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Growing up in Binghamton, N.Y., Bill Hallahan learned to play baseball on a sandlot near State Hospital Hill. His boyhood idol was big-league pitcher Grover Cleveland Alexander.

Hallahan was 8 when Alexander won 28 in his rookie season for the 1911 Phillies. Fifteen years later, Hallahan, 23, was a left-handed pitcher for the Cardinals when they acquired Alexander, 39, in 1926. Known to teammates as Alex, the old master made a lasting impression on Hallahan.

Easy does it

“I’ll never forget the first time he pitched for us,” Hallahan recalled to Donald Honig in the 1979 book “October Heroes.”

“I was sitting on the bench with another young pitcher and naturally we glued our eyes on Alex when he went out to warm up. He flipped a few into the catcher, then stopped, put his glove under his arm, took out a piece of gum, very casually took the paper off, put the gum in his mouth, looked around through the stands, then put his glove back on and started throwing again.

“He threw just a few more pitches, very easily, with no effort. Then he was through. He came back to the bench, put on his sweater _ we wore those big, red-knit sweaters on the Cardinals _ and sat down.

“I looked at this other fellow and said, ‘This is going to be murder. He isn’t throwing anything.’ Well, Alex went out that day and stood the other team on its ear. (Alexander limited the Cubs to four hits in 10 innings for the win.) Control, that’s how he did it. Absolute, total control. He had this little screwball that he could turn over on the corners all day long. Amazing fellow. Born to be a pitcher.”

Wild Bill

After finishing his schooling, Bill Hallahan worked as a clerk at the Corona Typewriter Company factory in Groton, N.Y. A left-hander, he pitched for the factory baseball team. He turned pro at 21 in 1924 and reached the majors with the 1925 Cardinals. Hallahan made six relief appearances for St. Louis before being returned to the minors. He rejoined the Cardinals in 1926 as a reliever on a staff with starters Jesse Haines, Flint Rhem, Bill Sherdel and then Alexander.

Described by writer Bob Broeg as “short, stocky, round-faced and pug-nosed, head cocked almost shyly to one side even when he pitched,” Hallahan threw hard but lacked command, earning him the nickname “Wild Bill.”

Hallahan was “the wildest man alive,” according to the Brooklyn Eagle. “He has so much stuff that it can’t be controlled.”

Hallahan couldn’t work up the nerve to ask Alexander for pitching tips.

“Alex never said much about anything,” Hallahan told Donald Honig. “When he did talk, it was seldom above a whisper. As a rule, we didn’t see him around after a game. He was a loner. He would go off by himself and do what he did, which I suppose was drink. That was his problem.

“He liked to go out before a game and work in the infield, generally around third base. One day we were taking batting practice and there’s Alex standing at third, crouched over, hands on knees, staring into the plate. A ground ball went by him and he never budged. Just remained there stock still, staring at the batter. Then another grounder buzzed by and same thing _ he never moved a muscle. Then somebody ripped a line drive past his ear and still he didn’t move. That’s when (Rogers) Hornsby noticed him. Rog was managing the club at the time.

“Hornsby let out a howl and said, ‘Where in the hell did he get it?’ ‘Where did he get it,’ he kept yelling. He ordered a search made and they found it, all right. In old Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis there used to be a ladies’ room not far from the corridor going down to the dugout, and that’s where he had stashed it, up in the rafters of the ladies’ room. One of those little square bottles of gin.”

Alexander sobered the spirits of Yankees batters in the 1926 World Series. He pitched a four-hitter to win Game 2. With the Cardinals on the brink of elimination, he pitched another complete-game gem to win Game 6 and then hurled 2.1 scoreless innings of relief, including the famous strikeout of Tony Lazzeri with the bases loaded, to save Game 7.

Curves and speed

Like Alexander, Hallahan pitched masterpieces in the World Series for the Cardinals. First, though, came detours through the minors.

Hallahan spent 1927 with Syracuse (19-11) and 1928 with Houston (23-12). Leading Houston to the championships of the Texas League and Dixie Series, Hallahan became the toast of the Texas oil town.

“Bill Hallahan’s name is a household word in Houston,” wrote Houston Chronicle sports editor Kern Tips in October 1928. “The restaurants serve eggs a la Hallahan; soda fountains can mix you a Hallahan frappe; a girl is the Hallahan if she has curves _ and speed. You go Hallahan in a card game when you run wild through the deck. Never has Houston had a more colorful, a more amiable, a more popular ballplayer.”

Hallahan said Houston player-manager Frank Snyder, a former Cardinals catcher, brought out the best in him. As Hallahan recalled to the St. Louis Star-Times, “I simply lacked confidence and walked everybody in the ballpark, including the soda boys and umpires … Snyder went behind the plate believing in me and I knew what he expected of me … It was the first time anybody had enough confidence in me to give me confidence in myself.”

The Cardinals brought back Hallahan in 1929, but he went winless the first five months of the season. A turnaround came when Grover Cleveland Alexander got turned out. Manager Bill McKechnie was fed up with Alexander’s drinking and in August 1929 the Cardinals told the pitcher to go home. Hallahan moved into the starting rotation and won four of his last five decisions.

Finding his groove

At spring training in 1930, Hallahan, 27, showed he was ready for a big role on the St. Louis staff. “Ever since he joined the Cardinals in the spring of 1924, shrewd baseball observers have been predicting a great future for Hallahan,” Sid Keener of the Star-Times noted. “The youngster fizzled annually, but this spring he has been more impressive than ever before.”

None other than Babe Ruth praised Hallahan’s pitching. In an exhibition game at Bradenton, Fla., the Yankees’ slugger swung late at a Hallahan fastball in the first inning and dribbled a slow roller to third. In his next at-bat, Ruth watched another Hallahan fastball dart across the inside corner for strike three.

