Wednesday, March 27, 2019

1952 Yankee of the Past: Johnny Lindell

LINDELL FINDS SELF 'BOXED' IN
Knuckler Helps Ease Enforced Mound Career
"Three years ago, when Johnny Lindell joined the Hollywood Stars, he did so as an outfielder looking forward to five or six years of steady and profitable whittling at Pacific Coast League pitching.
'In the twilight of my career,' he mused happily, 'it will be nice to hit against people whose names are not Feller, Newhouser, Trucks and Trout.'
Mr. Lindell, you may recall, became one of the New York Yankees back in 1941. He was a respectable, if not respected, pitcher in those days, with an arm still full of fastballs, curves, sliders, sinkers and other bric-a-brac of this uncertain trade. The Yankees, wanting to take advantage of his hitting ability, converted John into an outfielder where he served a number of years (brilliantly in the 1947 World Series) before a certain amount of athletic deterioration set in.
However, Fred Haney, the Hollywood Stars' manager, was a man long on memory and short on pitchers. Racking his brain, Mr. Haney remembered a certain Lindell pitching for the Yankees eight years before, and proceeded accordingly.
'Welcome to our pitching staff,' greeted Mr. Haney.
'I beg pardon.'
'You're the same Lindell who pitched for the Yankees, aren't you?' demanded Fred.
'I am also the same Lindell who played outfield for the Yankees,' said John. 'Now, if you'll just show me where right field is in this ball park, I will- '
'You will pitch, or you won't play.'
'Hmm,' replied Mr. Lindell thoughtfully. 'And if I don't play I don't get paid.'
'Inescapable,' said Mr. Haney.
Big John retired to the bullpen, where the press found him earnestly trying to resume his pitching career.
'You might say,' responded Mr. Lindell, to a question, 'that I am a pitcher with eight years rest.'
As things developed, Mr. Lindell was not wholly taken aback by Haney's request that he give up the wide open spaces of right field and concentrate on the pitcher's plate. For several years, while with the Yankees, John experimented on a sort of insurance policy against the day he might have to return to hurling for his bread and butter.
His insurance policy was the knuckle ball. He threw it on the sidelines, during warm-up periods, in the day when he played outfield for the Yankees. The knuckler is the hardest pitch in the catalog of deliveries to control, since it has a mind of its own, flitting along vagrantly on the air currents.
It is gripped, as a general thing, with the points of the first and second fingers pressed on the smooth surface of the ball. Mr. Lindell grips it with three fingers, holding the ball out and away from his palm. The ball is released with absolutely no controlling spin- wind resistance controls the break. The ball may dart sideways; it may jump; it may dart and then jump. At times it appears to hang in the air, making up its mind which way to go.
Ball players have nicknamed it 'the snake' and catchers curse the day it was invented.
This, then, is the pitch that stands between Mr. Lindell and driving a truck. A number of pitchers rely on the knuckle ball, but none so heavily as Mr. Lindell, who throws it 80 per cent of the time.
The thankless job of boxing this treacherous delivery falls to Mike Sandlock, the Hollywood catcher. On second thought, the job isn't thankless at all. Eddie Malone, Hollywood's other catcher, is extremely solicitous about Sandlock's health and is thankful that Mike can make it to the park, on days when Lindell is scheduled to pitch. Even when he is called upon to catch John in the comparative safety of the bullpen, Eddie puts on a mask, chest protector and shin guards before having anything to do with that knuckle ball.
'It's a fine feeling,' observed Mr. Lindell recently, 'to know that all I have to do is get this &*%$! over the plate and all is well.'
'What about your other pitches?'
'That garbage?' he snorted. 'I throw it to other pitchers, exclusively.' "

-Emmett Watson, condensed from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Baseball Digest, August 1952)

