"Joe DiMaggio's tete-a-tetes with Marilyn Monroe prove he's still got a great batting eye- he doesn't miss many curves."
-Earl Wilson in the New York Post (Baseball Digest, January 1953)
"Every winter it is the custom of the publicity department of the Yankees to send out questionnaires to the players. They are asked to answer a number of queries, one of which is, 'Who is your baseball model, and which player do you admire the most?'
Over the past five years 90 per cent of the answers to this question have been Joe DiMaggio.
Joe's teammates stressed his grace, his pride, his power, his speed. They emphasized his aggressiveness, his high quality as a team player, his effortlessness, superlative skill.
As a judge of a fly ball, Guiseppe, in his heyday, was in a class by himself. I will never forget that catch he made years ago, to the chagrin of Hank Greenberg. It happened in the Stadium. Hank, with the Tigers, aimed for the center field bleachers, into which no one has yet been able to drive a baseball. The drive barely fell short, and became involved with the center field flagpole. DiMaggio 'had it all the way,' in the argot of the diamond, and made one of the most amazing catches it has been my good fortune to see.
During the 1934 season, Joe went through a particularly wearing Sunday double-header in San Francisco. He felt like going home and into bed. But there was a family dinner at a sister's home, and Joe just had to be there.
The fatigued outfielder got into a jitney bus at the Seals Stadium, and soon found himself sitting in a very cramped position in an overcrowded vehicle. When Joe reached his destination, he stepped to the curb on a leg which had become numb. The leg buckled under him, the knee was injured, and Outfielder Joe DiMaggio found himself a casualty.
The major league fraternity showed reduced interest in Joe. The word got around that his knee injury was chronic. With no decent offers for him, DiMaggio found himself detoured from his major league objective. Back he went into Coast League competition in 1935.
Joe played in 172 games that year, hit .398. The late Bill Essick and Joe Devine had developed a fresh interest in Guiseppe. They were working for Edward G. Barrow, general manager of the Yankees, and told him that they believed that DiMaggio's knee was responding to treatment. Barrow obtained permission from Owner Charley Graham of San Francisco to submit that knee to examination by a Los Angeles specialist.
'That leg should not hamper Joe's career,' Essick and Devine were told.
Barrow drove a hard bargain with Graham. He obtained DiMaggio for $25,000 in cash, and five players. One of these, Dr. Edward Farrell, now a flourishing dentist in New Jersey, refused to go the Seals, and retired from baseball. Barrow had to shell out another five grand to make up for Farrell.
No sooner had the Yankees closed the deal for Joe than they were besieged with offers for him from other major league clubs. I was with Barrow in the Yankee offices one afternoon when the late Eddie Collins, of the Red Sox, called Cousin Ed over the telephone and tried to land Joe for $55,000. 'Make that $155,000 and you still get nowhere,' Barrow told Eddie.
Had the Red Sox obtained Joe DiMaggio, with Ted Williams to follow, the pennant situation in the American League certainly would have been changed. As it was, the coming of Guiseppe to the Stadium enabled the New York club and Joe McCarthy to set an American League record, and match John J. McGraw's record with the 1921-24 Giants, by winning four consecutive pennants. Marse Joe bettered Mac's showing by hanging a world championship onto each of those four league titles."
-Dan Daniel, New York World-Telegram and Sun (Baseball's Greatest Lineup, Baseball Digest, February 1953)
"Hollywood wags report Joe DiMaggio purchased Marilyn Monroe a 'baseball gown.' It shows a lot of curves, has a diamond back and a grandstand view in front!"
-Irv Kupcinet in the Chicago Times (Baseball Digest, May 1953)
DISENCHANTMENT
"Junior Standish, a Latin Quarter beauty, was dated by Joe DiMaggio while he was out of the lineup because of a batting slump and an injured heel. The next day DiMaggio went back into the lineup and got two hits. All ball players are superstitious, and to him Miss Standish and hits became cause and effect. He continued to date her, and continued to hit. Her place in his affection became secure- for two weeks, while his batting spree continued. Then, one day, Joe went hitless. The first gossip-columnist to make a deadline reported, without fear of contradiction, that 'Junior Standish and Joe DiMaggio have split.'"
-Leonard Lyons in the New York Post (Baseball Digest, October 1953)
Thursday, July 25, 2019
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Babe Ruth
"I never knew a great man- and Babe Ruth was truly great- who was more completely himself every minute he lived. My years in the pressbox and Ruth's on the field ran concurrently. More than that, he was an intimate friend. It is a cherished delight to remember that more than once I helped him break training, a minor contribution to be sure. My old friend never needed much help when the circumstances were inviting.
There are two nights with the Babe I remember particularly.
The first was in October, 1928. The Yankees have just beaten the St. Louis Cardinals four straight. Ruth has been the standout with a record .625 batting average and three home runs in the wrap-up game. We are aboard the Yankee special headed back east. Ruth is stripped to the waist, wearing only his pajama pants. Hours later he and Waite Hoyt and Bob Meusel are to lead through the train a roistering party, which is to leave everybody with torn ties and shirts. At the moment he is sitting in his drawing room, which is stacked high with bottled beer, and on the card table is an immense mound of the great man's favorite snack food: spiced barbecued ribs. Boisterous good fellowship reigns as the train roars through the night.
Along about 1 A.M. there is a stop in Mattoon, Ill., where a railroading process of some nature takes place. Even at this hour there is a crowd at the station, hundreds it seems, and you note with surprise two women with sleeping babes in arms. The crowd sets up a cry: 'We want Ruth! We want Ruth!'
Presently the Babe, his torso still bare, a bottle of beer in one hand, a messy hunk of the vile ribs in the other, appears on the platform of the car. At the sight of the great man there is awed silence. By this time the Babe has been around long enough to have developed a loose social sense. This is a situation which clearly calls for acknowledgment and proper appreciation. Wiping his lips with his forearm he commands:
'Three cheers for the Yankees!'
There is a pause after the response. Then with the acquired faculty he had for doing the right thing he sensed that these people must be Cardinal fans by geographical propinquity.
'Three cheers for the Cardinals!'
But before the willing and eager audience could organize a cheer Ruth lifted a restraining paw.
'Aw, to hell with' em. They quit.'
I cherish my memory of the incident as an illustration of the man's studied kindness on the one hand and his raw integrity on the other. It would be decent to cheer them but really they had no cheer coming. You and I more likely would have been disposed to play it straight. The Babe simply didn't know how.
The other night I have in mind was October, 1934. The locale is again St. Louis. The Detroit Tigers are one up on the Cardinals in the Series and the scene is shifting back to Briggs Stadium for the final two games. The Babe is experting for the Hearst newspapers. I am accompanying him from the ball park to the station with a stopover for refilling at one of the Babe's favorite pubs. It is still some minutes before departure time and as we walk down the platform the Babe says: 'Let's go up front and look at the engine.'
