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A Game of Inches Updates, Chapters 10-12
The nature of a book of firsts is that it is always a work in progress. Although A Game of Inches was published only last year, I have already
received and uncovered a great deal of new information. I encourage anyone who
has read the book to contact me with questions,
concerns, comments, updates, and corrections. A few simple corrections have been
made in new printings, but longer updates will have to wait for the next
edition. For now, I’ll be putting such updates to both volumes on these pages on
an ongoing basis, so check back frequently if interested.
Links to Updates to Other Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapters 4-5
Chapters 6-8
Chapter 9
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapters 15-17
Chapter 18
Chapters 19-21
Chapters 22-26
CHAPTER 10: UNIFORMS
10.5 Uniform Colors
I want to revise paragraph five to add this note: “There is talk of arranging
some way in which spectators can easily and certainly tell the players apart as
they are in the field. Capt. Spalding’s idea is to furnish each player with a
different colored cap, and then put the names of the colors against those of the
players on the score cards. There will, however, be some opposition to this
idea, and it is not at all certain to win. A collection of heads under the
proposed plan would look like a Dutch bed of tulips. It is, however, certain
that the plan, if adopted, would be a useful one, if not ornamental.” (St.
Louis Globe-Democrat, March 19, 1876, 2)
Then I need to point out that Spalding came up with this idea in the same
year that he opened his baseball emporium and began to market sporting goods
aggressively. That may have been a coincidence, but the two would later
converge.
In paragraph eight, I’ll change “accounts leave” to “account leaves.”
After the Free Press’s description, I’ll add a new paragraph that
begins “So why was the scheme tried?” and which then summarizes a point made
very effectively by Mike Roer on page 99 of his Orator O’Rourke: that A.
G. Spalding was behind the scheme and that it was a windfall for his sporting
goods company. I’ll also cite Peter Levine’s biography of Spalding, which makes
the same point on page 78.
Roer also includes several additional examples of the negative comments made
about the experiment.
At the end of the next-to-last paragraph, I’ll note that the repeal of the
rule enabled Spalding to again sell new uniforms and reap more profits, another
point made by Roer.
10.7 Shorts
I need to add that Spokane also tried shorts in 1951 (Mark Armour, ed., Rain Check, 90).
And this will
be appended to the fourth paragraph: “The Stars wore the shorts frequently in
1950, but only occasionally after that, finally abandoning them for good after
the 1953 season (Stephen M. Daniels, “The Hollywood Stars,” Baseball Research
Journal 1980, 161).”
10.10 Team Names and Logos on Uniform Fronts
I need to note that Harper’s Weekly published a picture of
the uniforms of the Maple Leaf club of Guelph on September 12, 1874, which probably
influenced other teams.
Here is the full description of the uniforms of the Maple
Leaf club: “made of gray cloth, with tasteful trimmings of green silk. The
breast is ornamented with a maple leaf of fine green silk, which shows the
natural ‘ribbing’ of the leaf, is artistically done. The belt is made of a dark
shade of green. The stockings were imported from Hawick, Scotland. The cap is
of a gray material, with a green edge.” (St. Louis Globe-Democrat, May 6,
1877)
After the second paragraph, I want to add: “During the
1880s, logos became more common and often quite elaborate. In 1883, it was
reported that the New York League team had the ‘coat of arms of City of New York
on the breasts of their shirts’ (St. Louis Globe-Democrat, March 28,
1883).”
10.11 Sanitary Hose
I need to revise the start to add a contemporary citation
of Lajoie’s blood poisoning being blamed on his stockings: Sporting Life,
January 6, 1906.
Then I’ll mention that Fred Merkle also suffered a case of
blood poisoning that caused his foot to swell to the size of a pumpkin,
prompting fears that it would have to be amputated and necessitating two
operations. (David W. Anderson, More Than Merkle, 142; Sporting Life,
July 19, 1908; New York Evening Journal, July 11, 1908, quoted in G. H.