Friday, March 22, 2019

1952 Yankee of the Past: Duffy Lewis

DUFFY LEWIS, 1915 SERIES STAR, NOW STEALS SHOW AS "SEC"
"Wherever the Boston Braves are, a thin, bald man of sixty-four follows a busy daily program. He is Duffy Lewis, christened George E., and the club's road secretary. The only one who calls him George is Mel Webb, an octogenarian, dean of Boston's sports writers.
Once a star of the Boston Red Sox' memorable outfield of Speaker-Lewis-Hooper, Duffy, until a year ago, was the only former big leaguer who worked as a road secretary in the majors. The only other one is Dave Keefe, a hurler of more than three decades ago, now with his alma mater, the Philadelphia A's.
Ol' Duffy, a fugitive from the American League, joined the Braves in 1931 as a coach. He also doubled as road secretary until Bob Quinn, then head of the club and father of John, its present general manager, said: 'Duffy, you can't handle both jobs. You either coach or be road secretary.'
Duffy wisely chose the latter. He has been at it ever since.
'I figured that a job as a coach lasted until the manager either quit or was fired,' says Lewis. 'A new manager always brings in his own coaches. The Braves have had four or five new managers since I became traveling secretary.'
Lewis played in three World Series for the Red Sox in 1912-15-16.
'Most guys were satisfied to get into one World Series back in those days,' says Lewis. 'We had great teams, though.
'I particularly remember Joe Wood, who won thirty-four games and lost five in 1912 and got only $7,500. Wood used to say at our pre-game meetings, 'Fellows, get me two runs and that'll be enough for me.' You know, Joe won a lot of times, 1-0 and 2-1.
'Tris Speaker, one of the greatest center fielders of all time, was the highest paid man. He got $9,000. Harry Hooper and I drew $6,000 each. Later, when I played with the Yanks, I got $8,500, the biggest pay of my career.'
Lewis was with the Yanks in 1919-20.
From the time he left the Pacific Coast League back in 1909 to join the Red Sox, Duffy has had the reputation as one of baseball's fashion plates. In his first season with the Red Sox, he wore a velvet vest to training camp. The vest was trimmed with diamond buttons. He has had a fondness for sparklers ever since.
Popular with Red Sox fans, he had a section of his home park named for him, Duffy's cliff, a high area near the left field fence at Fenway Park, Boston.
'I think I'm the only player who ever pinch hit for Babe Ruth,' says Lewis. He is also believed to be the only person who was with the late Bambino when he belted his first big league home run (with the Red Sox, 1915) and his last one (with the Braves, 1935). Babe bowed out with three home runs in one game against Pittsburgh. Duffy was a coach for the Braves at the time.
'I remember the pinch hit for Ruth as though it happened just recently,' says Lewis. 'Babe was pitching that afternoon. I was out of the game with an injured ankle. Bill Carrigan, our manager, said, 'Duff, can you hit for Ruth? A hit'll win for us.' I singled home the winning run.'
A star in the 1915 World Series, Lewis did a stretch in a vaudeville act at $1,000 at week for more than a month on the West Coast.
'I got a lot of publicity out of that Series,' recalled Lewis. 'I made five hits in eight trips against Grover Alexander of the Phillies in two games. I hit .444 in the Series.'
After his big league days, Duffy managed in the Pacific Coast League and in the New England League. His Portland (Me.) used to stop at the finest hotel in Boston.
'I always believed in going first class,' says Duffy.
And he still does.
After Lewis bowed out of baseball, he was doing quite well in the brokerage business. Once he visited the Red Sox spring quarters at Pensacola, Fla. He had seventy-two, that's right, seventy-two suits in his wardrobe. Then came the stock market crash in 1929 and Duffy came back to baseball, as coach with the Braves."

-Sam Levy, condensed from the Milwaukee Journal (Baseball Digest, July 1952)

DUFFY'S PENNANT-WINNING PLAY
"Boston and Detroit were battling nip and tuck for the pennant in 1915. Late in the season, they met in a crucial series. In the first game Oscar Vitt was second with none out. Ty Cobb was at bat.
The situation called for a bunt. Cobb choked his bat with the apparent intention of dumping the ball. Larry Gardner, the Boston third baseman, moved in on the grass. Vitt was off with the pitch, but Cobb, instead of bunting, merely faked a bunt.
Forrest Cady, the  Boston catcher, whirled and started to throw to third. He suddenly realized that Gardner had not gone back to the bag and third base was uncovered but he could not stop the throw. The ball passed five feet over Gardner's head into left field and the third base coach waved Vitt home.
Vitt never reached the plate. Duffy Lewis, the left fielder, had moved far in when Cobb came to bat, to back up third base. He grabbed Cady's wild heave on the first hop and fired the ball back to Cady at the plate. Vitt was out by ten feet.
The play cost Detroit the pennant. The Tigers did not fully recover from the effects of it. They finished the season winning 100 games and Boston won 101. Detroit has the distinction of being the only American League club that ever won 100 games in a season and failed to finish first."

-H.G. Salsinger in the Detroit News (Baseball Digest, October 1952)

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

1952 Yankee Prospect of the Past: Tommy Holmes

QUICK AS A MINK
"This is the story of Tommy Holmes, his wife and a mink coat. When Holmes was given a chance to open a managerial career this past spring with Hartford, he promised his wife a mink coat when he reached the status of a major league pilot.
Two months after leaving the Braves to handle their Hartford team, Holmes was asked to come back and take over the parent Boston Braves. When Tommy phoned his wife to tell her the good news, she almost swooned. The first thing she thought of was the mink coat.
Holmes grinned when asked about it recently. 'That's right,' he said. 'I promised her the mink coat when I became a big league manager but I had no idea the move would come so quickly. She's having one made now and my, oh my, aren't those mink coats expensive?!' "

-Les Biederman in the Pittsburgh Press (Baseball Digest, January 1952)