It is indeed a monster and the Babe consumes its massive lines with the wonder of a small boy. The engineer looks down from the upper structure of his cab and by way of making conversation asks:
'How many home runs you gonna hit for the Yankees next year, Babe?'
'Nuts with the Yankees,' the Babe barks. 'I'm through with them cheapskates.'
To my knowledge this was the first disclosure Ruth had made that he was ending his long association with the Yankees. Up to that time there had been no outside inkling he was not returning to the Stadium. Only Jake Ruppert and Ed Barrow, and very probably Ruth's wife, knew the breaking point had been reached. It was typical of the Babe that the first outsider to know would be an anonymous engineer he had never seen before in his life.
The Babe had begun to fade badly. That season his hitting dipped under .300, he got but 22 home runs and played in only 125 games. The handwriting was on the wall, in large, clear, portentous strokes. He was just about through. What next? Managing, of course. The reward of every great ball player. It had come to Cobb, to Speaker, Hornsby, Sisler, Johnson, Mathewson. 'Why not me?' Ruth must have asked himself. 'After all, they said I built Yankee Stadium.'
It was the result of what had been an unsatisfactory showdown with Ruppert that the Babe was telling the unknown engineer in the St. Louis yards that night. Ruth had virtually demanded that Ruppert make a choice between him and Joe McCarthy. It wasn't Ruth's way to approach a delicate problem with finesse or diplomacy.
Patience is all Ruth needed to get the manager's post. Ruppert was dubious of the Babe's ability to handle men, but he recognized Ruth was entitled by performance and precedent to the opportunity. Ruppert suggested a fair compromise. Manage the farm club in Newark for one year. To the Babe this was an affront. There would be no minors for him in any capacity. The Yankees under McCarthy had finished second in 1933 and 1934 and were destined to finish second again in 1935. Ruppert was insistent on winners and the situation was such that if Ruth had gone to Newark or even deferred the showdown he almost surely would have been made manager of the Yankees in 1936.
For a while, Ruth was puzzled, hurt and embittered that not only the Yankees but no other major club would make room for him as a manager, and a great many fans shared these emotions, I'm sure. On the surface it was extremely difficult to understand. I used to get letters from my mystified readers asking if there was a conspiracy against him. There wasn't, of course.
Ruth wasn't fashioned to be a manager. A manager must preach and practice restraints, impose law and order, make hard, tough decisions and maintain a certain aloofness from the players. The Babe was incapable of doing any of these things. It would have been unnatural and that was not the Babe's way. I never joined a campaign to make Ruth a manager of any club. I was too sure the results would have been unhappy. And in his later years, when he had become more understanding, I think he agreed, though he never admitted as much in my presence. I must believe, however, that one of the best breaks my old friend ever got was that he was never made manager of a big league ball club.
The Babe brought such a gay spirit to his work and performed his heroics with such seeming ease and was so seldom in the middle of what the boys call rhubarbs that there was a tendency to ignore his great competitive ardor. But even if he didn't wear it on his sleeve he had it to a very marked degree. So often it has been observed that the Babe never failed to rise to the occasion. What could that have been but a fierce burning urge to win and excel? Give him a high audience, the spotlight and a dramatic situation and he was sure to take over the center stage.
I'm always astonished whenever I come across people who do not remember or who have never heard of Ruth as a pitcher. As a boy the Babe was one of those oddities- a left-handed catcher- but it was as a pitcher that he came into professional baseball. And don't let anybody tell you he wasn't good. He was more than good. He was great. And if he had remained as a pitcher he might well have established himself as the greatest left-hander anybody ever saw. He was fast, had a corking curve, excellent control, remarkable poise.
Ruth's over-all pitching record was 94 won and 46 lost for .671 with an earned run average of 2.28. And keep in mind he had not reached his peak when Barrow made him over into an outfielder for keeps in 1919. At that time he was only 24. When you consider that he lasted 16 more years there is no telling how far he would have gone as a pitcher, how many dazzling exploits he might have achieved. Ruth was always proud of his pitching. Sitting with friends in his New York apartment in a den filled with mementos of his career, trophies, pictures, cartoons and such, he'd give you a pitch-by-pitch detail of what he called his greatest thrill.
Detroit was playing the Red Sox. Detroit was the heaviest hitting team in baseball. 'It's the last of the ninth and we got 'em beat 1-0 in their own park, and nobody's coming up but Veach, Cobb and Crawford. That's all. Just Veach, Cobb and Crawford. Three tough cookies. And we got only a one-run lead. Well, what does the old Jedge do (a name of vague origin he used for himself) but get'em out in order. Not only that, I strike 'em out. And on ten pitched balls. Do you hear me? Ten pitched balls. And some of these jerks say I was just a thrower. Hell, I was a great pitcher.' And that he was. One of his more resplendent pitching records is still in the book; that of pitching 29 consecutive scoreless innings in World Series play. Ruth liked to remember that one, too, and you could be sure that before the night was over he'd remind you whose record he'd beat. 'Christy Mathewson's. No thrower's going around beating Matty's records, I'm telling you.'"
-Baseball's Greatest Lineup by Joe Williams, New York World-Telegram and Sun (Baseball Digest, February 1953)
QUOTING RUTH: "I NEVER SHOULD HAVE POINTED!"
"'Don't let anyone ever tell you Babe Ruth didn't point where he was going to hit that homer in Chicago (1932 World Series),' admonishes Cy Perkins, the Phillies coach who was the Babe's roommate at the time. 'He pointed twice. Once before the first pitch and the second time right before the third pitch.
'You know about the argument. The Babe was never one to ride the other clubs. He didn't do that, but he did kid the Cubs about cutting Mark Koenig (their shortstop who hadn't been with Chicago the entire season) for only half a share instead of a full one. The Cubs got on the Babe and in this game, he was really hot.
'They were still giving him the business when he went up to the plate. That's when he pointed to center field. He fouled off the first pitch. The second was a ball. Then the Babe pointed again and on the third pitch- wham!- that was it.
'In the room that night, the Babe told me what a sucker he was to point. It sure put him on the spot.
''Look how many ways they could have got me out,' he said. 'I'd have given $10,000 not to have done it.'"
-Ed Pollack in the Philadelphia Bulletin (Baseball Digest, April 1953)
THE BABE'S FIRST CALLED HOMER
"To anyone even faintly familiar with the amazing feats of Babe Ruth, the most magnetic and dramatic ball player of all time, his home run off Charlie Root in the 1932 World Series stands out as one of his most famous. The Cubs were really on Babe in that Series. The bench jockeys were using both foul and fair means to get his goat. To silence them, Ruth pointed dramatically toward the center field bleachers, which many observers interpreted as meaning he was indicating he would hit the next pitch up there for a home run. He did!