According to Sid Keener, Ruth said to Cardinals manager Gabby Street, “You showed me a great young pitcher out there this afternoon. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen a left-hander with such burning speed and a curve that almost completely baffles a batter. Hallahan almost whipped that fastball past me before I could get the bat off my shoulder in the first inning, and when I was expecting a curve from him in the third with two strikes called, he whistled across his fastball and I could not get my bat off my shoulder.”

Hallahan was a prominent starter for the Cardinals between 1930 and 1935. He twice led National League pitchers in strikeouts but also three times issued the most walks and threw the most wild pitches. He was the Cardinals’ wins leader in 1930 (15) and 1931 (19). Hallahan was the National League starter in the first All-Star Game in 1933.

“When he had it, especially when he could put his blazing fastball and jagged overhanded curve over the plate, Hallahan was second probably only to the New York Giants’ Carl Hubbell among National League left-handed pitchers,” Bob Broeg wrote in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

Big-game pitcher

Hallahan pitched in seven World Series games for the Cardinals and was 3-1 with a save and a 1.36 ERA.

After Hallahan pitched a shutout against the Athletics in Game 3 of the 1930 World Series, Babe Ruth gushed in his syndicated newspaper column, “I don’t think there’s a ball team in the country that could have beaten him in that game, or even caused him very much trouble.” Boxscore

Hallahan’s World Series save came in Game 7 versus the A’s in 1931. Boxscore

Hallahan won both of his starts in the 1931 World Series _ Games 2 and 5. The Game 2 ending was a dandy.

With the Cardinals ahead, 2-0, in the ninth, the A’s had two on, two outs and pinch-hitter Jimmy Moore at the plate.

“I got two strikes on him,” Hallahan recalled to Donald Honig, “and then broke off a beauty of a curve and he struck out on it. Or so I thought.”

The ball hit the ground before catcher Jimmie Wilson gloved it. Wilson needed to either tag the batter, or throw to first, to complete the out. Instead, he fired the ball to third baseman Jake Flowers, thinking the game was over. Moore was safe at first, loading the bases.

“You don’t like to give a team like the A’s four outs in an inning, but that’s what I had to do,” Hallahan recalled to Donald Honig. “The batter was Max Bishop, a fellow I didn’t like to pitch to. He was a smart little hitter who generally got the bat on the ball … A fellow like Bishop _ they called him ‘Camera Eye’ _ guarded the plate like a hawk and it was hard to get a ball past him.

“I put everything I had on it and Bishop popped one up in foul ground that Jim Bottomley chased down and then dove over the Athletics’ bullpen bench and caught by reaching into the stands. It was a really remarkable play by Jim. That ended the game for real. I always said it was a lucky thing we were playing at home because the fans got out of the way and let Jim make the play. If we had been in Philadelphia, I’m sure they wouldn’t have been so helpful.” Boxscore

 

A St. Louis Browns player was part of a mob that lynched a man.

The murder of Allen Brooks occurred March 3, 1910, in Dallas. Brooks, a black man, was in court on charges he attacked a 3-year-old white girl. A mob stormed the courtroom, tied a rope around Brooks’ neck, then pulled and hurled him from a second-story window to a frenzied crowd below. Brooks’ body was dragged several blocks and hung from a telephone pole. Then the rioters marched to the county jail, looking for two black men accused of murders, and used steel rails to force their way inside, but the prisoners had been taken away by officers.

The mob included Dode Criss of the Browns. “Criss was with the crowd when it moved on to the courthouse and jail,” the St. Louis Star-Times reported. “… Dode does not say he led the mob on the jail, but says he saw what transpired and believes the black was given his just desserts.”

Spitter and hitter

Dode Criss was born in Mississippi, near Tupelo, and raised in rural Texas. His farming family settled in Ellis County, near Waxahachie, and he went to school in Rockett. According to the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, Criss “had an ability to spit and never miss a mark. Around the grocery in the evening, Dode entertained the crowd with his capacity of saliva control, hitting rat holes, striking chalk marks and lambasting dogs in the eye. He was a faultless shot.”

Criss played ball, too. He threw right, batted left, pitched and roamed the outfield. In 1906, at 21, Criss was with a Class D minor-league club in Texas. A teammate was 18-year-old Tris Speaker, a future Baseball Hall of Famer. In his book “Baseball As I Have Known it,” Frederick G. Lieb wrote that Speaker confessed to being a member of the Ku Klux Klan.

After spending another season in the minors, Criss was brought to spring training with the Browns in 1908. The Browns thought he was a pitcher. What he did best, though, was hit. Manager Jimmy McAleer kept the rookie on the club and made him its primary pinch-hitter. Criss hit .341 overall (in 82 at-bats) for the 1908 Browns and .333 as a pinch-hitter.

“He is a player who excels all others as a hitter but is sadly deficient as a pitcher or a fielder,” the St. Louis Post-Dispatch observed.

Billy Murphy of the Star-Times wrote, “He can’t run. He can’t field. He can’t think. There is nothing that he can do but hit and throw (and) his throwing isn’t even accurate … He has to make a hit to the fence to get two bases. Sometimes he has been nearly thrown out at first on hits to the outfield … Criss is valuable for just one thing. That is to hit in a pinch. Then someone has to run for him. Someone has to think for him.”

Foreshadowing the designated hitter rule that was to be adopted by the American League 65 years later, Syd Smith, a teammate of Criss with the 1908 Browns, told the Houston Chronicle, “If a 10th position were to be provided for on a ballclub, I think Dode would come into his own.”

Criss’ second season with the Browns, in 1909, resulted in a .304 batting mark as a pinch-hitter and 1-5 record as a pitcher.

Trouble brewing

In March 1910, Criss and his wife made the 30-mile trek from their home to Dallas so that Mrs. Criss could get a train to Mississippi, where she would visit relatives, he told the Star-Times. Criss had bought a railway ticket to Houston, where the Browns were training for the spring, but had it redeemed so that he could stay in Dallas until after the “fun” was over, the Star-Times reported. The “fun” was joining the mob forming for the court hearing of Allen Brooks.

