Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Hitters’ Category

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.

Read Full Post »

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.

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

Greasy Neale had a career that gleamed with success in baseball and football.

He played in a World Series with the Cincinnati Reds. He was a head coach in college and pro football. He took a team to the Rose Bowl. He led the Philadelphia Eagles to two NFL championships.

Neale also had a stint as third-base coach for the St. Louis Cardinals, though that didn’t work out as well as he had hoped.

Name game

Alfred Earle Neale was from Parkersburg, W.Va., located at the confluence of the Ohio and Little Kanawha rivers. Julia Beckwith Neale, mother of Stonewall Jackson, was an ancestor.

There are two versions to the story of how Neale got his nickname.

According to Pat Harmon of The Cincinnati Post, a teenage Neale had a job at a metal shop, greasing the rolling mills. He joined the high school football team, and “because it was so hard to hold him when he had a football tucked under his arm,” he got named “Greasy,” John Kieran of the New York Times reported.

Another version is that a neighbor kid, seeing his pal’s face smeared with butter and jam, called him “Greasy.”

Neale had no objection to the nickname and used it throughout his life.

Diamond dandy

Neale became a standout college athlete at West Virginia Wesleyan. Those skills enabled him to gain year-round employment as a professional baseball and football player, as well as a college coach.

A left-handed batter and outfielder, Neale, 20, joined the minor-league London (Ontario) Tecumsehs in 1912. “My first love was baseball, and my consuming ambition was to become a big-leaguer,” Neale recalled to Collier’s magazine in 1951. “The football I played as a youngster was merely a fill-in to keep busy until it was warm enough for baseball.”

Neale reached the majors with the Reds and was a starting outfielder his first five seasons (1916-20). The Sporting News described him as “a dependable hitter and a demon on the bases.”  He had five hits in a game against the Cardinals in 1918. Boxscore

In the 1919 World Series, the one in which White Sox players rigged the outcome for gamblers, Neale was one of the top producers for the champion Reds. He hit .357 and reached base safely in 40 percent of his plate appearances.

Busy man

After each baseball season, Neale played and/or coached football. In 1917, he and Jim Thorpe were baseball teammates with the Reds and football teammates with the Canton Bulldogs. Neale used the alias “Foster” with Canton because the Reds didn’t want him playing football. “I think the Reds really knew what I was doing but just looked the other way,” Neale later told The Sporting News.

Neale coached and played for a factory team, the Dayton Triangles, in 1918 and led them to an 8-0 record.

He was head coach of six college football teams: Muskingum (1915), West Virginia Wesleyan (1916-17), Marietta (1919-20), Washington & Jefferson (1921-22), Virginia (1923-28) and West Virginia (1931-33).

In 1921, he played for the Phillies and Reds during the baseball season, then coached the Washington & Jefferson football team to an undefeated regular season, including wins versus Syracuse, Pittsburgh and West Virginia. Located in Washington, Pa., the school’s athletic teams, naturally, were called the Presidents.

Washington & Jefferson was rewarded with a berth in the Rose Bowl against another undefeated team, the California Golden Bears. A year before, Cal crushed Ohio State, 28-0, in the Rose Bowl. The team facing Washington & Jefferson looked even better. Led by all-purpose scoring threat Brick Muller, Cal averaged 34 points a game and won by scores of 72-3 vs. Washington and 39-0 vs. Oregon.

Few gave Washington & Jefferson much of a chance. As one West Coast scribe wrote, “All I know about Washington & Jefferson is that both of them are dead.”

Greasy Neale, though, was confident and aggressive, and his players reflected that approach. Neale used the same 11 players the entire game, never substituting, and they held Cal to two first downs. The game ended in a scoreless tie but it felt like a victory for the underdogs.

“Washington & Jefferson may be a freshwater college, and Washington, Pa., may be a one-horse town, but it has a million-dollar football team,” Francis Perrett declared in the Los Angeles Evening Express.

Cardinals calling

Neale played his last game in the majors with the Reds in 1924, but stayed in baseball while coaching college football. He was a minor-league manager in 1927 and 1928. Then the Cardinals brought him back to the big leagues.

