MCKECHNIE OFFERED RED SOX REINS
But He Spurned Three-Year Pact
" 'Did I ever tell you,' asked Deacon Bill McKechnie, 'how I came close to managing the Boston Red Sox, just before they hired Joe McCarthy?'
I shook my head in the negative. The Deacon, former National League manager and Cleveland coach who now is master of 10,000 acres of perfectly manicured truck gardens and citrus groves in Bradenton, Fla., launched into a story previously untold.
'Well sir,' Bill said, 'the Indians were in Boston during the summer of 1947 when I was approached by a representative of the Red Sox. He told me Joe Cronin would be moving into the front office in 1948, and the managing job was mine if I wanted it.
'I said my contract in Cleveland had another year to run and, in any case, I couldn't talk about another job unless the Red Sox got Bill Veeck's permission to negotiate with me. Bill was in the hospital in Cleveland at the time, but one day he called me in and said, 'Joe Cronin is interested in getting you to manage the Red Sox.'
'I said, 'Bill, I have a contract with you and it has another year to run. When I sign a contract, I sign a contract. The Boston opportunity sounds wonderful. But tell me that you want me to stay in Cleveland, and I'll forget about it.'
'Veeck said, 'Wait a minute. Maybe we can make everybody happy. Get in touch with Cronin and see what he has to offer you. Then talk to me again.' Well, Cronin offered me a three-year contract calling for $135,000, with the chance to collect a bonus.
'I reported back to Veeck and he said he couldn't meet such terms as those- although I might add he paid me darn well. I told him he didn't have to meet any terms. I had a contract with his ball club.
'But Veeck had another idea. He told me to back to Cronin and see if he'd give the Indians pitcher Mickey Harris for my contract. Cronin hit the roof. He wasn't trading ball players for coaches. He was willing to buy my contract for cash, then talk about player deals. That was the last I heard about the matter. A few days later McCarthy got the job.
'That winter,' he said, 'there was an amazing sequel. Veeck asked me to talk to McCarthy and find out if he'd be interested in taking Ken Keltner in a trade for Tex Hughson. Joe said he couldn't go for that one, so the Indians kept Keltner and the Red Sox kept Hughson. I think that may have had something to do with the outcome of the pennant race.'
I didn't need to see the twinkle in McKechnie's eye to know what he meant. Keltner was a major factor in the Tribe's 1948 pennant conquest. Hughson developed arm trouble and was useless to the Red Sox- who still carried the Indians to the American League's first playoff.
Veeck always did say that the best trades were the ones he failed to make."
-Ed McAuley (Cleveland News, Baseball Digest June 1951)
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Friday, November 17, 2017
1951 Yankee of the Past: George Selkirk
THEY SHOULD HAVE PUT A TAG ON HIM
"George Selkirk, who succeeded Babe Ruth as right fielder of the New York Yankees and who now manages their Kansas City farm, was a high school catcher. He worked out with Rochester in 1927, and looked good. George Stallings signed him and sent him to join a Class D team at Cambridge, Md.
When Selkirk arrived in Cambridge, the home team was playing in Crisfield. He hurried to a dressing room. The manager said, 'So you're the new boy. I've been expecting you- get into uniform, you are playing center field today.' Too bashful to argue, George played center field for the first time in his life.
The catcher on the opposing team was the team manager. It was plainly evident he was having trouble. His ungloved hand was heavily taped. Selkirk, on his first trip to the plate, singled. On his next he doubled, and on his third he hit the ball over the fence, foul by a few feet.
The opposing catcher threw off his mask and spun Selkirk around. 'Hey!' he yelled. 'What's your name?' George told him. 'Just as I suspected,' he roared. 'You're supposed to be my catcher. Oh, ump!'
George switched teams after the game, but the manager never let him switch positions. He remained in the outfield."
-Earl Ruby in the Louisville Courier-Journal (Baseball Digest, July 1951)
BUNTING TIP: ELBOWS IN AT SIDES
"Kanas City manager George Selkirk and several of the Blues were sitting in the dugout talking about bunting, an art about which some players apparently have as much knowledge as of Byzantine sculpturing.
Selkirk was making a point about the cause and prevention of bunting bad balls.
'If a man holds his elbows in at his sides in a loose, relaxed manner, he can't bunt a bad ball,' Selkirk said. 'A batter who does this will have a range of only about a foot or a foot and a half to bunt in. The pitchers, of course, are always trying to make you bunt a bad ball, but it's impossible to do if you follow this system, unless of course you hold the bat straight up to get at one.
