On October 16, 1920, Cobb and his wife Charlie, plus their four children, arrived in San Francisco on a trip of business and pleasure.62 He was treated like royalty by local baseball officials, government representatives, and scores of fans who’d never seen him in person before. He made a personal appearance at the Jackson Playground, putting on a baseball demonstration and answering questions for a mob of awestruck kids. His recommendation was to stay away from cigarettes if they hoped to become ballplayers and then handed out a bunch of signed balls.63 Huge crowds turned out for exhibitions in San Francisco, Fresno, San Jose, and elsewhere, and when he wasn’t on the field, local mayors were beckoning him for social visits.
A highlight for Cobb in San Francisco was meeting an old-time ballplayer named Mike Finn, who was in the game before he was even born. After the meeting, Finn told a reporter: “Ty Cobb is so different from the man I expected to see that I couldn’t get my breath for awhile. He is a champion hitter and somehow I had pictured him as a big roughneck with bulging muscles. Instead of that I was greeted by a boyish-looking fellow who looked as if he had to shave only once a week and would not have to use much of a razor then. He has class sticking out all over him, and I am mighty proud to have made his acquaintance.”64
The Cobb family headed back east in December 1920 after a successful journey, and the beauty of Northern California was etched in their collective minds. Ty’s thoughts were preoccupied by the managerial challenge and the possibility of having to play ball for someone a little less understanding than Jennings. There were other concerns as well, but in his heart, he knew more than anything else that he had to put to rest the rumors that he was in decline. And he didn’t ever want to finish a season with his batting average tenth in the league again.
13
MICROMANAGER
Prior to the 1920 baseball season, a joint committee made up of representatives of the American and National Leagues agreed to place a ban on “freak deliveries.” The tactic effectively abolished the spitball, emery ball, shine ball, and other trick pitches thrown from the mound, and would greatly alter the way the game was played.1 Hitters, for years, were at a disadvantage, and deceptive hurlers twisted them in knots on a routine basis. But once these techniques of modifying the ball were stripped from pitchers, batters were empowered at the plate. Offensive production increased and scoring was no longer contingent on clever base-running and small ball. The home run was fast becoming the primary feature of baseball and Babe Ruth’s powerful clouting had turned him into an international celebrity.
Ruth, who was purchased by the New York Yankees from the Red Sox in late 1919, led the league in more than a dozen categories in 1920, and his 54 homers established a towering record that captivated the imagination of the young and old.2 His rise to prominence in the wake of the “Black Sox” scandal couldn’t have come at a better time for baseball, and the public willingly overlooked any damage to the sport’s integrity to embrace Ruth as its central hero. In general, home runs were plentiful in 1920, as 630 were hit across the majors (183 more than the year before), and crowd enthusiasm was at an all-time high. Journalists and insiders spoke about the liveliness of the ball and theorized that a combination of weakened pitching, better quality yarn used in the manufacture of balls, and a pure motivation by hitters to emulate Ruth by swinging for the fences contributed to the dawn of what was dubbed the “Lively Ball Era.”3
Following the response of Ty Cobb and Ruth’s threat to jump his Boston contract if he didn’t receive a raise, the latter expressed a desire to fight his Detroit rival. But not only did he think better of a possible scrap in 1920, the two were photographed together at the Polo Grounds in New York in May. Interestingly, Cobb navigated into the tour he made of the West Coast with the aid of Ruth’s business manager, Johnny Igoe of Boston. In June of 1920, the latter compared the two, and favored Cobb. “Fans go to see Ruth do one thing—that is, hit home runs. They expect him to hit one and when he does they go home thrilled. Cobb stars every day. His hits are clean and he is always thinking of some way to outsmart the opposing team. Babe doesn’t hit them over the fence every day. Ty shows his assortment of wonder stuff daily.”4
With Cobb said to be the best of the old guard and Ruth the champion of the new, people loved to pit the two against each other, and everything from their box score numbers to their salaries were judged in side-by-side comparisons. Even their personalities were fodder for discussion. New York columnist Dan Daniel wrote: “Ruth had no enemies, only friends. Every fan was his pal and every person who saw him was sold immediately on George Herman Ruth. Ty Cobb somehow had few fans friends. He had a rasping manner, an overbearing way on the field.”5 Yankees locker-room manager Fred Logan added: “The greatest clubhouse character was Babe Ruth. Easy with his dough, never sulked, always in fine humor, always in hoss-play, joking, rough-housing.” Regarding Cobb, he noted that Ty was “erratic in the clubhouse,” but considered him the better of the two.6
Grantland Rice, formerly of the Atlanta Journal and now a syndicated columnist in New York, was honest in his perspective despite his longstanding friendship with Cobb. He stated that the Detroit outfielder was “held in admiration rather than in affection,” and those “who are not inclined to cheer his personality must yield him his due as a star.” Ruth, on the other hand, had “the name, the wallop, and the personality that make up a popular mixture.”7
The game was unquestionably evolving away from the style of Cobb, and fans were no longer centering their attention on his rousing performances on the base paths, but holding their collective breath anticipating monstrous home runs. Cobb, however, wasn’t yet ready to give up his place in baseball’s pecking order. He was more competitive than ever, and in battling Ruth on the field, he was prepared to fight tooth and nail to help his team win. And whenever he got the chance, he planned to antagonize the living daylights out of his foe and utilize his famous psychological methods to get inside Ruth’s head. He knew it had worked on Joe Jackson and scores of others, so why not Ruth?
Rumors were rampant in late 1920. Joe LeBlanc of Collyer’s Eye, a publication out of Chicago, announced that Cobb was sold to the White Sox for $50,000, which was, incidentally, half of Ruth’s purchase price.8 Frank Navin told a reporter that the story was, “Too ridiculous to even think of.”9 Other gossip related to the Tigers managerial job vacancy, and ex-White Sox boss Clarence “Pants” Rowland was believed to be a top candidate. George Stallings and Jimmy Burke were also apparently being considered, according to hot stove chatter. But Navin wanted Cobb first and foremost, and sent six telegrams to his star on the coast trying to induce him.10 En route back east in December, Cobb stopped in New Orleans and discussed the opportunity at length with a trusted friend, Detroit sportswriter E. A. Batchelor. Batchelor was fond of the idea, and by the end of their meeting, Cobb was almost convinced.11
Yet, still, a little part of him was conflicted and he explained his anxieties to the press. On one hand, he liked the idea of imparting his philosophies and molding a championship squad. He wanted the glory that accompanied such a feat and sought to add a World Series title to his career record. On the other hand, he felt his playing skills would be hampered by managerial responsibilities. Additionally, he knew that it would take a couple years to build the Tigers into a contender and didn’t want fans to become frustrated by his inability to magically construct a winner after one or two seasons.12 He seemed confident to a certain degree, but held back by the many questions that remained. From the viewpoint of experts, though, it was more about whether or not Cobb could inhibit his own caustic disposition enough to be a successful leader.
After a brief stay in Augusta, Cobb ventured to New York for a meeting with Navin at the Vanderbilt Hotel on December 18, 1920. Contract terms, various obstacles, and other concerns were debated for several hours and, with a handshake and a signature, Cobb agreed to become the playing manager of the Detroit Tigers for 1921. In the subsequent announcement, it was made abundantly
clear that his one-year, $25,000 deal made him, once again, the highest paid man in baseball, topping Ruth, and no doubt Cobb took a lot of satisfaction from that fact.13 As manager, Cobb was given full authority to modify the team roster, and it is notable that he scouted a handful of potential recruits while in California. Southpaw pitcher Bert Cole, a twenty-four-year-old from San Francisco, was particularly impressive, and upon getting the scouting info from Cobb, Navin quickly worked out an arrangement to land the hopeful.14
Fighting off a winter cold, Cobb went to Detroit for an elegant day-long gala to celebrate his new position on February 1, 1921. In addition to a special breakfast and luncheon, there was an exclusive evening banquet at the Hotel Statler, and amongst the 900 dignitaries in attendance were Ban Johnson, Hugh Jennings, Sam Thompson, Jimmy Barrett, and Davy Jones. Politicians, businessmen from the auto industry, and other well-known socialites were present, and when Cobb stood to express his gratitude, he “spoke feelingly,” at times holding back his emotions. He later told a journalist that the testimonial was the “greatest honor ever paid him,” according to the Detroit Free Press.15
Cobb’s approach to being a manager was the opposite of what was expected of him. Instead of ruling with unyielding aggressiveness, he planned to offer “encouragement and advice” to his men.16 Beginning in spring training at San Antonio, he worked to foster the image of a brother, not as a domineering chief standing off to the side barking orders. He was right there with his players, doing everything they were doing, running laps and making sure they received appropriate accommodations. Going against his personal nature, he became more outgoing, getting to know the guys on the team and listening to their stories.17 He disallowed the growth of destructive cliques and put a lot of thought into being the kind of ideal manager he would want for himself.
In terms of doctrine, Cobb made a number of significant changes. He called his men to report at around 1 p.m. every afternoon, having cancelled morning practice. Theorizing that productivity was vastly reduced after just waking up and having breakfast, he believed he could get better results from his players later in the day. He eliminated clubhouse strategy meetings, calling them a waste of time.18 Cobb encouraged instant reaction to the happenings on the diamond and didn’t want his players trying to force a specific set play they’d figured out beforehand, especially if it didn’t correspond with what was breaking down in front of them. Another change came to the club’s on-field signals, which were tossed out and replaced with a completely new system. He advocated heads-up play, teamwork, and wanted a fierce fighting spirit. He also expressed the necessity of having a versatile attack to keep opponents guessing.
Weighing over 195 pounds, Cobb arrived in San Antonio the heaviest he’d ever been, but was his same old self, striving to shed his extra poundage and sharpen his batting eye. Most of his time was spent observing the thirty or so other players in camp, including the rookie upstarts, and the cumbersome job of weaning the roster down to around twenty-four was his alone. Five prospects, Lu Blue, Johnny Bassler, Carl Holling, Harvey “Suds” Sutherland, and the aforementioned Bert Cole, were imports from the Pacific Coast League, and impressed Cobb enough to earn regular berths with the team. Blue stood out as a first baseman and allowed Harry Heilmann to shift back to right field, strengthening the entire defense. Catcher Bassler was highly touted as well, and was acquired in a trade that sent veteran Tigers backstop Oscar Stanage to Los Angeles.19
The general consensus was that Cobb was doing well as a rookie manager in his first couple of months on the job, but he was pretty much guaranteed to face growing pains along the way. His famous temperament wasn’t going to disappear no matter how much he tried to repress it, and differences between himself and his players were going to crop up from time to time. But morale was good in March and April 1921.20 Dutch Leonard, the well-known pitcher, returned to the Tigers soon after Cobb was appointed manager, despite quitting the club the September before because of problems with Jennings.21 Leonard apparently believed the fresh leadership of Cobb offered new potential for Detroit in the American League pennant hunt and rejoined his teammates.
Although the overall mood of the team was positive, it likely would’ve been undermined to a large extent had pitcher Howard Ehmke and Cobb not made peace months earlier. The two men had frequently butted heads in recent years and the feud was amongst the most harmful clubhouse dilemmas facing the Tigers. However, The Sporting News indicated that they “parted excellent friends” just prior to the end of the 1920 season.22 With Leonard and Ehmke, his top two hurlers, in good spirits, Cobb was enthusiastic, yet levelheaded about Detroit’s chances of playing competitive ball against the likes of the Yankees and Indians. He predicted sixth place for his club and said he’d resign if they didn’t fare better than seventh. “If we do better, the boys can rejoice with the fans,” Cobb told a reporter.23
San Antonio, ironically, was the spring training locale for the New York Giants and no one had forgotten the bad blood between Cobb and John McGraw, stemming from the dust-up between the two in 1917. Nevertheless, locals welcomed a series and hoped bygones were bygones for the sake of old-fashioned, civilized baseball. The Tigers trained on a makeshift diamond at Brackenridge Park just north of downtown and stayed at the Travelers Hotel, while the Giants had the choice ball grounds at League Park, and were quartered at the Menger Hotel near the Alamo.24
Impatient officials scheduled two games for the proposed series without a working agreement between Cobb and McGraw, and the exhibitions slated for March 12–13 didn’t come to fruition. According to Cobb, he refused to “eat humble pie” by personally asking McGraw to participate, and announced, “From now on, the Giants don’t exist.”25 The pro-McGraw account claimed Cobb did turn up at the hotel to work a deal, and McGraw angrily told him, “I wouldn’t play you a series if there were ten grand in it for us in every game.”26 Years later, New York Yankees manager Casey Stengel remembered the story and said McGraw ran Cobb out of the hotel lobby after the latter inquired about a series.27 Once again, like most of baseball lore, the truth was somewhere in the middle of these versions.
The condition of the Tigers heading into the season opener on April 13 was the best in four years, Cobb believed, and excitement was not only running high in Detroit, but across the league. He invoked a little nostalgia in trying to pump up his players, harkening back to a retro style of uniform with an Old English “D” on the front, worn by the championship squads of the late 1900s. Amusingly, Cobb’s superstitiousness was also prevalent, and Joey “Six-Toes” Joslin, about eleven years of age, hung around the dugout as a mascot. His job was simple: to inspire good luck and ward off any jinxes.28 The first game versus Chicago was rained out and played on April 14 before 25,000 spectators in Detroit. Wet weather lingered in the area, but didn’t damper the enthusiasm of fans. In the seventh inning, the Tigers charged back from a 5–1 deficit to tie things up, and then, in the bottom of the ninth, Harry Heilmann scored Ralph Young on a base hit in an amazing climax to Cobb’s debut as manager. Detroit won, 6–5.29
The thrilling finish was an exceptional way to launch the 1921 campaign, but it didn’t take long for Cobb’s unique disposition to become apparent. At Chicago on April 21, he became aggravated to his limits by the instability of Ehmke to throw with any semblance of accuracy. He ran from centerfield to the pitcher’s mound a number of times, halting the game in the process, and laid into Ehmke, which undoubtedly destabilized their recently mended relationship. Harry Bullion remarked that Cobb was going to be “prematurely old” if he expressed the same kind of nervousness every time the Tigers were defeated.30 He appeared overanxious and akin to a micromanager, trying to control each and every moving part of the game. Maybe it came with experience, but he had to learn that the fate of the season usually didn’t rest in the result of a single contest. He couldn’t take a loss personally, and, at the same time, hold a defeat against whichever players were not up to par on that given day.
Rapidly sin
king to the depths of the American League standings, the Tigers were failing to capitalize on opportunities and pitching was weaker than expected. Hitting and defense were above standard and even a little consistency from the mound would have gone a long way to win the games they were losing. In May, Detroit braced itself in third place and home fans continued to pour into Navin Field to see what kind of team Cobb was churning out. But things fell apart in the east, and Detroit lost nine in a row between June 11 and June 19, including sweeps by New York and Boston. The heated series against the Yankees saw Cobb resume his quarrel with Babe Ruth.
The hostilities began on June 12, when a photographer sought an updated photo of Cobb and Ruth together, and asked the latter to pose with his Detroit adversary. Babe responded in the negative, curtly dismissing the idea. The photographer instigated matters by telling Cobb about Ruth’s rejection, and the Tigers’ manager was prompted to do a little instigating of his own. He opened up a full barrage of criticism, sarcastic remarks, and vile epithets directed at Ruth, mocking him as a “gorilla,” amongst other things. The situation developed further after both men rushed onto the field to pull Lu Blue from New York catcher Wally Schang, who’d erupted into near fisticuffs moments earlier. With the tensions heightened, they directed frantic comments at each other, and came close to exchanging punches. The verbal jousting went on throughout the game, and likely the rest of the series.31
Ruth was very much superman-like the next day, blasting out two homers and pitching five innings in a 13–8 victory over Detroit. The Brooklyn Standard Union stated that he was out for “revenge” for the recent ridicule and Cobb, incidentally, was the only Tiger to go down on strikes.32 On the whole, the June eastern tour symbolized everything that was wrong with the Tigers, from poor pitching to collapsing in the pinch. A slump by second baseman Ralph Young on defense hurt the infield significantly, and Cobb experimented with Joe Sargent at second and Ira Flagstead at shortstop, replacing veteran Donie Bush. On June 30, Cobb went out with a left knee injury, and placed Chick Shorten in centerfield.33 The club temporarily rebounded, and even though his condition improved in the days following, Cobb refused to disrupt the winning environment that was in place without him, remaining on the sidelines.34
War on the Basepaths Page 27