Total Baseball (1994 Edition)/Total_Baseball_1994_Edition_Creative_Multimedia_1994.iso/dp/0004/00041.txt

Text File | 1994-02-24 | 37KB | 575 lines

$Unique_ID{BAS00041}
$Title{Demographics}
$Author{
Topp, Richard}
$Subject{Demographics Height Weight Age Alternate Occupations Switch-Hitters}
$Log{
All-Time Switch-Hitting Leaders*0004101.tab
Youngest and Oldest Team at Death*0004102.tab}

Total Baseball:  The Players


Demographics

Richard Topp


What do ballplayers do when they leave the game? How tall or short was the
average player a hundred years ago? Did Tony Mullane really pitch with both
hands? Did John M. Ward hurt his right arm while pitching, then play the next
season as a lefthanded-throwing centerfielder? Was Christy Mathewson born in
1880, as the reference books have stated throughout this century--or was this
his "baseball age," with his true birth year being 1878?
     These are the questions that stir the souls of baseball sleuths, notably
those of that 6,000-strong band called the Society for American Baseball
Research. As a past chairman of SABR's Biographical Research Committee, I
have had many notable finds cross my desk over the years. Here is a small
sampling of what I study.


Alternate Occupations

A venerable children's fortune-telling rhyme, recited while counting objects
or skipping along, went:

                            Tinker, Tailor,
                            Soldier, Sailor,
                            Rich man, Poor man,
                            Beggerman, Thief.