Acting on a tip he received, Star-Times reporter Brice Hoskins asked Criss upon his arrival at spring training about being part of the Dallas mob responsible for Brooks’ lynching. Criss confirmed he was there.

A nationally syndicated sports feature that was published in newspapers such as the Akron Beacon Journal, Dayton Herald, Milwaukee Daily News and San Francisco Bulletin flippantly reported, “Criss … is the possessor of probably the most unique excuse of any ballplayer for reporting late for the spring workout. He was two days late in showing up at Houston this spring because he stopped in Dallas to participate in a lynching. Dode is a Texan who relishes excitement.”

Volatile mix

According to multiple published reports, Allen Brooks, 58, was arrested on Feb. 23, 1910. Brooks was employed as a laborer at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Henry J. Buvens of Dallas. Police said Brooks took the Buvens’ daughter, Mary Ethel Buvens, to a barn on the property and carried her into the loft. A black housekeeper went looking for the child and found her with Brooks in the barn. The woman took the girl and ran into the house. Police found Brooks hiding in a basement furnace room. The next day, Feb. 24, he was indicted by a Dallas grand jury and charged with criminal assault.

(While in custody, Brooks told officers he was drunk on the day he confronted the child and didn’t know what he was doing, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram reported.)

The heinousness of the crime Brooks was accused of committing produced an outburst of rage and racism. In the predawn hours of Feb. 25, a mob of about 500 men surrounded the county jail in Dallas and demanded that Brooks be turned over to them, the Waco Times-Herald reported. The mob had a 30-foot steel rail and threatened to batter down the jail doors if Brooks didn’t appear. The county sheriff and city police chief allowed 12 mob members to search the jail and see for themselves Brooks wasn’t there. Brooks had been moved to a secret location.

The mob dispersed. Officials urged the public to trust the legal process. “There is absolutely no need for mob violence,” assistant county attorney B.M. Clark said to the Fort Worth Record-Register. “… Prompt justice will be administered.”

Order in the court

An arraignment was scheduled for March 3 in Dallas. According to police and county officials, early-morning trains into Dallas that day unloaded passengers from Ellis, Hunt and Rockwell counties. Joining men from rural sections of Dallas County, they formed the heart of the mob that went to the courthouse, the Fort Worth Record-Register reported.

The county sheriff and all his men were on duty at the courthouse along with about 15 city police officers. In all, Brooks was guarded by about 50 law enforcement personnel, the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported.

The arraignment was held in a second-floor courtroom. About 1,000 people crowded into the corridors and stairways of the courthouse, the Record-Register reported. At least another 1,000 more waited outside.

During the morning hearing, Brooks’ attorneys asked Judge R.B. Seay for a continuance in order to construct their case. The judge gave the defense attorneys an hour in which to prepare their motion in writing. Brooks was taken from the courtroom to a jury room to wait.

When word of this procedure filtered out to the simpletons in the hallways, the message got misinterpreted. The crowd thought a change of venue was being considered. That angered them, and a call went out to rise up.

The invaders “swept county officials and policemen aside like chaff before the wind,” the Record-Register reported. The door to the courtroom was battered down and sheriff deputies were overpowered. According to the Fort Worth newspaper, “The officers fought back desperately but refrained from using their pistols … One by one the officers dropped from sheer exhaustion.”

Mob rule

The mob forced its way into the jury room, where Brooks was guarded by two sheriff’s deputies. According to the Record-Register, as one drew a revolver, a mob leader snarled at him, “Shoot, (expletive) you, shoot; you nigger lover.”

Brooks, crouching under a table, was seized. One end of a rope was tied around the neck of the shaking man and the other end was pitched to the crowd below. As Brooks was shoved from behind, a “mighty tug was made on the rope from below,” the Record-Register reported. Brooks tumbled out of a second-story window 30 feet above the ground. As he fell headlong, Brooks spread out his arms and legs. His head struck the pavement.

“Dozens of men jumped on him and his face was kicked into a pulp and he was bruised all over,” the Globe-Democrat reported.

Men grabbed the rope and, with the rest of the mob following, dragged the body several blocks up Main Street through the business district. The number of people in the mob had swelled to between 3,000 and 5,000, according to published estimates. “From the windows in the office buildings along Main Street … faces poked out to take in the horrible sight,” the Record-Register reported.

Brooks’ body was strung up to an iron spike on a telephone pole next to an arch built to honor the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks of the United States of America, a fraternal organization focused on charity, justice and brotherly love.

“Just as the body was swinging upward, men and boys grabbed at the clothing and tore nearly every rag from his body,” the Record-Register reported. “A fight ensued for the torn bits of clothing, as they were wanted as souvenirs.” (Brooks was one of five black men lynched in Texas in 1910, according to D Magazine.)

The bloodlust of the savages wasn’t quenched by their ghastly act. The mob marched to the county jail, seeking two black men, Burrell Oates and Bubber Robinson, charged with murders. The sheriff told the mob the prisoners had been moved. Unconvinced, the mob “started in to demolish the doors and underpinnings with steel rails as battering rams,” the Globe-Democrat reported. “They then got dynamite and threatened to blow up the jail.”

Officers allowed some of the crowd to search the jail. Seeing the cells were empty, the throng dispersed.

American injustice

A Dallas County grand jury was convened to investigate the lynching. On March 20, the Star-Times reported “Secret Service agents are endeavoring to find out what Dode Criss knows of the recent lynching at Dallas.”

The investigations led nowhere. The grand jury didn’t return an indictment. No one was arrested nor charged in the lynching of Brooks.

“The grand jury admitted it was either unable to reach the facts, or that it regarded the lynching of Allen Brooks … as too trivial an occurrence to be worth its notice,” the Record-Register reported.

According to the Fort Worth newspaper, indications were “the grand jury not only never had any intention of investigating the mob, despite the orders to do so by Judge Seay, but preferred to silently endorse the outbreak.” The same grand jury returned 110 felony indictments in other cases but noted it endeavored not “to encumber the court docket with cases of a doubtful or frivolous nature.”