Though the Cardinals were National League champions in 1928 with manager Bill McKechnie, club owner Sam Breadon felt embarrassed when the Yankees swept the World Series. Breadon had McKechnie swap jobs with Billy Southworth. McKechnie was demoted to minor-league Rochester. Southworth, who led Rochester to an International League pennant, replaced McKechnie in St. Louis.

For one of the two coaching spots on his 1929 Cardinals staff, Southworth hired Neale, who left the head football coaching job at Virginia to take the offer. The two had been teammates in the minors. The other coaching job, filled by the front office, went to Gabby Street.

“In signing Greasy Neale as 1929 coach, the Cardinals acquired a set of working brains that ought to net considerable benefit to the club,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist John Wray noted. “Neale’s wide experience in both playing and coaching ought to be of genuine aid to the Cards.”

Southworth gave Neale the title of assistant manager and third-base coach. As the Brooklyn Citizen noted, “He is an alert, quick thinker. Southworth is banking heavily on his assistance.”

On June 15, the Cardinals (34-19) were in first place. Then they nosedived, losing 17 of 19. Breadon reversed course. He demoted Southworth to Rochester and brought back McKechnie to manage the Cardinals. Neale went to Rochester, too, but, soon after, the Cardinals made him a scout.

Neale was a candidate to replace Reds manager Jack Hendricks after the 1929 season, the Post-Dispatch reported, but the job went to Dan Howley.

Neale returned to managing in the minor leagues in 1930 and also was head coach of the Ironton (Ohio) Tanks, a semipro football team.

Ivy League to NFL

After a three-year stint as head football coach at West Virginia, Neale became an assistant to Ducky Pond at Yale in 1934. According to the Hartford Courant, Neale “was known as a smart tactician” and got credit for helping develop two Heisman Trophy winners at Yale _ Larry Kelley (1936) and Clint Frank (1937).

Neale was a Yale assistant from 1934-40. For part of that time, he was joined on the staff by graduate assistant coach Gerald Ford, the future U.S. president. Ford attended law school at Yale after graduating from Michigan, where he was a standout center on the football team.

In December 1940, Alexis Thompson, a Yale graduate, became owner of the Philadelphia Eagles. As a Yale football fan, Thompson knew all about Neale and hired him to be the Eagles’ head coach.

The Eagles hadn’t achieved a winning season since entering the NFL, but Neale formulated a plan for turning them around. He was one of the first to use scouting reports and data to select players in the NFL draft. “The other clubs laughed at me,” Neale recalled to the Philadelphia Inquirer. “They picked players out of magazines. They stopped laughing when we started beating them.”

Neale studied film of the T-formation used by the Chicago Bears and adopted a variation, introducing elements of a shotgun setup, to fit the skills of his players. He drew up a triple reverse, naked reverse and fake reverse and added those to the playbook. He also devised a 5-2-4 defense which eventually morphed into the 4-3-4 (with nose tackle Bucko Kilroy dropping back into pass coverage like a middle linebacker) that became standard in the NFL. The New York Times described Neale as “a wizard strategist” and “a bold innovator.”

After two losing seasons, Neale had the Eagles soaring. The players believed in him. “He was real special to most of the guys on those teams,” tackle Al Wistert told the Inquirer. “We had wonderful feelings for Greasy.”

Neale played cards (bridge and pinochle mostly) with the players and bet the horses with them, too. Steve Van Buren, the star halfback, was one of Neale’s favorite companions at the pari-mutuel window. “Greasy was his loan shark,” end Jack Ferrante recalled to the Philadelphia Daily News. “He was always loaning money to him to play the ponies.”

Van Buren told reporter Mark Kram, “Neither of us won. I broke even sometimes. I always paid him back. I loved him.”

Neale didn’t like to travel in airplanes, so the Eagles went by train to games. “God almighty, I hated those train trips,” linebacker and center Chuck Bednarik told the Daily News. “Here I was a man who had flown 30 missions over Germany in World War II, had gotten shot at and survived. So, you know, he should have felt safe flying on the same plane with me.”