     In the Middle Ages, that may have been all the known professions a man
could be.
     Baseball has been true to the above verse, and more so. Prior to the
skyrocketing salaries of today, which often set up a man with income for the
rest of his life, the player's post-playing occupations came from all walks of
life. Bob Addy was the tinker, or more like a tinsmith. He practiced his
craft in the mining towns near Pocatello, Idaho. The only tailor and the only
beggar who came from the majors was Lew Say. Lew played from 1873 to 1884.
He was a tailor by trade but was known to walk the streets of Baltimore
begging for handouts.
     There have been many soldiers and sailors--from the Civil War to Vietnam.
Abner Doubleday, the mythical founder of the National Pastime, is forever
etched in history as the captain who gave the order to return fire in response
to Confederate shelling of Fort Sumter. That action started the Civil War.
Also in the War Between the States we find George Zettlein, a twenty-year-old
sailor under the command of Admiral Farragut at the battle of Mobile Bay.
Doug Allison was a drummer boy for the Pennsylvania volunteers. James Price,
the 1884 New York Giants' manager, was a captain in the New York Regiment.
The War with Spain was short. Arlie Pond was a medical officer in the
Philippines and later served as assistant surgeon general to Walter Reed.
Laurie Reis joined at forty, well after his playing days were over.
     Both world wars produced a huge exodus of players; the clubs were
severely depleted. The 1918 season was ordered halted by the provost marshall
on Labor Day. President Franklin Roosevelt had a change of heart in 1942; he
ordered baseball to continue, to serve as a release for defense workers.
Again the rosters were depleted, the minors were all but dried up, and the
majors were forced to use youngsters and 4-F's. The two long-time doormats of
the American League prospered--the St. Louis Browns of 1944 won their first
and only pennant, and the 1945 Washington Senators finished in second. The
Korean and Vietnam conflicts also took players away from the major leagues,
although mostly they served in reserve units for short terms of duty. And
people will always wonder how many homers Ted Williams would have hit if he
hadn't gone off to war two times . . .
     Outside of the present players with their inflated salaries, who were the
rich men? Herman Franks could have been the wealthiest because of his
investments. Hank Greenberg married into the Gimbel Department Store fortune.
And George Halas went into another sport to find fortune. Al Spalding started
a little sporting goods store in Chicago that still bears his name. But the
champ has to be Frank Olin, a journeyman infielder who played 49 games in the
1880s. When he passed on control of Olin Industries in 1944 to his sons, he
was worth over 60 million dollars.
     What about the poor men? Well, there have been many. Some are in great
need to this day, having retired before the 1947 pension plan went into
effect. Some greats were truly poor like Pud Galvin, the first 300-game
winner, who died in squalor. Hack Wilson was living in a tool shed as a
custodian of a local park in Baltimore. As with Galvin, a collection was
taken up to pay for Wilson's funeral. Bill Cissell died of starvation in a
Chicago slum: he had a part-time job at Comiskey Park with the ground crew,
but was unable to find work in the off-season. And it's rumored that Jimmie
Foxx was informed of his election to the Hall of Fame while he was a resident
of Miami's Skid Row.
     As for the thieves, where did they go wrong? Harry Decker passed bad
checks; Bill Geer was a fence for stolen goods.
     There's more to the above rhyme--in 1888 another poet named Bolton added
"Doctor, Lawyer, and Indian Chief."
     Medical men are spread out over the life of baseball. Bobby Brown is the
American League president. Doc White was a dentist. Doc Medich even
performed his duties on a fan who was suffering from chest pains. Wyman
Andrus, a one-gamer with Providence in 1885, went to medical school with
fellow Canadian Pete Wood. Both graduated on the same day in 1893. The 1906
World Series had three doctors--Doc Gessler, Doc White, and Frank Owen. Billy
Nash was often referred to as a doctor; even his obituary called him that.
The truth was that he was an orderly and never entered medical school.
     The most prominent lawyer among ballplayers has to be John Montgomery
Ward. Ward engineered the first player revolt, and helped form the Players'
League in 1890. Another is Bob Gibson, a four-game pitcher in 1890 who made
it to the Federal bench where he served for twenty-six years.
     There has never been an Indian chief, but one player came close: Allie
Reynolds was nominated by the Creek Nation but lost the election.
     In 1974 John Le Carre wrought another turn on the nursery rhyme--this one
was a novel called Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Our spy is Moe Berg, a man
"who speaks twelve languages and can't hit in any of them!" Berg went to
Japan with a group of All-Stars not simply because he spoke Japanese, but to
do intelligence work in the threatening period before Pearl Harbor.
     When players go on road trips, the unwritten rule is to enjoy the city's
nightlife after the game. Moe enjoyed talking to professors at Columbia,
Harvard, and Chicago Universities.
     Why would a contending team like the Washington Senators of 1932 and 1933
be interested in a catcher who batted .077 with Cleveland the year before?
Was it convenient for the government to have Moe close by? Moe did work for
the newly formed OSS, a forerunner to the CIA. He was sent to Germany and