For the record

Dode Criss spent two more seasons (1910-11) in the majors with the Browns before returning to the minors. His departure “will not be mourned by local fans,” the Star-Times declared. “… During the time Criss was with the Browns, three different managers tried to make something out of him and all failed.”

Criss went on to play six seasons with the Houston Buffaloes. After Criss died in 1955, Clark Nealon of the Houston Post wrote that Criss “was more than just a Houston Buff all-time ballplayer. He was and forever will be in Texas League history a legend.” At team reunions, Criss “basked in admiration the likes of which generally is reserved for Ruth and Cobb,” Nealon noted.

In 2021, the Texas Historical Commission recognized the lynching of Allen Brooks with a historical marker at Main and Akard streets in Dallas, D Magazine reported. In 2023, a second state marker was installed at the southwest corner of the courthouse, near the window Brooks was thrown from.

An American son of Russian immigrants, Lou Novikoff was an outfielder who thrilled baseball fans with prodigious hitting and frustrated managers with erratic baserunning and atrocious fielding. He was nicknamed the Mad Russian.

Novikoff grew up near downtown Los Angeles in an area known as Russian Town. He spoke Russian and English, learned to cook Russian specialties such as shashlik (grilled lamb) and married a daughter of Russian immigrants.

His pride in his heritage was as strong as a Siberian bear, yet Novikoff willingly joined several of baseball’s most prominent players in a fundraising effort to provide aid for the people of Finland during their war with the Soviet Union.

World in peril

After Germany invaded Poland in September 1939, igniting World War II, the Russians were concerned the Nazis would come through Finland to attack the Soviet Union. The Russians wanted the Finns to cede border territory to them for security reasons. When Finland refused, the Russians invaded with 500,000 troops in November 1939. The conflict became known as the Winter War.

The Finns fought fiercely to defend their land. More than 126,000 Soviet soldiers were killed. More than 25,000 Finns died, according to Radio Free Europe.

With food and other supplies cut off from them in the frigid Nordic winter, Finnish civilians needed help. Former U.S. President Herbert Hoover was put in charge of a Finnish Relief Fund.

Pitching in

In addition to soliciting private donations, Hoover sought to have high-profile public fundraising events. He convinced baseball officials to get involved.

Two baseball fundraising exhibition games were planned for March 1940.

The first, sponsored by the Los Angeles Times, took place March 10 at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles. It matched players from the four big-league clubs training in California _ Athletics, Cubs, Pirates and White Sox _ against top players from five Pacific Coast League teams: Hollywood, Los Angeles, Portland, Sacramento (a Cardinals farm club) and Seattle.

The second game was played March 17 at Plant Field in Tampa. It matched American Leaguers against National Leaguers from the teams training in Florida. The American League clubs were the Indians, Red Sox, Senators, Tigers and Yankees. (The Browns trained in Texas). Representing the National League were the Braves, Cardinals, Dodgers, Giants, Phillies and Reds.

“In the spirit of sportsmanship and in recognition of the Finns’ heroism, both in the field of sports and in the protection of their homes, baseball … joins in helping to alleviate their sufferings and makes its contribution to a worthy cause,” The Sporting News declared.

Note: Though ice hockey may be the most popular sport in Finland, pesapallo, a Finnish version of baseball, is the country’s official national sport. Video

John Michaelson, who was born in Finland in 1893 and immigrated to Michigan as a youth, is the only native Finn to play big-league baseball. He pitched in two games for the 1921 White Sox.

Game one

Batting orders for the Finnish Relief Fund game in Los Angeles were:

Pacific Coast League: Jo-Jo White, center field, Seattle; Bill Cissell, second base, Hollywood; ex-Cardinal Rip Collins, first base, Los Angeles; Lou “The Mad Russian” Novikoff, left field, Los Angeles; Max Marshall, right field, Sacramento; Art Garibaldi, third base, Sacramento; Ed Cihocki, shortstop, Los Angeles; Cliff Dapper, catcher, Hollywood; Bill Thomas, pitcher, Portland.

Major leaguers: Augie Galan, left field, Cubs; Benny McCoy, second base, A’s; Luke Appling, shortstop, White Sox; Gabby Hartnett, catcher, Cubs; Elbie Fletcher, first base, Pirates; Eric McNair, third base, White Sox; Lloyd Waner, center field, Pirates; Paul Waner, right field, Pirates; Ted Lyons, pitcher, White Sox.

Five of the big-league starters _ Appling, Hartnett, Lyons and the Waner brothers _ would be elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame. Three of the reserves, Billy Herman (Cubs), Al Simmons (A’s) and Arky Vaughan (Pirates), also were future Hall of Famers.

The managers were ex-Cardinal and future Hall of Famer Frankie Frisch of the Pirates and Seattle’s Jack Lelivelt. Coaches for the big-league squad were Monty Stratton and Honus Wagner.

Played on a Sunday afternoon under threatening skies, the game attracted 9,753 spectators and netted $7,204.06 for the Finnish Relief Fund, the Los Angeles Times reported. The big-leaguers won, 4-1. Frisch used a different pitcher for each of the nine innings. In addition to starter Ted Lyons, the others were Bill Lee, Claude Passeau, Julio Bonetti, Bob Klinger, George Caster, Thornton Lee, Johnny Gee and Mace Brown.

Lou Novikoff, who’d go on to hit .363 with 41 home runs for Los Angeles (a Cubs farm club) in 1940, rolled to the pitcher and fouled out to the catcher.

Game two

Two days after the game, on March 12, the Winter War ended with the signing of the Moscow Peace Treaty. The agreement became public on March 13 and was ratified on March 21. Finland lost significant territory to the Soviet Union in the deal, according to Wikipedia.

Finns still were in need of food and basic supplies, so the work of the Finnish Relief Fund continued.

