Once word of the case went public in late May, papers across the country picked up on the story, and it was of great interest that Cobb completely dismissed his first court appearance.
In response, Wayne County Circuit Court Judge Clyde Webster issued a victory to Morris by default.29 Former judge James O. Murfin, who represented Cobb in the infamous 1914 butcher assault case, contested the decision, and a grueling legal battle ensued. The Chicago Defender mentioned that representatives of the ballplayer were endeavoring to settle out of court by offering a miniscule sum of money. That tactic had worked in yet another of Cobb’s controversial affairs when an under-the-table payment of $115 was paid to night watchman George Stanfield ten years earlier.30 But this time around, Morris and her lawyer were steadfast and denied Cobb an easy way out.31
The lack of rounded coverage, detailed statements from both sides, and other witness reports left the entire situation with an overtone of ambiguity. But based on Cobb’s track record and the way political muscle assembled to support his defense as in times past, there was enough to bolster the credibility of the alleged evidence—at least somewhat. The fact that neither Morris nor Cobb stepped forward with a detailed description of what occurred—and there were absolutely zero independent accounts from eyewitnesses—contributed to the uncertainty of the case. Adding to the mysteriousness, the result of the $10,000 civil action was never publicly revealed by the mainstream press. The story went away in a cloud of silence, just like Cobb and his backers had hoped, and it is possible that a settlement was eventually reached.32
Cobb’s season, in spite of the legal chaos, didn’t miss much of a beat. His solo numbers were first-rate, as were customary, but the Tigers loomed as a pretty solid second division club for most of May. There was still optimism, as his production, combined with Bobby Veach, Harry Heilmann, and Ira Flagstead, created many concerns for opposing pitchers.33 Frank Navin, in trying to give Detroit better chances down the stretch, sent $12,000 to the Yankees for left-hander Dutch Leonard in May 1919, and on the surface, the move seemed like a positive step. Leonard joined “Hooks” Dauss, Bernie Boland, and Howard Ehmke to complete the club’s quartet of starters, and helped push the Tigers into second place during an important road trip east in late July and early August. The excursion wrapped up with sweeps of both Washington and Philadelphia.
On September 4, 1919, a loudmouth from the stands at Navin Field was desperate for Cobb’s attention and called him a number of “vile epithets.” The tension slowly developed, and Cobb, at first, was able to ignore the earsplitting comments. His point of no return was inching closer and closer, and he walked over to the side of the field where the boisterous spectator was sitting and warned him on two occasions, even challenging the man to a fight after the game. The rowdy was not backing down for a moment, apparently unafraid of the consequences, and once the final out was made, he rushed onto the field to confront the Georgian. Needless to say, Cobb was in no mood for extra innings with a foolhardy hood, and he didn’t waste any time kneeing the man in the groin and walking to the clubhouse, his day’s work at an end.34
“I don’t like brawls,” Cobb explained, “and avoid them whenever possible. All players could avoid such unpleasantness and abuse if men like that one this afternoon were not permitted in the stands. They should be ejected from the ball park when they become as nasty and abusive as that fellow became to me this afternoon. He deliberately put himself out to ride and insult me. Some of these bullies apparently think that as soon as a man puts on a baseball uniform, he becomes fair game. I disagree with that theory. These insulting fellows wouldn’t dare go into a man’s office and call him the names they call ball players. They wouldn’t go into a theater and abuse actors as they abuse us. This ball park is our office and we are entitled to a certain amount of respect. So far as I am concerned, I mean to insist upon that little measure of success.”35
The Tigers lost their hold on second place in a competitive race for the American League pennant, and landed in fourth place behind Chicago, Cleveland, and New York, eight games out of first.36 The White Sox, led by “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, Eddie Collins, and Cobb’s old Augusta teammate, Eddie Cicotte, were destined for the World Series against the Cincinnati Reds, and, considering the level of talent on the club, were a reasonably safe bet to win the championship. Cobb thought so, and placed wagers on the first two games. But when the results came back, 9–1 and 4–2 in favor of Cincinnati, he was out $50 and $100, respectively.37 The Reds captured three additional contests, surprising many observers, and won the series. Outside factors, it was later revealed, had influenced a certain element of the Chicago ball club, and the “Black Sox” were doomed for defeat in a shameful display of corruption.