'A man who holds his elbows out has practically an unlimited range. He can bunt a pitch that's up around his chin or he can get down for one that's around his knees. The general result is a lot of pop-ups and bad bunts.
'When Joe Sewell was with Cleveland, his ability to bunt fascinated me,' Selkirk continued. 'I had never seen him bunt a bad ball and he seldom laid down a bad bunt. So one day I got him aside and asked him how he did it. He told me about keeping my elbows in and I found out it really works.'"
-Joe McGuff in the Kansas City Star (Baseball Digest, September 1951)
"NET" PROFIT
"'If I had a son who was going to play baseball,' George Selkirk, the Kansas City manager says, 'I'd stand him against a brick wall and throw tennis balls at him all day and make him dodge them. Once he developed the quickness and knack of getting out of the way of these tennis balls, he'd have more confidence when he went up to the plate against a hard baseball.'"
-Tommy Fitzgerald in the Lousiville Courier-Jurnal (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
"George Selkirk, who succeeded Babe Ruth as right fielder of the New York Yankees and who now manages their Kansas City farm, was a high school catcher. He worked out with Rochester in 1927, and looked good. George Stallings signed him and sent him to join a Class D team at Cambridge, Md.
When Selkirk arrived in Cambridge, the home team was playing in Crisfield. He hurried to a dressing room. The manager said, 'So you're the new boy. I've been expecting you- get into uniform, you are playing center field today.' Too bashful to argue, George played center field for the first time in his life.
The catcher on the opposing team was the team manager. It was plainly evident he was having trouble. His ungloved hand was heavily taped. Selkirk, on his first trip to the plate, singled. On his next he doubled, and on his third he hit the ball over the fence, foul by a few feet.
The opposing catcher threw off his mask and spun Selkirk around. 'Hey!' he yelled. 'What's your name?' George told him. 'Just as I suspected,' he roared. 'You're supposed to be my catcher. Oh, ump!'
George switched teams after the game, but the manager never let him switch positions. He remained in the outfield."
-Earl Ruby in the Louisville Courier-Journal (Baseball Digest, July 1951)
BUNTING TIP: ELBOWS IN AT SIDES
"Kanas City manager George Selkirk and several of the Blues were sitting in the dugout talking about bunting, an art about which some players apparently have as much knowledge as of Byzantine sculpturing.
Selkirk was making a point about the cause and prevention of bunting bad balls.
'If a man holds his elbows in at his sides in a loose, relaxed manner, he can't bunt a bad ball,' Selkirk said. 'A batter who does this will have a range of only about a foot or a foot and a half to bunt in. The pitchers, of course, are always trying to make you bunt a bad ball, but it's impossible to do if you follow this system, unless of course you hold the bat straight up to get at one.
'A man who holds his elbows out has practically an unlimited range. He can bunt a pitch that's up around his chin or he can get down for one that's around his knees. The general result is a lot of pop-ups and bad bunts.
'When Joe Sewell was with Cleveland, his ability to bunt fascinated me,' Selkirk continued. 'I had never seen him bunt a bad ball and he seldom laid down a bad bunt. So one day I got him aside and asked him how he did it. He told me about keeping my elbows in and I found out it really works.'"
-Joe McGuff in the Kansas City Star (Baseball Digest, September 1951)
"NET" PROFIT
"'If I had a son who was going to play baseball,' George Selkirk, the Kansas City manager says, 'I'd stand him against a brick wall and throw tennis balls at him all day and make him dodge them. Once he developed the quickness and knack of getting out of the way of these tennis balls, he'd have more confidence when he went up to the plate against a hard baseball.'"
-Tommy Fitzgerald in the Lousiville Courier-Jurnal (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
Monday, November 13, 2017
1951 Yankee of the Past: Dick Wakefield
5-G WAKEFIELD SPLITS BONUS PLAYERS
Phils, Still Undeterred, Shell Out
"On the same day the Philadelphia Phillies endowed a young Texan with $50,000 for signing a baseball contract, there was news of another bonus baby, the most famed of them all. Dick Wakefield's silver spoon has tarnished.
Wakefield commanded the sum of $52,000 and shiny new Cadillacs for himself and his Mom before he consented to sign with the Detroit Tigers back in 1941, when the value of the dollar had an honest ring. However, Owner C.A. Laws of the Oakland Pacific Coast League club has devalued Wakefield sharply.