With an offense built around Van Buren and end Pete Pihos, the Eagles outscored their opponents by more than 200 points in both 1948 and 1949, but it was the defense that won the NFL title games. The Eagles beat the Chicago Cardinals in a snowstorm, 7-0, for the 1948 title, and won, 14-0, in a rainstorm against the Los Angeles Rams for the 1949 championship.

The 1948-49 Eagles are the only team to win consecutive NFL titles with shutouts.

A syndicate led by trucking magnate Jim Clark bought the Eagles and Neale clashed with the new boss. After the 1950 season, Clark sent Neale a telegram, informing him he was fired.

“Firing Greasy was a boneheaded move,” Chuck Bednarik told the Philadelphia Daily News. “By God, he was the finest coach I ever played for.”

Read Full Post »

On his way to becoming the first Venezuelan to get elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, shortstop Luis Aparicio received a big early boost from a former Cardinals standout at the position.

Marty Marion was the White Sox manager who brought Aparicio to the major leagues and made him the starting shortstop as a rookie in 1956.

Nicknamed “Mr. Shortstop,” Marion was the starter on four Cardinals pennant winners in the 1940s and the first shortstop to win the National League Most Valuable Player Award.

Aparicio merely had two years of minor-league experience when Marion picked him to be the White Sox shortstop. It was an astute decision. Aparicio won the American League Rookie of the Year Award and went on to have a stellar career. He earned the Gold Glove Award nine times, led the American League in stolen bases for nine years in a row (1956-64) and totaled 2,677 hits. Video

Elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1984, Aparicio is one of several Venezuelans who have achieved prominence in the big leagues. Others (in alphabetical order) include Bobby Abreu, Ronald Acuna Jr., Jose Altuve, Miguel Cabrera, Dave Concepcion, Andres Galarraga, Freddy Garcia, Ozzie Guillen, Felix Hernandez, Magglio Ordonez, Salvador Perez, Johan Santana, Manny Trillo, Omar Vizquel and Carlos Zambrano.

The first Venezuelan to play in the majors was pitcher Alex Carrasquel with the 1939 Washington Senators. The first Venezuelan to play for the Cardinals was outfielder Vic Davalillo in 1969. Besides Davalillo and Andres Galarraga, other Venezuelans who were noteworthy Cardinals included Miguel Cairo, Willson Contreras, Cesar Izturis, Jose Martinez and Edward Mujica.

Baseball genes

Aparicio was from the seaport city of Maracaibo in northwestern Venezuela. According to the encyclopedia Britannica, “Until petroleum was discovered in 1917, the city was a small coffee port. Within a decade it became the oil metropolis of Venezuela and South America. It has remained a city of contrasts _ old Spanish culture and modern business, ancient Indian folklore and distinctive modern architecture.”

Aparicio’s father (also named Luis) was a standout shortstop in Latin America and was known as “El Grande,” the great one. When the father retired as a player during a ballpark ceremony in 1953, he handed his glove to his 19-year-old son and they embraced amid tears.

While playing winter baseball in Venezuela for Caracas, young Luis Aparicio got the attention of White Sox general manager Frank Lane and scout Harry Postove. Cleveland Indians coach Red Kress also was in pursuit of the prospect. After the White Sox paid $6,000 to Caracas team president Pablo Morales, Aparicio signed with the White Sox for $4,000, The Sporting News reported.

The White Sox sent Aparicio, 20, to Waterloo, Iowa, in 1954. The Waterloo White Hawks were a Class B farm club managed by former catcher Wally Millies. Aparicio “couldn’t speak a word of English,” according to Arthur Daley of the New York Times, but language was no barrier to his ability to play in the minors. Before a double hernia ended his season in July, he produced 110 hits in 94 games for Waterloo and had 20 stolen bases. Wally Millies filed a glowing report to the White Sox: “Aparicio has an excellent chance to make the big leagues.”

On the rise

Returning to Venezuela for the winter, Aparicio hired a tutor and learned English. The White Sox invited him to their 1955 spring training camp. That’s when Marty Marion got a look at him.

After managing the Cardinals (1951) and Browns (1952-53), Marion was a White Sox coach in 1954. He became their manager in September 1954 after Paul Richards left to join the Orioles.