The Babe's success in apparently calling his shot naturally has become a legend. The fact remains, however, that 11 years prior to the 1932 World Series- in 1921- I saw the original of that unbelievable trick, performed in much more dramatic circumstances- and it was dismissed casually by most sports writers with a brief line that 'the Babe hit one into the center field bleachers at the Polo Grounds, the first time it had ever been done.'
The details leading up to this home run by the Babe were exciting, memorable and tragic. On Aug. 16, 1920, the Cleveland Indians invaded the Polo Grounds with a team heading for the pennant. The Yankees, only a half-game behind, were fighting hard to overtake them. Carl Mays was on the mound for the Yankees. Ray Chapman, a fine shortstop and hitter, was at bat for the Indians.
Mays wound up and delivered the ball. There was a resounding crack and the ball bounced out over the pitcher's head toward second base. Chapman, hit on the head, slowly crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I was sitting on the bench then and the first thought that came to me was to take a glass of water out to him. But Chapman never had a chance to drink it. Without regaining consciousness, he died that night.
A great deal of controversy developed. Was the pitch an accident or was Mays trying to dust off Chapman? Fiery Ty Cobb, though he was playing with Detroit at Boston that day, claimed Mays deliberately tried to bean Chapman. The Yankees and particularly Babe Ruth jumped to Mays' defense. A bitter feud developed between Cobb and Ruth.
The feud carried over until the following season. In June the Tigers invaded the Polo Grounds. In the course of one of the games (June 13), Cobb went tearing in for a Texas Leaguer that fell just out of his reach. He was near second base. Ruth was stepping into the batter's box. Cobb yelled some vilification at the Babe. Infuriated, Ruth yelled out, 'You dirty so-and-so, get back to the outfield.' And dramatically pointing his finger to a spot in the far away center field bleachers, blasphemed, 'I am going to hit the --- ---- ball up there.' He did."
-Alfred Kunitz [former Yankee batboy] (Baseball Digest, August 1953)
There are two nights with the Babe I remember particularly.
The first was in October, 1928. The Yankees have just beaten the St. Louis Cardinals four straight. Ruth has been the standout with a record .625 batting average and three home runs in the wrap-up game. We are aboard the Yankee special headed back east. Ruth is stripped to the waist, wearing only his pajama pants. Hours later he and Waite Hoyt and Bob Meusel are to lead through the train a roistering party, which is to leave everybody with torn ties and shirts. At the moment he is sitting in his drawing room, which is stacked high with bottled beer, and on the card table is an immense mound of the great man's favorite snack food: spiced barbecued ribs. Boisterous good fellowship reigns as the train roars through the night.
Along about 1 A.M. there is a stop in Mattoon, Ill., where a railroading process of some nature takes place. Even at this hour there is a crowd at the station, hundreds it seems, and you note with surprise two women with sleeping babes in arms. The crowd sets up a cry: 'We want Ruth! We want Ruth!'
Presently the Babe, his torso still bare, a bottle of beer in one hand, a messy hunk of the vile ribs in the other, appears on the platform of the car. At the sight of the great man there is awed silence. By this time the Babe has been around long enough to have developed a loose social sense. This is a situation which clearly calls for acknowledgment and proper appreciation. Wiping his lips with his forearm he commands:
'Three cheers for the Yankees!'
There is a pause after the response. Then with the acquired faculty he had for doing the right thing he sensed that these people must be Cardinal fans by geographical propinquity.
'Three cheers for the Cardinals!'
But before the willing and eager audience could organize a cheer Ruth lifted a restraining paw.
'Aw, to hell with' em. They quit.'
I cherish my memory of the incident as an illustration of the man's studied kindness on the one hand and his raw integrity on the other. It would be decent to cheer them but really they had no cheer coming. You and I more likely would have been disposed to play it straight. The Babe simply didn't know how.
The other night I have in mind was October, 1934. The locale is again St. Louis. The Detroit Tigers are one up on the Cardinals in the Series and the scene is shifting back to Briggs Stadium for the final two games. The Babe is experting for the Hearst newspapers. I am accompanying him from the ball park to the station with a stopover for refilling at one of the Babe's favorite pubs. It is still some minutes before departure time and as we walk down the platform the Babe says: 'Let's go up front and look at the engine.'
It is indeed a monster and the Babe consumes its massive lines with the wonder of a small boy. The engineer looks down from the upper structure of his cab and by way of making conversation asks:
'How many home runs you gonna hit for the Yankees next year, Babe?'
'Nuts with the Yankees,' the Babe barks. 'I'm through with them cheapskates.'
To my knowledge this was the first disclosure Ruth had made that he was ending his long association with the Yankees. Up to that time there had been no outside inkling he was not returning to the Stadium. Only Jake Ruppert and Ed Barrow, and very probably Ruth's wife, knew the breaking point had been reached. It was typical of the Babe that the first outsider to know would be an anonymous engineer he had never seen before in his life.
The Babe had begun to fade badly. That season his hitting dipped under .300, he got but 22 home runs and played in only 125 games. The handwriting was on the wall, in large, clear, portentous strokes. He was just about through. What next? Managing, of course. The reward of every great ball player. It had come to Cobb, to Speaker, Hornsby, Sisler, Johnson, Mathewson. 'Why not me?' Ruth must have asked himself. 'After all, they said I built Yankee Stadium.'
It was the result of what had been an unsatisfactory showdown with Ruppert that the Babe was telling the unknown engineer in the St. Louis yards that night. Ruth had virtually demanded that Ruppert make a choice between him and Joe McCarthy. It wasn't Ruth's way to approach a delicate problem with finesse or diplomacy.
Patience is all Ruth needed to get the manager's post. Ruppert was dubious of the Babe's ability to handle men, but he recognized Ruth was entitled by performance and precedent to the opportunity. Ruppert suggested a fair compromise. Manage the farm club in Newark for one year. To the Babe this was an affront. There would be no minors for him in any capacity. The Yankees under McCarthy had finished second in 1933 and 1934 and were destined to finish second again in 1935. Ruppert was insistent on winners and the situation was such that if Ruth had gone to Newark or even deferred the showdown he almost surely would have been made manager of the Yankees in 1936.
For a while, Ruth was puzzled, hurt and embittered that not only the Yankees but no other major club would make room for him as a manager, and a great many fans shared these emotions, I'm sure. On the surface it was extremely difficult to understand. I used to get letters from my mystified readers asking if there was a conspiracy against him. There wasn't, of course.
