscones’ treatment of the Dominican players and shares his overview of MLB’s attempt to solve the buscone problem by sending one of their executives, Sandy Alderson, to try regulate the trainers of boys below the age of 16. Unfortunately, this attempt failed due to the lack of cooperation of the trainers.

——— E-mail interview by the author. January 6, 2016.

My email correspondence with longtime expert Rob Ruck was extremely helpful. Ruck has written many books on Dominican baseball from a historian’s scholarly perspective. Not only did he tell me the facts, but he also described his opinions on education and the economic crisis.

——— “The Rise of the Academies.” In Raceball: How the Major Leagues Colonized the Black and Latin Game. Boston: Beacon, 2011.

Ruck’s book, Raceball, is about Latinos and African-Americans integration into Major League Baseball. I used the final chapter of this book, “The Rise of the Academies,” for my research. This source helped me throughout my paper with information regarding the start of the early academies, how the people reacted, how it changed the D.R., and what side effects the academies have had on the Dominican people.

Spagnuolo, Diana. “Swinging for the Fence: A Call for Institutional Reform as Dominican Boys Risk Their Futures for a Chance in Major League Baseball.” University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law, 24, no. 1 (2003): 263-87. Accessed February 1, 2016. http://scholarship.law.upenn.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1252&context=jil.

Spagnuolo’s article from the University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law discusess the challenges and, for most boys, the consequences of trying to follow in David Ortiz’s footsteps. Swinging for the Fence describes the benefits and the costs of MLB’s operation in the D.R. and calls for MLB to reform the education in the academies. I found this very informative article via “Children Left Behind” by Adam G. Wasch.

Thorn, John. “Pride and Passion: Baseball in the Dominican Republic.” mlb.com\DR. Last modified 2015. Accessed February 15, 2016. http://mlb.mlb.com/dr/pride_passion_dr.jsp.

John Thorn’s article provides the reader with a summary of the rich history of Dominican baseball from games in the sugar fields to games on well-kept academy turf. In particular, the article used firsthand accounts describing the Dominicans’ love for the game. This source was used in my paper as background to illustrate the rise of baseball throughout the Dominican Republic.

Wasch, Adam G. “Children Left Behind: The Effect of Major League Baseball on Education in the Dominican Republic.” Social Science Research Network. Last modified 2009. Accessed October 15, 2015. http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1571479.

This paper on the education crisis in the D.R argues that MLB is practically abusing the Dominican boys by luring them out of school. Mr. Wasch’s article helped my project immensely with a lawyer’s view on the topics of the buscones, education, and thriving academies. I found this paper early in my research and it allowed me to see the side of the argument that MLB should fix the education problem.

Notes

1. Alan Klein. E-mail interview by the author. January 4, 2016.

2. Ibid.

3. Rob Ruck, “The Rise of the Academies,” Raceball: How the Major Leagues Colonized the Black and Latin Game (Boston: Beacon, 2011),

4. Klein, e-mail interview by the author.

5. Ibid.

6. John Thorn, “Pride and Passion: Baseball in the Dominican Republic,” mlb.com\DR, last modified 2015, accessed February 15, 2016, http://mlb.mlb.com/dr/pride_passion_dr.jsp.

7. Ibid.

8. “Major League Ballplayers by Birthplace,” Baseball Almanac, accessed January 19, 2016.

9. Klein, e-mail interview by the author.

10. “Major League Ballplayers by Birthplace,” Baseball Almanac.

11. Alicia Jessop, “The Secrets behind the Dominican Republic's Success in the World Baseball Classic and MLB,” Forbes, March 19, 2014, accessed May 14, 2016, http://www.forbes.com/sites/aliciajessop/2013/03/19/the-secrets-behind-the-dominican-republics-success-in-the-world-baseballclassic-and-mlb/#71456d1915f1.

12. Diana Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence: A Call for Institutional Reform as Dominican Boys Risk Their Futures for a Chance in Major League Baseball,” University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law, 24, no. 1 (2003): 271], accessed February 1, 2016, http://scholarship.law.upenn.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1252&context=jil.

13. Ruck, “The Rise of the Academies,” Raceball.

14. Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence,” 271.

15. Opening Day Rosters Feature 230 Players Born Outside the US, mlb.com, last modified April 6, 2015, accessed January 15, 2016, http://m.mlb.com/news/article/116591920/opening-day-rosters-feature-230-players-born-outside-the-us.

16. Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence,” 269.

17. Ibid.

18. Steve Wulf, “Standing Tall at Short,” Sports Illustrated, February 9, 1987, 132, accessed January 18, 2016, http://www.si.com/vault/issue/702375/152/2.

19. Jay Jaffe, “Epy Guerrero, scout who helped open Dominican pipeline to majors, dies at 71,” Sports Illustrated, last modified May 24, 2013, accessed January 20, 2016, http://www.si.com/mlb/strike-zone/2013/ 05/24/epy-guerrero-scout-who-helped-open-dominican-pipeline-to-majors-dies-at-71.

20. Fred Guerrero, telephone interview by the author, January 28, 2016.

21. Ibid.

22. Klein, e-mail interview by the author.

23. The Education Crisis Crippling Dominican Baseball Players,” video file, YouTube, posted by VICE Sports, June 18, 23 2015, accessed September 30, 2015, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bVsbi79rUM.

24. Ibid.

25. Ruck, “The Rise of the Academies,” Raceball.

26. Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence,” 273.

27. Rob Ruck, e-mail interview by the author, January 6, 2016.

28. Ibid.

29. Adam G. Wasch, “Children Left Behind: The Effect of Major League Baseball on Education in the Dominican Republic,” Social Science Research Network, last modified 2009, accessed October 15, 2015, http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1571479.

30. Steve Knopper, “The Lure of Baseball in the Dominican Republic,” The New York Times, October 29, 2015, Travel, accessed February 7, 2016, http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/01/travel/dominican-republic-baseball.html?_r=2.

31. Fred Guerrero, e-mail interview by the author, January 27, 2016.

32. Rob Ruck, “Baseball's Recruitment Abuses,” Americas Quarterly, last modified Summer 2011, accessed December 9, 2015, http://americasquarterly.org/node/2745.

33. Ibid.

34. Palash Ghosh, “Huge Salaries and a Poverty-Stricken Country: The Economics of Baseball in the Dominican Republic,” International Business Times, January 24, 2014,, accessed May 11, 2016, http://www.ibtimes.com/huge-salaries-poverty-stricken-country-economics-baseball-dominicanrepublic-1546993.

35. Wasch, “Children Left Behind: The Effect,” Social Science Research Network.

36. “The Education Crisis Crippling,” video file.

37. Wasch, “Children Left Behind: The Effect,” Social Science Research Network.

38. Ibid.

39. Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence,” 273.

40. Ibid.

41. “The Education,” video file.

42. Klein, e-mail interview by the author.

43. Ibid.

44. Carrie A. Meyer and Seth Kuhn, “Effects of Major League Baseball on Economic Development in the Dominican Republic,” Last modified 2008, accessed May 10, 2016, http://mason.gmu.edu/~cmeyer/Meyer-MLB%26DR.pdf.

45. Ibid.

46. Ibid.

47. Spagnuolo, “Swinging for the Fence,” 274.

48. Pedro Martinez and Michael Silverman, Pedro (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015), 10.

2017 Chadwick Awards

The Henry Chadwick Award was established by SABR to honor baseball’s great researchers—historians, statisticians, annalists, and archivists—for their invaluable contributions to making baseball the game that links America’s present with its past.

Apart from honoring individuals for the length and breadth of their contribution to the study and enjoyment of baseball, the Chadwick Award will educate the baseball community about sometimes little known but vastly important contributions from the game’s past and thus encourage the next generation of researchers.

The contributions of nominees must have had public impact. This may be demonstrated by publication of research in any of a variety of formats: books, magazine articles, websites, etc. The compilation of a significant database or archive that has facilitated the published research of others will also be considered in the realm of public impact.

This year SABR is honored to present the award to four living researchers, only the second time that an awardee class has consisted entirely of individuals still in our midst: Peter C. Bjarkman, Dan Levitt, Larry McCray, and Lyle Spatz.

