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John McGraw and his peculiar season with St. Louis

Posted in Executives, Games, Managers on August 18, 2025| 7 Comments »

Technically, John McGraw turned down an offer to manage the Cardinals. Actually, though, he was their de facto manager for part of a season.

The question of whether McGraw was or wasn’t the Cardinals’ manager made headlines in August 1900. After manager Patsy Tebeau resigned, Cardinals president Frank Robison said publicly that McGraw, the Cardinals’ captain and third baseman, agreed to be player-manager. McGraw said Robison was mistaken.

A peculiar compromise was reached: A member of the Cardinals’ business staff, Louis Heilbroner, who had no baseball experience, became manager and sat on the bench in that role during games. McGraw made out the lineups, decided which pitchers to use and ran the team on the field.

“It appears McGraw is manager with a scapegoat in the person of Mr. Heilbroner … in case he fails to make the team win,” the St. Louis Republic declared.

Two months later, after the Cardinals went 23-25 in the 48 games managed by the Heilbroner/McGraw tandem, McGraw departed St. Louis for Baltimore. He eventually went on to become manager of the New York Giants, attaining three World Series titles and 10 National League pennants.

McGraw totaled 2,763 wins, though none were credited to him for his role with the Cardinals. Only Connie Mack (3,731) and Tony La Russa (2,902) achieved more wins as managers.

Good times, bad times

Born and raised in Truxton, N.Y., a village 65 miles west of Cooperstown, McGraw was 12 when his mother and four of his siblings died in a diphtheria epidemic. He moved in with a neighbor to escape a father who beat him.

Advancing from local sandlot baseball to the professional ranks, McGraw was 18 when he reached the majors with the 1891 Baltimore Orioles. He began as a utility player before developing into “a brilliant third baseman … who brought a keen, incisive mind to the national game, a fighter of the old school whose aggressiveness inspired his teammates,” according to the New York Times.

Nicknamed Little Napoleon by the press and Mugsy by his foes, McGraw, 26, became player-manager of the 1899 Orioles. In August, his wife, Mary, 22, died of acute appendicitis. After the season, the Orioles, a National League franchise, disbanded, and McGraw went to play for the Cardinals when the club agreed to waive from his contract the reserve clause which bound a player to a team.

Joining a club that featured three future Hall of Fame players _ left fielder Jesse Burkett, shortstop Bobby Wallace and pitcher Cy Young _ McGraw played third base and ignited the offense. His .505 on-base percentage was tops in the league. He totaled 115 hits, 85 walks and was plunked by pitches 23 times. McGraw struck out a mere nine times in 447 plate appearances.

Yet, the 1900 Cardinals were underachievers, losing 15 of 20 games in June. As the St. Louis Republic noted, “Baseball players are nervous, sensitive mortals … Despite all the hot air about … every man … pulling hard to win … it is a cinch that one-third of the team has no use or love for the other two-thirds.”

Big change is coming

The Cardinals staggered into August with a 34-42 record. Manager Patsy Tebeau had seen enough.

Born in north St. Louis near 22nd and Branch streets, Oliver Wendell Tebeau learned baseball on the Happy Hollow diamond beneath Goose Hill and became a member of the Shamrock Club team, earning the Irish nickname Patsy despite a French-Canadian surname. He went on to be a standout first baseman in the majors and managed the Cleveland club before going back to St. Louis.

Tebeau submitted his resignation to Cardinals president Frank Robison in early August 1900. Robison asked Tebeau to reconsider and to at least finish the season as manager, but Tebeau was obdurate. He and Robison agreed to stay mum about the decision until a replacement could be found.

Robison offered the job to McGraw.

On Aug. 19, 1900, the Reds won at St. Louis, 8-5, dropping the Cardinals’ record to 42-50. Afterward, Robison met in his office with seven St. Louis newspaper reporters and told them Tebeau had resigned and McGraw had accepted an offer to replace him. “Mr. McGraw will manage the club in Mr. Tebeau’s place,” Robison said. “He will have full charge of the team on the field.”

Robison also told the reporters that his secretary, Louis Heilbroner, would be business manager, acting as Robison’s representative on road trips.

That night, a St. Louis Republic reporter tracked down McGraw at the Southern Hotel, where he stayed. “I have accepted the management of the St. Louis club,” McGraw told the newsman.

Not so fast

The morning newspapers on Aug. 20 reported McGraw was manager of the Cardinals, but McGraw told the afternoon St. Louis Post-Dispatch a different story. He claimed he rejected Robison’s offer. “I would not be doing myself justice to accept the management of the team at the present time,” McGraw said to the Post-Dispatch. “I would be held responsible for any shortcomings that the team might show, and I do not care to accept this responsibility.”

As the St. Louis Republic saw it, “McGraw is evidently a bit leery of … trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s (ear), of converting a losing team into a winning one. Though the team is strong enough to win, it is badly disorganized and full of cliques. McGraw is not sure of his ground. He doubts the fidelity of his men.”

To appease McGraw, Frank Robison and his brother, club treasurer Stanley Robison, named Louis Heilbroner as manager but all agreed McGraw would run the team on the field.

“Mr. McGraw has complete charge of the team,” Heilbroner told the St. Louis Republic. “He can … change any player, bench any player, do as he pleases with the men on the field. At least that is my understanding.”

Stanley Robison said to the Post-Dispatch, “McGraw … will have entire charge of the players when on the field. He will place the pitchers and his orders will govern their conduct during the game. Louis Heilbroner … will occupy the manager’s seat on the bench but he will not in any way interfere with McGraw’s orders.”

Most comfortable dressed in a buttoned shirt with collar and cuffs, Heilbroner was 4-foot-9, barely weighed more than 100 pounds and had a “thin, piping voice,” according to the Post-Dispatch. Many of the players he was tasked with managing had reputations for being roughnecks.

Labeling Heilbroner, 39, as “simply a straw man,” the Republic added, “Everyone knows that Mr. Heilbroner makes not even the ordinary fan’s pretensions to knowing baseball. He is a capital business man, a first-class fellow, but he does not know baseball.”

Home alone

That afternoon, Aug. 20, “not more than 800 enthusiasts” showed up at League Park to see the visiting Reds play the Cardinals, the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported. According to the Republic, “not enough persons were in the stands to start a game of pinochle.”

Not even McGraw was a spectator. He stayed in the clubhouse, claiming he was “under the weather,” the Globe-Democrat reported, and leaving poor Heilbroner to fend for himself in his debut as manager.

Heilbroner did a sensible thing: He gave the ball to Cy Young. Unfortunately, Young’s pitching didn’t earn any awards that day. He gave up 11 runs and was heckled from the stands before Heilbroner lifted him after six innings.