various neutral countries before World War Two and during it. We may never
know the precise extent of what Moe did in his spy career, as much of this
information is still classified.
     Let's take a look at the other noble professions . . .
     The acting professions saw many players do vaudeville in the offseason.
Marty McHale made a career out of it. Cap Anson did a vaudeville act with his
daughter and introduced a small ditty called "Take Me Out to the Ball Game,"
which has since become baseball's national anthem. Rube Marquard appeared on
stage with his wife Blossom Seeley. Mike Donlin, Rabbit Maranville, Babe
Ruth, Rube Waddell, and a legion of other players also trod the boards.
     One of the earliest baseball movies was a short produced by the Vitagraph
Studios in 1909. The movie showed Honus Wagner teaching a little boy the art
of batting. The little boy, one Moses Horwitz, stayed in acting as Moe
Howard, one of the Three Stooges. Babe Ruth appeared in a few silent movies,
but his hitting was better than his acting. Chuck Connors acted in movies and
had a hit television show, "The Rifleman." Peanuts Lowrey, who grew up behind
the M-G-M studios, did one scene as a child with Thelma Todd. Johnny
Berardino is currently a doctor on a daytime soap opera.
     The top-grossing movie of all time is now "Jurassic Park." Did you know
that the first person eaten by a dinosaur in the film was none other than
Jophery Brown, the once Cub player, and now a movie stunt man?
     Carmen Fanzone, a utility player in the 1970s with the Red Sox and the
Cubs, played trumpet in the band on "The Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson.
     Some players had a calling and became "men of the cloth." The most
famous is Billy Sunday, but Doc White also did a little evangelical work. Al
Travers, one of a bunch of students who substituted for the 1912 striking
Tigers, became a Catholic priest. Morrie Arnovich studied to be a rabbi. Al
Worthington is currently a Baptist preacher.
     Saloonkeeper seems to be the most-honored profession among players.
Fred Pfeffer ran a saloon in the theater district of Chicago; it was a
watering hole for actors and ballplayers.
     Accountants are few and far between. Ross Barnes became one after the
foul-fair rule was changed and cut his batting average by over 100 points.
Joe Quest was an accountant for the City Clerk of Chicago . . . who was Cap
Anson.
     The insurance industry has produced many a good living--Cy Block and Marv
Rotblatt have been quite successful there.
     Edd Roush was a gravedigger and later a cemetery manager in Oakland,
Indiana. Richie Hebner was also a gravedigger for many years.
     Patsy Dougherty was the only bank teller of note; he died at his window
of a heart attack in 1940.
     Frank Isbell and Three-Finger Brown owned gasoline stations.
     Joe Borden, who in 1875 pitched the first no-hitter, was demoted to
groundskeeper near the end of the 1876 season.
     Charlie Waitt, the first man to wear a glove, died on the job; he was a
window washer in San Francisco when he fell.
     Firemen of note were John Clapp in Ithaca, New York, and Bill Gleason in
St. Louis. Chicken Wolf was riding on a fire truck in Louisville when he
fell off and suffered a severe head injury; subsequently he became hopelessly
insane.
     Officers of the law pop up now and then. Tony Mullane, the celebrated
contract jumper, was a Chicago Police detective; so was George Rooks. Bill
Craver, expelled from baseball for game-fixing in 1877, became a policeman in
Troy, New York. Johnny Ryan was killed while making an arrest in 1902. Jimmy
Ryan was a court bailiff. And believe it or not, a major leaguer was once a
member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police--Jean-Pierre Roy. The most
unusual encounter was in 1894, when policeman George Strief arrested robber
Pud Galvin in Pittsburgh.
     There have been major leaguers who played other sports in the off-season.
Professional football claims Ernie Nevers, Garland Buckeye, Jim Thorpe, Red
Badgro, Shorty Des Jardien, George Halas, Paddy Driscoll, etc. Ace Parker is
the only pro football Hall of Famer to hit a homer in his first major league
at-bat.
     Basketball has its share, too, in Gene Conley, Dave DeBusschere, Chuck
Connors, Frank Baumholtz, Danny Ainge, and more.
     Jack Graney led the long parade of ex-players into the broadcasting
booth; now every team has at least one doing the color.
     Many players wrote, or rather "ghosted," newspaper columns, but Tim
Murnane became the first ex-player-turned-reporter, followed shortly by Sam
Crane.
     Last but not least is politicians, an occupation that in public opinion
polls ranks below used-car salesman for credibility. Only two players were
governors: John Tener of Pennsylvania and Fred Brown, a lifetime nine-gamer
who became the chief executive of New Hampshire. Brown was also the only
senator; he rode to victory in the Roosevelt landslide of 1932.
     Four congressmen served: Tener, Pius Schwert (New York), Wilmer "Vinegar
Bend" Mizell (North Carolina), and Jim Bunning (Kentucky).
     Mayors and local office holders are numerous; the mayor of the biggest
city has to be the 1954 batting champion, Bobby Avila, who is the mayor of
Veracruz, Mexico.
     Let's not leave the used-car dealers out in the cold. Tony Piet was one
of the largest dealers in Chicago. Smokey Burgess also did well selling the
"American dream."
     The list of ballplayers' occupations mirrors the way the rest of America
earns a living. Because of the steady flow of players into retirement and the
limited number of baseball jobs, very few manage to stay in the game.

