Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 130, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 June 1911 — THE BASEBALL PEST [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE BASEBALL PEST

two kinds of cranks who make players very COBB AND DAHLEN VICTIMS .’--- ',: *• ; . v y* - '• -*'* -’. -\ ' . ■'. * * “* Great Editor Changes His Opinion Regarding the Present Brooklyn Manager—Frank Isbell 8!lps Joke Over on Old Comrades. By HUGH 8. FULLERTON. There are two types of baseball cranks that pester ball players especially. They are: the crank who writes letters anonymously and tells the players how bad they are and the enthusiastic crank who butts in, introdoces himself, and proceeds to tell how good they are. Ty Cobb, the Tiger star, met one of the latter kind on a train this summer. Worse than that, the fellow not only was a baseball crank, but also one of, these “purity In sport” reformers. He held for cleanliness for sportsmanship, and Cobb was with him. Then he got to talking about tricks turned by ball players to gain advantages, and he decried them as unsportsmanlike. Finally he said: “Mr. Cobb, I am delighted to know you. I have read things that gave me, an idea totally incorrect of you and your playing. lam glad to find you a sportsman and a lover of clean sport.” “Thank you,” muttered Cobb, a trifle wearily. ‘ i-C “I shall explain to my friends,” stated the fan. “I’m sure Mr. Cobb, that as a southern gentleman, you never took unfair advantage of an opponent, that you never bumped a baseman Intentionally or cut with your spikes, did you." “Well,” said Cobb, hesitatingly, "not any of my close personal friends.” BHly “Bullhead” Dahlen, novfr the sedate and settled manager of the rapidly rising Brooklyn team, once had something of the same sort of an adventure with a great editor. It happened at that time I was working for the editor who, besides being one of the great newspaper geniuses of the country, happened also to be a wild baseball crank. One day Dahlen, who was playing shortstop, had a bad day. He kicked and booted and threw wild and did everything backward, and that night the editor, who had seen the game, summoned me and said, sharply: “Go after that fellow, Dahlen, aim drive him out of town. He’s a loafer and a drinker.” There wasn’t a chance to argue, so I bunted Dahlen up and remarked that I was going to “pan the life out of him” and drive him off the team, explaining the circumstances. Whereupon he remarked that he wished me success and would help me. For two weeks Dahlen was criticised at every turn. Then we went east and on the train DaHlen and I slipped away from Anson’s ever watchful eye and sought the buffet car liquid refreshment While we were thus engaged the editor entered the car, addressed me, inquired whether the team was on the train and was introduced to Dahlen. I left them at II o’clock, the editor

Ty Cobb In tho Clutches of tho Post. ordering more beer and talking baseball with Dahlen. The following morning the editor stopped at my bbrth. "I was much mistaken in that young man, Dahlen,” he remarked. “He is a smart, intelligent and interesting young man. I believe these stories about his drinking have been exaggerated. I fear we have been misled by the talk of cranks. I wish ybu would write a story suggesting him as the logical successor of Captain Anson as the manager of the team.” Dahlen was, during his Chicago career, a pestiferous player toward the umpires, and one of the wont naggers in the business. He has grown sedate and conservative and is friendly to some of the umps nowadays, but when young he gave all the umpires and Uncle Nick Toung more trouble than any player since his time. One day, on the West side, Dahlen approached Hank O'Day, who was the umpire, and remarked: “Bar, Bank, If I ran at you In the first Inning and call you a blank blank blank and stop on your toes with my spikes and push my glove Into your face, whall you dor "Dor said Henry, getting roiled up. "DoT ril chase you off the lot faster than you can ran.” "All right,” said Dahlen, calmly, “no hard feelings; I Just want to get put out quick, so I can get to Harlem in time to get a Imt down on the ißurth race.” ■*-,

XxUU f Bmlu XX&XLK. aXUU ohj $ 111 tins f&cc. M 'x Nor could he, although he did everything he could think of. O’Day made hT wSted °to heavy odds. ; • Possibly the best joke of the entire baseball year was the one that Frank Isbell, now owner and manager of the Wichita team, slipped over on his old comrades, the Chicago White Sox this spring. The Sox were to play an exhibition game at Wichita, and Issy had made great preparations for their coming. Also he thought they had a sense of humor—which was another ndstake. Isay prepared a great feast at his home, and served to his old friends on the Sox team a beautiful repast During the dinner the Sox were telling ot the wretched umpiring they had been getting, and how every umpire in the little cities thought himself duty bound to help his team beat big leaguers. Issy remarked: ’Tvs been having trouble here in- the exhibition games. I’ve had one of the reg-

ular league umpires, but Detroit kicked on him and the other teams, too. He was pretty bad, so I got another fellow for today. I think he’s all right. He lives here and has umpired a lot of amateur and college games. He’s a man worth a quarter of a. million dollars, he stands high in society and church circles and in business. He thinks It an honor to umpire this game, and I hope you fellows won’t kick.” \ They didn’t kick. The umpiring wsa fine up to the ninth Inning. Then Wichita was leading by one run. In the first of the ninth, with a runner an. bases, Frank Smith hit the ball half a mile over the left field fence and put the Sox ahead. Up to that time the Sox had been much pleased with the umpire, but when Wichita went to bat for the last time things changed. The umpire began to call balls regardless of where they were pitched. Ha walked three men, then another and forced home a run. The Sox grew mad and Smith turned on him.

"What are you trying to do?” he demanded. “Steal this game?” "Why, Mr. Smith,” said the prominent citizen, in distressed and surprised tones. "Mr. Isbell explained to me that you wanted to lose this game to him to give his Wichita team a good send-off.” Foxy Issy had "double-crossed” both the umpire and the Sox and ha won the game. Instead of seeing the Joke, the Sox got mad.

Perhaps the most remarkable catch made anywhere during the season of 1910 was made by Carlisle of the Vernon team of the Pacific coast league on the San Francisco grounds early In October. The catch was made possible because It started In a joking tribute by Carlisle to the hitting prowess of “Ping” Bodle, the slugging outfielder of the Frisco team, who came near breaking world’s records for home ran hits during Jthe season. The San Francisco grounds are situated low, and surrounded by great fences, some of them as tall as the three-story houses that adjoin the park. At points the fences are nearly fifty feet high, yet Bodie kept-dri-ving the ball over fences, signs and high screens until it got to be a regular thing and a source of Joking among the fans and players alike. The Vernon team came down from the north with the Frisco team, and they stopped to play a series on the Mission street grounds. It happened that while the team was away painters had been putting some new lettering on signs high above the fence and one tall ladder remained propped against the fence in right center field. The ladder was left there, and after Vernon had hatted and failed to score, Carlisle, Jogging out to his position, saw tile ladder, and thought of a Joke. Two were opt when “Ping.” the hero of Frisco, came to bat. Carlisle Jogged back to the fence and, climbing about twenty feet up the ladder, turned his face toward the field. The bleacher crowd appreciated his tribute to Bodie’s hitting power and laughed and cheered, and the crowd in the stands took up the applause Bodie swung wickedly upon the first ball pitched. Carlisle, thinking he had carried the Joke far enough, was descending the ladder, when he saw the ball coming toward the fence, far above his head. He turned, scrambled ten feet up the ladder, clung to a round with toe hand and, stretching but the other, caught the hall. The catch caused a long argument, but It was allowed and then the umpire stopped the game until the ladder wee removed. {Copyright, ltd, by Joseph B. Bowl**.)

The Day Dahien Wanted to Be Put Out of the Game.