Young “dressed hurriedly and sought to even up matters in some way,” the Republic reported. “He hied himself to the grandstand and picked out a spectator who had called him a rank quitter … (Young’s) wife was seated beside the individual who roasted him while he was on the rubber. The spectator took Cy’s scolding and slunk away without making a reply.”

The Reds won, 15-7, but as the Post-Dispatch noted, “Mr. Heilbroner is not losing any sleep over the situation. He sat on the players’ bench and seemed to enjoy the game. He does not pretend to know anything about baseball from a playing standpoint (and) virtually admits that he is a figurehead.”

McGraw sat alongside Heilbroner on the bench the next day, Aug. 21, and the Cardinals beat the Reds, 9-8.

One and done

McGraw was one of two future Hall of Fame managers playing for the 1900 Cardinals. The other was his friend, catcher Wilbert Robinson, but Heilbroner remained Cardinals manager until season’s end. The Cardinals finished at 65-75 _ 42-50 with Tebeau and 23-25 with Heilbroner.

(According to John Wray of the Post-Dispatch, Heilbroner wasn’t a pushover during his stint as skipper. After Heilbroner rejected a request from pitcher Jack Powell for a pay advance, “Powell started to stuff Louie into the safe but changed his mind when the little man confronted him with such a barrage of language and threats that Big Jack fell back.”)

Because the Cardinals had waived the reserve clauses in the contracts of McGraw and Wilbert Robinson as incentive to come to St. Louis, both men became free agents after the 1900 season. McGraw returned to Baltimore, becoming part owner and player-manager of the new Orioles franchise in the American League. Robinson went with him.

In July 1902, McGraw jumped from the Orioles to the Giants and had his greatest successes, building a reputation as “the molder of championship clubs, a stickler for discipline and a martinet who saw that his orders were rigidly enforced both on and off the field,” the New York Times noted.

Patsy Tebeau never returned to baseball after leaving the Cardinals. He ran a popular saloon on North Sixth Street in St. Louis, but became despondent after his health deteriorated and his wife left him. He committed suicide at 53.

Outfielder Patsy Donovan replaced Louis Heilbroner as Cardinals manager for the 1901 season.

Heilbroner went on to scout for the Cardinals and St. Louis Browns before operating a respected baseball statistical service. He published the annual Baseball Blue Book of statistics and records. “His statistics did as much to build up the game as any one factor,” the Globe-Democrat reported.

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How Cardinals came calling on Walter Alston

Posted in Games, Hitters, Managers, Prospects on June 26, 2025| 10 Comments »

After he was graduated from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, Walter Alston was ready to become a high school teacher. A knock on his door altered those plans.

Ninety years ago, in June 1935, Alston grabbed an opportunity to play professional baseball, signing a minor-league contract with the Cardinals.

The offer came from Frank Rickey, a Cardinals scout and brother of the club’s general manager, Branch Rickey. The day after Miami’s commencement ceremony, Alston was at home in tiny Darrtown, Ohio, when Frank Rickey surprised him with a rap on the door.

“Want to play pro baseball?” he asked.

In the book “Walter Alston: A Year at a Time,” Alston recalled to author Jack Tobin, “What a question to ask! I’d dreamed about that since I was old enough to throw that little rubber ball against the brick smokehouse out on our first farm.”

Alston went on to spend 10 seasons in the Cardinals’ system. He didn’t make it big as a player _ just one shaky appearance in a major-league game _ but it was the Cardinals who gave him the chance to manage in the minors.

That experience helped launch him into a long and successful career with the Dodgers that led to his election to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Hard work and patience

Alston was born on a small farm just north of Cincinnati, in Venice, Ohio. (Renamed Ross Township.) His father was a tenant farmer and stonemason. The family moved from farm to farm, wherever work was available, in southwest Ohio.

When Alston was a boy, his parents bought him a black Shetland pony. He named her Night. Alston rode the pony bareback to grade school in Ohio villages such as Camden and Morning Sun.

The family fell into debt when Alston was in seventh grade and moved to the hamlet of Darrtown. Alston’s father found work in nearby Hamilton at a Ford auto plant, producing wheels and running boards for $4 a day.

Alston developed a passion for baseball. His father taught him to throw with velocity. “Put some smoke on the ball,” he’d say. The youngster did it so well he got nicknamed “Smokey” and pitched in high school.

In May 1930, near the completion of his freshman year at Miami, Alston, 18, married his childhood sweetheart, Lela. The Great Depression had devastated the economy and Alston couldn’t afford to stay in college. He and Lela moved in with her parents in Darrtown and he took work wherever he could find it, going from farm to farm to seek pay for day labor. The county gave him a job cutting roadside weeds with a scythe. “That paid a dollar a day and I was happy to have it,” Alston told author Jack Tobin.

Two years later, in the summer of 1932, Alston still was whacking weeds when a local Methodist minister, Rev. Ralph Jones, an education advocate, urged him to return to Miami and earn a degree. According to author Si Burick in the book “Alston and the Dodgers,” Jones said to Alston, “Smokey, you’ve got a good mind. You can be somebody if you go back to college.”

Jones gave Alston $50 to use toward his tuition. Alston re-enrolled at Miami for the 1932 fall semester. “We never could have saved $50 on my dollar a day cutting weeds,” Alston told Jack Tobin. “That $50 … got me back in and paid a good part of my tuition for that year.”

Alston majored in industrial arts and physical education. He also played varsity baseball and basketball. There were no athletic scholarships and money was scarce. In between classes and athletics, Alston worked jobs on campus.

“I took a job driving a laundry truck for 35 cents an hour and I got my lunch free every day in exchange for racking up billiard balls in a pool hall,” he told journalist Ed Fitzgerald. “Summers, the college gave me a job painting dormitories.”

Alston played sandlot baseball for various town teams, too. One of those, the Hamilton Baldwins, had Alston at shortstop and Weeb Ewbank, the future football coach of the Baltimore Colts and New York Jets, in center field.

Cardinals prospect

Alston was taking an exam near the end of his senior year in 1935 when he was told someone was waiting to see him. It was Harold Cook, school superintendent in New Madison, Ohio. Cook was recruiting teachers and offered Alston a salary of $1,350 to come to New Madison. Alston accepted.

A few days later, Frank Rickey showed up at the door. (The Alstons didn’t have a home telephone then.) Rickey had seen Alston play two games _ one at shortstop and one as a pitcher _ for Miami and was impressed. When Alston mentioned he’d made a commitment to teach in New Madison, Rickey explained the minor-league season would be finished by Labor Day, enabling him to return to Ohio for the school year.