Height and Weight

Is the baseball player of today bigger and stronger than his counterpart of
fifty years ago? What about of a hundred years ago?

     Below is a look at the rookies of three selected periods in time.

                   1880-1889    1930-1939    1980-1989
------------------------------------------------------
Rookies                924        1,037        1,612
Ave. Height
(Inches)             69.76 [*]    71.60        73.29
Ave. Weight
(lbs.)              169.73 [*]      176       187.11
------------------------------------------------------
* based on 545 known heights and 546 known weights

     The present day player is 5.1 percent taller than 100 years ago and 2.4
percent taller than 50 years ago. The average weight, due to a better diet,
shoots up 10.2 percent over 100 years ago and 4.7 percent over the 1930s
player.
     Of course there are some differences. In the 1950s Eddie Gaedel brought
down the averages with his 3'7" and 65 pounds. So did Bobby Shantz (at 5'6"
and 139) and Albie Pearson (5'5" and 140). These players and others throw a
monkey wrench into the theory that players today are bigger and better.
     But Gaedel, Shantz, and Pearson appeared thirty years ago, and in that
time we have seen Greg Luzinski closing out his career at 279 pounds. And Ron
Reed, an ex-basketball player, pitching at 6'6" jacks up the average.
     The 1970s and 1980s also saw the influx of talent from the Dominican
Republic, players not in the same height and weight class as Luzinski or Reed,
and little men like Harry Chappas (5'3" and 150) and Fred Patek (5'5" and
148). Those players would bring the average down.
     Ex-basketball players seem to inflate the present-day averages. Ron Reed,
Gene Conley, and Dave DeBusschere were all 6'6", while Frank Howard was 6'7"
and Johnny Gee was 6'9" The tallest of all have been Mets pitcher Eric Hillman
and 1993 strikeout leader Randy Johnson, both of whom come in at 6'10".
     In 1984 Luzinski and Ron Kittle of the White Sox pulled a double steal.
No one on the Yankees was expecting Greg to break toward the plate, so he made
it. Later research was done, and it was found that Luzinski became the
heaviest player to steal home, breaking a long-time unwritten record of Zeke
Bonura, who did it while weighing 260!
     In 1961 Albie Pearson roomed on the road with Big Ted Kluszewski, a giant
of his time at 6'2" and 225. It was rumored that Big Klu made up Albie's bed
in a dresser drawer.
     The 1880s and 1890s were not limited to little men as the averages would
lead us to believe. Cap Anson and Pud Galvin were nearing the magic 300-pound
mark in their last seasons. Dave Orr, a power hitter of the 1880s, was
averaging 250!  King Kelly, the barrel-chested star, certainly weighed more
than the 170 he is listed as weighing. And "Big Dan" Brouthers lived up to
his name with an average weight of 207 on his 6'2" frame.
     Yes, there were more little guys a hundred years ago than today--people
like Davy "Tom Thumb" Force, who tipped the scales at 5'4" and 130. Larry
Corcoran came in at 120 while winning 177 games in eight years. Wee Willie
McGill was 5'6" and a 20-game winner at 17. Research has found the next
closest man to Eddie Gaedel in weight--he was Harry Keenan, a 16-year-old
pitcher with Cincinnati in 1891--who was 95 pounds dripping wet!
     One wonders what it may have been like to see a confrontation between
certain managers and players, especially between Miller "Mighty Mite" Huggins
(5'6" and 140) and his star Babe Ruth.
     When Bill Veeck was hiding Eddie Gaedel in the Browns' office before his
great debut in 1951, Eddie was asking how tall Wee Willie Keeler was. I guess
Wee Willie was a man Eddie "looked up" to; after all, the Hall of Famer was
5'4" and 140.
     Gaedel wasn't the only midget in baseball; there was Don Davidson, the
long-time traveling secretary of the Braves. On road trips a Braves player
would get Don's room changed to a high floor, since Davidson had trouble
reaching the buttons on the elevators.
     The twentieth century had its small men, too. Most encyclopedias show
Pete Burg, an infielder with the 1910 Boston Braves, as 5'10". It was
discovered not long ago that while playing in the New England League a photo
was taken of Pete standing next to a six-foot-tall teammate. The Brockton,
Massachusetts newspaper captioned the picture, saying that Pete was the
smallest in baseball at 5'1". It seems nobody believed any player could be
that small, so someone had "corrected" this stat for the future as 5'10".
     The Chicago White Sox of 1950s and '60s had a great double-play
combination of Nellie Fox and Luis Aparicio. Not many people know that when
the club was home, the Sox players would run out from the dugout and Fox and
Aparicio would race to second base. The winner would get to stand on the base
during the national anthem, so as to appear taller.

