TONY LAZZERI WAS LIKE THIS
Even As A Rookie, They Looked To Him When Going Was Tough
"Mae Lazzeri, widow of Tony, came in from San Francisco for the World Series last fall and seeing her again after so many years kicked up a lot of memories of her guy when he was one of the key figures on perhaps the greatest of all major league clubs.
Tony joined the Yankees at St. Petersburg in the spring of 1926. The year before they had finished seventh and few thought they would do much better for another year or so, but Miller Huggins said:
'If that kid at second base stands up we can win the pennant.'
It seemed a curious thing for him to say. Off the San Francisco sandlots and with only a couple of years in the minors behind him, Tony appeared ill-equipped to save Huggins with the responsibility the manager thus placed on him. Yet the season was but a month old when Tommy Connally, dean of the American League staff said:
'I shouldn't say this, being an umpire and all, but that young Eyetalian is a ball player. When things get tough out there, the others don't look to Ruth or any of the veterans. They look to him, and he never fails them.'
So the kid at second base stood up and the Yankees won the pennant. They lost the World Series with the Cardinals. The climax was reached in the seventh inning of the final game when Grover Cleveland Alexander came in to relieve Jesse Haines for the Cardinals. With two out, the bases filled, and Lazzeri at bat.
"Everybody remembers when I struck Lazzeri out,' Alex was to say many times thereafter. 'Nobody remembers that the second strike was a line drive into the left field stand that was foul by only about two feet.'
Tony was a handsome youth, square-shouldered and tremendously strong for one of his comparatively slender build, resulting from his having worked in a boiler factory with his father. He was thoughtful, shy and, even among his friends, had little to say. But he could be a hard man on the field when an opponent tried to take advantage of him, and no one ever challenged him to a fist fight.
During the 1927 World Series with the Pirates, George Grantham was on first base and a ground ball was hit to Lazzeri. He came up with it, tagged Grantham and threw to Lou Gehrig at first base for a double play. Then he advanced on Grantham, who had sought to knock the ball out of his hand and said:
'You try that again and I'll stick the ball down your throat.'
'I don't think he meant to do it, Tony,' the first base umpire said.
'Back off,' Tony said. 'This isn't your business.'
When Joe McCarthy was engaged to manage the Yankees, starting with the spring of 1931, his position was not an enviable one. Many of the players thought the Babe should have had the appointment as a reward for his services to the club over the years. Others, resentful in the beginning only because an outsider from the National League had been put in command of them, were restive under Joe's strict discipline. McCarthy cared little or nothing about how they felt. He knew he needed only the support of Lazzeri, their acknowledged leader. He gained it in an unexpected fashion.
Without meaning to do so, Tony walked in on McCarthy giving a merciless verbal raking to one of the younger players in an otherwise empty clubhouse. As the boy, close to tears, left for the field, Tony said to McCarthy, 'I didn't know what kind of guy you were, but I know now, and I want nothing to do with you.'
'Tony,' Joe said, 'I'm sorry you had to hear what I was saying to him but in a way I'm glad. He's a good kid and has all the ability he needs to make him a star, but he's running around with a bad crowd and I don't want to see him ruin himself. I've tried every other way I could think of to drive some sense into him, not because I need him, but only for his own good.'
'That's different,' Tony said. 'I'm on your side, Joe.' "
-Frank Graham, New York Journal-American (Baseball Digest, February 1959)