Rickey offered no signing bonus. He told Alston, 23, he’d be paid $135 a month to play in the Cardinals’ system that summer. Alston signed on the spot.

The next day, Alston’s wife drove him to Richmond, Ind., where he boarded a bus for St. Louis. Upon arrival, Alston checked into the YMCA downtown. The next morning, he went to the Cardinals’ offices to find out where he was being assigned. The Cardinals told him to come back tomorrow. This went on for a week until, finally, Branch Rickey informed Alston he would play for the Greenwood (Mississippi) Chiefs of the East Dixie League.

Cardinals scout Eddie Dyer (who, years later, became St. Louis manager) drove Alston from St. Louis to Mississippi in a roadster. Player-manager Clay Hopper put Alston at third base and he hit .326 in 82 games.

Every fall and winter for the next 14 years, Alston taught high schoolers _ six years at New Madison and eight at Lewiston, Ohio _ in order to make ends meet after spending spring and summer in the minors. He taught industrial arts, general science and biology, and coached basketball before leaving in March for spring training.

The teaching experience later helped him as a manager. “Like students, ballplayers can’t all be treated the same,” Alston told Si Burick. “Some need encouragement. Some do better if left alone. Others need to be driven. You simply have to study each individual and get him to produce the best that’s in him.”

Darrtown remained Alston’s home. Los Angeles Times columnist Jim Murray described it as “the place where time forgot” and “where the 11 o’clock news is the barber.” Alston built a house at the corner of Apple and Cherry streets. It was the first brick house in Darrtown. “My dad laid all the bricks and mixed the mortar,” he told Sports Illustrated.

In the backyard tool shed, Alston put his industrial arts skills to good use, making most of the furniture for his house. “His bookshelves and chests and spice racks and desks are a wonder of patient, meticulous workmanship,” Sheldon Ocker of the Akron Beacon-Journal reported.

When he wasn’t woodworking, Alston enjoyed skeet shooting, riding his two Honda motorcycles and playing billiards.

After Alston became an established big-league manager, billiards legend Willie Mosconi was a guest at Alston’s Darrtown home, where Alston had a pool table. “I ran 47 balls, which is pretty good for me,” Alston told Gordon Verrell of the Long Beach Press-Telegram. “He shot, made six or seven and missed, and then I ran 10 or 12. I didn’t get another shot. He ran the next 154.”

Alston didn’t mind losing to a master such as Mosconi. Getting defeated by Cardinals pitcher Steve Carlton in 1969 was another matter. “He beat us 1-0 that night at the ballpark and, if that didn’t make me mad enough, he beat me later that night in a game of pool,” Alston told Gordon Verrell. Boxscore

Ready or not

For his second season in the Cardinals’ system in 1936, Alston was assigned to Huntington, W.Va. Player-manager Benny Borgmann taught him to play first base. The club’s shortstop was a skinny teenage rookie, Marty Marion.

For the second consecutive year, Alston hit .326. He also produced 35 home runs and 114 RBI. Scout Branch Rickey Jr., son of the Cardinals’ general manager, was impressed. On Rickey Jr.’s recommendation, Alston was called up to the Cardinals in September and instructed to join the team in Boston.

Alston packed a beat-up cardboard suitcase and took a train to New York City, where he was to make a connection to Boston. At Grand Central Station, he was gawking at the ceilings and the people when he bumped into a woman. “The suitcase hit the floor, broke open and scattered all my clothes and belongings across the floor,” he recalled to Jack Tobin. “There seemed to be hundreds and hundreds of people all racing in a different direction. I was on my hands and knees, trying to pick up my shirts and shorts … and to keep from being trampled.”

A Good Samaritan directed him to a luggage shop nearby. Alston spent most of the $20 he had on a new suitcase and boarded the train to Boston.

When he arrived at the Kenmore Hotel, the team was at the ballpark. The desk clerk told Alston he could go to the dining room and sign for anything he ordered. “One look at the menu convinced me I was in for a hard time,” Alston told Jack Tobin. “I had never heard of half the things and couldn’t pronounce most of the words … Finally I decided on some clams. I’d always heard Boston was famous for them. When they brought them out, I wasn’t sure just how you were supposed to eat them.”

During his month with the Cardinals, Alston pitched batting practice, took infield practice with other rookies and otherwise sat on the bench. A fellow Ohioan, pitcher Jesse Haines, 43, took a liking to Alston, 24, and showed him what to do and how to do it. “No matter what I asked, he knew the answer,” Alston said to Jack Tobin. “Most days he took me to and from the ballpark. He was my buddy.”

Put me in, coach

On the final day of the season, the Cardinals played at home in the rain against the Cubs. Plate umpire Ziggy Sears had a miserable time. Neither team cared for the way he called balls and strikes. Sears ejected Cardinals coach Buzzy Wares and Cubs manager Charlie Grimm for arguing with him.

As the Cardinals came off the field in the seventh, first baseman Johnny Mize made a remark while passing the umpire. Offended, Sears ejected Mize.

Because the Cardinals’ other established first baseman, Rip Collins, had been used as a pinch-hitter a couple of innings earlier, manager Frankie Frisch had to go with his only other first baseman, Alston.

When the Cubs batted against Dizzy Dean in the eighth, Alston was at first, making his big-league debut. Augie Galan led off with a single. Phil Cavarretta followed with a bunt. Third baseman Don Gutteridge fielded cleanly and made an accurate throw to Alston, but the first baseman bobbled the ball. Cavarretta reached safely on the error and Galan stopped at second.

Next up was Billy Herman. He bunted toward Alston. The rookie threw to third, but not in time to nab Galan, and the bases were loaded. All three runners eventually scored, giving the Cubs a 6-1 lead.

In the ninth, the Cardinals scored twice and had a runner on base, with two outs, when Alston batted for the first time. The pitcher was Lon Warneke, a three-time 20-game winner. Alston fouled off a pitch. He ripped another down the line in left but it, too, curved foul near the pole. Then he struck out, ending the game. Boxscore

The next day, the headline in the St. Louis Star-Times blared, “Walter Alston Makes Blunders That Eventually Beat Dizzy Dean, 6-3.”

Follow the leader

The Cardinals put Alston on their 40-man winter roster, but Johnny Mize still was on the team and the club acquired another first baseman, Dick Siebert, from the Cubs. Because of his teaching job, Alston couldn’t report to 1937 spring training until March 15. A couple of weeks later, he was back in the minors.

Alston had a few more good seasons in the Cardinals’ system, but knew he likely wouldn’t be returning to the big leagues. “I had enough power, but … I couldn’t hit the good pitching, just the mediocre pitching,” he told Sports Illustrated.

Branch Rickey asked Alston to become a player-manager in 1940 and he eagerly accepted. Alston managed Cardinals affiliates for three seasons (1940-42). Then Rickey moved to the Dodgers. Alston kept playing for Cardinals farm teams desperate to fill rosters depleted by World War II military service.

In 1944, Alston was released by the Cardinals. He returned to Darrtown, figuring to go fulltime into teaching. Then came another bang on the door. It was the son of the man who operated the Darrtown general store. The boy told Alston there was an urgent long-distance phone call for him at the store. Alston darted the two blocks, grabbed the receiver and heard the voice of Branch Rickey.

“First thing he did was give me a good going over for not having a phone and told me to get one,” Alston said to Jack Tobin. “Then he offered me the manager’s job at Trenton (N.J.) in the Interstate League.”

Alston managed for 10 seasons in the Dodgers’ system. In November 1953, he was chosen to replace Chuck Dressen as Dodgers manager. Working on one-year contracts, Alston managed the Dodgers for 23 years, leading them to seven National League pennants and four World Series titles. He was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1983.

As Jim Murray wrote, “He made his profession’s hall of fame not because he could hit or throw a curveball better than anyone else but because he excelled in the far more difficult area of human endeavor.”

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Why Dizzy Dean let Pirates take batting practice in game

Posted in Games, Managers, Pitchers on June 12, 2025| 11 Comments »

Ticked off with his Cardinals teammates and the plate umpire, Dizzy Dean threw a tantrum instead of his fastball.

On June 4, 1935, at Pittsburgh, the St. Louis ace experienced an unlucky inning against the Pirates. Dean blamed the umpire and the Cardinals fielders. An argument ensued in the dugout and it nearly led to a fight.

When he returned to the mound, a petulant Dean lobbed soft tosses to Pirates batters, inviting them to bash the ball.

The antics reflected poorly on him. A year earlier, Dean was the pride of St. Louis. A 30-game winner during the 1934 season, he won two more, including Game 7, in the World Series. His sulk in Pittsburgh, though, sullied his stature.

Bad breaks

In the Tuesday game against the Pirates, Dean was in command early. With the Cardinals ahead, 2-0, he retired the first two batters in the third. Then Lloyd Waner walked. On a hit-and-run, Waner took off for second and Woody Jensen sliced a grounder to the left side. Because Leo Durocher correctly went to cover second when he saw Waner break from first, Jensen’s grounder rolled through the vacated shortstop spot and into left for a single, the Pirates’ first hit of the game.

It was a tough break for Dean. He walked the next batter, Paul Waner, loading the bases. Up came the cleanup hitter, Arky Vaughan. Dean got two strikes on him, then threw a pitch that cut the corner of the plate and froze Vaughan. Dean thought it was strike three, ending the inning. Plate umpire Cy Rigler ruled it a ball. Dean ranted and stormed around the mound.

On the next pitch, Vaughan bounced a grounder to Burgess Whitehead, filling in for hobbled player-manager Frankie Frisch at second base. It should have been a routine out, allowing Dean to escape the inning unscathed, but Whitehead fumbled the ball for an error, Lloyd Waner scored from third and the bases remained loaded.

Dizzy was seething, but it got worse. Pep Young followed with a short fly that fell just out of the reach of right fielder Jack Rothrock for a double. All three runners scored, giving the Pirates a 4-2 lead.

After retiring Gus Suhr on a pop-up to end the inning, Dean confronted Frisch in the dugout and demanded to know why the manager didn’t come onto the field to support him in his beef with Rigler. According to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Frisch replied, “I can’t umpire the game for you. Let’s bear down and win this.”

Boiling point

Dean pitched a scoreless fourth, but when the Cardinals went to bat in the fifth, he resumed barking at Rigler from the dugout. Teammate Joe Medwick said to him, “Lay off Rigler and bear down in there,” the Globe-Democrat reported.

According to biographer Robert Gregory in the book “Diz,” Dean began berating his teammates as a “bunch of lousy, no-good ballplayers.” First baseman Rip Collins roared at Dean, “Shut up,” then told the pitcher the team was fed up with his “crazy shit” and if he didn’t close his “fucking mouth” somebody was going to do it for him. Dean said, “You do it, if you’re man enough and not yellow.”

According to the “Diz” book, Collins was about to swing at Dean when Frisch stepped between them. A few feet away, Medwick warned the pitcher not to say another thing. Dean said, “Fuck you.”

Medwick then picked up a bat and started toward Dean. Pitcher Paul Dean rushed to his brother’s side. Medwick intended to separate them, saying one swing of the bat to the head would get both, according to biographer Robert Gregory.

Pepper Martin and other Cardinals got in between Medwick and the Deans, preventing any violence. Frisch ordered Dizzy to the other end of the dugout.

Soft tosses

While the drama unfolded in view of spectators seated on the first-base side of the field, the Cardinals scored in the fifth, getting within a run at 4-3.

Frisch kept Dean in the game, but Dizzy’s mood hadn’t improved. Looking to spite his teammates, he began to lob pitches to the Pirates in their half of the fifth. “You or I or Lefty the bat boy could have hit what he was throwing,” J. Roy Stockton reported in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

As the Globe-Democrat noted, “It looked as if Dizzy’s offerings were coming up as fat as well-fed geese.”

The Pirates pounded him for four runs in the fifth, gratefully taking an 8-3 lead. According to the Post-Dispatch, Cardinals catcher Bill DeLancey “ran out half a dozen times and pleaded with Dizzy to bear down. Durocher halted the game to do the same thing. Rip Collins added his voice (but) Dizzy was disgusted and he would not pitch Dean baseball.”

After Woody Jensen whacked a soft toss for a home run in the sixth, Durocher threw up his hands in disgust. Asked later about the shortstop’s reaction, “Dizzy said he did not care what Durocher did” and implied Durocher was so clueless he “did not know what town he was playing in,” the Globe-Democrat reported.

Frisch and other Cardinals accused Dean of “laying down” on them. Pirates players also said Dean eased up and quit, according to the Globe-Democrat.

Dean was lifted for a pinch-hitter in the seventh. The Pirates won, 9-5. The loss dropped Dean’s record to 6-5, giving him almost as many defeats as he had during his entire 1934 season (30-7). Boxscore

Bruised feelings

In the clubhouse, Frisch called a meeting and warned Dean that a repetition of his behavior would result in a suspension and $5,000 fine. “No one man is bigger than this game,” Frisch told the Globe-Democrat.

Cardinals owner Sam Breadon said to the St. Louis Star-Times, “I’ll stand behind Frisch 100 percent.”

Dean’s reactions swayed from apologetic to defiant.

“I’m sorry … I just flew off my head,” he said to the Post-Dispatch. He also told the newspaper, “I haven’t done nothing to apologize for. The Cardinals ought to apologize to me. I put money in their pockets winning the pennant and World Series. What do I get for it all? Nothing but a lot of abuse.”

To the Globe-Democrat, Dean said, “The best thing the Cardinals can do is to trade me. I’m not going to stand for this kind of stuff … As for Medwick, I’ll crack him on his Hungarian nose.”

Regarding Frisch’s threat of a $5,000 fine, Dean told the newspaper, “It wasn’t $5,000. It was $10,000. Yeah, ten grand. You know what I think? They’re trying to take away a big chunk of the money my contract calls for.”

(In 1935, Dean got an $18,500 salary, plus a $2,500 signing bonus.)

Most viewed Dean as the villain in the incident. A headline in The Pittsburgh Press declared, “Dizzy Likes To Dish it Out But Can’t Take It.” A Cardinals fan, James MacNaughton Jr. of University City, Mo., sent Dean a telegram: “Take off the high hat, put on your ball cap and win games.”

Two days after Dean’s stunt, Frisch used him in relief of Jesse Haines at Pittsburgh. Dean pitched two scoreless innings and “at times looked as fast as the golf greens at Oakmont” where the U.S. Open was being played near Pittsburgh, the Globe-Democrat reported. Boxscore

(Dean found time during the Pirates series to attend a round of the 1935 U.S. Open. He was seen in the gallery following “The Silver Scot,” Tommy Armour, and South African Sid Brews, according to columnist Paul Gallico.)

When the Cardinals returned by train to St. Louis, Dean was greeted at the station by his wife, Patricia, who told columnist Sid Keener, “I can handle Dizzy. I’m going to take him home and talk to him.”

Forgive and forget

Dean’s first appearance in St. Louis since the Pittsburgh episode came in a start against the Cubs on Sunday, June 9, 1935.

As Dean came off the mound after retiring the Cubs in the first, four lemons were thrown at him from the stands. When he went to bat in the second, another 10 lemons were hurled at Dean and he was booed by some of the 14,500 spectators. Dean pushed one of the lemons out the the batter’s box with the end of his bat, then ripped a single, driving in a run.

“Not a boo or jeer was heard after the second inning,” the Post-Dispatch noted.

Dean doubled to the wall in left in the fourth and, when he doubled again in the seventh, driving in another run, he received a “deafening round of applause,” the Star-Times reported.

His pitching (a six-hitter) was as good as his hitting (two doubles, a single, three RBI, two runs scored). The Cardinals won, 13-2, and, as the Globe-Democrat noted, “in the end, it seemed as if every one was cheering” Dean. Boxscore

“I poured ’em all I had,” Dean told the Post-Dispatch.

Asked about the lemons thrown, Dean said it was the work of Cubs fans. “No true St. Louis fan would do such a thing to Dizzy Dean,” he told the Star-Times.

Dean predicted that if he continued to perform well, “St. Louis fans will be throwing roses at me.”

Dizzy went on to post a 28-12 record for the 1935 Cardinals. Though they had a better mark in 1935 (96-58) than they did in their championship season the year before (95-58), the Cardinals placed second to the Cubs (100-54).

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Why Cardinals preferred Rogers Hornsby to Branch Rickey

Posted in Executives, Games, Hitters, Managers on May 26, 2025| 9 Comments »

As Cardinals manager, Branch Rickey either was ahead of his time or hopelessly out of step with the times. Take your pick. Either way, Cardinals owner and president Sam Breadon decided Rickey no longer should be manager.

On May 30, 1925, Breadon changed managers, replacing Rickey with Rogers Hornsby. Rickey remained with the club in a front-office role.

The shakeup turned out to be good for the Cardinals. Player-manager Hornsby led them to their first National League pennant and World Series championship in 1926. Focused on baseball operations, vice president Rickey built the Cardinals into a perennial contender.

On shaky ground

After managing the St. Louis Browns (1913-15), Rickey joined the Cardinals and became their manager in 1919. In his first six years, he piloted the club to three winning seasons: 1921 (87-66), 1922 (85-69) and 1923 (79-74). Then the Cardinals took a big step backwards, finishing 65-89 in 1924 and drawing a mere 272,885 at its home games.

Knowing Breadon was considering a change, Rickey offered to resign during 1925 spring training but reconsidered, according to St. Louis Post-Dispatch columnist John Wray. “I look at this team I have put together and I can visualize it winning the flag,” Rickey told Breadon. “I have the stuff here and I want another chance. I think I deserve it because I assembled all this talent.”

Breadon wasn’t convinced. In his autobiography, “My War With Baseball,” Hornsby said Rickey sought his help with Breadon. “I went to Breadon and said that Rickey was the smartest man in baseball,” Hornsby recalled. “Breadon suggested I take the job as manager, but I wasn’t interested.”

Before spring training ended, Breadon formerly offered Hornsby the job, but he declined. “I recommended that Breadon keep Rickey,” Hornsby said in his autobiography. “I also told Breadon that if the Good Lord himself were to … manage this club, he couldn’t do any better. It was a lousy team.”

Decision time

The 1925 Cardinals won five of their first eight, then nosedived, losing seven in a row at home before mostly small crowds.

When the Cardinals were in Pittsburgh for a series with the Pirates, Breadon showed up. On Friday, May 29, Hornsby was having breakfast at the Hotel Schenley when traveling secretary Clarence Lloyd approached him and said Breadon wanted to meet. In his autobiography, Hornsby recalled that as he passed by the table of Rickey and coach Burt Shotton, Rickey said to him, “Breadon wants you to manage the team.”

Hornsby replied, “I don’t want to manage. He knows that.”

“Then will you ask Breadon to give me another chance?” Rickey said to Hornsby. “If he won’t, see if you can get him to let Shotton here be the manager.”

Hornsby said, “OK.”

(In addition to coaching, Shotton managed the Cardinals on Sundays, because Rickey promised his mother before signing his first professional contract that he would abstain from baseball activities on Sundays.)

Hornsby met in Breadon’s room and was offered the job. Hornsby said no.

According to the book “Branch Rickey: A Biography” by Murray Polner, Breadon barked back, “I won’t have any goddamned Sunday school teacher running my team. You’re going to run it.”

In his autobiography, Hornsby said he and Breadon had the following exchange:

Hornsby: “You mean, Rickey’s through?”

Breadon: “That’s exactly right _ as manager.”

Hornsby: “What about Shotton as manager?”

Breadon: “I don’t want any Rickey man either.”

It was agreed Hornsby should think over the proposal and inform Breadon of the decision the next day. “I went back down and told Rickey what Breadon had said,” Hornsby recalled in his autobiography. “Rickey didn’t cuss or anything, but he got pretty mad and said he would sell all his stock in the Cardinals.”