On March 17, both Palm Sunday and St. Patrick’s Day, 13,320 people attended the fundraising game between the American Leaguers and National Leaguers in Tampa. It was the largest crowd to attend a baseball game in Florida, according to the Baseball Hall of Fame. “Carpenters were still nailing up new bleacher seats at game time” to accommodate the crowd, the New York Daily News reported. “United States and Finland flags fluttered from alternate poles around the park.”

Ticket sales produced $16,401.50 but additional donations brought the total raised from the game for the Finnish Relief Fund to $19,641.85, The Sporting News reported.

American League batting order: Joe Gordon, second base; Red Rolfe, third base; Charlie “King Kong” Keller, left field; Joe DiMaggio, center field; Jimmie Foxx, first base; Ted Williams, right field; Bill Dickey, catcher; Frank Crosetti, shortstop; and Red Ruffing, pitcher. Foxx and Williams were Red Sox; the rest were Yankees. All except Rolfe, Keller and Crosetti were destined for election to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Future Hall of Famers in reserve for the American League included Bobby Doerr (Red Sox), Bob Feller (Indians), Rick Ferrell (Senators), Hank Greenberg (Tigers).

National League batting order: Morrie Arnovich, left field, Phillies; Cookie Lavagetto, third base, Dodgers; Mel Ott, right field, Giants; Frank McCormick, first base, Reds; Harry Danning, catcher, Giants; Frank Demaree, center field, Giants; Tony Cuccinello, second base, Braves; Billy Jurges, shortstop, Giants; and Paul Derringer, pitcher, Reds. Ott was the lone future Hall of Famer among the starters.

Five Cardinals _ Mort Cooper, Joe Medwick, Johnny Mize, Terry Moore and Enos Slaughter _ were chosen for the National League roster, but Cooper (injury), Medwick (contract holdout) and Mize (illness) were unavailable. Moore and Slaughter (a future Hall of Famer) were reserves.

The game’s managers were Joe McCarthy (Yankees) and ex-Cardinal Bill McKechnie (Reds). Both would be elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

The star-studded American League team was considered the heavy favorite, but the score was tied at 1-1 when the National Leaguers went to bat in the bottom of the ninth against Bob Feller.

Tampa native Al Lopez slashed a leadoff single to center. Attempting to sacrifice, Terry Moore bunted to the left of the plate. Described by the Boston Globe as “fast as an antelope,” Moore reached first at the same time as catcher Rollie Hemsley’s throw to Hal Trosky. Bumped by Moore, Trosky dropped the throw. Lopez hustled to third and Moore was safe at first on the error.

(A son of John and Mary Trojovsky of Norway, Iowa, Hal Trosky was no relation to Leon Trotsky, the Russian revolutionary assassinated by an agent of Joseph Stalin in Mexico City in August 1940.)

With the American League infielders playing in for a play at the plate, Pete Coscarart, a Dodgers second baseman, lashed a Feller fastball toward short. The ball skipped past Frank Crosetti for a game-winning single.

“Single, bunt, playing for one run. That’s National League baseball, a brand good enough to beat the American League,” Hy Turkin noted in the Daily News.

John Drebinger of the New York Times called the 2-1 National League triumph “an upset of major proportions in the name of charity.”

John Lardner of the Boston Globe wrote, “Fighting for the lost, but living, cause of Finland, the National League struck a blow for all downtrodden minorities.”

Dark days

Overall, the Finnish Relief Fund raised more than $2.5 million by March 1940. The American Red Cross distributed food and other basics provided from the funds.

The war with the Soviet Union led to Finland making a dark, disturbing decision.

Looking to reverse land losses from the Winter War, Finland joined Operation Barbarossa, Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941. Finland called itself a “co-belligerent,” rather than an ally of the Nazis, but Adolf Hitler considered Finland a partner. Finland permitted German troops to operate from its soil.

In 1944, when the Allies were turning back the Nazis, Finland changed course. It reached a peace agreement (the Moscow Armistice) with the Soviet Union. Key terms of the armistice forced the Finns to cede extensive territories to the Soviets, pay them $300 million in reparations, legalize the Communist Party, ban fascist organizations and expel German troops from Finland.

A string bean who slung sinkers with a sweeping sidearm motion, Wayne Granger peered warily from the mound as Hank Aaron took his stance in the batter’s box. It was the ninth inning, two outs, bases loaded, and the 1973 Cardinals led the Braves, 4-3, at Atlanta.

Granger had been in this spot before since getting to the majors with St. Louis in 1968. Aaron would wait for the right-handed reliever’s sinking fastball and bash it if it didn’t dip as it neared the plate.

This time, Granger told himself, he’d do it differently. He’d throw soft instead of hard.

“He was throwing that slow curveball,” Aaron said to Dick Kaegel of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, “and it just kept getting slower and slower and slower, and slower and slower and slower.”

Aaron took the first pitch for ball one. He fouled off the second, looked at strike two and watched another go by for ball two. Tension building on every pitch, he fouled off seven in a row. Four of the fouls sailed deep into the seats in left.

“I wasn’t about to turn up one notch to his speed,” Granger said to the Atlanta Journal. His offerings to Aaron were “my slop pitch, a sort of slider-curve thrown underhanded,” Granger told the Post-Dispatch

Finally, on Granger’s 12th pitch to him, Aaron lofted a shallow fly to Lou Brock in left for the game-ending out.

“I love that kind of situation _ except he won,” Aaron told the Journal. Boxscore

Finding his form

Granger might have become Aaron’s teammate if not for a scout changing jobs.

Pitching for a semipro team in his home state of Massachusetts, “I was all set to sign with the Braves in the fall of 1964,” Granger recalled to Wilt Browning of the Atlanta Journal. “Jeff Jones, who was the regional scout for the Braves in New England, had made me a good offer, but he asked me to wait until the first of the year. He didn’t say why, but he said it was something good. Then he called me on the first of January and asked me if I’d like to sign with the world champions.”

Jones had jumped from the Braves to the Cardinals, the 1964 World Series champions. The Cardinals agreed to give Granger the $20,000 bonus Jones had offered when he worked for the Braves. Granger, who turned 21 in 1965, followed the money, signing with St. Louis.