Ruth wasn't fashioned to be a manager. A manager must preach and practice restraints, impose law and order, make hard, tough decisions and maintain a certain aloofness from the players. The Babe was incapable of doing any of these things. It would have been unnatural and that was not the Babe's way. I never joined a campaign to make Ruth a manager of any club. I was too sure the results would have been unhappy. And in his later years, when he had become more understanding, I think he agreed, though he never admitted as much in my presence. I must believe, however, that one of the best breaks my old friend ever got was that he was never made manager of a big league ball club.
The Babe brought such a gay spirit to his work and performed his heroics with such seeming ease and was so seldom in the middle of what the boys call rhubarbs that there was a tendency to ignore his great competitive ardor. But even if he didn't wear it on his sleeve he had it to a very marked degree. So often it has been observed that the Babe never failed to rise to the occasion. What could that have been but a fierce burning urge to win and excel? Give him a high audience, the spotlight and a dramatic situation and he was sure to take over the center stage.
I'm always astonished whenever I come across people who do not remember or who have never heard of Ruth as a pitcher. As a boy the Babe was one of those oddities- a left-handed catcher- but it was as a pitcher that he came into professional baseball. And don't let anybody tell you he wasn't good. He was more than good. He was great. And if he had remained as a pitcher he might well have established himself as the greatest left-hander anybody ever saw. He was fast, had a corking curve, excellent control, remarkable poise.
Ruth's over-all pitching record was 94 won and 46 lost for .671 with an earned run average of 2.28. And keep in mind he had not reached his peak when Barrow made him over into an outfielder for keeps in 1919. At that time he was only 24. When you consider that he lasted 16 more years there is no telling how far he would have gone as a pitcher, how many dazzling exploits he might have achieved. Ruth was always proud of his pitching. Sitting with friends in his New York apartment in a den filled with mementos of his career, trophies, pictures, cartoons and such, he'd give you a pitch-by-pitch detail of what he called his greatest thrill.
Detroit was playing the Red Sox. Detroit was the heaviest hitting team in baseball. 'It's the last of the ninth and we got 'em beat 1-0 in their own park, and nobody's coming up but Veach, Cobb and Crawford. That's all. Just Veach, Cobb and Crawford. Three tough cookies. And we got only a one-run lead. Well, what does the old Jedge do (a name of vague origin he used for himself) but get'em out in order. Not only that, I strike 'em out. And on ten pitched balls. Do you hear me? Ten pitched balls. And some of these jerks say I was just a thrower. Hell, I was a great pitcher.' And that he was. One of his more resplendent pitching records is still in the book; that of pitching 29 consecutive scoreless innings in World Series play. Ruth liked to remember that one, too, and you could be sure that before the night was over he'd remind you whose record he'd beat. 'Christy Mathewson's. No thrower's going around beating Matty's records, I'm telling you.'"
-Baseball's Greatest Lineup by Joe Williams, New York World-Telegram and Sun (Baseball Digest, February 1953)
QUOTING RUTH: "I NEVER SHOULD HAVE POINTED!"
"'Don't let anyone ever tell you Babe Ruth didn't point where he was going to hit that homer in Chicago (1932 World Series),' admonishes Cy Perkins, the Phillies coach who was the Babe's roommate at the time. 'He pointed twice. Once before the first pitch and the second time right before the third pitch.
'You know about the argument. The Babe was never one to ride the other clubs. He didn't do that, but he did kid the Cubs about cutting Mark Koenig (their shortstop who hadn't been with Chicago the entire season) for only half a share instead of a full one. The Cubs got on the Babe and in this game, he was really hot.
'They were still giving him the business when he went up to the plate. That's when he pointed to center field. He fouled off the first pitch. The second was a ball. Then the Babe pointed again and on the third pitch- wham!- that was it.
'In the room that night, the Babe told me what a sucker he was to point. It sure put him on the spot.
''Look how many ways they could have got me out,' he said. 'I'd have given $10,000 not to have done it.'"
-Ed Pollack in the Philadelphia Bulletin (Baseball Digest, April 1953)
THE BABE'S FIRST CALLED HOMER
"To anyone even faintly familiar with the amazing feats of Babe Ruth, the most magnetic and dramatic ball player of all time, his home run off Charlie Root in the 1932 World Series stands out as one of his most famous. The Cubs were really on Babe in that Series. The bench jockeys were using both foul and fair means to get his goat. To silence them, Ruth pointed dramatically toward the center field bleachers, which many observers interpreted as meaning he was indicating he would hit the next pitch up there for a home run. He did!
The Babe's success in apparently calling his shot naturally has become a legend. The fact remains, however, that 11 years prior to the 1932 World Series- in 1921- I saw the original of that unbelievable trick, performed in much more dramatic circumstances- and it was dismissed casually by most sports writers with a brief line that 'the Babe hit one into the center field bleachers at the Polo Grounds, the first time it had ever been done.'
The details leading up to this home run by the Babe were exciting, memorable and tragic. On Aug. 16, 1920, the Cleveland Indians invaded the Polo Grounds with a team heading for the pennant. The Yankees, only a half-game behind, were fighting hard to overtake them. Carl Mays was on the mound for the Yankees. Ray Chapman, a fine shortstop and hitter, was at bat for the Indians.
Mays wound up and delivered the ball. There was a resounding crack and the ball bounced out over the pitcher's head toward second base. Chapman, hit on the head, slowly crumpled to the ground, unconscious. I was sitting on the bench then and the first thought that came to me was to take a glass of water out to him. But Chapman never had a chance to drink it. Without regaining consciousness, he died that night.
A great deal of controversy developed. Was the pitch an accident or was Mays trying to dust off Chapman? Fiery Ty Cobb, though he was playing with Detroit at Boston that day, claimed Mays deliberately tried to bean Chapman. The Yankees and particularly Babe Ruth jumped to Mays' defense. A bitter feud developed between Cobb and Ruth.
The feud carried over until the following season. In June the Tigers invaded the Polo Grounds. In the course of one of the games (June 13), Cobb went tearing in for a Texas Leaguer that fell just out of his reach. He was near second base. Ruth was stepping into the batter's box. Cobb yelled some vilification at the Babe. Infuriated, Ruth yelled out, 'You dirty so-and-so, get back to the outfield.' And dramatically pointing his finger to a spot in the far away center field bleachers, blasphemed, 'I am going to hit the --- ---- ball up there.' He did."
-Alfred Kunitz [former Yankee batboy] (Baseball Digest, August 1953)
Friday, June 28, 2019
1952 Yankees' Old-Timers' Day of the Past: 1951
OLD-TIMERS DAY WITH THE YANKEES
Why McCarthy Quit Coaching Lines
"It was Old-Timers Day at Yankee Stadium. Ed Barrow was there and Joe McCarthy. And Joe Dugan and Whitey Witt and Home Run Baker. Roger Peckinpaugh and Wally Pipp and Benny Bengough. Joe Sewell and Walter Brown and Wally Schang. Red Ruffing and Charlie Keller and Lyn Lary. Marius Russo and Bob Shawkey and Earle Combs and Bud Metheny. And Vernon (Lefty) Gomez.
