A Ball Player's Career Part 8

It was my first season as a first baseman, though T had played the position at odd times before, and that it suited me is shown by the fact that I led the League with a fielding average of .974 and stood first among the batsmen with .407, which was the largest percentage ever made up to that time. Flint that season stood first in the list of catchers, and Quest led the second bas.e.m.e.n. It was some time during the close of the season that an unfortunate accident happened to Larkin, and one that caused his retirement from the diamond for some time afterward. A line ball from my bat struck him on the head, and as a result, it was at least so stated, he had to be sent to an asylum, where he remained for some time, though I believe that he afterwards fully recovered from the effects of the injury.

It was during this year also that the first reserve rule was adopted, it being in the shape of a signed agreement by the terms of which each League club was permitted to reserve five men for the following season, an agreement that I have always looked upon as being one of the best things that could have happened, for the reason that it enabled all of the clubs interested to reserve at least the nucleus of a strong team as a foundation upon which to build.

The season of 1880 I have always looked upon as a red letter one in my history, and for good reasons, as that year the Chicago team under my management brought the pennant to Chicago, and this in spite of the fact that the teams it had to, encounter were made up of first-cla.s.s material in nearly every case.

The Chicago team of that season outcla.s.sed all of its compet.i.tors, it being made up as follows: Corcoran and Goldsmith, pitchers; Flint, catcher; Anson, first base; Quest, second base; Williamson, third base; Burns, shortstop; Dalrymple, Gore and Kelly in the field, and L. T.

Beals, subst.i.tute.

Unlike the majority of the clubs the Chicago Club did not have to depend upon the services of one first-cla.s.s pitcher, but had two, both of whom were "cracker-jacks," and were therefore able to play them on alternate days instead of breaking them down or laming them by continued and arduous services.

In catchers, too, the club was especially fortunate, as Flint, who ranked as one of the best of his day, had an efficient ally in Mike Kelly, who could fill the breach when necessary.

This was an especially strong team, too, at the bat, as is shown by the records, Gore leading the League with an average of .365, with myself second with .338, Dalrymple third with .332, Burns fifth with .309. In fielding Williamson led the third bas.e.m.e.n with an average of .893, while the fewest hits of the year were made off Corcoran's pitching. Among the first bas.e.m.e.n I held second place with a percentage of .977. Sullivan of the Worcester team being first with .982 to his credit.

The Chicago Club that year made a little money, but it was the only one of the lot that did, the others losing, that is, some of them, more because of bad management than for any other reason.

In consequence of an agreement in regard to the sale of liquors in club grounds the Cincinnati Club that season forfeited its members.h.i.+p, and at the annual meeting of the League held in New York December 8th, 1880, the Detroit Club was elected to the vacant place.

The team that had represented Chicago in 1880 was good enough for me, and also good enough for the club directors, and that we were able to hold the players was a matter for self-congratulation.

The only new man on the list in 1881 was Andrew Pearcy, who took T. L.

Beal's place as subst.i.tute, and who cut but little figure, as he was called upon to play but seldom.

That the Chicago Club again won the pennant in 1881 was due to two reasons. First, its strength as a batting organization, and in this respect it was undoubtedly the superior of all its rivals, and, secondly, the superb team work, the entire team playing together as one man and having but one object in view, and that the landing of the champions.h.i.+p. Record playing was entirely lost sight of by the members of the club, and sacrifice hitting was indulged in whenever a point could be made by so doing.

The race throughout the season for everything except the last place was a close and exciting one, and up to the very last week the result was in doubt, so close together were the four leaders.

When the season finally closed, however, we had 56 games won and 28 games lost to our credit, against 47 games won and 37 games lost by the Providence Club, which finished in the second place.

Buffalo came third with 45 games won and 38 games lost, and Detroit fourth with 41 games won and 43 lost; Troy being fifth, Boston sixth, Cleveland seventh and Worcester eighth on the list.

In batting that season I again led the list with an average of .399 and stood at the head of the first bas.e.m.e.n with .975 to my credit.

When the season came to a close the majority of the League clubs had made money and base-ball was more popular than ever with the public, who had learned to look upon it as a square sport, and one over which the gamblers had no control whatever.

The grounds occupied by the Chicago Club at that time were the most accessible of any in the country, being situated on the lake front near the foot of Randolph street, and within five minutes' walk from any part of the business district. The only fault that could be found with them were that they were too small, both for the crowds that thronged them when an important game was being played, and because of the fact that the fences interfered too often with the performance of the League's star batsmen.