At 6-foot-2 and 165 pounds, Granger was a broomstick. “He might be mistaken for Ichabod Crane,” the Tulsa World noted. According to the Post-Dispatch, “He’s so skinny that you couldn’t get three digits on the back of his uniform.”

“Other pitchers complained of sore muscles,” Granger told the Cincinnati Enquirer, “but I didn’t have any muscles to get sore.”

The Cardinals tried him as a starter his first season in their farm system. Granger threw overhand then. Though he totaled 200 innings, “I just didn’t throw with enough velocity to (eventually) get the ball past major league hitters,” Granger told the New York Times, “so I switched from a three-quarter motion to sidearm, where my natural sinker is much more effective.”

Granger broke a thumb on a rundown play at 1966 spring training. When he recovered, Arkansas manager Vern Rapp had Granger work himself into condition in the bullpen. Granger did so well as a reliever that Rapp kept him in that role. Granger responded with an 11-2 record and 1.80 ERA.

Promoted to Tulsa in 1967, Granger came under the guidance of its manager, Warren Spahn.

“The luckiest break I had in my career was when I had Warren Spahn as my manager,” Granger said to Arthur Daley of the New York Times. “He’s to pitching what Ted Williams is to hitting. It’s a pure science to them. They know absolutely everything there is to know about their specialties.

“Spahnie told me about the instructions he once had given Del Crandall, his catcher. ‘When you give a target,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to see the glove. I want to be able to see the pocket of the glove so that I can feel I’m looking down a funnel at the precise target, and that’s where I want to put the ball.’ He taught me concentration. I can’t throw within the six-inch circle he used to target, but I can hit it one out of three times and come close enough on the others.”

Redbirds to Reds

Called up to the Cardinals in May 1968, Granger’s sidearm sinker baffled National League batters. He totaled four wins, four saves and posted a 2.25 ERA in 34 games. Asked what was the best thing about being a big-leaguer, Granger replied to the Enquirer, “Getting up at noon and going to have a steak and then going to the ballpark to play a boy’s game.”

In the 1968 World Series, the rookie made one appearance, mopping up in Game 6 when the Tigers led, 13-0. “Nervous as hell,” Granger recalled to the Orlando Sentinel. After hitting Al Kaline with a pitch in the eighth inning, “I got a lot more nervous,” Granger said. Then he plunked Willie Horton, too. Boxscore

On the day after the Tigers won Game 7, Granger and Bobby Tolan were sent to the Reds for Vada Pinson. One reason Granger was included was the Cardinals didn’t think they could protect him from being taken in the Oct. 14, 1968, National League expansion draft. In addition to their core veterans, the Cardinals had prospects Jerry Reuss and Ted Simmons among the 15 players on their protected list. Rather than lose Granger to the draft, the Cardinals offered him to help land Pinson, a player they coveted to replace Roger Maris, who retired.

(In an unusual twist, Granger and Tolan continued to play for the Cardinals for a while after the trade. The Reds gave permission for Granger and Tolan to participate in the Cardinals’ 18-game goodwill tour of Japan in fall 1968. Granger was 5-0 for the Cardinals against Japanese all-star teams.  “The Japanese baseball is smaller than ours,” Granger told John Hollis of the Houston Post. “I swear I threw a pitch one time that dropped three feet. You can make that Japanese baseball do a lot of funny things.”)

Reds general manager Bob Howsam, who had the same title with the Cardinals when Granger and Tolan were in the St. Louis farm system, was delighted to acquire the pair. “It had to come close to being the worst trade St. Louis ever made,” Arthur Daley of the Times declared.

While Pinson disappointed and lasted one season in St. Louis, Granger and Tolan had breakout years for the 1969 Reds. Tolan batted .305 with 93 RBI and 26 stolen bases. Granger pitched in 90 games and had nine wins, 27 saves and a 2.80 ERA. Enquirer columnist Barry McDermott described the lanky reliever as “a 165-pounder with a 500-pound arm and 1,000-pound heart.”

“He’s the coolest individual I’ve ever seen under pressure,” Reds manager Dave Bristol told the newspaper. “Nothing seems to bother him.”

In 1970, with Sparky Anderson as manager, the Reds won the pennant and Tolan and Granger were key contributors. Tolan hit .316 with 80 RBI and 57 steals. Granger had 35 saves and a 2.66 ERA. “His sidearm ball zings in with whiplash effect,” the New York Times observed.

(Granger did not pitch well, though, in the 1970 World Series. In Game 3, he gave up a grand slam to Orioles pitcher Dave McNally. “”It was probably the worst pitch in baseball history,” Granger told the Enquirer. Boxscore, Video

Turn on the power

The zip began disappearing from Granger’s sinker. As he told the Orlando Sentinel, “From 1971 on, it was a downhill race.” He ended up pitching for seven clubs in nine big-league seasons. The Cardinals reacquired Granger in November 1972 and it turned out to be another bad deal for them. They gave up Larry Hisle and John Cumberland to get him. Granger was 2-4 with five saves and a 4.24 ERA for the 1973 Cardinals before they shipped him to the Yankees.

This post, though, started with a story about Granger and Hank Aaron, so it’s fitting that it ends with a story about a home run.

In a most unlikely scenario, Granger made like Babe Ruth, calling his shot, and swatting the lone home run of his professional career.

On July 9, 1971, Granger retired five Mets batters in a row. With the Reds ahead, 5-3, in the eighth, Sparky Anderson wanted to keep Granger in the game, so he let him bat with two outs, none on, against Ray Sadecki, the former Cardinal.

Granger rarely batted. He’d never produced a RBI or extra-base hit since coming to the majors.

He grabbed a bat belonging to slugger Lee May and went to face Sadecki. Reds pitching coach Larry Shepard yelled out, “Take a good cut, Wayne.” Granger yelled back, “You watch this swing,” and then pointed to the center field stands.