Switch-Hitters

In a late-season game in 1897, Roger Denzer, a right-handed Chicago pitcher,
faced Brooklyn in a meaningless game. Both clubs were soon to finish
thirty-plus games out of first; the Boston Beaneaters and the Baltimore
Orioles had a nice two-team race.
     The next day the Chicago Inter-Ocean took note of the Brooklyn win. There
was nothing special in the loss by Denzer--he was 2-8 that season. But the
reporter noted an oddity: at a time when left-handed batters were a distinct
minority, the Brooklyn lineup had seven of them. This kind of line-up
stacking or platooning had been done years before as managers were
experimenting with the right-left situation. Brooklyn manager Billy Barnie
may have wondered that day what it would be like to have a team of
switch-hitters, so he wouldn't have to pinch-hit, could keep a good fielder in
position, and could still have an advantage in batting for nine innings. A
sign of things to come, but switch-hitters were a rare commodity in those
distant days. In contrast, the 1965 Dodgers had the pieces fall into place
and won a pennant with an all-switch-hitting infield: Wes Parker at first,
Jim LeFebvre at second, Maury Wills at short, and Junior Gilliam at third.
     The first switch-hitter was Bob Ferguson, who played in the National
Association, National League, and American Association from 1871-1884. But
the first really great switch-hitter was undoubtedly George Davis, a player
from 1890 to 1909. In his twenty years he ranks fourth among switch-hitters
in games, at-bats, average, and doubles. Davis ranks number one in triples
with 166 and is number two behind Mantle in RBIs. The nineteenth century saw
other solid switch-hitters in Tommy Tucker, Dan McGann, Tom Daly, and John
Anderson.
     Max Carey and Frankie Frisch were the big-gun switch-hitters in the first
half of the twentieth century. Frisch and Carey also had speed going for
them. Frisch stole 419 bases and from 1921 to 1930 averaged 187 hits a
season. Carey ranks fifth on the all-time stolen base list; one year he stole
51 bases in 53 attempts. But in order to steal a base you must first get on.
Carey's speed also produced 159 triples; this was possible because he played
for most of his career in vast Forbes Field.
     On June 25, 1937, Augie Galan of the Cubs made the record books for
hitting homers while batting right- and left-handed in a game. He connected
off Fred Fitzsimmons of the Dodgers in the fourth inning as a lefty, and in
the eighth he hit one as a righty off Ralph Birkofer. But later research
revealed that Wally Schang of the Philadelphia Athletics had been the first to
hit homers as a lefty and righty--in a 1916 game.
     Mickey Mantle on many occasions connected with two homers in a game from
both sides. In the early 1950s, reliever Satchel Paige was a victim one day
of a Mantle left-handed barrage, following the starting pitcher's
victimization by Mantle's righty exploits. He told his manager the Yanks
would be tough this year with those twin brothers they brought up.
     For sheer power it was Mickey Mantle all the way. His 536 career home
runs leads every other switch-hitter by a wide margin. So do his strikeouts.
Pete Rose, on the other hand, was a throwback to the early days of the 1920s
and 1930s, a contact hitter. Rose hit the magic 200-hit mark ten times in his
twenty-four-year career. Sure he had over 1,100 strikeouts in his career, but
that's an average of only 47 or 48 per season, whereas Mantle had an average
of 95. Rose didn't have blazing speed; he never placed among stolen base
leaders, but he was fast enough to wipeout all competitors in doubles with
746. Ted Simmons ranks second, 269 behind "Charlie Hustle."
     The modern player is stronger and faster, and the advent of players like
Reggie Smith, Ted Simmons, Willie Wilson, and Ken Singleton make the
switch-hitter a permanent part of the baseball scene.
     Who knows what the future may bring. Could the lefty-righty
confrontations between managers be a thing of the past? Not so fast--there is
something else that managers haven't experimented with for many, many years.
Switch-pitchers.
     Back in 1882 Tony Mullane pitched with both hands. There are also
reports of Icebox Chamberlain and John Clarkson doing the same in the 1880s.
Tony Mullane was a double threat; he was switch-hitter and a switch-thrower as
well. In the 1940s Ed Head and Cal McLish were experimenting with this in
spring training, but none dared do it in a regular-season game. Catcher Paul
Richards pitched ambidextrously in the minors.
     Was it Yogi Berra who once said, "I'd give my right arm to be
ambidextrous"?