In the New York clubhouse before the game started, Gomez dominated the gathering. Being Gomez, he simply couldn't help it. He was the one the others were listening to, wherever he happened to be. He didn't fail them, either.
He said to Ed Barrow:
'Remember when you thought I had to put on weight to be a big league pitcher and sent me to a milk farm?'
'I do,' Ed said.
'You said to me: 'Put on twenty pounds and you'll make even the older fans forget Jack Chesbro?'
'I said: 'If I put on twenty pounds they'll forget Gomez.'
'And what happened? I put on twenty and even you forgot me.'
'I forgot you?' Barrow said.
'Well, not exactly,' Gomez said. 'But you sent me to St. Paul.'
There was the year that Lou Gehrig would have led the league in home runs but he missed because Lary, on second base when Lou blew one into the stands with two out, thought the ball had been caught and, having reached third base, headed for the dugout to get a drink of water before taking his position at shortstop. And Gehrig, not having noticed this, rounded third and continued on to the plate- and was called out for having passed Lary on the base line.
'McCarthy was coaching at third base,' Lefty said, recalling the episode.
Just then McCarthy walked into the room. Raising his voice, Lefty said:
'Joe came back to the dugout, steaming.
' 'Of all the dumb ----!' he said. 'Twenty of you sitting on the bench and not one of you had brains enough to yell at Lary that the ball was in the stands.'
'And Ruffing said: 'What was the matter with you, Joe? You were closer to him than anyone else.'
'That,' Lefty said, 'was the last time Joe ever coached at third base- or any other base.'
Then he turned to Joe and said:
'A little while ago, somebody said to me:
' 'You know Joe McCarthy, don't you?'
'And I said: 'Know him? Ruffing and I ---- near pitched him into the Hall of Fame.' '
Benny Bengough, one of the great Yankee catchers, came in and Lefty said: 'You and that Lazzeri.'
'Me and Lazzeri? What about us?'
'The first time Lazzeri saw me,' Lefty said, 'he looked me over and he said:
' 'You were in the Coast League last year, weren't you?'
' 'I said, 'Yes. What about it?'
'And he said: 'That's where you will be next year.' '
He turned to the others.
'And this Bengough!' he said. 'The first time I ever was in a ball game, Shawkey called me in to relieve. Bengough is down like this, giving me a sign. I can't see it, but I throw him a fast ball. He's looking for a curve and the ball goes over his head, misses the umpire, fortunately, and hits the grandstand and everybody runs. When Bengough recovers the ball there isn't anything he can do but walk out to the box and hand it to me and as he does he says:
' 'Take it easy, kid. Don't be nervous. Pitching up here is just like pitching in the minors except that up here the catcher generally knows what's coming.' '
Yogi Berra, current Yankee catcher, came in and Gomez said to him:
'Too bad about you.'
'What's the matter with me?' Yogi asked.
'I've often wondered,' Lefty said. 'But that's beside the point. I was just thinking you were born too late. I could have made a great catcher out of you just by throwing my fast ball past the hitters.'
It was a nostalgic touch. That was the way it used to be in the clubhouse when Lefty was pitching for the Yankees. Never a solemn moment when the guy was around, even when a pennant race ... or a World Series ... was tight and he was pitching. There was the time when, in a clutch game, he had one out and two on and a tough hitter at the plate and he walked in and beckoned to Bill Dickey. Bill, naturally, thought he wanted to talk to him about the hitter and walked out to him.
'Have you got any bird dog puppies to sell?' Lefty asked.
'What's the matter with you?' Bill asked. 'Have you lost your mind?'
'No,' Lefty said. 'Seriously, a friend of mine asked me last night if I knew where he could buy a couple of bird dog puppies and I said I thought you might have some and I just happened to think of it and ... '
The guy was a great pitcher. He had to be, with the stuff he had and the temperament and the sheer guts.
Nostalgic? So was the sight of Barrow and McCarthy in the Stadium. Not in the clubhouse. Not even on this occasion, arranged as a salute to McCarthy, for when McCarthy ... and before him, Shawkey and Miller Huggins ... were managing the Yankees, Barrow, the general manager, never went into the clubhouse. That was the manager's precinct, he felt.
But now, this day, there were Ed and Joe together again in the Stadium and I was glad I was there to see them because, you see, I remember the time ... "
-Frank Graham, condensed from the New York-Journal American (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
Why McCarthy Quit Coaching Lines
"It was Old-Timers Day at Yankee Stadium. Ed Barrow was there and Joe McCarthy. And Joe Dugan and Whitey Witt and Home Run Baker. Roger Peckinpaugh and Wally Pipp and Benny Bengough. Joe Sewell and Walter Brown and Wally Schang. Red Ruffing and Charlie Keller and Lyn Lary. Marius Russo and Bob Shawkey and Earle Combs and Bud Metheny. And Vernon (Lefty) Gomez.
In the New York clubhouse before the game started, Gomez dominated the gathering. Being Gomez, he simply couldn't help it. He was the one the others were listening to, wherever he happened to be. He didn't fail them, either.
He said to Ed Barrow:
'Remember when you thought I had to put on weight to be a big league pitcher and sent me to a milk farm?'
'I do,' Ed said.
'You said to me: 'Put on twenty pounds and you'll make even the older fans forget Jack Chesbro?'
'I said: 'If I put on twenty pounds they'll forget Gomez.'
'And what happened? I put on twenty and even you forgot me.'
'I forgot you?' Barrow said.
'Well, not exactly,' Gomez said. 'But you sent me to St. Paul.'
There was the year that Lou Gehrig would have led the league in home runs but he missed because Lary, on second base when Lou blew one into the stands with two out, thought the ball had been caught and, having reached third base, headed for the dugout to get a drink of water before taking his position at shortstop. And Gehrig, not having noticed this, rounded third and continued on to the plate- and was called out for having passed Lary on the base line.
'McCarthy was coaching at third base,' Lefty said, recalling the episode.
Just then McCarthy walked into the room. Raising his voice, Lefty said:
'Joe came back to the dugout, steaming.
' 'Of all the dumb ----!' he said. 'Twenty of you sitting on the bench and not one of you had brains enough to yell at Lary that the ball was in the stands.'
'And Ruffing said: 'What was the matter with you, Joe? You were closer to him than anyone else.'
'That,' Lefty said, 'was the last time Joe ever coached at third base- or any other base.'