Ending his year with a .384 average, Cobb won his third-straight major league batting title and eleventh overall (twelfth in the AL).38 His accomplishment was impressive, but strikingly overshadowed by the play of twenty-four-year-old George Herman “Babe” Ruth of the Boston Red Sox. Ruth was a colorful six-year veteran and known mostly as a pitcher. But his transition to the outfield placed him in the everyday lineup and gave him the chance to demonstrate an extraordinary slugging power, which was unparalleled in baseball history. In 1919, he blasted 29 home runs and set a new single-season record, electrifying crowds across the league circuit. He topped the majors in on-base percentage (.456), slugging percentage (.657), RBIs (113), runs scored (103), and total bases (284), and was fast becoming the most popular man in the game.
Cobb acknowledged Ruth as a “natural slugger” first in 1915, and was complimentary of the young up-and-comer in a couple of his syndicated articles.39 During the subsequent Detroit-Boston rivalry, the two were undoubtedly fired up by the friction on the field, but there were no specific hints of a personal feud. That began to change in 1919, and writers fueled the mounting antagonism by almost incessant head-to-head comparisons of Cobb and Ruth. Pundits partial to Babe predicted he’d once and for all end the batting championship streak of the Georgian, and minimized Cobb’s abilities to ballyhoo their hero. Detroit manager Hugh Jennings came to his player’s defense, declaring, “For years Cobb has been the hitting marvel of baseball. I’d rather have one Cobb than five Ruths!”40
In recognizing his own increased value, Ruth created a sensation by issuing an ultimatum to Boston management, demanding $20,000 for 1920 despite the fact that he already had signed a three-year deal for half that amount. If he didn’t receive the money, Ruth declared he wanted to be traded at once.41 Cobb heard the story and spoke out against such a move, saying: “Ruth, having signed to play for $9,000 is not playing fair if he tries to hold up his employers for more while the contract is in force. I’m for a ball player getting all he’s worth, but I am opposed to his breaking a contract to do it. And that’s what Ruth says he intends to do.”42 The inference that he was a contract jumper made Ruth furious, and he told the press, “I’ll settle the question when I meet Cobb [next spring].” Journalists took that to mean he planned to instigate a fight with his growing rival. Ruth added, “Cobb must be jealous of me because the newspapers have played me up this year as the biggest attraction in baseball.”43
Any concerns Cobb might have about Ruth and the brewing contentiousness were shelved to attend to his ailing wife in Augusta. On September 19, she gave birth to their fourth child, an eight-pound girl they named Beverly, and was in poor health. Cobb immediately journeyed home following the season closer at Chicago and tended to his family. Business was a secondary priority, and as his wife improved, he was able to devote time to preparations for the grand opening of his tire business on October 20.44 Through the winter, he spent time hunting, working with his dogs, and was involved in a prominent real estate transaction for the Schneider Building in downtown Augusta.45
Rumors at the end of Detroit’s 1919 season talked of team dissension and insiders once again claimed that the majority of managerial decisions were being made by Cobb, not Jennings. Some sportswriters awaited an
official announcement by Navin declaring Ty the new boss, but it never came. Spring training picked up in March 1920 at Macon, and while Cobb remained a stone’s throw from his teammates, he never chose to make the trip from Augusta. When questioned about his failure to appear, Cobb said he was “already in perfect condition,” and didn’t believe any additional preparations were necessary. Furthermore, he mentioned the likelihood of soon retiring, a theme that bobbed up in late 1918. “This will probably be my last season on the ball field,” he declared.46
As the Tigers went up the East Coast in an exhibition series against the Boston Braves, Cobb was scheduled to catch up with the club at Greensboro, North Carolina, on March 31, but illness put a damper on those plans.47 He instead entered the lineup at Indianapolis on April 10, and, four days later, inaugurated the championship campaign with the Tigers squad versus Chicago in a 3–2 loss. The next twelve games ended similarly, and by May 2, the team was in last place with an embarrassing 0–13 record. There was plenty of time for recovery, but Detroit was lackluster in nearly every category, and even Cobb was faltering. It was startling how inaccurate the preseason “dope” had been, as many sportswriters pegged the Tigers as challengers for, at least, second place. The club was not up amongst the league’s best, but rather at the bottom of the barrel.