Handicaps

The word "handicap" comes from an Old English term describing how beggars
asked for money in the streets. They would take off their caps and hold them
out for coins to be dropped in. The term was "cap in hand," later altered to
"hand and cap."
     The disabled must work harder to equal their able-bodied opponents or
teammates. The ones that played baseball showed courage just to make the
team.
     The first known physically handicapped player was Hugh "One-Arm" Daily, a
major-league pitcher for six years in the 1880s. The nickname hinted that
Hugh had an entire arm missing, but actually he was only missing his left
hand, which had been severed in an explosion. Hugh won 73 games in his
career, and on September 13, 1883, he pitched a no-hitter against the
Phillies.
     Another pitcher with the same handicap as Daily is Jim Abbott, who also
lacks a hand. On September 9, 1993, nine days short of one century since Daily
threw his no-hitter for Cleveland, Abbott did the same, this time against
Cleveland.
     In those days gloves were optional, but that wasn't the case with Pete
Gray of the 1945 St. Louis Browns. Gray played the outfield wearing his
glove on his left hand. He would then catch a fly ball, toss it into the air,
stuff his glove under his right arm stump, catch the ball, and throw it.
Sounds difficult? Pete did this in about one second.
     Gray won the right for a tryout with the Browns when he tore up the
Southern Association with his batting. He hit .333 and stole 68 bases in 1944
with Memphis. Gray won the Southern Association's MVP Award that year. Pete
batted only .218 for the Browns, but his determination was admired by
teammates. Disabled war vets were inspired by Pete's exploits, proving that a
handicap was only a setback to a career, not an end to it. After all, Andy
Russell won the Oscar for best supporting actor around this time too, in The
Best Years of Our Lives, and he was missing both arms!
     Among other amputees were four fairly good pitchers. Mordecai "Three-
Finger" Brown lost one finger and part of another in a farm accident as a boy,
but the remaining fingers forced him to hold the ball differently from the
norm. Brown's pitching was unmatched. In a five-year span, 1906-1910, he put
a hex on the National League, winning 127 games while losing 32. But his
control was even better: in that same period Brown pitched 1,461 innings
while allowing 230 earned runs for an ERA of 1.42!  Brown's pitching in 1906
helped the Cubs win a record 116 games. He won 26 of them and posted an ERA
of 1.04, with 10 shutouts.
     I wonder if missing the toes on one foot had anything to do with Red
Ruffing winning 273 games in his career?
     Monty Stratton, a White Sox pitcher in the 1930s, won 36 games in five
years for an also-ran club, but a hunting accident cost him a leg. Although he
never pitched again in the majors, he made a comeback in the Texas League. In
1946 Stratton was 18-8 in 27 games for the Sherman Twins--20 were complete
games.
     Losing a leg usually means losing a major league career, as happened to
Monty Stratton or Jimmy Wood. Wood injured his leg during the 1873 season
leading to an abscess. Doctors trying to treat the leg managed to break it,
and were forced to amputate the leg to save his life. Wood's reward was being
named manager of the White Stockings for 1874 and 1875.
     Bert Shepard did one better on Stratton--he played in the majors with an
artificial leg. The Washington Senators hired the minor league war vet to show
that the disabled can play. He pitched only one game in the 1945 season, for
only 5 1/3 innings, but nevertheless he did it--and he allowed only three hits
and one earned run!
     Another famous handicapped player was William Ellsworth Hoy, known for
the rest of his life as "Dummy." Neither his teammates nor Hoy himself saw
the name as being offensive. In fact, the seven known deaf-mutes in baseball,
that seemingly pejorative nickname seems to come up all the time, just as
American Indian players are often called "Chief."
     When Hoy broke in with Oshkosh in 1886 under manager Frank Selee, he was
regarded as a freak. But his determination was admirable. Hoy was
responsible for two customs used in baseball today. He would screech and hold
his arm out when he caught a fly ball. This was to tell the other fielders
that it was his catch. Notice outfielders using this hand signal today. Also
he would ask the umpire to use a hand signal to let him know if the pitch was
a ball or strike, a method that is universally practiced today.
     Hoy was quite an outfielder, once throwing out three runners at the plate
in one game, all from center field. On October 7, 1961, Hoy was honored by
being allowed to throw out the first ball of Game Three of the 1961 World
Series. Two months later he was dead at the ripe age of ninety-nine.
     Ed "Dummy" Dundon was the first deaf-mute in the majors with the Columbus
Buckeyes in 1883, but he didn't last long, playing in 52 games over two years.
     Tom "Dummy" Lynch came along in 1884 for one game as a pitcher with the
White Stockings; he only lasted seven innings. Lynch and Hoy were
valedictorians at their respective schools for the deaf. Lynch went to the
"Harvard" of deaf schools--Gallaudet in Washington, D.C.
     The 1901 New York Giants took a big step in hiring the handicapped. They
had three deaf-mutes on the roster that year. "Dummy" Taylor won 18 for the
seventh-place team. "Dummy" Leitner came over the Athletics and pitched in
two games. And pitcher "Dummy" Deegan hurled 17 innings in two games.
     The last deaf-mute in the majors was Dick Sipek, the only one who was not
called "Dummy." (Similarly, Ben Tincup was the first Indian not called
"Chief.") Sipek, an outfielder who much admired "Dummy" Hoy, played 82 games
for the 1945 Reds. Hoy would show up at Cincinnati games just to watch and
talk with Sipek.
     In September 1993 partially deaf Curtis Pride was called up by
Montreal.
     Tom Sunkel, a pitcher for the Cardinals, Giants, and Dodgers was blind in
one eye. Research has uncovered that Harry Wright was the only blind manager.
In 1890, while managing the Phillies, Wright was stricken with a common head
cold in mid-May. This head cold spread and infected his nervous system, and
Wright as a result began to go blind. On May 22 Wright was out as manager and
was bedridden. Jack Clements took over the club for the next 19 games; then
Al Reach, the Phillies president, took them on the road for an 11-game swing;
and Bob Allen ran the club until August 11. Finally Harry Wright came back
for the last 46 games of the season. Although he still could not see very
well, his team finished in third place.