Past Winners of the Henry Chadwick Award

2010

• Lee Allen

• Bob Davids

• Bill James

• Peter Morris

• David Neft

• Pete Palmer

• Lawrence Ritter

• Harold Seymour and Dorothy Seymour Mills

• Jules Tygiel

2011

• Charles Alexander

• Sean Forman

• John Holway

• Cliff Kachline

• J.G. Taylor Spink

2012

• Robert Creamer

• Tom Heitz

• F.C. Lane

• Ray Nemec

• David W. Smith

2013

• Bill Carle

• Paul Dickson

• Fred Lieb

• Francis C. Richter

• John Thorn

2014

• Mark Armour

• Ernie Lanigan

• Marc Okkonen

• Cory Schwartz

• John C. Tattersall

2015

• David Block

• Dick Cramer

• Bill Deane

• Jerry Malloy

• David Nemec

2016

• John Dewan

• Larry Lester

• Norman Macht

• Tom Ruane

Peter C. Bjarkman (1941–)

by John Thorn

Peter C. Bjarkman is the author of more than 40 books on sports history, including academic histories, coffee-table pictorials, and biographies for young adults. Best known as the leading authority on post-revolution Cuban League baseball, he has also helped to shape our understanding of the long, often difficult interaction between Latin American baseball and Major League Baseball. His 1994 book, Baseball with a Latin Beat, was followed in 2007 by the even more ambitious A History of Cuban Baseball, 1864–2006.

Bjarkman has enjoyed a notable career in baseball but still has the enthusiasm and drive of a rookie. At 76 he has just published a typically erudite and pointed book, Cuba’s Baseball Defectors: The Inside Story, and he gives no sign of slowing down. In the works are The Baseball Biography of Fidel Castro and The Yanqui in Cuba’s Dugout: Travels Inside Fidel Castro’s Baseball Empire.

Omar Minaya has said of him, “Nobody knows more about the intertwining of politics and baseball in Cuba than Peter Bjarkman.” He has had to wend a serpentine path between the two on his way to becoming the great expert on Cuban baseball yesterday and today. Though Peter is an outstanding researcher, his greatest feat has been to take his expertise from the archives to the dugouts and ballparks of Cuba today.

Peter Bjarkman grew up in Hartford, Connecticut. After graduating from the University of Hartford—where he played varsity basketball and baseball—he stayed in town to teach high-school English. Going on to teach in Ecuador and Colombia, he became fluent in Spanish and went on to earn a doctorate in linguistics, with a specialty in Cuban Spanish. His collegiate teaching career included positions at George Mason, Butler, Ball State, the University of Colorado, and Purdue. He still resides in West Lafayette, Indiana, with his wife, Purdue University linguistics professor Ronnie B. Wilbur, a leading researcher and authority on deaf sign languages.

But a siren song pulled Peter away from academia to baseball and a second, improbable career—that of baseball historian and writer for hire (much as happened to this writer once upon a time). Retiring from linguistics and its constant comparisons between cultures, he brought that unique perspective to baseball. In America everyone fancies himself a baseball expert; perhaps in Cuba too. But no American has joined the past, present, and future of each nation’s view of the game as Bjarkman has.

Given the frigid political relations between Cuba and the US, it was no easy matter for him to combine with picture archivist Mark Rucker to seek the cooperation of the Castro government to produce a visual history of the Cuban game. The pair traveled to Cuba in the late 1990s and produced a beautiful book (designed by Todd Radom) that I was proud to publish with Total Sports Illustrated—Smoke: The Romance and Lore of Cuban Baseball.

In the Wall Street Journal profile of Bjarkman in November 2010, he recalled that the Cuban government reception to the book was chilly because he had included images of two notable defectors. “We never would have put them in there if the publisher hadn’t requested it,” he told the WSJ. I had thrown a boulder in Peter’s path. But slowly Cubans passionate about the game began circulating the book and Peter returned to a state of cordial relations with Cuban officials.

“Pete has to walk a tightrope to do that job,” Rucker observed. This has led some to say that his relationship with the Cuban government has been too cozy for their tastes. Yet his unique ability to tell the story of Cuban baseball without fear or favor has been the hallmark of his career, and what has brought him one of this year’s Chadwick Awards.

Bjarkman has appeared frequently on radio and television sports talk shows as an observer and analyst of Cuban baseball. His articles appear in a wide range of publications. In a field of baseball research that will blossom with the expected reduction of tensions between our two baseball-loving nations, Peter Bjarkman has a unique contribution still to make, and a legacy that will inspire others to build upon his landmark body of work.

Dan Levitt (1962– )

by Mark Armour

Most of baseball’s great researchers have been specialists—they are historians, or statistical analysts, or biographers, or business enthusiasts, or record keepers, or something. Dan Levitt is harder to pigeonhole. His contributions to baseball research over the past two decades have been both broad and deep.