Marion liked what he saw of Aparicio at 1955 spring training and it was he who suggested the shortstop skip the Class A level of the minors and open the season with the Class AA Memphis Chickasaws.

Aparicio responded to the challenge, totaling 154 hits and 48 steals. He dazzled with his range and throwing arm. David Bloom of the Memphis Commercial Appeal deemed Aparicio “worth the price of admission as a single attraction.”

Memphis had two managers in 1955. Jack Cassini, who was the second baseman and manager, had to step down in early August after being hit in the face by a pitch. Retired Hall of Fame pitcher Ted Lyons, the White Sox’s career leader in wins (260), replaced Cassini. Both praised Aparicio in reports to the White Sox.

Cassini: “He does everything well.”

Lyons: “Aparicio plays major league shortstop right now … Can’t miss.”

Lyons, who played 21 seasons in the majors and spent another nine there as a manager and coach, told The Sporting News, “The kid’s quick as a flash and has a remarkable throwing arm. He’s dead sure on a ground ball and makes the double play as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He’s one of the greatest fielding shortstops I have ever seen.”

Ready and able

Based on the reports he got on Aparicio during the summer following his firsthand observations in spring training, Marion urged the White Sox front office to trade shortstop Chico Carrasquel so that Aparicio could step into the job in 1956. Carrasquel was sent to Cleveland for outfielder Larry Doby in October 1955.

The move was bold and risky. A Venezuelan and nephew of Alex Carrasquel, Chico Carrasquel was an American League all-star in four of his six seasons with the White Sox, and the first Latin American to play and start in an All-Star Game.

Marion and others, however, became disenchanted with Carrasquel’s increasingly limited fielding range. “I was amazed when I watched Carrasquel (in 1955),” White Sox player personnel executive John Rigney told The Sporting News. “He had slowed up so much he didn’t look like the same player.”

Marion said to reporter John C. Hoffman in January 1956, “I know Luis Aparicio is a better shortstop right now than Carrasquel was last year … I saw enough of him last spring during training to know he’s quicker than Chico and a better hustler.”

Aparicio showed at 1956 spring training he was ready for the job. As Arthur Daley noted in the New York Times, Aparicio “has extraordinary reflexes as well as the speed afoot to give him the widest possible range. He breaks fast for a ball and his hands move with such lightning rapidity that his glove smothers the hops before they have a chance to bounce bad. He gets the ball away swiftly to set up double plays and ranks as probably the slickest shortstop in the business.”

Marion was impressed by all facets of Aparicio’s game and his ability to mesh with second baseman Nellie Fox. (Aparicio and his wife Sonia later named a son Nelson in honor of Fox.)

“I’m certain now that he’ll be twice the shortstop that Carrasquel was last year,” Marion told The Sporting News in March 1956.

Rookie sensation

Marion considered putting Aparicio in the leadoff spot, but instead batted him eighth. “He has all the physical equipment for becoming a wonderful leadoff man, but at the moment he still lacks the ability to draw walks,” Marion explained to The Sporting News. “Once he gets that, he’ll be one of the best. Drawing walks is something that comes with experience. He has to sharpen his knowledge of the strike zone and then develop the confidence to lay off those pitches that are just an inch or two off the plate.”

Once the season got under way, the rest of the American League joined Marion in voicing their admiration of the rookie. Aparicio played especially well versus the powerhouse Yankees. He hit .316 against them, including .395 in 11 games at Yankee Stadium, and fielded superbly.

“He is not only the best rookie in the league; we’d have to say he was the best shortstop,” Yankees manager Casey Stengel exclaimed to the Chicago Tribune.

Yankees shortstop Phil Rizzuto, in the final season of a Hall of Fame career, said to The Sporting News, “As a fielding shortstop, Aparicio is the best I ever saw.”

Rizzuto said Aparicio’s superior range reminded him of Marty Marion with the Cardinals. Marion, though, told The Sporting News, “He has to be better than I was. He covers twice the ground that I did.”