Granger took a big swing at Sadecki’s first pitch and missed it by a foot. He took a similar hack at the second pitch. This time, the skinny man got the fat part of the bat on the ball, and it carried over the wall in left-center for a home run.

As Granger trotted around the bases, his teammate, Jim Merritt, was stretched out in the dugout as though he had fainted, the Dayton Journal Herald reported.

Granger told the Troy Daily News, “I never hit a ball that far before.” Boxscore

 

 

A right-handed sinkerball specialist, Frank Linzy pitched for and against the Cardinals. During his prime, as a Giants reliever, some of his most noteworthy achievements came versus St. Louis. He was on the backside of his career when he joined the Cardinals in 1970.

In 11 seasons with the Giants (1963, 1965-70), Cardinals (1970-71), Brewers (1972-73) and Phillies (1974), Linzy totaled 110 saves, 62 wins and a 2.85 ERA. He led the Giants in saves for five years in a row (1965-69). “The first five years were fun,” Linzy told the Tulsa World. “The next five were a struggle.”

Country boy

Linzy was born “out in the bushes” near Fort Gibson, Okla., according to the Tulsa newspaper. His father farmed cotton and soy beans. The family moved to Porter, Okla., when Frank was 5. One of his boyhood friends was Jim Brewer, who, like Linzy, would become a relief pitcher in the majors. “Jim and I played basketball under the street lights by the hour,” Linzy recalled to the Tulsa World.

While in school, Linzy helped his father chop cotton. He also played baseball and basketball, fished for crappie and hunted for quail. Linzy developed into a standout baseball and basketball player at Porter High School. As a senior, he averaged 20 points per game in basketball and posted a 12-2 pitching record.

The Reds offered him a $10,000 bonus, according to Bob Broeg of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, but Linzy instead took a basketball scholarship offer from famed coach Hank Iba at Oklahoma State. He lasted one semester. “I couldn’t make my grades,” Linzy told the Tulsa World. “I never studied before. I took recess more than anything else (in high school) and they didn’t have recess (in college).”

Linzy tried another semester at Northeastern State in Tahlequah, Okla., then returned home. He was playing baseball for a town team when offered a contract (but no signing bonus) from Giants scout Bully McLean, a former minor-league outfielder with the Chickasha Chicks and Henryetta Hens.

The Giants assigned Linzy to a farm club in Salem, Va., in July 1960. He wanted to be an outfielder because his favorite player was Duke Snider, but Salem manager Jodie Phipps, a former Cardinals prospect who totaled 275 wins in 19 seasons as a minor-league pitcher, told Linzy he’d do better on the mound.

As a starting pitcher, Linzy advanced through the Giants’ system. With Springfield (Mass.) in 1963, he was 16-6 with a 1.55 ERA. Impressed, the Giants called him to the majors in August 1963 and he joined them on the road.

“All I had were Levis and just plain old shirts, and I walked into the hotel lobby and there’s all these guys with sport coats on and dress pants,” Linzy recalled to the Tulsa World. “The only time I felt equal was when we were on the baseball field and I had the same kind of clothes on as they did.”

Super sinker

Linzy made his Giants debut in a start against the Reds. (One of just two starts in 516 big-league appearances.) He struck out the first batter he faced, Pete Rose. In his second appearance, against the Cardinals, Linzy came in with the bases loaded, one out, and fanned Bill White, then got Stan Musial to pop out. In Linzy’s third game, he struck out Hank Aaron. Boxscore  Boxscore Boxscore

After another season in the minors, Linzy stuck with the Giants in 1965, beginning his five-year run as their closer.

Linzy threw two pitches _ a heavy sinker and hard slider. “I didn’t have enough pitches,” he said to the Tulsa World. “That’s why I couldn’t have been a starter.”

The sinker was his specialty. Linzy said he gripped the slick part of the ball rather than the seams to make it spin. Catcher Ed Bailey told the San Francisco Examiner, “He’s holding an overlap grip with a back reverse and a flat flipper finger.” Or, as Linzy’s fellow pitcher, Bobby Bolin, put it, “The backspin on the ball, overlapping with the downspin, makes it sink.”

Linzy focused on getting grounders instead of strikeouts. He was durable and effective, but also “I was scared to death,” he told the Post-Dispatch. “… I could throw crooked. That’s about all I can say for what I did.”

Asked to describe the keys to being a reliever, he told the Tulsa newspaper, “You’ve got to have a strong back and a weak mind.”

Linzy earned his first big-league win on May 5, 1965, with two scoreless innings at St. Louis. Two months later, he got his first hit _ a home run into the wind at Candlestick Park versus the Cardinals’ Ray Washburn. “I’m strong enough to hit the ball out,” Linzy told the Examiner. “I just never connect.” Later in the game, he lined a single against Ray Sadecki. Boxscore  Boxscore

Linzy was 3-0 with two saves and a 1.08 ERA versus the 1965 Cardinals. Overall for the season, he won nine and converted 20 of 25 save chances.

The Cardinals were a club Linzy continued to do well against. For his career, he was 5-2 with nine saves and 1.65 ERA versus St. Louis. He never gave up a home to a Cardinals batter. In 1967, when the Cardinals were World Series champions, Linzy pitched 9.2 scoreless innings against them. When the Cardinals repeated as National League champions in 1968, Linzy faced them over 11.1 innings and posted an 0.79 ERA.

Career batting averages against Linzy among players on Cardinals championship clubs included Orlando Cepeda (.105), Ken Boyer (.167), Dick Groat (.143), Julian Javier (.167), Roger Maris (.000), Tim McCarver (.192) and Mike Shannon (.182).

Ups and downs

Linzy bought a 10-acre spread across a gravel road from his father-in-law’s cattle ranch near Coweta, Okla. The pitcher spent winters picking pecans from the trees on his property. Before heading to spring training in 1969, Linzy laid the foundation for his house. Using a blueprint he sketched on cardboard, his in-laws built Linzy and his wife their brick dream house, the Tulsa World reported.