In 1951, Wakefield will work for a $5,000 salary or he won't work with Oakland, Laws stated. Obviously he was not pleased with the performance of Wakefield last season, after the outfielder was waived out of the majors. He is offering Wakefield a wage that is the legal minimum for a major leaguer.
Thus Wakefield could tell young Ben Tompkins, the Phils' latest bonus baby, to get the dough in while the getting is good. It is nice to be born into the majors with money in the bank, because club owners can become disenchanted with bonus babes. A year ago, General Manager Billy Evans of Detroit declared his team was out of the bonus market.
It is no coincidence that the Phillies are the club which grabbed off young Tompkins despite the price tag. The Phillies are unimpressed by the Detroit's withdrawal from the bonus bidding, and with good reason. They built a pennant winner out of bonus babies last season.
The Phillies have had more luck with the bonus kids than all the other teams combined, perhaps because they go in more for that kind of talent-hunt, perhaps because their scouts are smarter operatives. But no fewer than five of Eddie Sawyer's pennant winning team- Pitchers Curt Simmons, Robin Roberts and Bob Miller, Outfielder Richie Ashburn and Catcher Stan Lopata- were bonus kids.
In the case of Tompkins, though, the Phillies were a brave outfit. They were undeterred by the fact the rugged twenty-year-old University of Texas junior is 1-A in the draft and the next uniform he will wear will be Uncle Sam's. Apparently they are willing to wait for something that resembles world peace, and take their chances.
Tompkins has one distinction, though. He's a shortstop-third baseman, one of the few young infielders to command any kind of a rich bonus figure. Usually, the big league teams are more willing to invest in pitchers.
The Tigers can flourish as much wealth, in fact more, under the responsive noses of the bonus kids than the Phillies, but if they are bonus-shy now it is understandable. Wakefield didn't pan out, and two years ago the Tigers gave a kid catcher named Frank House $75,000 for signing a contract.
They brought House up from the minors last year under the rule a bonus player can be farmed out for only one season, and it was early discerned he wasn't ready to catch in the big leagues. Manager Rolfe griped all season he was handicapped by being compelled to keep House on the roster when he preferred to make room for more helpful talent.
When the Tigers began to develop pennant possibilities last season, Rolfe declared flatly that 'House won't catch an inning as long as we are in the race.' Only when the Tigers dropped out of it, did he see action. It was a wasted year on the Detroit bench for the boy who should have been soaking up some more baseball in the minor leagues. The owners had that case in mind last December when they abrogated the rule limiting bonus kids to only one year in the minor leagues.
Wakefield's flop was a surprising one. The Tigers had come up with a rare piece of talent when they signed the fellow out of the University of Michigan ten years ago, every club that scouted him agreed. Even Clark Griffith was so impressed he telegraphed Wakefield a Washington offer of $45,000 as a bonus for signing.
Wakefield came along at a time when the Boston Red Sox, with their Ted Williams, were the envy of every other team. The facial and physical resemblance of Wakefield and Williams was startling, and the teams tumbled over themselves in the bidding before the Tigers landed the boy. He had speed, power, and everything to make good except the firm resolve to make good.
What happened is that Wakefield messed it up for himself. Whether it was his new and sudden affluence, or simply a built-in, don't'-care approach to the business of playing baseball, he never did capitalize on his natural talent. It took the Tigers nine years to give up on him, however. Because they couldn't kiss off their big investment right away, Wakefield was blessed with a nine-year tryout, one that left the Tigers weary of bonus babes."
-Shirley Povich, condensed from the Washington Post (Baseball Digest, April 1951)
Phils, Still Undeterred, Shell Out
"On the same day the Philadelphia Phillies endowed a young Texan with $50,000 for signing a baseball contract, there was news of another bonus baby, the most famed of them all. Dick Wakefield's silver spoon has tarnished.
Wakefield commanded the sum of $52,000 and shiny new Cadillacs for himself and his Mom before he consented to sign with the Detroit Tigers back in 1941, when the value of the dollar had an honest ring. However, Owner C.A. Laws of the Oakland Pacific Coast League club has devalued Wakefield sharply.
In 1951, Wakefield will work for a $5,000 salary or he won't work with Oakland, Laws stated. Obviously he was not pleased with the performance of Wakefield last season, after the outfielder was waived out of the majors. He is offering Wakefield a wage that is the legal minimum for a major leaguer.
Thus Wakefield could tell young Ben Tompkins, the Phils' latest bonus baby, to get the dough in while the getting is good. It is nice to be born into the majors with money in the bank, because club owners can become disenchanted with bonus babes. A year ago, General Manager Billy Evans of Detroit declared his team was out of the bonus market.
