Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 247, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 October 1911 — CANTILLON IS TRICKED [ARTICLE]

CANTILLON IS TRICKED

Washington Manager Fooled at His Own Game. ElevatocPltcher’s Box 80 That White Sox Twlrlers Couldn’t Get Ball Over Plate—Comiskey Lowers His. "Long ago, when the world was young,” says Joe Cantlllon, once manager of Washington, “Charlie Comlskey and I were running rival- teams in the old Western league, and what wo didn’t plan in the way of Jobs and tricks upon each other wasn't worth putting in the Book of Frauds. I always figured the great-hearted Comiskey as my legitimate meat, and Do soon learned a few things on his own account, so that the score was kept fairly even as the days went by. < “One time, when Commy’s team was slated for a series on my grounds, a really great idea struck me. In those days there were no rules restricting the height of the pitching . mound, and some awful elevations were constructed round the circuit. 1 resolved on making a hill such as no pitcher ever used before, and I made IL too. The ground-keeper at my park built up a mountain, and I trained my hurlers on that mountain every morning for four days. When Comlskey's gang arrived they were dtunfounded to see that Mount Whitney of a pitching hill, towering up above the diamond, and with my pitchers grinning down at them. But they kicked in vain; there was no rule to stop me, and the game began. For three days we had rich fun with Commy’s men. My pitchers sent the ball swooping downward with a speed and an angle of direction that they couldn't touch, while Commy’s pitchers, unused to such an altitude, were helpless, hitting the batters on the feet and rebounding the ball from the turf for wild pitches.

"We arrived in Comlskey's burg two weeks later, and I felt pretty sure that we had a cinch. No matter how the old Roman might elevate his pitching mound, he couldn’t fool us, for my pitchers were all trained to the hill work, and could not be rattled or put to the bad, even if they were asked to throw from the summit of a steeple. But when we got to Commy’s field we let go one long, lingering yell of anguish and despair. ■ We were tricked, beaten, slim-slammed and skinned alive. "Immediately after his return from my town, so it seems, Comiskey got busy with his plans for a dark revenge. He had his groundkeeper dig a grave at the pitcher’s slab —an excavation abput up to the hips of the average man—and then he trained his curving force, day by day, to that most difficult of feats —throwing uphill. It is awful labor, but, of course, a man can learn to do it, and by the time we appeared in the vicinity they all had it down to perfection.- Can you Imagine the finish? “My pitchers, trained to throwing downward from a mountain, were absolutely done/ They couldn’t get the ball anywhere near the batters and man after man walked, while the few feeble tosses that came over the plate were batted half a mile. For three days the carnage went on and we were trimmed 12 to 2, 11 to 2 and 17 to 5. Then Comiskey and I got together, agreed to restore our pitching slabs to their normal altitude and never again to try anything on each other.**