In August 1956, Marion moved Aparicio to the leadoff spot. Aparicio batted .291 there in 31 games, with a respectable .345 on-base percentage. “We frankly didn’t think he would come along quite this fast,” Marion told the Chicago Tribune.

Aparicio completed his rookie season with 142 hits and 21 stolen bases. He batted .295 with runners in scoring position and .412 with the bases loaded. He made 35 errors, but also led the league’s shortstops in assists and putouts.

Changing times

The 1956 White Sox finished in third place at 85-69, 12 games behind the champion Yankees. On Oct. 25, White Sox vice-president Chuck Comiskey summoned Marion to a meeting. When it ended, Marion no longer was manager.

“The White Sox called it a resignation and Marty, always agreeable, went along with this label,” Edward Prell of the Chicago Tribune noted. “Marion’s official statement of resignation, however, sounded like one of those Russian confessions,” departing “in the best interest of the club.”

According to the Tribune, “It was known that Marion’s insistence on keeping Aparicio eighth in the batting order did not set well with some of the White Sox officials. They thought Marty should be … having him lead off.”

Days later, the White Sox hired Al Lopez, who led Cleveland to a pennant and five second-place finishes in six years as manager. In the book “We Played the Game,” White Sox pitcher Billy Pierce said Marion “did a very good job with us. I didn’t know why he didn’t stay with us longer, other than that Al Lopez was available.”

Marion never managed again.

With Aparicio the centerpiece of a team that featured speed, defense and pitching, Lopez led the White Sox to the 1959 pennant, their first in 40 years.

Traded to the Orioles in January 1963, Aparicio joined third baseman Brooks Robinson in forming an iron-clad left side of the infield. In “We Played the Game,” Robinson said, “Luis was just a sensational player … He was the era’s best-fielding shortstop. He had so much range that I could cheat more to the (third-base) line.”

With their pitching and defense limiting the Dodgers to two runs in four games, the Orioles swept the 1966 World Series.

Aparicio was traded back to the White Sox in November 1967. He spent his last three seasons with the Red Sox.

Tradition of excellence

When Ozzie Guillen was a boy in Venezuela, he idolized Luis Aparicio. Guillen became a shortstop. In 1985, he reached the majors with the White Sox and won the American League Rookie of the Year Award. He eventually became an all-star and earned a Gold Glove Award, too.

In 2005, as White Sox manager, Guillen led them to their first pennant since the 1959 team did it with Aparicio. Before Game 1 of the World Series at Chicago against the Astros, Guillen got behind the plate and caught the ceremonial first pitch from Aparicio.

The White Sox went on to sweep the Astros, winning their first World Series title since 1917.

Read Full Post »

St. Louis tried to attract the nation’s best athlete at a time when its teams, Browns and Cardinals, were the worst in major-league baseball. Jim Thorpe, however, chose to enter the majors at the top, with the 1913 New York Giants.

A two-time Olympic gold medalist in track and field as well as a football standout, Thorpe wasn’t as prominent in baseball. For six seasons in the National League with the Giants, Reds and Braves, he mostly was a spare outfielder.

The team Thorpe did best against was St. Louis. A career .252 hitter, Thorpe batted .314 overall versus the Cardinals and .339 in games played at St. Louis.

Bright Path

A citizen of the Sac and Fox Nation, James Francis Thorpe and a twin brother, Charles, were born in what is now Oklahoma. (Charles died of pneumonia as a youth.) Jim Thorpe also was known as Wa-Tho-Huck, which in the Sac and Fox language means “Bright Path,” according to the Oklahoma Historical Society.

After attending schools in Oklahoma and Kansas, Thorpe enrolled at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania when he was 16 in 1903 and excelled in athletics, especially football and track, for coach Pop Warner.

Thorpe also was proficient at archery, baseball, basketball, canoeing, handball, hockey, horsemanship, lacrosse, rifle shooting, skating, squash and swimming, according to The Sporting News.

Carolina in my mind

Taking a break from Carlisle in 1909, Thorpe, 22, signed to play minor-league baseball for the Rocky Mount (N.C.) Railroaders, a Class D club in the Eastern Carolina League. He was paid $12.50 to $15 per week, plus room and board, team secretary E.G. Johnston told the Rocky Mount Telegram.

