$11,000 Beauty or Lemon?

The rookie pitcher, called a "phenom" by the press, took the mound for the first time in a Major League uniform and hoped he could prove that he was worth the record-breaking price his team paid for him. No, this isn't another blog about Stephen Strasburg. This situation took place over 100 years ago when the New York Giants signed Minor League pitcher Rube Marquard of the Indianapolis Browns for $11,000. The previous contract record was $10,000 for Mike "King" Kelly who was a proven Major League ballplayer so the Giants manager John McGraw turned some heads by taking a chance on the young lefty. Marquard and McGraw attempted to leverage this hype and celebrity status throughout the pitcher's lifetime, at times without strict attention to truth. The results ranged from complete humiliation to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame.

Marquard came to the Giants during the heated pennant race with Chicago in 1908 and had only thrown a few pitches before the Cubs came to town, just 2 1/2 games back. McGraw tried to intimidate the opposition by having Marquard warm up and walk to the diamond as if he were going to pitch but at the last minute substituted another pitcher who secretly had been warming up. McGraw tried the trick for both games with Chicago and both times his strategy failed. The Cubs beat the Giants 4-3 and 2-1. Giants' fans were growing restless and the following day when Fred Merkle's mistake led to a tie game rather than a Giant win the fans were riotous.

McGraw needed to get the fans' minds off of the Merkle disaster as soon as possible. He turned to his star rookie, the "$11,000 Beauty" as the press called him, to start a game just two days later. The decision was made primarily for public relations and not strategy since the Cincinnati team hit well off of left-handed pitchers. Marquard shared his fear with teammate Christy Mathewson just before taking the mound. According to Mathewson, Marquard said the fans, "were all thinking that McGraw had paid $11,000 for me and now they were to find out whether he had gotten stuck, whether he had picked up a golden brick with the plating on it very thin. I was wondering, myself, whether I would make good." No one had to wonder for long. Mathewson reports "the official scorer got writer's cramp trying to keep track of the hits and runs" and Marquard was taken out in the fifth inning.

The "$11,000 Beauty" became the "$11,00 Lemon" overnight. For the next two years Marquard worked on his confidence and fundamentals. He won just nine games in two years. In 1911 Marquard won 24 games and, finally, the affection of the Giants' fans. Their love grew stronger the following year when he won 19 straight games (a single-season record that still stands today). Marquard used his baseball success to propel himself to celebrity status. He endorsed products, appeared on Broadway and made a silent movie. Long after his baseball career ended Rube still seemed to know the power of public relations and a good story. Marquard's selection for the Hall of Fame in 1971 is often debated. Many argue it had more to do with his captivating tales in the book The Glory of Their Times than statistics. Several of the details about his life in the book have been questioned and proven incorrect.

Sharing moving (and maybe untrue) stories about his life at a crucial time was not a new approach for Marquard. When John McGraw first signed the young pitcher and brought him to New York, the rookie thought he should write a note of introduction to the fans. Larry Mansch reprinted the letter in his book Rube Marquard. While the embellished tales in The Glory of Their Times ultimately paid off and possibly led to his election to the Hall of Fame, the initial hype of Marquard's arrival in New York and McGraw's intimidation tactics backfired.

I personally am not very good at creating the hype for myself like Marquard did. I'm not sure yet if that is good or bad. I know that I have missed out on opportunities that have gone to others who are better at selling themselves. Self-promotion is something I respect when done honestly. Marquard seemed to skirt the line on that. I actually find his own words insightful although I'm not sure he learned from them. In his 1908 letter, Marquard wrote,

"Only once did I try 'living high.' That was after I had begun pitching professional ball. I got the idea I ought to tog myself out in gay raiment, so I took the money I got for pitching and bought a gorgeous suit of clothes. It was a florid cast of countenance, and it made itself heard in the dark, it was so loud. To match it I had a pair of yellow shoes that sneezed like a man with hay fever when I walked. I thought I was the best dressed man in the country till my friends saw me, and then I heard so many things about my appearance that I shook the duds forever."

I have no idea if the story of the suit is true or if Marquard made it up in order to seem more down to earth and less like a high-paid ballplayer. Either way, he seems like a man who would often wear whatever "suit" he needed to wear in order to get ahead. I am more comfortable in my own clothes even if they don't get heard in the dark or sneeze like a man with hay fever. But, this way I'll probably never get in the hall of fame. I suppose there's a balance somewhere in the middle?

Tinker to Evers to Chance and More!

These are the saddest of possible words:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,

Tinker and Evers and Chance.

Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,

Making a Giant hit into a double –

Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:

"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Baseball's Sad Lexicon, by Franklin Pierce Adams (F.P.A.), was published in the New York Evening Mail in the summer of 1910 and is one of the most famous baseball poems. The poem tells of the Chicago Cubs' infielders Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers and Frank Chance and their proclivity for turning double plays against the New York Giants during the race for the pennant. Until recently the poem stood alone as a tribute to the "trio of bear cubs" but through some painstaking research Tim Wiles, the Director of Research at the National Baseball Hall of Fame, discovered this one poem was part of a larger story.

In this Cover the Bases podcast, Wiles tells Joe Magennis about researching the poem in order to write an article celebrating its 100 year anniversary. Listening to the podcast you can hear the excitement in Wiles' voice as he explains the lengths he had to go to try to find the first time the poem was published and what he discovered as a result. Wiles discovered that the Chicago Tribune writers responded to the poem with their own poem! In fact, so far his research has turned up 29 poems between the two newspapers and many of them make reference to specific plays in a game. Wiles' research is continuing as he attempts to uncover all of the poems and match them up with plays. What an amazing discovery! I highly recommend listening to the podcast for more information on the original poem, F.P.A. (he was a Cub's fan!) and the research. You'll also hear some of the poems that were found!

I can't wait to read all of the poems and get a true sense of the emotions that the Cubs' and Giants' fans were feeling along the way as they were battling for the pennant. I love that their emotions are captured in verse! While we may not write poems, 100 years after the line "Tinker to Evers to Chance" was penned baseball fans still bond by talking about their team and enjoy some good "smack talk" with the opposing team. In my world this happens mostly on Twitter or Facebook but it's still capturing the same emotions (although not nearly as eloquently!). Today I can watch a game on my iphone, share the experience with others through Twitter, listen to podcasts, play fantasy baseball online, blog and share this through Facebook, and receive texts and pictures from my friend who is at a game all thanks to technology. What a different world this is from the days of F.P.A., Tinker, Evers and Chance. Despite the ever changing and fast moving world, however, hearts are still captured by baseball just as they were 100 years ago.

More Headwork than Footwork

Shacks, goats grazing in the outfield, pine trees, ankle-deep mud and a sulfur spring shower - all of these images make you think of Major League Baseball Spring Training, right? Well maybe not you, but for Connie Mack they would have. The longtime Philadelphia Athletics manager seemed to have a love-hate relationship with Spring Training beginning with an eventful first trip as a player and ending with questioning the necessity of traveling south. Throughout it all, Mack remained steadfast in his commitment to preparing his players both physically and mentally.

As a young catcher for the Washington Senators in 1888, Mack joined his teammates for their first "Southern Trip", as Spring Training was called at the time, to Jacksonville, FL. The Senators were following in the footsteps of the Chicago White Stockings and Philadelphia Phillies who started heading south for training two years earlier, going to Hot Springs, AK and Charleston, SC respectively. While the White Stockings were put up in a plush hotel, the Senators were hosted by a local woman in two shacks in the woods. Mack described the accommodations as "vile." In his book Connie Mack and the Early Years of Baseball, Norman Lee Macht describes several less than desirable Spring Training trips for Mack including one as a manager in 1903 with no baseball field, just a park with ankle-deep mud.

Despite the shabby conditions, Mack pressed on and worked with his team. Macht explains, "they concentrated more on headwork than on footwork." He wanted his team to play intelligent baseball, to know how to learn the other teams' signs, read their body language and predict their next move. One of his players, Monte Cross, later said "Connie Mack studies the moves of the other side closer than any manager I ever saw, at bat or in the field he can tell exactly what his opponents are planning and is often able to block them."

As a presenter and trainer, I may not travel south to hone my skills but I do often retreat to my basement when I have a new curriculum to practice. I've also followed Connie Mack's strategy of studying the opponent, or in my case, the audience. I try to predict what questions they will have so I am prepared to answer them. Once I prepare my presentation I practice several times until I have all the kinks worked out. This strategy has worked well for me for trainings, meetings with potential partners and even job interviews.