It is no coincidence that the Phillies are the club which grabbed off young Tompkins despite the price tag. The Phillies are unimpressed by the Detroit's withdrawal from the bonus bidding, and with good reason. They built a pennant winner out of bonus babies last season.
The Phillies have had more luck with the bonus kids than all the other teams combined, perhaps because they go in more for that kind of talent-hunt, perhaps because their scouts are smarter operatives. But no fewer than five of Eddie Sawyer's pennant winning team- Pitchers Curt Simmons, Robin Roberts and Bob Miller, Outfielder Richie Ashburn and Catcher Stan Lopata- were bonus kids.
In the case of Tompkins, though, the Phillies were a brave outfit. They were undeterred by the fact the rugged twenty-year-old University of Texas junior is 1-A in the draft and the next uniform he will wear will be Uncle Sam's. Apparently they are willing to wait for something that resembles world peace, and take their chances.
Tompkins has one distinction, though. He's a shortstop-third baseman, one of the few young infielders to command any kind of a rich bonus figure. Usually, the big league teams are more willing to invest in pitchers.
The Tigers can flourish as much wealth, in fact more, under the responsive noses of the bonus kids than the Phillies, but if they are bonus-shy now it is understandable. Wakefield didn't pan out, and two years ago the Tigers gave a kid catcher named Frank House $75,000 for signing a contract.
They brought House up from the minors last year under the rule a bonus player can be farmed out for only one season, and it was early discerned he wasn't ready to catch in the big leagues. Manager Rolfe griped all season he was handicapped by being compelled to keep House on the roster when he preferred to make room for more helpful talent.
When the Tigers began to develop pennant possibilities last season, Rolfe declared flatly that 'House won't catch an inning as long as we are in the race.' Only when the Tigers dropped out of it, did he see action. It was a wasted year on the Detroit bench for the boy who should have been soaking up some more baseball in the minor leagues. The owners had that case in mind last December when they abrogated the rule limiting bonus kids to only one year in the minor leagues.
Wakefield's flop was a surprising one. The Tigers had come up with a rare piece of talent when they signed the fellow out of the University of Michigan ten years ago, every club that scouted him agreed. Even Clark Griffith was so impressed he telegraphed Wakefield a Washington offer of $45,000 as a bonus for signing.
Wakefield came along at a time when the Boston Red Sox, with their Ted Williams, were the envy of every other team. The facial and physical resemblance of Wakefield and Williams was startling, and the teams tumbled over themselves in the bidding before the Tigers landed the boy. He had speed, power, and everything to make good except the firm resolve to make good.
What happened is that Wakefield messed it up for himself. Whether it was his new and sudden affluence, or simply a built-in, don't'-care approach to the business of playing baseball, he never did capitalize on his natural talent. It took the Tigers nine years to give up on him, however. Because they couldn't kiss off their big investment right away, Wakefield was blessed with a nine-year tryout, one that left the Tigers weary of bonus babes."
-Shirley Povich, condensed from the Washington Post (Baseball Digest, April 1951)
Sunday, November 5, 2017
1951 Yankee Scout of the Past: Bill Essick
ESSICK: COAST'S STAR STAR-PICKER
He Had Faith in DiMag, Gomez
"Bill Essick, who scouted ball players for the Yankees in California for twenty-five years, has retired. Bill made a pretty good score over the years, coming up with, among others, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Crosetti, Joe Gordon, Vernon Gomez and, I believe, Tony Lazzeri.
Not many scouts could look back on a record like that. Paul Krichell, now and for many years chief of the Yankees' staff ... Dick Kinsella of the New York Giants and Larry Sutton of the Brooklyn Dodgers, both now dead ... discovered more players than Essick. Krichell's greatest find was Lou Gehrig. Kinsella, a paint store proprietor in Springfield, Ill, a friend of John McGraw's and practically the only scout the Giants had over a span of almost thirty years, started with Larry Doyle and wound up with Carl Hubbell. Sutton, lone prowler of the sticks for the Dodgers in the time of Charlie Ebbets, stocked Brooklyn with heroes, his most illustrious being Casey Stengel. But Krichell, Kinsella and Sutton roamed far and wide, while Essick confined his operation to the Pacific Coast League and that great proving ground of baseball players in San Francisco, Golden Gate Park.
Bill was one of the scouts engaged by Ed Barrow in the reorganization of the Yankees that followed Barrow's engagement as general manager of the club in 1920. Before that, Jake Ruppert and Cap Huston, the Yankee owners, had spent hundreds of thousands for players, many of them not worth the price paid for them. Barrow, by putting together a group of competent judges of talent in the raw, not only saved the club a tremendous amount of money but built the teams that won pennants and World Series and made the Yankees famous the world over.
Essick didn't discover DiMaggio. Everybody on the Coast did, at virtually the same time. Joe's terrific hitting and his matchless fielding made him a natural, so you didn't have to be a trained observer to say, on looking at him for the first time: 'Here is one who is destined for greatness.'
It was Bill's faith in Joe that paid off. In the summer of 1934, with a dozen major league clubs bidding for DiMaggio, the late Charlie Graham, who owned the San Francisco club, was sitting still and saying nothing. The bids started at $25,000. Now they were up to $75,000. Charlie was patient. He felt he could afford to be. If he held out long enough, he could get $100,000. Maybe more.
Then, one day when the Seals were playing at home, Joe took a cab to his sister's house after the game. The game had dragged and Joe was late for a dinner party and as the cab pulled up in front of the house, he leaped from it and his left knee popped.
'Like a pistol,' Joe was to say later.
The cab driver helped him into the house. An ambulance took him to a hospital. The major league club owners who had been bidding for him stopped bidding. Who wanted a young player with a trick knee?
Well ... Bill Essick did. Trick knee or no, this was a great ball player in the making. When Joe got out of the hospital, Bill trailed him into and out of every ball park in the Coast League.
One night he called Ed Barrow.
'Buy DiMaggio,' he said.
'How about that trick knee?' Ed asked.
'Listen,' Bill said. 'That's what I've been looking at for weeks. He can run. He can pivot at the plate. He can make the fast breaks in the outfield. He can even go down for a ball and come up with it and throw it. They all think I'm crazy out here but I'm not, they are. This kid is going to be one of the greatest ball players you ever saw. Believe me, Ed.'.
Ed believed him. He called Charlie Graham. The asking price was $40,000. Ed offered $20,000. They finally settled on $25,000. This was one of the greatest bargains in baseball history. Ed never has claimed credit for it. The credit, he said, belonged to Bill Essick.
That was, undoubtedly, Essick's greatest achievement as a Yankee scout. Next to it, I would take his recommendation of Lefty Gomez, then pitching for San Francisco.
Lefty was a skinny kid out of Rodeo, Cal., a town nobody ever heard of before and that nobody has heard of since. He was ... and still is ... roughly six feet tall. At the time the Yankees bought him he weighed ... but let him tell it: 'I was in the office and they had just told me I had been sold to the Yankees,' he said. 'I wandered into the secretary's office and I saw a wire he was going to release to the papers about my sale. It said I weighed 147 pounds. There was nobody else in the office. I scratched out the 147 and made it '167.' I didn't want anyone to think the Yankees were buying a ghost.' Actually, when Gomez showed up at the Stadium, Barrow was startled. He thought he had bought a ghost. When the season ended, he turned Lefty over to the club physician, who prescribed, among other things, three months on a milk farm, where Lefty could be fattened up. It was then that Lefty pulled one of his celebrated tricks.
'You come back to us in the spring weighing 180 pounds,' Barrow said, 'and you'll make old Yankee fans forget Jack Chesbro.'
'If I come back weighing 180 pounds,' Lefty said, 'I'll make them forget Gomez.'
He didn't. That is, he didn't come back weighing 180 pounds and, after what he did in the years that followed, they'll never forget Gomez. He never weighed more than 170 and he was great. But, remember, it was Essick who caught him at 147 ... and he was keen enough to know he would make the major league grade with something to spare. Bill couldn't foresee the milk farm. He just knew the guy was a big league pitcher."
-Frank Graham, condensed from the New York Journal-American (Baseball Digest, March 1951)
He Had Faith in DiMag, Gomez
"Bill Essick, who scouted ball players for the Yankees in California for twenty-five years, has retired. Bill made a pretty good score over the years, coming up with, among others, Joe DiMaggio, Frank Crosetti, Joe Gordon, Vernon Gomez and, I believe, Tony Lazzeri.