Fleming, The Unforgettable Season, 120)
Then I’ll add something along these lines: “Some clubs gave
up colored socks as a result, but others began to wear white sanitary socks
under their colored socks to guard against infection. This produced a dramatic
result in Boston, where the National League club had originally been known as
the Red Stockings and still were associated with that fashion statement. But
when the team chose to give up their red socks, the look was seized by the
crosstown American League team, which became known as the Red Sox (Troy Soos,
Before the Curse, 110).”
10.13 Numbers on Uniforms
After the fifth paragraph, I’ll add these new ones: “At
least in the case of the two St. Louis teams, a surprising alternative to
numbers on uniforms was found. Gene Karst explains: ‘each player had a
scoreboard number. This number appeared on the hand-operated scoreboard as the
player took his turn at bat. Only then, if you didn’t already know him by his
appearance … could you be sure of who the batter was.’
“While this system was not ideal for
fans, it had a major benefit to the Cardinals and Browns. Karst notes that
sales of the official scorecards were often damaged by competition from
unauthorized rivals. So the two teams would periodically foil the independent
vendors by changing all of the players’ numbers. These switcheroos also crossed
up fans who brought scorecards from previous games to the ballpark. (Gene Karst,
“The Great Days, The Great Stars,” National Pastime 2 (Fall 1982), 49)
So it is easy to see why teams were in no hurry to put permanent numbers on the
uniforms of the players.”
And at the end, I’ll add: “Even after numbers became part
of the uniforms, the St. Louis teams continued their efforts to prevent the sale
of unauthorized scorecards. Karst explains, ‘For a time, the Cardinals and
Browns used two sets of numbers for their players. One was the new
uniform number. The other was the old scorecard number – a different number
entirely – that popped up on the scoreboard when the player took his turn at
bat. Confusing … but anything to sell more scorecards!’ (Gene Karst, “The Great
Days, The Great Stars,” National Pastime 2 (Fall 1982), 49).”
CHAPTER 11: SKULLDUGGERY
11.1.4 Doing It with Mirrors
Another instance from an 1897 National League game in
Chicago: “A strange episode came up in the eighth. [Pittsburg right fielder]
‘Patsy’ Donovan made a sudden run toward Umpire Sheridan and a moment later four
small boys were chased off the field. The youngsters, under the leadership of ‘Rusie,’
the youth who attends to the park, were holding pieces of looking glass in the
sun, and throwing the reflections into the eyes of the Pittsburg batters.” (Chicago
Tribune, July 31, 1897, 4)
11.1.9 Corked Bats
This new paragraph will be added at the end: “But while
uncommon, they were not unheard of. St. Louis Browns slugger Ken Williams used
a bat in 1923 that was bored out, with a wooden plug inserted in the base.
Washington filed a complaint about the bat, and American League President Ban
Johnson ruled that bats were only legal if made of a single solid piece of wood
(Al Kermisch, “Ruth’s Laminated Bat Banned in 1923,” Baseball Research
Journal 1983, 49).”
11.1.12 Double Ball Rackets
Following the first paragraph, I intend to add: “This was a
huge threat to the game’s integrity and steps were immediately taken to address
it. The Chicago Tribune, which had become the league’s unofficial
mouthpiece, suggested, ‘The obvious and feasible way out of the unpleasantness
of having different kinds of balls is for the League to settle upon
specifications for a contract with some good maker for a perfectly uniform ball
for all games for the championship, and then make the Secretary their agent to
take the balls from the maker, stamp them, and sell them to the clubs.’ (Chicago
Tribune, November 19, 1876, 10). And soon the league did follow that
course, entering into a contract with Louis Mahn of Boston to make the official
league ball with the understanding “that he should submit all balls for league
use to the Secretary’s inspection, and that after being approved each one should
be packed in paper and in foil to exclude the atmosphere, and then sealed in a
box so as not to be opened until delivered to the umpire just before the game’ (Chicago
Tribune, December 10, 1876, 7).”
Then after what is now the second paragraph, I need to add:
“Following the 1879 season, the National League took additional steps to address
the issue. A note explained, ‘All disputes as to the precise kind of ball to be
used are disposed of by a rule requiring the contractor to furnish all League
balls to the League secretary and subject to his inspection, and the seal of
that officer is the final evidence of the legality of each ball’ (Chicago
Tribune, October 26, 1879, 7). These steps were not a foolproof
solution, but the National League did have fewer complaints than other leagues
in subsequent years.