Age


     On September 10, 1993, the Society for American Baseball Research,
Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, and the New York Yankees placed a plaque on
the spot where home plate stood at old Hilltop Park. This was the spot where
the New York Highlanders (later the Yankees) first played. In order to make
the ceremonies complete, the organizations invited the only survivor who
played there, the one-and-only Chet Hoff, a 23-gamer, who pitched for the
Yanks and the Browns. Chet has the credentials: he's 102.
     Not too many players have topped the century mark. Here is a run-down of
the oldest in history:

PLAYER       YR-MO      BIRTH         DEATH     GAMES         YEARS
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Chet Hoff    102+        5-8-91                  23         1911-1915
Bob Wright   101-7     12-13-91     7-30-1993     2         1915
John Daley   101-3      5-25-91     8-31-1988    17         1912
Charlie Emig 100-6       4-5-75     10-2-1975     1         1896
Ralph Miller 100-2      3-15-73      5-8-1973     1         1898-1899
George       99-11      6-14-61     5-19-1960    18         1883-1886
Winkleman
Dummy Hoy    99-6       5-23-62    12-15-1961  1798         1888-1902

     The youngest player ever was Fred Chapman, a pitcher with the
Philadelphia Athletics in 1887. Fred celebrated his fifteenth birthday after
the season on November 25. Chapman was younger than Joe Nuxhall, who was at
one time thought to have been the youngest.
     In 1944 the Cincinnati Reds were hit hard by the military draft, so they
were willing to try out anybody who showed some promise. It was Joe's father
who was offered a tryout--Joe just went along for the ride, but somehow he
ended up trying out for himself. The Reds were impressed with the son more
than with his father, so Joe made his debut against the powerful Cardinals in
10-0 rout of Cincinnati. Joe pitched only two-thirds of an inning, giving up
seven earned runs, two hits, and walking five in his sole major league
appearance until 1952.
     Looking back at baseball history, we find that the 1885 Cincinnati Reds
were the oldest team in terms of how long their players went on to live. They
had four players who lived into their nineties and one who reached his
eighties. Dummy Hoy, Frank Foreman, Arlie Latham, and George Hogriever made
it past 90, and Bid McPhee was 83 when he died. The team also had another six
players to reach 70!  The 1895 Reds had an average lifetime age of 69.5 years.
     A switch on the 1895 Reds was the 1884 Chicago White Stockings, a team
that had four hitters with more than 20 homers, a team that boasted the
"Stonewall Infield." The average age at death for this club was a mere 55
years. Sure, Dalrymple, Andrus, and Goldsmith were well past 90 when they
died; and Anson, Sunday, and Pfeffer were past 70. But eight players on the
twenty-man roster died before the age of 45.
     The oldest player actually to play in a game is Satchel Paige, who
pitched three innings in 1965 for Kansas City. Paige claimed to be born on
July 7, 1906. But that date is suspect. I was told, during an interview with
an old boyhood pal and teammate of Satch's, that July 7 is correct, but the
year should be 1900. Satch was very protective of his age. Upon his
induction to the Hall of Fame, he was asked what his birthdate was. Satch
said he didn't know, adding that his mother had written it down in the family
Bible but the goat had eaten it!
     The youngest team to take the field for a game was the 1963 Houston Colt
.45s. On September 27 of that year the starting lineup had Jay Dahl (17),