Though he had 14 wins for the 1969 Giants, Linzy converted only 52 percent of his save chances. His sinker too often was staying up in the strike zone. Linzy noticed his right arm lacked the elasticity of his best seasons.

He looked terrible with the 1970 Giants (7.01 ERA in 25.2 innings), but the Cardinals, desperate for quality relievers, decided to take a chance. On May 19, 1970, the Giants sent Linzy to the Cardinals for pitcher Jerry Johnson.

The Cardinals hoped Linzy’s sinker would induce ground ball outs on their new artificial surface, but batters had other ideas. Linzy posted a 4.08 ERA in home games for the 1970 Cardinals. In 47 games overall for them that year, he walked more than he fanned and gave up more hits than innings pitched. Right-handed batters hit .298 against him.

Brought back by the Cardinals in 1971, Linzy rewarded them with a return to form early in the season. In April, he was 1-0 with three saves and a 1.88 ERA. He added two more saves in May, allowing no earned runs for the month.

On June 9, 1971, with his ERA for the season at 2.10, Linzy collided with first baseman Bob Burda as both pursued a ball bunted by the Braves’ Ralph Garr. Linzy suffered multiple fractures of the left cheekbone. Boxscore

The Cardinals swooned in June, with an 8-21 record for the month, and got only one save (from Don Shaw) during the nearly 30 days Linzy was sidelined.

After his return, Linzy pitched in 25 games but didn’t get many save chances. He finished the season with six saves, four wins and a 2.12 ERA. In 23 home games covering 30 innings, his ERA was 1.50. Overall, batters hit .226 against him in 1971, but he allowed 48 percent of inherited runners to score.

Dealt to the Brewers in March 1972 for pitching prospect Richard Stonum, Linzy spent two seasons with Milwaukee (totaling 25 saves) and one with the Phillies.

“I played as hard as I could as long as I could,” Linzy told the Tulsa World. “I didn’t ever quit. They just sent me home.”

Famous for the Hollywood ending he brought to a World Series, Bill Mazeroski was a natural for a part in a movie.

Seven years after hitting a walkoff home run for the Pirates in the ninth inning of Game 7 in the 1960 World Series against the Yankees’ Ralph Terry, Mazeroski was hired to make an out in the film “The Odd Couple.” Actually, the role required he make three outs _ with one swing.

Two ex-Cardinals, Ken Boyer and Jerry Buchek, had parts, too.

An eight-time National League Gold Glove Award winner at second base during his 17 years (1956-72) with the Pirates, Mazeroski was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2001. He was 89 when he died on Feb. 20, 2026.

Casting calls

In 1967, filming began for “The Odd Couple,” a comedy about two bachelors sharing a New York apartment. Walter Matthau played a sportswriter slob, Oscar Madison, and Jack Lemmon was the persnickety roommate, Felix Unger.

One scene had Oscar covering a baseball game for his newspaper. At the crucial point of the game, with the score 1-0 and the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth, a press box phone rings. Sports reporter Heywood Hale Broun, playing himself, answers. The caller asks for Oscar and says it’s an emergency. Oscar reluctantly leaves his seat and takes the receiver. The caller is Felix. He tells Oscar he’s planning to make frankfurters and beans for dinner, so skip the ballpark hot dogs. As Oscar’s back is turned, the batter hits into a rare game-ending triple play. Oscar screams at Felix for causing him to miss the key moment in the game for such a trifling phone message.

The filmmakers arranged for the scene to be shot at New York’s Shea Stadium before the start of a Tuesday afternoon Pirates vs. Mets game on June 27, 1967. Seeking authenticity, they opted to use major-league players for the triple play segment on the field rather than actors. Each player participating received $100, the Screen Actors Guild minimum at the time.

Pirates outfielder Roberto Clemente was offered the role of the batter who hits into the triple play, but he declined. “They will use my name in the movie and exploit me for $100,” Clemente said to The Pittsburgh Press. “Not for me.”

Clemente told the New York Daily News, “They insult me. One hundred dollars. One hundred lousy dollars. That’s what they wanted to pay me? Who do they think they are trying to fool? They think Roberto Clemente was born last week?”

Mazeroski was asked to replace Clemente. “They must have seen me run,” the slow-footed Pirate quipped to the Associated Press.

Pirates base runners for the scene were Donn Clendenon at first, Matty Alou at second and Vern Law at third. (On the advice of his agent, Maury Wills turned down an offer to be a base runner).

A director’s dream

“Director Gene Saks set up three cameras in the back of the press box to shoot down on Matthau and the field,” the New York Times reported. A 75-person crew was given only 35 minutes to complete the shot after cameras were in place.

According to Newsday, as the ballplayers took their positions, Matthau turned to a real sports reporter and said, “I’ll bet a quarter we don’t get it on the first take.” The reporter nodded. Six minutes later, he took Matthau’s money.

On the fifth pitch from Jack Fisher, Mazeroski grounded sharply to third baseman Ken Boyer, who stepped on the bag and threw to Jerry Buchek at second. Buchek whipped the ball to first baseman Ed Kranepool, completing the triple play.

The Mets “had completed in seconds what most film companies require hours, sometimes days, to accomplish: an entire scene,” Newsday noted. Video

On with the show

As soon as the filming stopped, the Mets held a pregame ceremony in which 8,000 Bronx Little Leaguers honored outfielder Ron Swoboda as their favorite player. Then, in the first inning, Swoboda slammed a three-run home run.

The Pirates added a comical touch to the game as well. Gene Alley and Jose Pagan batted out of turn. When Mets manager Wes Westrum informed the umpires of the gaffe, the Pirates defaulted two third-inning runs. The Mets won, 5-2. Boxscore

According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, when “The Odd Couple” had its Pittsburgh premiere at a charity benefit in 1968, the gold $5 tickets read: “The Odd Couple, starring Bill Mazeroski and Jack Lemmon.”

As a big-leaguer, Mazeroski never hit into a triple play, but he did help turn two triple plays. Both occurred in games against the Reds. Boxscore and Boxscore