Not many scouts could look back on a record like that. Paul Krichell, now and for many years chief of the Yankees' staff ... Dick Kinsella of the New York Giants and Larry Sutton of the Brooklyn Dodgers, both now dead ... discovered more players than Essick. Krichell's greatest find was Lou Gehrig. Kinsella, a paint store proprietor in Springfield, Ill, a friend of John McGraw's and practically the only scout the Giants had over a span of almost thirty years, started with Larry Doyle and wound up with Carl Hubbell. Sutton, lone prowler of the sticks for the Dodgers in the time of Charlie Ebbets, stocked Brooklyn with heroes, his most illustrious being Casey Stengel. But Krichell, Kinsella and Sutton roamed far and wide, while Essick confined his operation to the Pacific Coast League and that great proving ground of baseball players in San Francisco, Golden Gate Park.
Bill was one of the scouts engaged by Ed Barrow in the reorganization of the Yankees that followed Barrow's engagement as general manager of the club in 1920. Before that, Jake Ruppert and Cap Huston, the Yankee owners, had spent hundreds of thousands for players, many of them not worth the price paid for them. Barrow, by putting together a group of competent judges of talent in the raw, not only saved the club a tremendous amount of money but built the teams that won pennants and World Series and made the Yankees famous the world over.
Essick didn't discover DiMaggio. Everybody on the Coast did, at virtually the same time. Joe's terrific hitting and his matchless fielding made him a natural, so you didn't have to be a trained observer to say, on looking at him for the first time: 'Here is one who is destined for greatness.'
It was Bill's faith in Joe that paid off. In the summer of 1934, with a dozen major league clubs bidding for DiMaggio, the late Charlie Graham, who owned the San Francisco club, was sitting still and saying nothing. The bids started at $25,000. Now they were up to $75,000. Charlie was patient. He felt he could afford to be. If he held out long enough, he could get $100,000. Maybe more.
Then, one day when the Seals were playing at home, Joe took a cab to his sister's house after the game. The game had dragged and Joe was late for a dinner party and as the cab pulled up in front of the house, he leaped from it and his left knee popped.
'Like a pistol,' Joe was to say later.
The cab driver helped him into the house. An ambulance took him to a hospital. The major league club owners who had been bidding for him stopped bidding. Who wanted a young player with a trick knee?
Well ... Bill Essick did. Trick knee or no, this was a great ball player in the making. When Joe got out of the hospital, Bill trailed him into and out of every ball park in the Coast League.
One night he called Ed Barrow.
'Buy DiMaggio,' he said.
'How about that trick knee?' Ed asked.
'Listen,' Bill said. 'That's what I've been looking at for weeks. He can run. He can pivot at the plate. He can make the fast breaks in the outfield. He can even go down for a ball and come up with it and throw it. They all think I'm crazy out here but I'm not, they are. This kid is going to be one of the greatest ball players you ever saw. Believe me, Ed.'.
Ed believed him. He called Charlie Graham. The asking price was $40,000. Ed offered $20,000. They finally settled on $25,000. This was one of the greatest bargains in baseball history. Ed never has claimed credit for it. The credit, he said, belonged to Bill Essick.
That was, undoubtedly, Essick's greatest achievement as a Yankee scout. Next to it, I would take his recommendation of Lefty Gomez, then pitching for San Francisco.
Lefty was a skinny kid out of Rodeo, Cal., a town nobody ever heard of before and that nobody has heard of since. He was ... and still is ... roughly six feet tall. At the time the Yankees bought him he weighed ... but let him tell it: 'I was in the office and they had just told me I had been sold to the Yankees,' he said. 'I wandered into the secretary's office and I saw a wire he was going to release to the papers about my sale. It said I weighed 147 pounds. There was nobody else in the office. I scratched out the 147 and made it '167.' I didn't want anyone to think the Yankees were buying a ghost.' Actually, when Gomez showed up at the Stadium, Barrow was startled. He thought he had bought a ghost. When the season ended, he turned Lefty over to the club physician, who prescribed, among other things, three months on a milk farm, where Lefty could be fattened up. It was then that Lefty pulled one of his celebrated tricks.
'You come back to us in the spring weighing 180 pounds,' Barrow said, 'and you'll make old Yankee fans forget Jack Chesbro.'
'If I come back weighing 180 pounds,' Lefty said, 'I'll make them forget Gomez.'
He didn't. That is, he didn't come back weighing 180 pounds and, after what he did in the years that followed, they'll never forget Gomez. He never weighed more than 170 and he was great. But, remember, it was Essick who caught him at 147 ... and he was keen enough to know he would make the major league grade with something to spare. Bill couldn't foresee the milk farm. He just knew the guy was a big league pitcher."
-Frank Graham, condensed from the New York Journal-American (Baseball Digest, March 1951)
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