Then he turned to Joe and said:
'A little while ago, somebody said to me:
' 'You know Joe McCarthy, don't you?'
'And I said: 'Know him? Ruffing and I ---- near pitched him into the Hall of Fame.' '
Benny Bengough, one of the great Yankee catchers, came in and Lefty said: 'You and that Lazzeri.'
'Me and Lazzeri? What about us?'
'The first time Lazzeri saw me,' Lefty said, 'he looked me over and he said:
' 'You were in the Coast League last year, weren't you?'
' 'I said, 'Yes. What about it?'
'And he said: 'That's where you will be next year.' '
He turned to the others.
'And this Bengough!' he said. 'The first time I ever was in a ball game, Shawkey called me in to relieve. Bengough is down like this, giving me a sign. I can't see it, but I throw him a fast ball. He's looking for a curve and the ball goes over his head, misses the umpire, fortunately, and hits the grandstand and everybody runs. When Bengough recovers the ball there isn't anything he can do but walk out to the box and hand it to me and as he does he says:
' 'Take it easy, kid. Don't be nervous. Pitching up here is just like pitching in the minors except that up here the catcher generally knows what's coming.' '
Yogi Berra, current Yankee catcher, came in and Gomez said to him:
'Too bad about you.'
'What's the matter with me?' Yogi asked.
'I've often wondered,' Lefty said. 'But that's beside the point. I was just thinking you were born too late. I could have made a great catcher out of you just by throwing my fast ball past the hitters.'
It was a nostalgic touch. That was the way it used to be in the clubhouse when Lefty was pitching for the Yankees. Never a solemn moment when the guy was around, even when a pennant race ... or a World Series ... was tight and he was pitching. There was the time when, in a clutch game, he had one out and two on and a tough hitter at the plate and he walked in and beckoned to Bill Dickey. Bill, naturally, thought he wanted to talk to him about the hitter and walked out to him.
'Have you got any bird dog puppies to sell?' Lefty asked.
'What's the matter with you?' Bill asked. 'Have you lost your mind?'
'No,' Lefty said. 'Seriously, a friend of mine asked me last night if I knew where he could buy a couple of bird dog puppies and I said I thought you might have some and I just happened to think of it and ... '
The guy was a great pitcher. He had to be, with the stuff he had and the temperament and the sheer guts.
Nostalgic? So was the sight of Barrow and McCarthy in the Stadium. Not in the clubhouse. Not even on this occasion, arranged as a salute to McCarthy, for when McCarthy ... and before him, Shawkey and Miller Huggins ... were managing the Yankees, Barrow, the general manager, never went into the clubhouse. That was the manager's precinct, he felt.
But now, this day, there were Ed and Joe together again in the Stadium and I was glad I was there to see them because, you see, I remember the time ... "
-Frank Graham, condensed from the New York-Journal American (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
1952 Yankee of the Past: Tommy Henrich
TOMMY HENRICH
HENRICH FIDGETY AS A COACH
No Thought of Trying a Comeback
"You couldn't help spotting the fidgety form of Tommy Henrich in the New York Yankee dugout- he was the guy with the tense and tortured look.
'Sitting around always was kind of tough for me,' observed the popular thirty-seven-year-old Yankee coach, who formally retired last year after eleven historic seasons in the big leagues.
'Sometimes,' he admitted with a faraway look in his light blue eyes, 'I feel like getting there again, for a little while anyway, but don't you go and write that I'm looking to break up any ball games.'
Picking up his faded brown glove, the former outfielder walked out in front of the dugout to throw with catcher Charlie Silvera.
'No sir,' he said, making the first toss, 'I'm too far along to want to jump up there to the plate with the winning run looking to charge in from third. I'll leave that to some of the younger fellows.
'Why, I'd have to go through spring training all over again before I'd be ready to hit in a ball game. You know how it is, you lay off awhile and your timing gets awful rusty.'
Henrich kept throwing to Silvera and occasionally he would grunt from the effort he exerted.
'I think I got my stuff today,' he smiled, gloving the return from the catcher.
'Here comes my blazer!' Tommy called out, then spanked a sizzling fastball into Silvera's poised mitt.
The only time Henrich swung a bat this year was during the early workouts at Yankee Stadium when he 'took a quick turn' just for old time's sake.
What he did he do in the dugout during the actual ball games? Just sat, mostly.
'I helped the outfielders a little,' he admitted in his usual unassuming manner.
'Once in a while Casey (Stengel) would say to me, 'Are the outfielders moved over enough toward left?' Occasionally, I'd move 'em a little bit ... you know, the outfield has to shift around for the hitters ... but Joe (DiMaggio) out there takes care of showing'em where to play, also. He knows a whole lot about where to play all the hitters in the league.'
Henrich signaled Silvera that he had enough and then sauntered out to the mound to relieve Coach Jim Turner, who had thrown the first portion of batting practice.
'C'mon Yogi,' Henrich called eagerly, 'get in there and see if you can hit my curve ball.'
'I can hit your curve ball any day in the week,' replied the deadpanned Berra, stepping up to the plate.'
'Never mind any day in the week; let's see if you can hit it today.'
But that, more or less, was the extent of Henrich's daily activity because when his pre-game chores were done, he shuffled back for the somber loneliness of the dugout.
And there he sat in silent restlessness."
-Milton Richman, United Press (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
HENRICH FIDGETY AS A COACH
No Thought of Trying a Comeback
"You couldn't help spotting the fidgety form of Tommy Henrich in the New York Yankee dugout- he was the guy with the tense and tortured look.
'Sitting around always was kind of tough for me,' observed the popular thirty-seven-year-old Yankee coach, who formally retired last year after eleven historic seasons in the big leagues.
'Sometimes,' he admitted with a faraway look in his light blue eyes, 'I feel like getting there again, for a little while anyway, but don't you go and write that I'm looking to break up any ball games.'
Picking up his faded brown glove, the former outfielder walked out in front of the dugout to throw with catcher Charlie Silvera.
'No sir,' he said, making the first toss, 'I'm too far along to want to jump up there to the plate with the winning run looking to charge in from third. I'll leave that to some of the younger fellows.
'Why, I'd have to go through spring training all over again before I'd be ready to hit in a ball game. You know how it is, you lay off awhile and your timing gets awful rusty.'
Henrich kept throwing to Silvera and occasionally he would grunt from the effort he exerted.
'I think I got my stuff today,' he smiled, gloving the return from the catcher.
'Here comes my blazer!' Tommy called out, then spanked a sizzling fastball into Silvera's poised mitt.
The only time Henrich swung a bat this year was during the early workouts at Yankee Stadium when he 'took a quick turn' just for old time's sake.
What he did he do in the dugout during the actual ball games? Just sat, mostly.