With such a team as the champions then boasted of what was the use of making any changes? No use whatever, and so the season of 1882 found the same old "White-Stocking" team in the field, the only new player that had been signed being Hugh Nichols, who came from Rockford, and who was signed as an outfielder.

There was no change either in the clubs that went to make up the League, each and every one of which was bent on wresting the champions.h.i.+p from the Garden City, and with that object in view every other club in the league had been strengthened as far as was possible.

The attempt was a vain one, however, although the race from the start to the finish was a hot one, and one that kept the lovers of base-ball on tenter hooks until the season was over, while the betting in the poolrooms throughout the country was hot and heavy, and be it said right here, to the credit of the ball players, there was not the slightest suspicion or whisper of crookedness in connection with the games. The rivalry was most intense, and as a result the crowds that greeted the players everywhere were both large and enthusiastic, this being especially the case on the home grounds, where, owing to our long-continued success, we were naturally great favorites. The majority of the clubs in the League that season made money and to all appearances an era of prosperity, so far as the National Game was concerned, had begun.

The close of the season again saw the Chicago Club in the lead, they having won 55 games and lost 29, while Providence stood second on the list with 52 games won and 32 games lost to its credit.

Buffalo stood third, Boston fourth, Cleveland fifth, Detroit sixth, Troy seventh, while Worcester, as in the preceding year, brought up the tail end of the procession.

Brouthers of the Buffalo Club headed the batting list with a percentage of .369, while I came next with .367, and that I had had my eye on the ball throughout the season is a fact that the opposing pitchers could bear witness to.

Prior to the beginning of the season, the exact date being April 10, 1882, President Hulbert, the founder of the League, and one of the best friends that I had ever had either inside or outside of the profession, pa.s.sed away, leaving a void in base-ball circles that was indeed hard to fill. It has often been a matter of sincere regret, both to myself and others, that he could not have lived to witness the fruition of all his hopes. Arbitrary and severe though he may have been at times, yet the fact remains that he was the best friend that the ball players had ever had.

Appreciating the possibilities of the game as a moneymaker, when rightly conducted, he bent his energy toward rescuing it from the hands of gamblers, into which it seemed about to fall, and place it where it belonged, at the head of all of American outdoor sports.

Many and many a time since than have I missed his cool-headed judgment, his cheering words and his sound advice, and I have no hesitation in saying to-day that to him the ball players owe even now a debt of grat.i.tude that can never be repaid.

CHAPTER XIV. THE CHAMPIONS OF THE EARLY EIGHTIES.

The team that brought the pennant back to Chicago in the early '80s was a rattling good organization of ball players, as the "fans" who remember them can testify, and while they were the cracks of that time, and perhaps as strong a team as the League had seen up to that date, yet they were not as strong either as a team or as individual ball players as the team that represented Chicago several years afterward. The secret of the club's success in those days lay in its team work, and in the fact that a goodly portion of the time was spent in studying and developing the fine points of the game, which long practice made them fairly perfect in. There were one or two weak spots in its make-up, but so well did it perform as a whole that these weak spots were quite apt to be lost sight of when the time for summing up the result of the season's play had arrived.

In its pitching department the team was particularly strong at that time as compared with some other of the League clubs.

Larry Corcoran, upon whose skill great reliance was placed, was at that time in the zenith of his glory as a twirler. He came, if my memory serves me rightly, from somewhere in the neighborhood of Buffalo. He was a very little fellow, with an unusual amount of speed, and the endurance of an Indian pony. As a batter he was only fair, but as a fielder in his position he was remarkable, being as quick as a cat and as plucky as they made them.

A sort of an all-around sport was Larry, and a boxer of no mean ability.

I remember a set-to that he had one night in the old club house with Hugh Nichols, in which he all but knocked Hughy out, greatly to that gentleman's surprise, as he had fancied up to that time that he was Corcoran's master in the art of self-defense.

After his release by the Chicago Club he drifted back East, where he pitched for a time in some of the minor leagues. Later on he was given another trial by the Chicagos, but his work proved unsatisfactory, he having outlived the days of his usefulness in the pitching line. After that he again went East, where he died several years ago.

Fred Goldsmith, the other pitcher, was a great big, over-grown, good-natured boy, who was always just a-going to do things that he never did. He, too, came from the East, and was, I believe, pitching for the Tec.u.mseh, Canada, Club when he signed with us.