Jerry Grote (20), Rusty Staub (19), Jim Wynn (21), Aaron Pointer (21), Brock
Davis (18), Joe Morgan (20), Glenn Vaughan (19), and Sonny Jackson (19). Dahl
became the youngest in the majors to die--an auto accident ended his life at
19.
     Again the war years produced the widest margin of age for a single team.
The 1944 Dodgers had Eddie Miksis at 17, and Gene Mauch, Ralph Branca, and Cal
McLish at 18. At the other end of the spectrum, Paul Waner was 41 and Johnny
Cooney 43.
     Jim O'Rourke, the last survivor of the National Association, and the last
survivor of the first National League game in 1876, played his final game in
1904. At 52 "Orator Jim" was the oldest player to play a full game. Strange
as it seems, only four years later his son made his debut. Only one other
father and son have had as few as four years between their respective
retirement and debut--Jim and Mike Hegan.
     In 1912 the Detroit Tigers went on strike to protest Ty Cobb's
suspension. In order to avoid a forfeit against Philadelphia, the Tigers
enlisted college boys and put 46-year-old coach Deacon McGuire in to catch;
manager Hughie Jennings was forced to pinch-hit in the ninth at age 43.
Jennings later returned in 1918 to play one game at first base, at the age of
49.
     The oldest manager, of course, was Connie Mack; he called it quits in
1950 at the age of 87, after fifty-three years at the helm. Roger
Peckinpaugh, on the other hand, became manager of the New York Yankees at
twenty-three. Tom Sheehan was the oldest to be appointed as manager in 1960
at 66 years of age.
     Achievements by youthful players are numerous. Robin Yount played the
most games before age 20. Wee Willie McGill was a 17-year-old 20-game winner.
     Other milestones were Tommy Brown of the 1944 Dodgers, who was the
youngest to homer at 16. A 17-year-old Bob Feller struck out 17 players in
one game. And Tony Conigliaro hit 24 homers at age 19.
     But with age comes wisdom. Minnie Minoso and Nick Altrock have played in
five decades. Altrock started in 1898, pitching for Louisville, and while
spending 46 years as a Washington coach would pinch-hit now and then: his
last time was in 1933. Minnie Minoso began his career in 1949 with Cleveland
and "retired" in 1964. When Bill Veeck bought the White Sox for a second
time, Minnie came back as a publicity stunt and was a designated hitter in
three games in 1976. News stories said Minnie had made the elite club of
four-decade players; it was also noted that Altrock was the only one who
played in five. Minnie came back in 1980 to tie the record. And in 1986 he
said he was ready for 1990!
     The last game at old Comiskey Park in 1990 came and went without Minnie
Minoso. Minnie was ready on that last day of the season. So were the Orioles.
But the Orioles wanted Cal Ripken, Sr. to at least come to bat in a pinch so
the Ripkens could surpass the Griffeys with the most sons playing in a game
with the father. Baseball's establishment had had enough of this farce, and
both Ripken and Minoso were denied.
     Minnie did make an appearance in the minors in 1993 for his sixth decade
in baseball. He at least passed Hub Kittle as the oldest minor leaguer. Minnie
was 70 when he grounded out for the St. Paul Saints of the (non-National
Association) Northern League. It was ironic that he faced the youngest pitcher
in the league, Yoshi Seo, who was a mere 20 years old.
     The last game of the 1993 home season saw another attempt by the White
Sox to sneak Minnie in the lineup. This time it was quashed by the White Sox
players and not the baseball establishment.