'I helped the outfielders a little,' he admitted in his usual unassuming manner.
'Once in a while Casey (Stengel) would say to me, 'Are the outfielders moved over enough toward left?' Occasionally, I'd move 'em a little bit ... you know, the outfield has to shift around for the hitters ... but Joe (DiMaggio) out there takes care of showing'em where to play, also. He knows a whole lot about where to play all the hitters in the league.'
Henrich signaled Silvera that he had enough and then sauntered out to the mound to relieve Coach Jim Turner, who had thrown the first portion of batting practice.
'C'mon Yogi,' Henrich called eagerly, 'get in there and see if you can hit my curve ball.'
'I can hit your curve ball any day in the week,' replied the deadpanned Berra, stepping up to the plate.'
'Never mind any day in the week; let's see if you can hit it today.'
But that, more or less, was the extent of Henrich's daily activity because when his pre-game chores were done, he shuffled back for the somber loneliness of the dugout.
And there he sat in silent restlessness."
-Milton Richman, United Press (Baseball Digest, November 1951)
Sunday, June 23, 2019
1952 Yankees of the Past Alumni Team
Former Yankees on 1952 Spring Training Rosters
MGR - Leo Durocher (New York Giants)
CH - Chuck Dressen (Brooklyn Dodgers)
CH - Bucky Harris (Washington Senators)
CH - Red Rolfe (Detroit Tigers)
C - Sherm Lollar (Chicago White Sox)
C - Clyde McCullough (Pittsburgh Pirates)
C - Gus Niarhos (Boston Red Sox)
1B - Dick Kryhoski (St. Louis Browns)
2B - Jerry Priddy (Detroit Tigers)
2B - Pete Suder (Philadelphia Athletics) (SS)
2B - Billy Hitchcock (Philadelphia Athletics) (SS)
3B - Billy Johnson (St. Louis Cardinals)
SS - Tom Upton (Washington Senators)
LF - Hank Sauer (Chicago Cubs)
CF - Jim Delsing (St. Louis Browns)
RF - Bob Addis (Chicago Cubs)
OF - Cliff Mapes (Detroit Tigers)
OF - Steve Souchock (Detroit Tigers) (1B) (retroactive designated hitter)
PH - Hank Majeski (Philadelphia Athletics) (3B)
P - Bob Porterfield (Washington Senators)
P - Bill Wight (Boston Red Sox)
P - Mel Queen (Pittsburgh Pirates)
P - Ken Holcombe (Chicago White Sox)
P - Lew Burdette (Boston Braves)
P - Karl Drews (Philadelphia Phillies)
RP - Ellis Kinder (Boston Red Sox)
RP - Monk Dubiel (Chicago Cubs)
RP - Randy Gumpert (Boston Red Sox)
RP - Frank Hiller (Cincinnati Reds)
MGR - Leo Durocher (New York Giants)
CH - Chuck Dressen (Brooklyn Dodgers)
CH - Bucky Harris (Washington Senators)
CH - Red Rolfe (Detroit Tigers)
C - Sherm Lollar (Chicago White Sox)
C - Clyde McCullough (Pittsburgh Pirates)
C - Gus Niarhos (Boston Red Sox)
1B - Dick Kryhoski (St. Louis Browns)
2B - Jerry Priddy (Detroit Tigers)
2B - Pete Suder (Philadelphia Athletics) (SS)
2B - Billy Hitchcock (Philadelphia Athletics) (SS)
3B - Billy Johnson (St. Louis Cardinals)
SS - Tom Upton (Washington Senators)
LF - Hank Sauer (Chicago Cubs)
CF - Jim Delsing (St. Louis Browns)
RF - Bob Addis (Chicago Cubs)
OF - Cliff Mapes (Detroit Tigers)
OF - Steve Souchock (Detroit Tigers) (1B) (retroactive designated hitter)
PH - Hank Majeski (Philadelphia Athletics) (3B)
P - Bob Porterfield (Washington Senators)
P - Bill Wight (Boston Red Sox)
P - Mel Queen (Pittsburgh Pirates)
P - Ken Holcombe (Chicago White Sox)
P - Lew Burdette (Boston Braves)
P - Karl Drews (Philadelphia Phillies)
RP - Ellis Kinder (Boston Red Sox)
RP - Monk Dubiel (Chicago Cubs)
RP - Randy Gumpert (Boston Red Sox)
RP - Frank Hiller (Cincinnati Reds)
1952 Yankee of the Past: Bill Wight
"Bill broke even (7 and 7) in wins and losses in 1951. In 34 games he hurled 118 innings, struck out 38 batters and walked 63.
He began in baseball in 1941 with Idaho Falls of the Pioneer League. The Red Sox are Bill's third major league team. He has played for the Yankees and the White Sox."
-1952 Bowman No. 117
"Bill put in three years in the minors and three years in the Navy before he made the majors with the Yankees in 1946. Sent to Kansas City in '47, he won 16 and lost 9 and was recalled at the end of the season. In 1948, Bill was traded to the White Sox and had a 9-20 record.
He came back in '49 to win 15 while losing 13 and in 1950 he had a 10-16 mark. In December of 1950, he was traded to the Red Sox.
Bill sketches for a hobby and is quite good at it."
-1952 Topps No. 177
He began in baseball in 1941 with Idaho Falls of the Pioneer League. The Red Sox are Bill's third major league team. He has played for the Yankees and the White Sox."
-1952 Bowman No. 117
"Bill put in three years in the minors and three years in the Navy before he made the majors with the Yankees in 1946. Sent to Kansas City in '47, he won 16 and lost 9 and was recalled at the end of the season. In 1948, Bill was traded to the White Sox and had a 9-20 record.
He came back in '49 to win 15 while losing 13 and in 1950 he had a 10-16 mark. In December of 1950, he was traded to the Red Sox.
Bill sketches for a hobby and is quite good at it."
-1952 Topps No. 177
1952 Yankee Prospects of the Past
BOB ADDIS
"An ex-Marine, Bob got his first big league chance with the Braves at the end of the 1950 season after leading the American Association in batting (.323) at Milwaukee. Before that he hit .314 and .346 for St. Paul in '48 and '49. In 16 games for the Braves in '50, Bob hit .250. In October of '51 he was traded to the Cubs.
In pro ball since 1943, Bob was an All-Ohio sprint man in high school, where he started out as a pitcher but switched to the outfield."
-1952 Topps No. 259
BILLY HITCHCOCK
"Billy has played every infield position during his career. His 1951 batting average of .306 was the best he has ever compiled in either the majors or the minors. Before 1951 he had not topped the .300 mark.
He was in 77 games in '51. He had 68 hits for 89 bases and drove in 36 runs."
-1952 Bowman No. 89
"Philadelphians first saw Billy as a shifty football player for Auburn College in 1937. At Auburn, he captained the football and baseball teams. In the Army in 1943-44-45, Billy was a major in the Air Force.
He broke into pro ball with Kansas City in 1939 and came up with the Tigers in 1942. Billy came to the A's in October of '49 after playing with the Senators, Browns and Red Sox. He hit .273 in 1950 and boosted his average 33 points in '51 to have his best year."
-1952 Topps No. 182
ELLIS KINDER
"Ellis was the relief ace of the American League in 1951. As a starting pitcher in 1949, he led the league's hurlers, winning 23 and losing only 6.
Ellis didn't break into the majors until he was 32 years old in 1946. He pitched for the Browns for two years and was traded to the Red Sox for 1948. In four seasons with the Red Sox, Ellis has won 58 and lost only 27.
A Navy veteran, he made the Major League All-Star Team in 1949."
-1952 Topps No. 78
CLYDE MCCULLOUGH
"Clyde hit .297 for 92 games in 1951. He slammed eight homers and his bat was responsible for 39 runs driven in.
In organized ball since 1935, Clyde has been a major leaguer since the end of the 1940 season. He joined the Chicago Cubs at that time. He was traded to the Pirates in December of 1948."
-1952 Bowman No. 99
"Mac has been in organized ball since 1935, taking time out to serve in the Armed Forces (1944-45). His experience helps wobbly pitchers over rough spots.
After hitting .329 for Binghamton in '37 and .324 for Kansas City in '40, Clyde came up with the Cubs. He was traded to the Pirates in December of '48. His best big league batting mark prior to '51 was .287 in 1946.
In 1942, Clyde hit three home runs in one game. He tied for the lead in double plays by a catcher in 1949."
-1952 Topps No. 218
PETE SUDER
"Pete was the best fielding second baseman in the American League in 1951. He was in 103 games at second, fielding .987, and made but eight errors in 595 total chances.
In 123 games in all, Pete had 108 hits for 131 bases, 18 doubles and 42 RBIs while batting .245.
Pete has been in the majors since 1941, playing only for the A's."
-1952 Bowman No. 179
"The oldest member of the A's, 'Pecky' was the best-fielding second baseman in the American League in 1947 and 1951.
In pro ball since 1935, he got his first chance with the A's in 1941, being drafted from Binghamton where he was voted the Most Valuable Player of the Eastern League. He made the grade and has been in the majors ever since, except for two years in the Army. A top-notch fielder, Pete is a dependable hitter, his best mark being .281 in 1946."
-1952 Topps No. 256
TOM UPTON
"Breaking into organized baseball in 1944 as a Yankee farmhand, Tom spent two years in the Navy, in '45 and '46, and waited until 1950 before making the majors. After a good year at Beaumont in '49, he was drafted by the Browns and played 124 games at shortstop and third base in '50. Last winter the Browns traded him to the White Sox who sent him to the Senators.
He's a college graduate and a trained physical education teacher."
-1952 Topps No. 71
"An ex-Marine, Bob got his first big league chance with the Braves at the end of the 1950 season after leading the American Association in batting (.323) at Milwaukee. Before that he hit .314 and .346 for St. Paul in '48 and '49. In 16 games for the Braves in '50, Bob hit .250. In October of '51 he was traded to the Cubs.
In pro ball since 1943, Bob was an All-Ohio sprint man in high school, where he started out as a pitcher but switched to the outfield."
-1952 Topps No. 259
BILLY HITCHCOCK
"Billy has played every infield position during his career. His 1951 batting average of .306 was the best he has ever compiled in either the majors or the minors. Before 1951 he had not topped the .300 mark.
He was in 77 games in '51. He had 68 hits for 89 bases and drove in 36 runs."
-1952 Bowman No. 89
"Philadelphians first saw Billy as a shifty football player for Auburn College in 1937. At Auburn, he captained the football and baseball teams. In the Army in 1943-44-45, Billy was a major in the Air Force.
He broke into pro ball with Kansas City in 1939 and came up with the Tigers in 1942. Billy came to the A's in October of '49 after playing with the Senators, Browns and Red Sox. He hit .273 in 1950 and boosted his average 33 points in '51 to have his best year."
-1952 Topps No. 182
ELLIS KINDER
"Ellis was the relief ace of the American League in 1951. As a starting pitcher in 1949, he led the league's hurlers, winning 23 and losing only 6.
Ellis didn't break into the majors until he was 32 years old in 1946. He pitched for the Browns for two years and was traded to the Red Sox for 1948. In four seasons with the Red Sox, Ellis has won 58 and lost only 27.
A Navy veteran, he made the Major League All-Star Team in 1949."
-1952 Topps No. 78
CLYDE MCCULLOUGH
"Clyde hit .297 for 92 games in 1951. He slammed eight homers and his bat was responsible for 39 runs driven in.
In organized ball since 1935, Clyde has been a major leaguer since the end of the 1940 season. He joined the Chicago Cubs at that time. He was traded to the Pirates in December of 1948."
-1952 Bowman No. 99
"Mac has been in organized ball since 1935, taking time out to serve in the Armed Forces (1944-45). His experience helps wobbly pitchers over rough spots.
After hitting .329 for Binghamton in '37 and .324 for Kansas City in '40, Clyde came up with the Cubs. He was traded to the Pirates in December of '48. His best big league batting mark prior to '51 was .287 in 1946.
In 1942, Clyde hit three home runs in one game. He tied for the lead in double plays by a catcher in 1949."
-1952 Topps No. 218
PETE SUDER
"Pete was the best fielding second baseman in the American League in 1951. He was in 103 games at second, fielding .987, and made but eight errors in 595 total chances.
In 123 games in all, Pete had 108 hits for 131 bases, 18 doubles and 42 RBIs while batting .245.
Pete has been in the majors since 1941, playing only for the A's."
-1952 Bowman No. 179
"The oldest member of the A's, 'Pecky' was the best-fielding second baseman in the American League in 1947 and 1951.
In pro ball since 1935, he got his first chance with the A's in 1941, being drafted from Binghamton where he was voted the Most Valuable Player of the Eastern League. He made the grade and has been in the majors ever since, except for two years in the Army. A top-notch fielder, Pete is a dependable hitter, his best mark being .281 in 1946."
-1952 Topps No. 256
TOM UPTON
"Breaking into organized baseball in 1944 as a Yankee farmhand, Tom spent two years in the Navy, in '45 and '46, and waited until 1950 before making the majors. After a good year at Beaumont in '49, he was drafted by the Browns and played 124 games at shortstop and third base in '50. Last winter the Browns traded him to the White Sox who sent him to the Senators.
He's a college graduate and a trained physical education teacher."
-1952 Topps No. 71
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