Struggling pitchers, low morale, and poor overall leadership was a recipe for disaster for Detroit. No remedy came from Cobb and his old-time superhero act was unavailable, primarily because he was having troubles of his own. His batting average was in the .250 range by mid-May, and physical impairments were almost consistent. A shoulder injury slowed him up a bit, and his left elbow was bruised after being hit by a fastball from Allan Sothoron of the St. Louis Browns on May 30. In the 10th inning of a game at Chicago on June 6, he collided with right-fielder Ira Flagstead chasing a ball and was carried to the dugout in bad shape. The Detroit Free Press indicated that he was “grievously hurt” in the accident, and initial reports had him on the sidelines for up to ten days.48
Cobb, with torn ligaments in his left leg, was much worse off than journalists supposed, and would be out of action for a month. Oddly, the speculation then went in the opposite direction, asserting that his career was finished. He scoffed at the guesswork of baseball experts and stated that he’d be back in the lineup by July 15.49 In the meantime, he hobbled around the Augusta area recuperating, and took in a couple of local ballgames. He also signed a deal, believed to be valued at upwards of $10,000, to participate in a series of exhibitions in California after the season in what would be his first West Coast jaunt.50 The trip was something to look forward to, but in the interim, he needed to regain his strength and rejoin his teammates.
On July 8, Cobb reemerged in a Detroit uniform and added an important RBI in a 4–3 victory at the Polo Grounds in New York.51 Before the series in New York concluded, Cobb and Ruth gave the fans a thrill by homering in the same game on July 11. It was Babe’s 27th of the year, and only the second for Cobb. A couple days later, Cobb reinjured his leg sliding into second at Fenway Park. His injury appeared devastating to one Detroit journalist, who promptly declared that he “might not play again” in 1920.52 Cobb, however, loved to prove the naysayers wrong and fought through the pain to go 3-for-4 for Detroit two games later, on July 16. He was determined to remain on the field.
The baseball community as a whole was horrified by the news from New York on August 16, 1920, that popular shortstop Ray Chapman of the Cleveland Indians had been hit in the head by a pitch and critically wounded. Suffering a fractured skull and bleeding on the brain, he succumbed to his injuries overnight following an unsuccessful surgery at a Manhattan hospital. At the time, historian Frederick G. Lieb wrote, “The biggest tragedy that major league baseball ever has known in nearly fifty years of operation befell the great American sport this morning” when Chapman passed away.53 His death marked the first fatality at the big league level, and, of course, there was an immediate response from the public, officials, and players to reprimand the pitcher at fault for the high and inside ball that caused his mortal wounds—accident or not. The attention was now on Carl Mays, the controversial hurler for the New York Yankees.
The Tigers were in Boston, and Cobb was sound asleep when he received a late night telephone call, informing him of Chapman’s death. A journalist wanted an instant reaction, and Cobb offered a few words. But the next morning’s paper included statements attributed to the Detroit outfielder that Ty insisted he didn’t make, specifically comments that he wanted Mays banned from baseball. In fact, Detroit and Boston players were said to be organizing an effort to sit out any game Mays was scheduled to pitch against them. New York pressmen recited the remarks reportedly said by Cobb and fans were eager for the latter’s arrival at the Polo Grounds on August 21. The huge throng of over 30,000 people bombarded Cobb with jeers, boos, and taunts, letting the Detroiter know just how they felt.54
“This hissing of Cobb is the most unjust thing of his career,” Hugh Jennings said after the game. “He certainly does not deserve it, as he absolutely is guiltless of doing or saying anything to hurt Mays.”55 The rough treatment motivated Cobb at the plate on August 22 and he went 5-for-6 with four singles, a double, two runs, and two RBIs in an 11–9 victory. Years later, Jack Stevens, host of The Inside of Sports for the Mutual Radio Network, remembered the incident, and recalled how Cobb responded to the booing. “Ty kept grinning and pounding out hits,” Stevens said. “He hit five in a row and then the boos gave way to cheers. After Ty had slapped his fifth hit, the stands fairly rocked with applause, the gathering of 40,000 giving him the greatest ovation he ever received” at the local stadium.56
Cleveland, with the spirit of Chapman in their corner and the sympathy of fans nationwide, won the 1920 American League pennant and then captured the World Series title from Brooklyn, five games to two. The Tigers were 37 games behind the Indians in the race, finishing in seventh with a record of 61–93. Unstable pitching was a central problem, as the team’s top five hurlers, Hooks Dauss, Howard Ehmke, Red Oldham, Dutch Leonard, and Doc Ayers each had a losing record. Cobb’s .334 batting average in 112 games placed him tenth in the league behind George Sisler, Tris Speaker, Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth, Eddie Collins, and others. He didn’t rate amongst the leaders in hits, runs, RBIs, or stolen bases, and actually, his 15 pilfered bags were his lowest total since 1905, his first year in the majors. Months earlier, Jennings said he noticed Cobb was slowing up, and Ty’s susceptibleness to injury, especially when it came to his legs, seemed to confirm that he was no longer the natural speed demon he once was.57
The Chicago White Sox were 96 game winners in 1920, and landed in second place just two games behind Cleveland. But the team was fractured beyond repair after a couple players who’d participated in a systematic effort to throw games during the 1919 World Series revealed their stories. Two of Cobb’s acquaintances, Eddie Cicotte and Joe Jackson, were at the heart of the swindle, and the damaging controversy threatened the sanctity of major league baseball. Regardless of the allegations and the result of the series, it was impossible to definitively say which players played crooked. Yet, it wasn’t impossible to say which players took tainted money from gamblers, and both Cicotte and Jackson were guilty. They were lumped into a bunch and altogether banned from Organized Baseball forever by newly established Baseball Commissioner Judge Kenesaw M. Landis.
Cobb held “Shoeless” Joe in the highest regard. That was evidenced by his comments to a reporter in Jackson’s hometown of Greenville, South Carolina in 1942. “I don’t care how we feel or what some folks may say about some of the tragic incidents in that man’s baseball life. You can’t take away from him the fact that he was the greatest hitter the game has known. He was greater than I, although I managed to top him in the records each year we fought it out for the batting titles. Jackson could hit any kind of a pitch, from his shoe-tops to his head. There may have been some things I could do better, such as dragging bunts, and they say I had a fast
er getaway from the plate on the swing. But Jackson never was fooled up there, and I think he had the best eyes, and the keenest reflexes, of any hitter I ever saw.”58
Not surprisingly, based on the listless performance of his club, Jennings tendered his resignation as manager of the Tigers on October 15, 1920.59 In his fourteen years as skipper, the team had captured three pennants and finished in the top four of the standings, ten times. Jennings’ passive style of management was unique and allowed Cobb the freedom to independently prosper without overbearing supervision. When volatile situations arose, instead of arguing with his temperamental outfielder, Hugh often looked the other way. These incidents were sometimes interpreted as Jennings playing favorites with Cobb, but, all things considered, the two complemented each other in many ways. Certainly, Cobb’s progression as a superstar athlete would have advanced differently under a manager other than Jennings.
Of course, Cobb was considered as a possible replacement, but he long maintained that he never wanted to manage while still an active player.60 The June before, he’d spoken about such a duel responsibility, saying: “I am a ball player and not a manager. I have troubles enough playing the game without the additional burden of management. As I look at it now, when the last man is out, my work is over for the day. The manager stews all night figuring why the team lost or why the pitchers failed to come thru and a lot of other worries. No management for me. Perhaps when my playing days are over I may take up the task of management, but not so long as I am cavorting on the ball field.”61 Cobb’s perspective was reasonable and respectable, and he appeared a man who recognized his own limitations.
War on the Basepaths Page 26