The strategy worked well for Mack as well. He is the longest serving manager in Major League Baseball and was with the Athletics for their first 50 years. Towards the end of Mack's career, baseball, like many industries in the country, was interrupted by World War II. Rather than travel south for Spring Training, teams stayed close to home. The Athletics held camp in Frederick, MD and Mack predicted publicly that this would mark the end of teams' annual trips to warmer climates for extra training. Most managers and baseball writers disagreed and those of us who have been counting down the days until "Pitchers and Catchers Report" know his prediction was one of the few things Mack got completely wrong. The Athletics returned to Jacksonville in 1946. I doubt today's players reporting to Spring Training have to contend with goats and sulfur showers like Mack did, but I know they are learning the intelligent and strategic brand of play that he helped to develop.

Merkle's .... um ... Gaffe

Sure, I could have used the commonly used term for Fred Merkle's base-running mistake and I would have gotten a lot of hits on this post, but I decided to take the high road. Merkle entered the Major Leagues in 1907 and played for 16 seasons. He is remembered, however for one day in September 1908 when he made a base-running error that cost the New York Giants the game and ultimately the National League Pennant.

The moment Merkle will never forget began during a game in the midst of a tight pennant race. His Giants were tied with the Chicago Cubs in the bottom of the ninth. Merkle was on first with a runner on third. The next batter got a single which allowed the runner to head home. The crowd went crazy, assuming the Giants had won the game. Merkle, excited by the win and overwhelmed by the crowd rushing the field, started to head from first base straight to the clubhouse without touching second base. This was the custom of the time. Cub's second baseman Johnny Evers, however, was a student of baseball rules and knew that if he could find the ball and touch second base, Merkle would be out on a force play and the run would not count.

Varying accounts exist about what exactly happened next. Merkle claims he went back and stood on the base while Evers struggled to find the ball. Ultimately the umpire called Merkle out and decided the game could not continue because the field was now crawling with rowdy fans. The game would be replayed at the end of the season if needed. The game was needed and Merkle's Giants lost to the Cubs who went on to win the World Series.

Merkle never lived down this gaffe but I think Evers should have been the one to receive the attention. As pointed out in the October 18, 1908 edition of the Pittsburgh Press, what can be learned from this story is "the necessity of keeping careful track of the little details, and never passing over the seemingly insignificant things." Evers knew that that players were often not tagging the bases in these situations so he was ready to take advantage. He knew the rules and was paying attention. Merkle and the rest of the Giants learned it the hard way. In fact, the rest of baseball learned from Merkle's... gaffe.

I am someone who loves digging into the details and reading rules and policies (just ask anyone who's ever played a board game with me!). If I had been in the stands during Merkle's ill-fated game I'd have been yelling at him to go touch the base because I would have known he was putting the run at risk!

Kelly Now Catching for Boston

In the early days of baseball the rules were constantly being modified and better defined. I bet Mike “King” Kelly’s name came up quite often in the meetings. Kelly saw rules more like suggestions and frequently identified loopholes.

During the late 1800’s games were played with just one umpire and Kelly took full advantage of this fact. Though he was lauded for his baserunning, he didn't always touch all of the bases if the umpire was distracted by watching the ball. In his autobiography Kelly describes one such incident when he was on second and a Chicago teammate came to bat, “We needed the run badly, and I was also very tired in the bargain. So I started to run to third, but cut across the diamond in my haste, and making a long slide, reached the home plate before the ball arrived.”

It wasn't that Kelly didn't know the rules of the game, he knew them very well. He knew them so well he often used them to his advantage, identifying loopholes at strategic moments in the game. While playing for Boston he was the team captain. At the time, to make a player substitution the captain announced the change to the umpire at any point in the game. During one game Kelly was seated on the bench and a foul ball was popped up in his direction with no chance of being caught by a player on the field. Thinking quickly, Kelly announced “Kelly now catching for Boston” and caught the ball for the third and final out. The substitution rule was changed by the following season.

We can thank Kelly for forcing baseball to close the loopholes and do a better job of defining and enforcing its rules. This is something that I think of as a parent of two preteen girls. I learned that my husband and I need to to clearly state the house rules, even writing them down and maybe having everyone in the house sign a contract. We can’t leave any room for loopholes. Trust me, they’re looking for them. Also it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more umpires on the field so when I turn my back someone else can keep an eye on them!