Dan has lived nearly all of his life in Minneapolis. He was playing baseball by the second grade and kept at it through high school. Along the way, he spent many an afternoon at old Metropolitan Stadium, watching Rod Carew and his hometown Twins.

Dan departed home long enough to earn a BS in Industrial Engineering and an MS in business, both from the University of Wisconsin in Madison. He returned to Minneapolis to forge a career in commercial real estate (he is currently a Senior Vice President at Ryan Companies, where he has worked for 25 years). More importantly, he married Suzanne in 1995, and they have raised two sons: Charlie, and Joey.

Dan’s love and appreciation for baseball, already strong, grew considerably in 1982 when he read the first mass-marketed Bill James Baseball Abstract. A devoted reader of baseball history, Dan began to think more about how teams should value players and create rosters and organizations. He joined SABR in 1983, while still in college, and continued to read and learn.

Around 1995 Dan came across an entry in a decades-old sports encyclopedia claiming that Ferdie Schupp held the all-time record for lowest season ERA, with his 0.90 in 1916. Most record books showed Dutch Leonard’s 0.96 in 1914 as the record (since the modern pitching distance). After some digging, Dan wrote an article for the Baseball Research Journal advocating for Schupp as the record holder based on his meeting the contemporary criterion for innings pitched. This was Dan’s first published research paper, and he has hardly stopped in the 22 years since.

Dan’s research contributions have been remarkably diverse. He has done work in statistical analysis, publishing papers on such topics as clutch hitting and the relationship of team speed and opposition errors. He has written several biographies for SABR’s Biography Project, edited a book on Minnesota baseball history for the 2012 SABR convention, wrote an article on the changing criteria for qualifying for the ERA title, and more.

In 2003, Dan and Mark Armour published their first book, Paths to Glory, which won The Sporting News Research Award. Largely a survey of 14 teams from history, focusing on how they were built, the book also included Dan’s original metrics on Win Probability Added and Wins Above Replacement, both concepts that were just entering the research community at the time.

Dan’s business background strengthens his interest in the financial history of the game. His research into the finances of Harry Frazee led to a SABR cover story (co-written with Mark Armour and Matthew Levitt) on Frazee’s finances, debunking recent attempts to revise his controversial tenure owning the Red Sox. Dan’s financial research into the business history of baseball has contributed to each of his books.

In 2008 Dan published Ed Barrow: The Bulldog Who Built the Yankees’ First Dynasty, a finalist for the Seymour Medal, the first serious biography on one of history’s team-building giants. In 2012 he followed up with The Battle that Forged Modern Baseball: The Federal League Challenge and Its Legacy, which won the Larry Ritter Award for the best book on the Deadball Era. Both books will long serve as definitive works on their subjects.

Dan’s fourth book, also written with Mark Armour, came in 2015: In Pursuit of Pennants—Baseball Operations from Deadball to Moneyball. Conceived as a follow-up to their first book, In Pursuit of Pennants went much further, exploring the full history of baseball operations, all of the major rules changes that have affected team building, and presented common threads that run through the successful teams of history. A finalist for the Seymour Medal, the book introduced new research on the origins of the farm system, the integration of the game, free agency, and more.

In 2015 Dan and Mark teamed up again to research the history of the Major League Baseball Player’s Association, an effort funded by the MLBPA for their fiftieth anniversary publication and its revamped website.

Besides his own lengthy resume, Dan has been a valued member of the SABR family for more than 30 years, contributing to many research committees and serving several times on the board of his local chapter. He is a frequent presenter at local and national meetings, and a good friend to many people in the society. His contributions were recognized in 2015 when he won the Bob Davids Award.

Dan’s contributions to baseball biography, records, business, statistical analysis, and history have been vast, and we all look forward to finding out what he is going to tackle next.

Larry McCray (1942– )

by John Thorn

Larry McCray created the vast and invaluable Protoball Project, to help researchers and writers locate and refine primary data on the evolution and spread of ball play from ancient times up to 1870, just before the first professional baseball organization began and variation among rules and styles began to narrow. Many hands may have made light the work, but it is to Larry that we must credit the now widespread understanding of how our national pastime sprouted and flowered.

Enlisting the efforts of scores of other “diggers,” as they are termed on the site, Protoball Project has provided a data-driven view of how baseball in North America evolved and spread beyond predecessor games played in Europe. Larry served as Guest Editor of the landmark special Protoball issue of Base Ball: A Journal of the Early Game, featuring more than thirty articles on this long neglected and little understood area. Larry has served on the editorial board of Base Ball since its inception in 2007.

Though McCray was named to MLB’s Special Origins Committee in 2011, his work has continued apace outside the confines of that group as well as within. Likewise, he has chaired SABR’s Origins Research Committee for many years, and attracted new diggers as well as interested readers.Truly, however, Protoball (mirrored in more primitive form at mlb.com) stands alone as one of our game’s great research feats.

Larry founded and edited the site’s newsletter, “Next Destin’d Post.” If you get the reference in the title, and somehow are not a regular congregant, get thee posthaste to protoball.org.

Larry’s more conventional baseball credentials include his days as a self-described left fielder and banjo hitter at Ithaca High School, followed by three years as leadoff hitter for the Union College Club of Schenectady, NY. He has been a Boston Red Sox fan since the painful season of 1986.

And despite the suspicions of many who are reading this, there is more to life than baseball. “There comes a time in every man’s life,” Casey Stengel said, “and I’ve had plenty of ’em.” So has Larry McCray. After graduating from Union College with a BA and BEE (1965) and being awarded a Fulbright scholarship for 1967–68 in India, he received his PhD. from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in 1974. His dissertation, “The Politics of Regulation,” was awarded the APSA’s E.E. Schatt-schneider Prize as the best dissertation in American government and politics for 1974. He now helps teach a graduate course in science policy at MIT.

In what may be titled “real life,” he lives in Lexington, Massachusetts with his estimable wife Alexa, no academic slouch herself. She is Director of the Informatics Training Program, Department of Biomedical Informatics as a professor at Harvard Medical School.

From 1981 to 1998 Larry was project director and program director of the National Academy of Sciences/ National Research Council. As project director, he conducted many evaluative studies, primarily reviewing policy programs of the U.S government that have significant scientific content. As study director, he drafted significant portions of committee reports on the decision-making on carcinogens, risk assessment and risk communications, science and national security, national science policy, and graduate education. The 1983 report, Risk Assessment in the Federal Government: Managing the Process, is often credited as the source of a new paradigm for federal risk regulation.

His later academic and policy accomplishments are too numerous to cite in the present context but Larry epitomizes, in this writer’s view, the perfect profile of a top baseball researcher: one who makes his mark elsewhere, and then continues to inform his baseball studies with the intellectual curiosity and perspective he has gathered along the way.

As long as I have known Larry, he has had the “guilty pleasure” of conducting informal research on everyday life in the year 1827. Why? one might ask. SABR members will be quick to respond, Why not?

Lyle Spatz (1937– )

by Mark Armour

Lyle Spatz was a devoted fan of baseball and his hometown Dodgers by 1946, which was just in time to bear witness to one of history’s most storied teams. Jackie Robinson came to Brooklyn the next season, and Lyle attended his first game at Ebbets Field on July 5, 1947. Though his team lost that day, the Dodgers recovered to win the pennant, and Lyle’s passion for the game was further cemented.

After a stint in the US Navy and four years at Brooklyn College, Lyle moved to Maryland in 1961 and forged a career as an economist for the US Department of Commerce. He married Marilyn in 1960, and they raised two sons (Dana and Glenn) who have given them four grandchildren. Lyle’s devotion to the Dodgers ended with the team’s move west, but he adopted the Orioles in Maryland and has stuck with them through thick and thin.

An avid reader of baseball history, Lyle joined SABR in 1973, just two years after its founding. SABR was a smaller and tighter organization in those days, and Lyle became friends with many of its best researchers, including Bob Davids. In the early 1980s, Davids asked Lyle to conduct a survey of SABR members to select “retroactive” Rookies of the Year from 1900 through 1946, before the writers’ award began, and for ’47 and ’48 when there was only one award for both leagues. Over a period of several years, the SABR newsletter contained a ballot for a group of seasons along with Lyle’s candidates. Finally, SABR’s choices were unveiled in 1986. Flush off this success, a few years later Lyle conducted the same exercise for the Cy Young Award.

Arguably Lyle’s greatest contribution to baseball research began in 1991 with his 26-year run as chairman of SABR’s Records Committee. While baseball records can be a contentious matter, often involving competing advocates and commercial interests, Lyle and his committee earned a reputation as dogged seekers of the truth. At no time was Lyle’s philosophy more on display than when voices suggested adjusting the record books for players who used performance-enhancing drugs. The Records Committee’s role, Lyle maintained, was to record what happened on the field. Others were free to interpret the facts as they wished.

In 1993, Lyle edited Baseball Records Update—1993, which offered corrections to numerous baseball records, including those of some of the greats of the game—Walter Johnson, Lou Gehrig, and many others. Changing baseball records is never without its opponents. “As Aristotle said of his mentor, ‘Plato is dear to me, but dearer still is truth,’” Lyle says. The Records Committee has continued on this path ever since. “He did an excellent job of making everyone on the committee feel valued,” adds Retrosheet founder David Smith, “and as a result the committee’s decisions on record changes are widely respected.”

Trent McCotter replaced Lyle as Chairman in 2016. “It’s impossible to please everyone,” says Trent, “especially in the context of baseball records, which have incredible significance to baseball history and its allure as a numbers game. But Lyle’s integrity and commitment to remaining level-headed have helped maintain the Committee’s reputation across the stats world for the last quarter century.”

In the meantime, Lyle carved out his own path as a top-rank baseball researcher and historian. He began contributing articles to SABR publications in the 1980s, and has been a prolific author ever since. He long had an interest in baseball’s Opening Days, and he devoted his first book to a study of New York Yankee Openers through 1996. He has regularly tackled biography, penning numerous biographical articles and full-length biographies on four Dodgers: Bill Dahlen, Willie Keeler, Hugh Casey, and his childhood hero Dixie Walker. He has edited two books of biographies covering the 1947 Dodgers and the 1947 Yankees. A book on baseball’s All-Star Game, co-written by Lyle, David Smith, and David Vincent, won The Sporting News-SABR research award. He edited The SABR Baseball List and Record Book, a delightful compendium of baseball facts, in 2007.

In recent years Lyle has partnered with Steve Steinberg on two award-winning books: 1921: The Yankees, the Giants and Battle for Baseball Supremacy in New York; and The Colonel and Hug: The Partnership That Transformed the New York Yankees. The former won the prestigious Seymour Medal.

Beyond his impressive accomplishments, Lyle is one of SABR’s best-liked and respected people. He has been a regular at local meetings since the 1970s and national meetings since the 1980s. He has made dozens of friends in the baseball research community, and he has helped many a younger SABR member feel welcome and valued. It surprised no one when Lyle won the Bob Davids award in 2000, just as it surprised no one when he won the Chadwick Award in 2017. The baseball community looks forward to what he will work on next.

Contributors

Mark Armour researches and writes baseball from his home in Oregon’s Willamette Valley.

Jeremy Beer is at work on a biography of Oscar Charleston for the University of Nebraska Press. He is the author of The Philanthropic Revolution: An Alternative History of American Charity and the editor of America Moved: Booth Tarkington’s Memoirs of Time and Place, 1869–1928.

Warren Corbett is the author of The Wizard of Waxahachie: Paul Richards and the End of Baseball as We Knew It, and a contributor to SABR’s BioProject. He became a baseball fan when he saw Jackie Robinson dancing off base on a snowy black-and-white TV set.

Rob Edelman teaches film history courses at the University at Albany. He is the author of Great Baseball Films and Baseball on the Web, and is co-author (with his wife, Audrey Kupferberg) of Meet the Mertzes, a double biography of I Love Lucy’s Vivian Vance and famed baseball fan William Frawley, and Matthau: A Life. He is a film commentator on WAMC (Northeast) Public Radio and a contributing editor of Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide. He is a frequent contributor to Base Ball: A Journal of the Early Game and has written for Baseball and American Culture: Across the Diamond; Total Baseball; Baseball in the Classroom; Memories and Dreams; and NINE: A Journal of Baseball History and Culture. His essay on early baseball films appears on the DVD Reel Baseball: Baseball Films from the Silent Era, 1899–1926, and he is an interviewee on the director’s cut DVD of The Natural.

Michael Haupert is Professor of Economics at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse. He is fortunate enough to be able to combine his work with his hobby, teaching and researching the economics of sports and history.

Richard Hershberger writes on early baseball history. He has published in various SABR publications, and in Base Ball: A Journal of the Early Game. He is a paralegal in Maryland.

Chuck Hildebrandt has served as chair of the Baseball and the Media Committee since its inception in 2013. Chuck won the 2015 Doug Pappas Award for his oral presentation “‘Little League Home Runs’ in MLB History,” and received an honorable mention for his 2014 oral presentation, “The Retroactive All-Star Game Project,” which also served as the cover story for the Spring 2015 Baseball Research Journal. Chuck lives with his lovely wife Terrie in Chicago, where he also plays in an adult hardball league. Chuck has also been a Chicago Cubs season ticket holder since 1999, although he is a proud native of Detroit. So, while Chuck’s checkbook may belong to the Cubs, his heart belongs to the Tigers.

Richard T. Karcher is a sport management professor at Eastern Michigan University where he teaches sport governance and regulation, sport ethics, NCAA compliance, and introduction to research in sport management. Karcher has provided expert testimony in numerous lawsuits on the lost earning capacity damages of amateur and professional baseball players. He serves on the editorial board for the Journal of Legal Aspects of Sport. Karcher also played three seasons in the Atlanta Braves farm system and is a lifetime member of the Association of Professional Ball Players of America.

Brian Marshall is an Electrical Engineering Technologist living in Barrie, Ontario, Canada and a long time researcher in various fields including entomology, power electronic engineering, NFL, Canadian Football and MLB. Brian has written many articles, winning awards for two of them, and has two baseball books on the way: one on the 1927 New York Yankees and the other on the 1897 Baltimore Orioles. Brian has become a frequent contributor to the Baseball Research Journal and is a long time member of the PFRA. Growing up Brian played many sports including football, rugby, hockey, baseball along with participating in power lifting and arm wrestling events, and aspired to be a professional football player but when that didn’t materialize he focused on Rugby Union and played off and on for 17 seasons in the “front row.”

Thomas McKenna, a home-schooled seventh grader, lives in Lovettsville, Virginia. He enjoys music, travel, public speaking, debate, and of course, baseball. Originally, the paper published in this issue of the BRJ was written for the National History Day competition and was awarded the Lee Allen History of Baseball Award, which is sponsored by SABR. Email correspondence, phone interviews, and scholarly papers proved essential sources to the success of his project. He started researching in September of 2015 and finished a draft for the district competition, which advanced to the Virginia state contest where the paper won first place. Thomas learned a great deal about writing, researching, examining both sides of an issue, and incorporating feedback while working on his project.

Pete Palmer is the co-author with John Thorn of The Hidden Game of Baseball and co-editor with Gary Gillette of the Barnes and Noble ESPN Baseball Encyclopedia (five editions). Pete worked as a consultant to Sports Information Center, the official statisticans for the American League from 1976 to 1987. Pete introduced on-base average as an official statistic for the American League in 1979 and invented on-base plus slugging (OPS), now universally used as a good measure of batting strength. He won the SABR Bob Davids award in 1989 and was selected by SABR in 2010 as a winner of the inaugural Henry Chadwick Award. Pete also edited with John Thorn seven editions of Total Baseball. He previously edited four editions of the Barnes Official Encyclopedia of Baseball (1974–79). A member of SABR since 1973, Pete is also the editor of Who’s Who in Baseball, which celebrated its 101st year in 2016.

Marty Payne is a member of The Babe Ruth Chapter of SABR and lives in St. Michaels, Maryland. The current article was based on a presentation made at the SABR Frederick Ivor-Campbell Conference on 19th Century Baseball in 2016.

Stephen Smith joined SABR in 2011 and published the article “Talent Selection in Youth Baseball: Factors That Determine End of Season Success” in the Baseball Research Journal (Fall 2011). Smith serves as an associate professor of health and physical education at Lynchburg College in Virginia where he played and coached baseball for the Hornets. The current article was a collaboration with Smith’s son Easton who currently working towards making the baseball team at Jefferson Forest High School in Forest, Virginia, and Thomas Bowman who is an associate professor of athletic training at Lynchburg College.

John Thorn is the Official Historian of Major League Baseball. His most recent book is Baseball in the Garden of Eden. He has been a grateful SABR member since 1981.

David Vincent was presented with the Bob Davids Award in 1999 and has been a SABR member since 1985.