KNOW WHERE YOU'RE HITTING
Hitting With Pitch Only For Few
"Tommy Holmes sat in the Boston dugout and devoted time, in between warnings to his Braves against popping baseballs into the faces of paying customers, to his favorite topic of conversation.
'These pepper games have some value,' he temporized as he watched his athletes in baseball's time-honored pastime of taking turns slapping sharp grounders at one another. 'But sooner or later some guy with a bat gets too energetic, and then somebody gets hurt. Look at them now- hitting right toward those people in the box seats. Hey!
'But talking about hitting,' the youngest manager in the major leagues got back on his trolley,' I was saying that the good batter always knows where he is going to hit the ball- or at least where's he's trying to hit it. That business of hitting the pitch where it is? Uh, uh.
'Maybe it's okay for the one man in fifty who knows he can hit twenty or thirty home runs a season. If you have that much power, go ahead and swing. Otherwise, you should have a plan when you are up at the plate, especially when there men on bases.'
But, Tommy, what about the pitch? Suppose you have a runner on first base and you want to hit to right field so that you can move him around to third? And the pitcher comes in with a ball inside to a right-handed hitter- how are you going to hit that to right?
The holder of the National League record for hitting in consecutive games (thirty-seven) gave one of his famous high-pitched laughs.
'That's the toughest thing to teach a kid,' he agreed. 'You have to take the pitch, unless, of course, you have the hit-and-run on- then you have to swing at anything. But you give the pitcher that much of the plate, maybe just about the width of the ball itself, on the inside. You see, that's the only ball that is really hard to hit to the cross field, a ball that is really on the inside. If it's more than a width of the ball out to the middle of the plate, then you can hit it anywhere you want.'
Young Mr. Holmes has been occupied with teaching the largest crop of rookies in the National League this detail. How were they taking it?
'I just tell them one thing,' he grinned. 'There are doggone few pitchers in this league, or the other, who can put the ball in exactly the same place every time. Maybe they'll get the ball right where you can't hit it the way you want- the first time. The second time, if the guy is human, it will slip a little.  That's the one to belt!'
This discussion started, probably, because of the constant stress on perfecting the hit-and-run that has been a part of the Brooklyn Dodgers' campaign this year. These operations have been under the specific direction of Billy Herman, the one-time Cub second baseman who is generally recognized as having been one of the fine right-field hitters of the game. Herman has been working on all of the Brooks to impart this knack, and every once in a while they show signs of it.
'I used to take two strikes, sometimes,' he admitted when tested on the Holmes theory. 'If the pitcher wasn't so fast that he could throw the ball by me, that is. If you had one of those really quick fellows out there, you just didn't dare take twice. But that's right, you just have to give the pitcher that one piece of the plate, and if he can thread the needle, he's ahead of you.'
Then he paused, and a grin came over his face.
'Of course, sometimes you get a real good hit-and-run man up there, and then it's not just hitting the ball to right field. Everything depends on the situation, who the pitcher is, whether you can guess who's going to cover the base when the runner starts to go- all those things. You used to figure when the shortstop was going to cover, and then when he'd already broken for the bag and left a hole behind him, you'd slap that ball through the spot he just left.
'That used to be fun- out-smarting 'em, and making it hurt, besides getting the runner to third, too.' A shrug of the Herman head, a shrug of the shoulders. 'Well, you don't see much of that anymore. It used to be that a kid coming up for a tryout in the majors couldn't do that sort of thing. Why they'd just send him right back down for another year in the minors until he learned. Nobody spent dough for instructors and special coaches to teach the kid stuff like that in the big leagues. You were supposed to know how when you got here!' "

-Bill Dougherty, condensed from the Newark News (Baseball Digest, July 1952)

"Tommy took over the managership of the Braves in the middle of the 1951 season and led them to a first division spot. On May 31, 1952, he was succeeded by Charlie Grimm. Tom is still in the Braves organization.
He played for the Braves from 1942 through 1950 and started '51 as manager at Hartford. In pro ball since 1937, Tommy was a consistent .300 hitter. As a Brave outfielder, he hit .309 in 1944, .352 in '45, .310 in '46, .309 in '47, .325 in '48 and .298 in '50."

-1952 Topps No. 289

Monday, March 4, 2019

1952 Yankee of the Past: Dazzy Vance

AD-VANCED AGE ITEM
"Last September, on the day before he died suddenly in Memphis, Hank DeBerry was talking about age and ball players.
'You can't tell me that a lot of minor league seasoning isn't good for a player, or that a ball player has to quit when he's thirty-five,' Hank said. 'If Dazzy Vance could get a real start when he was thirty- and I think he was actually thirty-three- why should a youngster ever give up?
'One day in Brooklyn, Casey Stengel sent Daz in to relieve after he had shagged fungoes and run all over the outfield. He was forty-two at the time, but he held the other club until late in the game. And Stengel, when he took him out, said, 'That's the trouble with you guys. You don't keep in shape.' "

-Dave Bloom in the Memphis Commercial Appeal (Baseball Digest, April 1952)