According to the Rickey biography, Rickey said to Hornsby, “Judas priest, the man (Breadon) is stabbing me in the back.”

At the ballpark that day, Hornsby slugged a two-run home run, but the Cardinals lost, dropping their record to 13-23. It turned out to be the last game Rickey would manage. Boxscore

Making the switch

According to his autobiography, Hornsby went to Breadon on Saturday, May 30, and told him “the only way I would be interested in becoming manager would be if I could buy Rickey’s stock … Then baseball could be my business for life.” Breadon assured him that would be arranged. The two agreed Hornsby would become player-manager, effective Sunday, May 31. “I expect him to put new fight into the Cardinals,” Breadon told the Associated Press.

In reporting on the managerial switch, James M. Gould of the St. Louis Star-Times wrote, “The pupil succeeds the master.”

Hornsby, 29, became the youngest manager in the National League. He was a few months older than player-manager Bucky Harris, 28, of the American League’s Washington Senators. Other player-managers in the majors in 1925 included Dave Bancroft of the Braves, Ty Cobb of the Tigers, Eddie Collins of the White Sox, George Sisler of the Browns and Tris Speaker of the Indians.

“I feel that with Rickey as vice president and business manager, and Hornsby as playing manager, we have one of the greatest combinations in baseball,” Breadon told the Post-Dispatch.

He also said to the Associated Press, “Rickey is a valuable man and we want to utilize his knowledge of baseball and his great judgment of players. He is a great organizer and a builder, and that is his sphere.”

Breadon’s words, though, didn’t appease Rickey, who resented being ousted as manager. According to Rickey’s biography, he described Breadon’s action as “clumsily brutal.”

According to author Murray Polner, Rickey felt betrayed and considered leaving the Cardinals to become athletic director at Northwestern University, but his wife Jane talked him out of it.

In his book “Mr. Rickey’s Redbirds,” author Mike Mitchell wrote that Rickey later said, “My fault as a manager … was due to my apparent zeal. I discussed the game every day … as if the game coming up was the game of the year.”

With Rickey out and Hornsby taking over effective May 31, coach Shotton was tasked with managing the Cardinals in the May 30 Saturday doubleheader at Pittsburgh, according to “Mr. Rickey’s Redbirds.” The Pirates won both, totaling eight triples in Game 2. Boxscore

Rickey’s reviews

Reaction to the managerial move mostly was favorable:

_ J. Roy Stockton, Post-Dispatch: “The Cardinals should do well under Hornsby. He will not overmanage the team. If there was any just criticism of Branch Rickey’s regime, it was that he burdened the team with too much management. He tried to pitch for the pitchers and to catch for the catchers … He lacked poise when directing his men … He decided on a plan of action and then … he hesitated, pondered over the danger and changed the plan.”

_ Tommy Holmes, Brooklyn Eagle: “Some attribute the failure of the team to Rickey’s attempt to mastermind the Cardinals. He wanted to do all the thinking that was to be done on the team … Branch exercised his managerial authority by requiring the batter to keep in constant touch with his wagging from the bench. A hitter up there with the bases full, to bust it and nothing else, had to strain his neck getting the signal on every ball pitched.”

_ Henry Farrell, United Press: “Rickey had a lot of trick ideas about handling of a ballclub that made some of the older athletes feel like they were being treated like children. He not only had blackboard talks on baseball but he extended his skull practice to include arithmetic and the grammar school arts and sciences.”

_ John B. Foster, Dayton Daily News: “The greatest weakness of (Rickey) was … his lack of playing instinct. He usually managed to change pitchers at the wrong time … Almost every manager in the National League figured upon his doing the wrong thing at the wrong time … Opposing managers figured they would get away with games if they forced Rickey to change pitchers.”

_ The Sporting News: “The elevation of Hornsby to the management was the most popular choice that could have been made for the fans.”

Different approach

Indeed, fans gave Hornsby a big reception when he was led to the plate by St. Louis mayor Victor Miller and presented with several floral pieces before the start of his managerial debut on Sunday, May 31. During the game, the Post-Dispatch noted “a new spirit exhibited by the players” and “a dash that had been missing for some time.” Hornsby contributed two hits, two walks, two runs scored and a RBI in a 5-2 Cardinals victory over the Reds. Boxscore

The next day, Hornsby started Jesse Haines against the Reds. In four starts for Rickey in 1925, Haines was yanked from the games and lost all four. In his first start for Hornsby, he pitched a complete game and won. Boxscore

A week later, Hornsby bought 1,167 shares of Rickey’s Cardinals stock at $43 a share, a total investment of $50,181, the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported. As author Mike Mitchell noted, “Upset about being removed as manager, Rickey made an emotional and short-sighted decision.”

Meanwhile, Hornsby canceled the daily team meetings and daily morning workouts that had been the norm when Rickey managed. “You can’t drill for two hours and then get out in the afternoon with all your pep and play some more,” Hornsby explained to the Star-Times.

The Cardinals won 15 of their first 19 games with Hornsby as manager and finished at 77-76. Hornsby’s hitting helped, too. In 1925, he was named recipient of the National League Most Valuable Player Award and led the league in batting average, on-base percentage and slugging percentage for the sixth year in a row.

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Diamond dash: Slow and steady wins the race? You bet!

Posted in Executives, Games, Hitters, Managers, Opponents on May 5, 2025| 11 Comments »

In a race to determine the slowest runner in the National League, the loser was the commissioner of baseball, and he didn’t even run.

A pair of catchers, Del Rice of the Cardinals and Rube Walker of the Dodgers, were the contestants in what Bob Broeg of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch described as “a snail versus tortoise match race.”

When some of the Cardinals made small, friendly wagers with their Dodgers counterparts on which of the two leadfoots would win, heavy-handed baseball commissioner Ford Frick initiated a gambling investigation.

Frick backed down quickly after baseball writers mocked him in their newspaper stories for being unable to see the difference between harmless fun and scandal.

Slow going

Signed by Cardinals scout Frank Rickey, brother of general manager Branch Rickey, Del Rice was 18 when he began his pro baseball career in the minors in 1941. Rice reached the majors with the Cardinals four years later.

Listed as 6-foot-2, Rice also played one season (1945-46) of pro basketball with the Rochester Royals. His teammates included Red Holzman (the future head coach of the St. Louis Hawks and New York Knicks), Otto Graham (better known as quarterback of the Cleveland Browns) and Chuck Connors (the big-league first baseman who became TV’s “The Rifleman”). Rochester won the National Basketball League (NBL) championship that season. (In 1949, the NBL merged with the Basketball Association of America and became the National Basketball Association, or NBA.)

Like Rice, Rube Walker also was 18 when he became a pro baseball player, signing with the Cubs in 1944 and advancing to the majors with them four years later. Joe Donnelly of Newsday described him as “a large man with a twinkle in his eye and a heart that reached out to people.”

Rice and Walker were good defensive catchers who didn’t hit much. In 17 seasons in the majors, mostly with the Cardinals and Braves, Rice batted .237. Walker hit .227 in his 11 seasons with the Cubs and Dodgers.

Both also were notorious plodders on the base paths. “Neither could outrun me,” Dodgers owner Walter O’Malley, who chain-smoked cigars, said to Dan Daniel of The Sporting News. (Rice managed to steal bases twice in the majors; Walker did it three times.) A good case could be made for either being the slowpoke of the league. Their teammates decided to settle the matter with a footrace.

Amazing race

During warmups before their game on May 17, 1955, at St. Louis, the Cardinals and Dodgers got into some good-natured bantering about who was the slowest man in the league. Rice and Walker were coaxed into having a 50-yard race across the outfield.

(Walker was not the type to back down from a test. According to the New York Times, “he once challenged manager Walter Alston to a billiards match after Alston had taken 130 shots without missing.”)

Members of the teams lined up in two rows _ Cardinals on one side; Dodgers on the other _ forming a lane for Rice and Walker to rumble through, the New York Times reported.

Cardinals manager Eddie Stanky joined some of his players in making bets with Dodgers on who would win, according to the Post-Dispatch. Most of the wagers were for $5. “All told, it was guessed that $45 rested on the outcome,” the St. Louis Globe-Democrat reported.

(Dick Young of the New York Daily News noted that the wagers on the Rice-Walker footrace were pocket change compared with what went on in earlier times. When speedy outfielder Ben Chapman was with the Yankees in the 1930s, he’d routinely race all challengers and usually won. According to Young, “Babe Ruth used to bet hundreds of dollars on every race.” Chapman’s teammate, Dixie Walker, told Young, “The first time, Babe bet against Chapman and lost. After that, Babe always bet on Chapman, and cleaned up.”)

In the St. Louis contest, Rube Walker trudged out to a lead but Rice steamed ahead at the finish and won by a yard. One of the observers, 19-year-old Dodgers rookie Sandy Koufax, recalled to the New York Times years later, “They didn’t go fast enough for a photo finish. It was a study in slow motion.”

Little big man

Walker took his loss in good spirit. “I once was a gazelle,” he told the New York Times. However, baseball commissioner Ford Frick was not amused when he learned wagering was involved. He decided to investigate. According to the Daily News, the wires Frick sent to managers Stanky and Alston read: “You are ordered to submit names and amounts bet by the ballplayers.”

While Frick awaited the reports from the managers, the newspapers ridiculed him for overreacting.

_ Dan Parker, syndicated columnist: “Ford Frick is a man of fine character, but a sense of humor forms no part of it.”

_ Morris McLemore, Miami News: “It would appear Ford Frick might have more to do than worry about the footrace between Del Rice and Rube Walker.”

_ Whitney Martin, Associated Press: “Frick probably feels that from such molehills mountains grow, and that the first thing you know the boys will be … gambling that when they put a penny in a (vending) machine a stick of gum will come out.”

_ Dick Young, New York Daily News: “Frick may have been watching too many ‘Dragnet’ shows.”

Soon after, Frick dropped the investigation, the Jersey Journal reported.

Changes afoot

Stanky, Rice and Walker made headlines for a variety of other reasons in the days following the slowest man contest.

On May 27, 1955, the Cardinals fired Stanky. A week later, they traded Rice to the Braves. (The footrace had nothing to do with either move.)

On June 30, 1955, Walker was carted off the field and sent to a hospital for treatment of a gashed shoulder after Willie Mays ran over him while trying to score. “Walker went down flat on his back, clutching the ball grittily,” the Daily News reported.

(Four years later, in June 1959, Rice suffered a broken left leg in a collision with Mays near home plate. Mays slid hard into Rice, who was straddling the line while awaiting a throw. “It wasn’t his fault,” Rice told the Associated Press. “He had to slide _ that’s baseball _ but he certainly slides hard.”)

After his playing days, Walker coached in the majors for 21 seasons. He was the pitching coach for the 1969 World Series champion Mets. He later was a scout for the Cardinals when Whitey Herzog was their manager.

Rice ended his playing career with the 1961 Angels. He was the first player signed by the American League expansion franchise and was the starting catcher in their first regular-season game. Boxscore

According to the Los Angeles Times, during his stint as an Angels coach in the 1960s, Rice “etched his name into the club’s lore by organizing and winning a golf tournament played in the halls of the team’s Boston hotel (Rice wore golf spikes, glove, hat and pajamas), with the players putting into cocktail glasses.”

After four seasons managing in the minors, Rice was the Angels’ manager in 1972, Nolan Ryan’s first season with the club after being coached by Rube Walker with the Mets.

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How Roger Bresnahan instilled Cardinals with tenacity

Posted in Games, Hitters, Managers on April 28, 2025| 11 Comments »

Trying to inspire a ballclub that had become accustomed to losing, Roger Bresnahan was willing to do whatever it took for the Cardinals to win, even if it meant playing second base.

Bresnahan, the Cardinals’ player-manager in 1911, would become the second catcher (after Buck Ewing) elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Yet, when the Cardinals were in a pinch at second base, Bresnahan inserted himself there in a game against the Pirates.

According to researcher Tom Orf, Bresnahan is one of six Cardinals who have played both at catcher and at second base in the same game. The others: Art Hoelskoetter (1907), Jose Oquendo (1988), Scott Hemond (1995), Tony Cruz (2011) and Pedro Pages (2025).

Quality catcher

A 5-foot-9 scrapper, Bresnahan made his mark with the Giants, displaying the same kind of intensity as the club’s manager, John McGraw.

In the 1905 World Series, Bresnahan caught four shutouts _ three from Christy Mathewson; the other from Joe McGinnity _ in wins against the Athletics. Bresnahan also produced a .500 on-base percentage in that Series, with five hits, four walks and two hit by pitches in 22 plate appearances.

Two years later, Bresnahan became the first catcher to wear shin guards and brought other protective gear innovations, including a rudimentary batting helmet, to the sport, according to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

The Cardinals, who had the worst record in the majors (49-105) in 1908, acquired Bresnahan, 29, after the season and made him player-manager, giving him the task of injecting fight and hustle into the moribund ballclub.