By contrast, rival
leagues lacked the central organization necessary to take such precautions and
continued to be plagued by the issue. Near the end of the 1878 season, the
Tribune boasted, “The League has been using a uniform and excellent ball,
which has given general satisfaction. The International Association advertised
that they would use the same kind and quality, and entered into some sort of
contract to that effect; but they missed a trick when they neglected to have the
balls used by them inspected by some one in the same way that the League balls
have all been inspected by Secretary Young. In the first part of the season all
went well, but after a while a difference began to be seen, and it was rumored
and asserted that the maker was filling orders with fast or slow balls to suit
the people to whom he sold them … When the Chicagos went to New Bedford on their
last trip they played with a ball marked ‘International Association,’ according
to the rule in such case made; but they had hardly finished two innings before
it began to act like one of the old soft balls that Bradley used to be so
successful with in St. Louis, and long before the game was over it became a
physical impossibility to hit this mush ball outside the diamond. So strange
did this appear to the Whites that they cut open the ball after the game and
found just what they expected – a lump of mud rubber, which bears no resemblance
to the ounce of rubber which should be there (Chicago Tribune, September 1,
1878).”
11.1.13 Hidden Potato Tricks
Another instance from 1895: “A Lock Haven (Pa.) player
named Dunkle has invented a new trick. A game was in progress at Williamsport
on Thursday and had proceeded to the ninth inning. Lock Haven was one score
ahead. Williamsport was at the bat. One of the runners was on the first and
the Lock Haven pitcher pretended to throw the ball to the first baseman to catch
the runner, but it (not the ball, the potato) went over the baseman’s head, and
the runner started for second. Before he arrived there, however, the pitcher
tossed the real ball to the second baseman and the umpire called the runner
out. The Williamsporters refused to call it a square deal and the game ended.”
(Dallas Morning News, November 12, 1895)
11 (ii) Gardening Variety Trickery, introduction
I’m going to add a new middle paragraph based upon this
fascinating 1903 article: “Manager Loftus won what he considers a signal victory
in the meeting of the rules committee last week. He was bitterly opposed to the
action of some club managers building a mountain out of the pitcher’s box and
making the base lines from the plate to first and third bases mere gutters for
the convenience of the players who could dump the ball into the diamond and have
it stay there. Teams which contain several good bunters made troughs of these
base lines, so that when a ball rolled to them it would not go into foul
territory unless there was force enough behind the ball to carry it out of the
trough. There certainly was a great advantage in that scheme to a team of bunt
hitters. The practice of raising the pitcher’s box to a dizzy height was
another abuse that aided some clubs and pitchers. A twirler like Cy Young, who
depends upon wonderful speed, found a great advantage in the high box, for he
would shoot the ball down to the batter, and in descending to the plate it was
given added force. It was a trick more than an innovation.” (Washington Post,
March 1, 1903, 32)
11.2.2 Slow Base Paths
I’ll add this to the beginning: “When Abner Dalrymple
reached the National League in 1878, he discovered that, ‘Sliding to bases was a
hazardous performance … [Boston second baseman Jack] Burdock proposed to stop
base stealing. He carried in his pocket gravel that was like broken stone. If
a dangerous base stealer made first base Burdock scattered this treacherous
gravel around second base. Many a man, before he was familiar with Burdock’s
defense, came up with injured leg, face, arm, or hand. After a while few men
would undertake to steal Burdock’s base’ (Chicago Tribune, September 23,
1928, A7).”
CHAPTER 12: TIMEOUTS
Introduction
To the second paragraph, I need to add that Australians had
a similar reaction to baseball, as described on page 139 of Mark Lamster’s
Spalding’s World Tour.
12.2 Pay Attention!
The Ed Brown story also
appeared in the Chicago Inter-Ocean of March 11, 1888 and was credited to
the New York Mail and Express.