He was the possessor of a great slow ball and was always cool and good-natured. As a batsman he was only fair, and as a fielder decidedly careless. When it came to backing up a player "Goldy" was never to be relied upon, and after the play was over and he was asked why he had not done so, he would reply: "Oh, I'd a-bin thar ef I'd bin needed." But in spite of this the fact remains that he was rarely on hand when he was needed, and many an overthrown ball found its way into the field that would have been stopped had he been backing up the bas.e.m.e.n in the way that he should have done.

I remember seeing him in a game at Troy, N. Y., once when pitching for Chicago, when he was a sight to behold. He was playing and the rain was coming down in torrents while the grounds were deep in mud and water.

Hatless, without shoes and stockings and with his breeches roiled clear up to his thigh, as if he were preparing to ford the Hudson river, "Goldy" was working like a Trojan, and I am not over sure but that he was one at that time.

His arm was gone when he left us, and if he played ball any afterward, it was only in desultory fas.h.i.+on. He tended bar in different places for a time, but finally settled down to the business of market gardening near Detroit, where, from all that I can learn, he is making a good living.

Frank S. Flint, "Old Silver," originally hailed from St. Louis, where he first came into notice as the back stop of an amateur team.

He came to us direct from the Indianapolis Club, where he had been engaged in catching the delivery of "the only Nolan," who was at that time one of the most celebrated of the League pitchers. He was a fine ballplayer, a good, hard worker, but a weak batter, batting being his weakest point. He was generally reliable, and that in spite of the fact that he was a hard drinker, the love of liquor being his besetting weakness. A pluckier man never stood behind a bat, there never coming a ball his way that was too hard for him to handle, or at least to attempt to. In "Old Silver's" day the catcher's glove had not come into use, and all of his work was done with hands that were unprotected. Those hands of his were a sight to behold, and if there is a worse pair to-day in the United States, or a pair that are as bad, I should certainly like to have a look at them. His fingers were bent and twisted out of all shape and looked more like the knotted and gnarled branches of a scrub oak than anything else that I can think of.

Long before the gloves now used by catchers were invented I had a buckskin mitt made at Spalding's that I thought would fill a long-felt want, and this I finally persuaded "Old Silver" to try.

He tried it for about half of an inning, then threw it down, declaring it was no good, and went on in the old way. After his playing days in Chicago were over he went into the saloon business and died a short time afterwards of consumption. His wife died in California a little time after him with the same disease, which she had contracted while nursing him. Prior to her departure from Chicago and when she had been informed by a physician that her days were numbered, she sent for me, and after telling me that she had "roasted" me in the papers all her life, begged my forgiveness, saying that she had found out her mistake. This, of course, was granted.

Mrs. Keene and my wife saw that she had every comfort, and Mr. Keene, Mr. Spalding and myself furnished the money that took her to the Golden State, where she lived but a short time after her arrival.

Joe Quest, who played the second base, was another player who came to us from the Indianapolis team, but prior to that time he had been playing around New Castle, Pa. Joe was a good, reliable, steady fellow, but a weak batsman. He was a conscientious player, however, and one that could always be depended upon to play the best ball that he was capable of.

His strongest point was trapping an infield fly, and in this particular line he was something of a wonder.

Joe played on several teams after leaving Chicago, and with varying success. Of late years he has been employed in the City Hall at Chicago, where he holds a good position.

Ed Wiliamson was another player who came to us from Indianapolis, where he had already made for himself quite a reputation. He, too, hailed originally from some-where around New Castle, and was playing in Pittsburg the first time that I ever saw him. My wife knew him long before I knew him, however. He was then a member of an amateur club in Philadelphia, for which she acted as a sort of treasurer, taking care of the money that they raised to buy b.a.l.l.s with, etc.

Ed was, in my opinion, the greatest all-around ballplayer the country ever saw. He was better than an average batsman and one of the few that knew how to wait for a ball and get the one that he wanted before striking. He was a good third baseman, a good catcher and a man who could pitch more than fairly well, too, when the necessity for his doing so arose. Taking him all in all, I question if we shall ever see his like on a ball field again. He was injured some years later while the Chicago Club was making a trip around the world, and was never the same fellow afterward. After his retirement from the diamond he ran a saloon in company with Jimmy Woods, another ball-player, on Dearborn street, Chicago, which was a popular resort for the lovers of sports. He died of dropsy at Hot Springs, Arkansas, leaving a wife, but no children.

Williamson was one of the most popular of the many players that the Chicago Club has had. A big, good-natured and good-hearted fellow, he numbered his friends by the hundreds, and his early death was regretted by all who knew him.