As a syndicated item in The Cincinnati Post noted in 1911, Bresnahan “is a fighter, and dead anxious to make fighters of others. That’s why he keeps after his men all the time _ to keep them in a fighting mood while on the diamond.”

The Cardinals got a little bit better in each of Bresnahan’s first two seasons as player-manager _ 54-98 in 1909 and 63-90 in 1910 _ but he was looking for greater improvement in 1911. That also was the year Helene Britton took over the Cardinals as the first woman to own a major-league team.

Cincinnati commotion

Determined to establish an aggressive tone early on, Bresnahan gave the Reds a steady stream of trash talk from behind the plate during an April 18, 1911, game at Cincinnati. As the Cincinnati Enquirer put it, “Bresnahan had been using a great deal of coarse language and the Reds claim that his remarks were such that they could not be passed by unnoticed.”

On their way to the clubhouses after the game, Bresnahan and Reds left fielder Bob Bescher continued jawing at one another. “Both men were thoroughly angry,” the Enquirer noted. Bescher threw a punch, socking Bresnahan “flush on the mouth,” The Cincinnati Post reported. “Blood squirted right and left like thick spray from a wind-blown fountain.”

Bresnahan retaliated and the two engaged in what the Enquirer described as “a ferocious fistfight” before Bescher’s teammates, shortstop Dave Altizer and first baseman Dick Hoblitzell, joined in. According to the St. Louis Star-Times, though Altizer and Hoblitzell appeared to be trying to separate the men, “in reality they were taking sly punches at Bresnahan.”

Bresnahan fought back until police and other players broke up the melee, the Star-Times reported.

“Bescher hit at me and, of course, I came back,” Bresnahan told the St. Louis newspaper. “Then Hoblitzell and Altizer broke into the fray. I attended to them. The Cincinnati fans then tried to get us, but the police stopped the doings.”

Bescher said to the Star-Times, “Bresnahan had been goading me all afternoon to the point where I lost my temper. I did not need any help from Altizer and Hoblitzell, but as fellow teammates they felt called upon to interfere.”

The brouhaha made the headlines but another significant story was the injury suffered by Cardinals second baseman Miller Huggins in the game.

With two outs and the bases loaded in the eighth inning, the Reds’ Johnny Bates looped a fly ball to short right. Huggins, first baseman Ed Konetchy and right fielder Steve Evans all chased after the ball. As Huggins made the catch, Konetchy and Evans collided with him. Huggins injured a leg and had to remain in Cincinnati for treatment while the Cardinals returned to St. Louis. Boxscore

Rough and tumble

Beginning a homestand with four games against the Cubs, Bresnahan replaced Huggins with rookie Wally Smith at second base. Smith started two games, but then third baseman Mike Mowrey became bedridden with a severe cold. So, Bresnahan shifted Smith to third and put another rookie, Dan McGeehan, at second for the final two games of the Cubs series. The Cubs swept all four, dropping the Cardinals’ record to 2-5.

Then the Pirates came to town. In 1910, the Cardinals lost 17 of 21 against Pittsburgh. Bresnahan was determined to show the Pirates his 1911 club wasn’t intimidated by them, but three regulars (Steve Evans, Miller Huggins and Mike Mowrey) were sidelined and Bresnahan was playing with a bum knee “swollen to almost twice its normal size,” the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported.

The series opener on Monday afternoon, April 24, 1911, at Robison Field in St. Louis was played with the intensity of a pennant race showdown. Pirates runners were tagged out at the plate by Bresnahan in the second and in the sixth.

In the seventh, the Cardinals’ Jack Bliss batted for Dan McGeehan, then stayed in the game at catcher as Bresnahan moved to second base. (He had filled in at second for nine games late in the 1909 season.)

With the Pirates ahead, 5-4, in the eighth, Honus Wagner was on third when Dots Miller tried a suicide squeeze bunt. He tapped the ball toward first but Ed Konetchy got to it quickly and flipped to Bliss. Wagner tried to knock over the catcher, but Bliss blocked the dish and tagged out The Flying Dutchman.

The Cardinals tied the score in the bottom half of the eighth and the game advanced to extra innings.

In the last half of the 11th, Bresnahan punched a single to right and Rebel Oakes moved him to second with a sacrifice bunt. Bliss followed with a tapper to pitcher Lefty Leifield, who fielded the ball and threw to rookie first baseman Newt Hunter.

According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Bliss “deliberately threw himself at Hunter, knocking him on his back.” The ball fell from Hunter’s grasp and rolled away as he writhed on the ground in agony. Bresnahan, who had reached third, streaked to the plate and scored the winning run.

“Bliss undoubtedly intentionally knocked Hunter down,” The Pittsburgh Press declared. “Bliss could have veered to the right instead of throwing his entire weight upon the Pirates’ first baseman. The Cardinals are evidently being taught by Bresnahan to be aggressive.”

Though Hunter dropped the ball, rookie umpire Bill Finneran ruled that Bliss was out for interference but allowed Bresnahan’s run to count. As the Post-Gazette noted, “If he called Bliss out for interference, why did he permit Bresnahan to move up on the play? Bresnahan should have been sent back to third, where he started from after Hunter had been rendered helpless.” Boxscore

Off the rails

Bresnahan and his Cardinals players faced a far more dire challenge three months later in July 1911 when they boarded the Federal Express train at Philadelphia’s Broad Street Station for a 10-hour ride to Boston.

Here’s an account by Tom Shieber, senior curator of the Baseball Hall of Fame:

“Originally, the ballplayers occupied a pair of Pullman sleepers located near the front of the train, close behind the 10-wheel locomotive and a U.S. Fishery coach. The position wasn’t ideal. Amid the sweltering heat that saw the mercury rise to 100 degrees that day, it was nearly impossible to sleep with the car windows closed, but opening the windows only made matters worse, letting in the unpleasantness of engine cinders and the stench of baby trout.

“The engine had been reduced to a mound of twisted metal and glowing coals. Behind the ruins of the engine lay a melee of crushed cars haphazardly strewn about, their structures mangled into splinters of wood and piles of iron.

“Miraculously, the last two cars, the ones that carried the Cardinals, remained on the rails and escaped serious damage, as did the individuals within. The rest of the scene, however, was one of calamitous destruction and horrifying injuries.”

Bresnahan led his players in rescue attempts and they removed 15 to 20 injured people from the day coach, the Washington Herald reported. Fourteen of the 150 passengers were killed.

The Cardinals boarded another train to Boston. At Bresnahan’s request, the Braves postponed that day’s game and rescheduled it as a doubleheader the following day. Because their uniforms were lost in the train accident, the Cardinals played the July 12 doubleheader wearing the Braves’ dark blue road uniforms. After the Cardinals won the opener, the nightcap was halted with the score tied.