A right-hander, Thorpe pitched and played right field. Speed was his main attribute. Eyewitness accounts told of him scoring from first on a single to right and racing to the plate from second on an infield out. His statistics that season were nothing special (9-10 record, .254 batting mark), but he was the talk of the town. A local sports reporter, Sam Mallison, noted, “Few Rocky Mount citizens had ever seen one of these original Americans.”

Rocky Mount was a segregated town of about 8,000 in 1909. It had a prominent railroad yard, cotton mills and tobacco farms. At that time, “The horse and buggy still provided the principal method of transportation between points not connected by the railroad,” Sam Mallison recalled in the Rocky Mount Telegram. “There were no hard-surfaced highways and few paved streets.”

As for baseball, Thomas McMillan Sr. wrote in the Telegram, “In those days, the players dressed for the game in their rooms (and) walked to the ballpark. Many stayed at the new Cambridge Hotel, a short block north of the passenger train station. The players would be met by a crowd of little boys as they came out of the hotel. Each boy sought the privilege of carrying the shoes or glove or bat for one of the ballplayers. Carrying a glove or a pair of shoes meant free admission to the game. I was one of those little boys and big Jim Thorpe seemed to favor me as his shoes and glove caddy. I remember Jim perfectly. Black hair, black eyes, high cheekbones in a mahogany face, and a physique that gave an impression of strength rather than mere size. His movements were quick and lithe.”

Thorpe returned to Rocky Mount in 1910, but the luster was lost. According to Sam Mallison, “(Thorpe’s) custom, in the early evening, was to take a snoot full … As time went on, (drinking) took hold of Jim earlier in the day, occasionally before the noon hour, and this, plus the fact that opposing pitchers had learned he was a sucker for a curveball on the outside (corner), diminished his speed and caused his batting average to plummet … (Thorpe) had ceased to be such an enormous gate attraction, and his antics were the despair of both the field manager and the front office. He ignored the rules and was wholly unresponsive to managerial direction. In short, he became a problem child.”

That summer, Thorpe was traded to the Fayetteville (N.C.) Highlanders and finished the 1910 season with them.

Glory and scandal

Thorpe re-enrolled at Carlisle and rocketed toward his athletic peak. He gained national fame as a consensus first-team football all-America in 1911 and 1912. He rose to worldwide prominence at the 1912 Summer Olympics in Stockholm, winning gold medals in the decathlon and pentathlon. Thorpe was the first Native American to win an Olympic gold medal for the United States.

“To a whole generation of American sports lovers, Jim Thorpe was the greatest athlete of them all,” the New York Times declared. “No one has equaled the hold that he had on the imagination of all who saw him in action … He was a magnificent performer.”

In January 1913, after the International Olympic Committee learned of Thorpe’s minor-league ballplaying, it was determined he had competed in the 1912 Games as a professional, violating the rules of amateurism. He was stripped of his medals and his achievements were erased from the Olympic records. “The committee’s insistence that the Olympics are amateur is as fatuous as its insistence that sports should never be soiled by politics,” the New York Times opined.

(In July 2022, 69 years after Thorpe’s death, the International Olympic Committee declared him sole winner of the 1912 Olympic decathlon and pentathlon.)

Looking to extend his athletic career, Thorpe saw big-league baseball as offering the best path. (The American Professional Football Association, which became the NFL, wasn’t established until 1920).

On the money

Thorpe got offers from five big-league clubs _ Browns, Giants, Pirates, Reds and White Sox, the New York Times reported.

The Browns had more than 100 losses in three consecutive seasons (1910-12) and would finish in last place in the American League at 57-96 in 1913, but club owner Robert Hedges was serious about a pursuit of Thorpe. Hedges had scout Pop Kelchner try to woo Thorpe to St. Louis. On Kelchner’s recommendation, the Browns acquired a minor-league shortstop, Mike Balenti. He and Thorpe played together in the Carlisle football team backfield. The Browns hoped having Balenti would help them land Thorpe.