12.4 Broom Makers’ Trots
According to David Fleitz’s Cap Anson, page 150,
this was a new rule in 1882 when Anson was called out.
And the St. Louis Globe-Democrat of June 17, 1882,
12, had this to say: “The rules for running bases are very badly worded in some
instances. That which covers the returning to bases on the run when a foul has
been hit says that the runner will be allowed to return without being put out,
provided he returns on the run; but the penalty is not expressly defined, and
one result is that under a definition of the existing rule a runner failing to
run back to a base can only be decided out when he is touched off a base when
walking back.”
So it looks like at least the wording of the rule was
changed before the 1882 season, leading to the controversial play involving
Anson.
12.7 Throw Me the Ball
To the end of paragraph two, I’m going to add, “Anson
himself pulled the trick while coaching in a game against the Giants on June 8,
1895 (David Fleitz, Cap Anson, 236).”
I may also mention that the great African-American pitcher
Rube Foster pulled the trick at a key moment in a close 1907 game against the
Indianapolis ABCs (Robert Cottrell, The Best Pitcher in Baseball, 35).
12.9 Quick Pitches
After the description of Spalding in the seventh paragraph,
I want to add this one of Jim “Pud” Galvin: “He turns the ball around in his
hand six times, mops his forehead with his right hand, pulls a kink out of the
seat of his pants, pulls out his handkerchief and wipes his eyes, turns to the
second baseman and asks what o’clock it is, lays the ball between his feet, puts
both hands in the dust, wipes the dust off on his trousers, licks the end of his
fingers, pitches the ball over his left shoulder, absorbs a little more dust
with his palms, tells the boys to look out, and then pitches the ball.” (Chadwick
Scrapbooks)
Following the eighth paragraph, I want to add a new one
that includes this description: “Much of the real beauty of the game was spoiled
by the style in which Barr and Davis manipulated the sphere. They are worse
than two old women over a cup of tea. A man can take a nap and get awake again
while either one of these snails are getting ready to pitch. They are like many
other idiotic asses who occupy the same position and imagine they are impressing
the spectators and the club officials with their importance by delaying the game
in this manner.” (National Police Gazette, Sept. 20, 1884)
Here’s a longer version of the description of Lee Richmond
that I found in the Chadwick Scrapbooks: “In his position as pitcher, he
is simply agonizing. Before delivering the ball, he works his feet like a
chicken cock getting ready for a dirt-bath. After this he goes through the
boa-constrictor performance of sliming the ball, spitting on his hands, rubbing
them on the ball, and then rubbing off the ball. All this time the other eight
‘Wooster’ men play statue business – Cain and Abel, Ajax, etc. He then turns
his right side to the batter, looks all around at the statues, at the
surrounding housetops, then up at the heavens, and then commences a painful
working of the shoulders, as though something was biting him between the
blades. After this is kept up for some time, and the batter’s arms are
reasonably supposed to be limp from holding up the bat, the pitcher apparently
says to himself, say he: ‘Well, I guess I’ll send one in,’ and in it goes – a
swift curve, hard to hit if sent in without so much delay, and rendered more so
by the delay.”
Then following
the Richmond paragraph, I want to add one along these lines: “The great early
twentieth-century African-American pitcher Rube Foster was another master of
disrupting batters’ rhythm. He liked to swing his arms ‘like the pendulum of a
clock’ and then spring into his windup when least expected (Philadelphia Item,
March 5, 1905, 11; quoted in Robert Cottrell, The Best Pitcher in Baseball,
20). Inattentive batters also found to their dismay that Foster possessed ‘the
faculty of whipping the ball across the plate with or without the preliminary
winding up … and he can do it underhand, with a side-wheel motion, overhand, or
apparently snap it with his wrist’ (Frederick North Shorey, ‘A Historical
Account of a Great Game of Ball,’ Indianapolis Freeman, September 7,
1907, 7; quoted in Robert Cottrell, The Best Pitcher in Baseball, 35).
That skill, combined with Foster’s willingness to stall interminably, put the
batter in a helpless dilemma (Robert Cottrell, The Best Pitcher in Baseball,
27).”
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