On Jan. 24, 1913, the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported, “It was learned yesterday that Jim Thorpe … had promised Hedges that if he played ball in professional circles he would join the Browns.”

A week later, though, Thorpe signed with the Giants. Led by manager John McGraw, the Giants won National League pennants in 1911 and 1912. They’d go to the World Series again in 1913. Perhaps most important of all to Thorpe was the money. The Giants offered a salary of more than $5,000, the New York Times reported. According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Thorpe got a $6,000 salary and a $500 signing bonus, and Carlisle coach Pop Warner got $2,500 from the Giants for steering Thorpe to them.

“There are very few $6,000 ballplayers in the game today,” St. Louis columnist Sid Keener noted. According to Keener, that select group included Ty Cobb, Ed Konetchy, Nap Lajoie, Christy Mathewson and Tris Speaker.

Though McGraw never had seen Thorpe play, he told the New York World, “A wonderful athlete like Thorpe ought to have in him the makings of a great ballplayer. He has the muscle and the brain, and it is up to me to locate the spot where he will be of most value to the team.”

Cardinals calling

After seeing Thorpe in spring training, McGraw determined the best spot for him was on the bench, or maybe the minors. Thorpe, who turned 26 that year, was plenty fast and strong, but he misjudged fly balls, didn’t slide properly and couldn’t hit the curve consistently.

In April 1913, before the regular season got under way, McGraw apparently considered placing Thorpe on waivers. If Thorpe was available, Cardinals manager Miller Huggins was determined to get him.

“Jim Thorpe … may become a Cardinal,” the Bridgeport Times of Connecticut reported. “All that is needed for (Thorpe) to join the (Cardinals) is for John McGraw to accept an offer made by Miller Huggins. It is believed that waivers have been asked on Thorpe because Huggins sent the following telegram to McGraw: Will take Thorpe off your hands. What is his salary?”

According to the New York Herald, Huggins said the Cardinals, destined to finish with the worst record in the majors (51-99) that year, would spend “the extreme limit” for Thorpe.

Huggins told Sid Keener, “I believe Thorpe can be developed into a ballplayer.  He has what I want _ speed. It may be that he will need plenty of seasoning, but I would be willing to carry him a year or so as a utility player.”

The Cardinals’ eagerness to take Thorpe apparently gave McGraw pause. He decided Thorpe would remain with the Giants. “I can make a first-class player of him,” McGraw said, according to the Montpelier (Vermont) Morning Journal.

Playing on

Thorpe stuck with the Giants in 1913 and 1914, but rarely played. He spent most of 1915 in the minors. Sent to minor-league Milwaukee in 1916, Thorpe made significant progress. He led Milwaukee in total bases (240) and hits (157).

In 1917, the Giants loaned Thorpe to the Reds. McGraw’s friend and former ace, Christy Mathewson, was the Reds’ manager. In a game against the Cardinals, Thorpe had two hits and two RBI. In another, at St. Louis, he totaled four hits, three RBI and scored twice. Boxscore and Boxscore

Thorpe’s highlight with the Reds, though, came in a game at Chicago. Fred Toney of the Reds and Hippo Vaughn of the Cubs each pitched nine hitless innings. In the 10th, Thorpe’s single versus Vaughn drove in a run and the Reds won, 1-0. Boxscore

After four months with the Reds, Thorpe was returned to the Giants. He played for them in 1918, then was traded to the Braves. Thorpe hit .327 for Boston in 1919 and .354 versus the Cardinals. It wasn’t enough to keep him in the majors, but he wasn’t through with baseball. Thorpe played three more seasons in the minors and thrived, batting .360 for Akron in 1920 and .358 for Toledo in 1921.

Meanwhile, when the American Professional Football Association began in 1920, Thorpe was welcomed in as player-coach of the Canton Bulldogs.

In 1925, Thorpe, 38, was a running back with the NFL New York Giants. He is one of two men who played for both the NFL and baseball New York Giants. The other, Steve Filipowicz, was an outfielder with the baseball Giants (1944-45) and a running back with the football Giants (1945-46).

Thorpe finally got to play for the Cardinals, too. His last NFL game was with the Chicago Cardinals in 1929.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »