Chapter ONE

1890 Pittsburgh Alleghenys

Won 23

Lost 113

The Dim and Distant Past

Baseball in the nineteenth century had little in common with the game as we know it today. Stadiums were much smaller and constructed of wood, making them vulnerable to fire. During the latter half of the century, at least four major league parks were consumed by flames, among them the Union Baseball Grounds in Chicago and Washington Park in Brooklyn. Many stadiums were lacking even the most basic amenities, for example, dugouts and clubhouses. Consequently, players were left unguarded against insults and projectiles hurled by disgruntled fans.

Such protective equipment as helmets, batting gloves, and shin guards were unheard of in the early days. Mitts were poorly designed and sparsely padded. A veteran of twenty-six major league seasons, catcher Deacon McGuire fell into the habit of placing raw beefsteak inside his glove to absorb the impact of pitched balls. Even so, x-rays of McGuire’s hands taken years after he retired revealed evidence of nearly fifty dislocations or breaks.

Since the rules were not yet refined in the 1800s, unusual occurrences were not uncommon on the diamond. In a game for the New Brunswick championship, a University of St. Joseph player literally collapsed and died while rounding third base. Following close behind, a teammate picked up the lifeless form and carried it to home plate. Incredibly, the umpire counted both runs. Other primitive regulations afforded unfair advantages to both pitchers and batters. Before 1893, the pitcher’s mound was located a mere fifty feet from home plate. Deceptive windups were legal, and baseballs could be doctored without penalty. To the batter’s benefit, held foul tips were not counted as strikes until 1895. One side of the bat could be flat prior to 1893, and balls bouncing over the fence into the outfield stands were counted as homeruns (this rule persisted through the 1929 campaign).

Strategies were far different in the days of old. In his The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract, Bill James describes nineteenth-century tactics as “violent” and “criminal.” Before 1895, infielders could deliberately bungle shallow pop-ups with runners on base in the interest of turning cheap double plays. (The infield fly rule put an end to this practice.) First basemen were allowed to grab the belts of opposing players and restrain them from advancing to second. They were also free to shove runners off the bag after signaling for a pick-off throw from the pitcher.

The conduct of players was crude and unrefined both on and off the field. National League president John Heydler, who also served as an umpire in the 1890s, described the Baltimore Orioles of that decade as “mean, vicious, ready at any time to maim a rival player or an umpire.” Indeed, players cursed, threw fists at one other, and drank themselves blind. A passage in Spalding’s 1889 Baseball Guide grouses that, “Drunken players are not only a costly drawback to success individually, but they permeate the whole baseball fraternity with a demoralizing influence.”

Before the dawn of the twentieth century, there were essentially two major leagues. Founded in 1876, the National League (NL) arose from the National Association of Professional Baseball Players. Its eight original members were located in such bustling cities as Boston, Chicago, Cincinnati, and Philadelphia. Six years later, the American Association (AA) stepped up to challenge the monopoly. While the NL was somewhat restrictive, the AA was far more accommodating, slashing ticket prices from fifty to twenty-five cents, while allowing beer and alcohol to be served at games. Often referred to as “The Beer and Whiskey League,” the younger circuit also sought to undermine the NL by allowing games to be played on Sundays.

Independent baseball first appeared in Pittsburgh in 1876, with various teams barnstorming the area. In 1882, the strongest team in the region joined the AA. The club played as the “Alleghenys,” deriving its name from Allegheny City, which was located across the Allegheny River from Pittsburgh and housed various ball fields. (Interestingly, Allegheny city would be annexed by Pittsburgh in 1907.) The Alleghenys started out poorly but improved gradually before jumping to the NL in 1887.

The first three NL years were tough ones. The club failed to finish over .500 and placed no higher than fifth, but there was reason to be optimistic. In 1889, Ned Hanlon succeeded Horace Philips and Fred Dunlap as manager, guiding the club to a respectable 26–18 record down the stretch. Dunlap, a sure-handed second baseman who had once led the Union Association with a .412 batting average, retired in 1891. Philips suffered a mental breakdown and ended up institutionalized. Hanlon was later enshrined at Cooperstown as a manager. With Jake Beckley (a lifetime .308 hitter) at first base and Pud Galvin (the majors’ first 300-game winner) anchoring the pitching corps, things were looking up. And then all hell broke loose.

Fight the Power!

In the latter half of the nineteenth century, John Montgomery Ward presided over the Brotherhood of Professional Baseball Players—the first union of professional athletes in the United States. Ward was a talented player, having once retired 27 batters in a row on the mound before being converted to a shortstop. He had also studied at Columbia University, earning a law degree. The Brotherhood of Professional Baseball Players was formed in 1885 by eight members of the New York Giants. Among the original eight, Ward was appointed president. By 1887, the organization had more than 100 associates and was quite active. Members were growing increasingly discontent with the NL and its policies. One such unpopular policy was referred to as the “Brush Classification Plan.” Championed by Indianapolis owner John T. Brush, the idea was to sort players into five groups according to the “habits, earnestness, and special qualifications” they exhibited the previous season. Each group would then be assigned a specific salary cap based on personal conduct and on-field performance. For many, this would mean a dramatic pay cut.

In addition to Brush’s proposal, another hot topic was the dreaded reserve clause, which bound players to a single team for an extended period of time even if they had signed one-year deals. Unhappy with the state of affairs, players threatened to strike in July 1889. Ward persuaded them to cancel the strike and arranged a meeting of the minds. On July 14, the Brothers convened in New York City to discuss the probability of raising money for a new major league. The proposed league would be founded on a cooperative philosophy: Players would be investors in their own clubs, player trades would be by consent only, and financially invested parties would divide the profits equally.

The plans were kept secret until September 1889, when press reports leaked that financial backers had been acquired for a third major league. Included in that group were Will and Albert Johnson, Cleveland trolley-car manufacturers; Edward Talcott, superintendent of the Illinois Military Academy; and Edwin McAlpin, a wealthy tobacco manufacturer. Each club in the new league was to be run by a board composed equally of players and backers. Players would be afforded three-year contracts and offered shares of stock.

For most NL veterans, the deal was too sweet to pass up. Players began defecting throughout the off-season as the newly established league won a series of legal battles challenging the reserve clause. In all, fifteen Hall of Famers joined the fledgling circuit, leaving the NL with few superstars. Infielder Cap Anson and pitcher Amos Rusie stuck around, while three prominent rookies were added to the NL ranks—Cy Young, Kid Nichols and Jesse Burkett (all eventual Cooperstown inductees). None of the AA players were invited to join the revolt, although several members of the St. Louis Browns would form the nucleus of the Players’ League (PL) Chicago Pirates. For the Pittsburgh Alleghenys, these developments were disastrous.

Who Are These Guys?

Pennant hopes in Pittsburgh went up in smoke as three of their brightest stars—Ned Hanlon, Pud Galvin, and Jake Beckley—migrated to the PL. The rest of the roster was left decimated. In addition to the managerial slot, job openings now existed at every infield position except for catcher. The outfield needed retooling as well with the departure of Al Maul, Fred Carroll, and Jocko Fields. When owner William A. Nimick removed himself from the team’s daily affairs during the 1889 slate, President J. Palmer O’Neill stepped in to hold the struggling club together. By January 1890, he was faced with a nearly impossible challenge.

O’Neill’s first endeavor was to find a manager willing to lead a team destined to finish in the basement. He settled on Guy Hecker, a pitcher who had won 52 games for Louisville of the AA in 1884. Hecker’s windup was quite elaborate, and when the pitching box was downsized in 1887, he was forced to alter his style of delivery. He was never terribly effective again and fell out of favor with teammates. He flopped as both a player and manager in Pittsburgh.

The only regulars returning to action in 1890 were catcher Doggie Miller and outfielder Billy Sunday. Both were fascinating characters. Doggie Miller (born George Frederick Miller) was a man of many nicknames. The Doggie moniker arose from his hobby of breeding dogs. He was also referred to as “Foghorn” and “Calliope” on account of his booming voice, which hardly suited his slight frame (5 feet, 6 inches, 145 pounds). In the The New Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract, James describes him as a “hard-drinking, fast-living player who played baseball with evident joy.” Sunday was quite the opposite. Having sworn off intoxication and debauchery while playing for the White Stockings in 1886, he rose to world prominence as an evangelist. In 1917, he single-handedly converted tens of thousands to Christianity in a series of New York City revivals. A gifted base runner but tepid hitter for the Alleghenys, Sunday asked for his unconditional release more than halfway through the 1890 campaign so he could pursue his religious calling full-time. After the request was granted, he finished the season with the third place Phillies. The Chicago Tribune commented on his ascent to the first division: “Religion may be useful in more ways than one at times.”

The vacant second base slot was filled by Sam LaRocque, who had played in just two major league games with the Detroit Wolverines prior to his Pittsburgh debut. Shortstop responsibilities were assigned to rookie Ed Sales, who had begun his minor league career as a pitcher. Miller was asked to assume third base duties with the signing of veteran backstop Harry Decker shortly into the season. Manager Hecker covered first base when not fattening up the batting averages of opponents on the mound. More than twenty different players patrolled the outfield during the star-crossed 1890 campaign, the most frequently used being Tun Berger and John Kelty. At one time a catcher, Berger had been referred to as “first class” and “elegant” at that position by the Sporting News. Making his debut in 1890, Kelty failed to earn such glowing praise. His disappearance from the majors in July went virtually unnoticed.

Team without a Home

O’Neill’s ragtag platoon opened at home against second division rival Cleveland. Silencing a growing body of cynics, they won three of four meetings, including a convincing 20–12 blowout in the finale. The series left them tied for first place with Boston and Philadelphia—the only time they would occupy that position all year. Despite Pittsburgh’s on-field success, initial gate receipts at Recreation Park were not encouraging. As a result, O’Neill was forced to get creative to make the season profitable. He began transferring games to other cities with more reliable followings. Off to a 4–4 start, the Alleghenys spent the entire month of May on the road. The effect of 25 consecutive games abroad took its toll as the club went 5–19–1 in that stretch and tumbled to the basement.

Lowlights from the grueling road trip were abundant. On May 10, in Cincinnati, 2,800 fans braved the rain to see the Reds crush the hapless Alleghenys, 11–1. With three outs already recorded in the seventh inning, Cincy’s Bug Holliday slid into Guy Hecker on the base paths, buckling his knee. Hecker was carried from the field and would be out of action briefly. In Brooklyn, on May 19, the Bridegrooms handed Pittsburgh a humbling 18–2 defeat. Infielders Doggie Miller and Henry Youngman were largely responsible, with 3 errors apiece. The Sun reported appropriately that the “game was at no time interesting.” Four days later, Miller was equally ineffective behind the plate, allowing a record-setting total of 17 stolen bases to the New York Giants in a 17–10 loss.

The month of May ended on a high note in Boston. The Beaneaters jumped out to an early lead with 3 second inning runs off of starter Kirtley Baker. But the Alleghenys were not fooled by the offerings of right-hander John Clarkson that afternoon. The Pittsburgh Dispatch reported that “Clarkson used a slow drop ball, and the Pittsburghs batted it freely. Not one of the visitors struck out.” The Steel City crew collected 6 runs in the seventh and then squandered 1 in the ninth, when utility man Bill Wilson was called out for failing to touch home plate. Facing a 9–6 deficit in the bottom of the ninth, Boston rallied for a pair of runs off of a tiring Baker. With the bases loaded, Clarkson struck out to end the game. A June 1 headline in the Pittsburgh Dispatch read: “Hecker’s Men Partially Redeem Themselves at Boston.”

The Alleghenys spent a fair amount of time at home in June, compiling a three-game winning streak—their longest of the season. This hardly improved attendance. During one particular home game, there were only six paying customers at the park. Unable to satisfy bill collectors, President O’Neill drastically cut player salaries and kept up a steady regimen of hiring and firing. He also took his show on the road again. In July, the Alleghenys played as the visiting team for seventeen straight games. In August, that number increased to twenty-two. Members of the Pittsburgh press began referring to the team as the “Wanderers.” And in the midst of an unprecedented twenty-three-game losing streak, O’Neill was forced to atone for his business practices.

Called Out

In mid-August, O’Neill got hit with a court order requiring him to recover more than $2,000 in funds owed to the NL. Explaining himself to the press, the besieged club president admitted that his predicament arose from the transfer of games. At the beginning of the year, each team had agreed to pay the NL 10 percent of their gate receipts based upon a formula involving attendance figures from the previous season. Nimick told the New York Times that the “ trouble comes with Pittsburgh right here. The Pittsburgh club up to this time has transferred five games to Chicago, seven to Cincinnati, ten to Philadelphia, and six to Brooklyn. The 10 percent having been remitted to President Young by the various home clubs named, the Pittsburgh club has received no credit whatsoever for the remittances on this account.” Nimick maintained that his debt had already been paid. League president Nicholas E. Young was of a different mindset, insisting that the remittances received from hosts of transferred games did not count.

The dispute was eventually settled, but O’Neill’s name was smeared in the papers. The Sporting Life commented harshly: “Has Mr. O’Neill run the club properly? He made a cheap club out of it, a poor playing club, and then he let a landlord’s warrant be pasted on the grounds.” In poor health all season with a kidney ailment, Nimick tried not to interfere, but when rumors surfaced that O’Neill had taken friends along on trips at the expense of the club, Nimick suggested that he reimburse the team out of his own pocket. “Nimick’s a queer fellow. I don’t understand him,” O’Neill complained to a Sporting Life correspondent. “He’s a first-rate fellow personally, but a poor baseball manager.” These were strong words coming from a man who often signed players without even appraising their skills and forced his team to play more than 70 percent of their games on the road.

With three circuits in full swing, Pittsburgh was not the only franchise in trouble. On July 15, Giants’ owner John B. Day petitioned fellow magnates for $80,000 to save him from selling his club to the PL. Among those rushing to his aid were John T. Brush and Cap Anson. Although attendance would be reported at more than 980,000 for the 1890 campaign, the PL was hurting as well. According to historian Harold Seymour, not one game in six was making enough money to cover the cost of playing it. While the Sporting News sympathized with the dissenting players all year, others were not as supportive. “I have watched these brothers now for nearly three months playing ball, and I’ll be blowed if I see what they’ve done for baseball, themselves or for anybody else,” said Hecker. “Their organization is doomed.” Those words would prove prophetic during the off-season.

Rest in Peace

By September, there was not much to play for in Pittsburgh. The team had fallen fifty-five and a half games out of first and had little hope of even capturing seventh place. Plodding lethargically through the final stretch, the Alleghenys provided a handful of interesting moments to their sparse following. On Labor Day, they lost all three games of a tripleheader to Brooklyn. Trailing 10–0 in the opener, they rallied for 9 runs in the final frame. The last play of the game was laden with high drama, as Miller slammed a bases-loaded triple but was thrown out at home trying for a game-tying inside-the-park homer.

The next day, a peculiar incident unfolded in the fourth inning of a game against the same opponents. Brooklyn’s Dave Foutz hit a grounder to Guy Hecker, who was stationed at first base. Foutz stopped halfway down the line and froze as Hecker stared him down. The umpire called Foutz out for not running, forgetting that the rule requiring a batter to run out a fair ball had been repealed two years earlier. When Hecker tossed the ball back to the pitcher, Foutz advanced to first base. A heated argument ensued, but the arbiter—a man named Strief—stuck to his original call in direct defiance of the rule book. The decision proved to be inconsequential to the final outcome, as Brooklyn won their fourth straight game over Pittsburgh, 5–4.

A fitting conclusion to a catastrophic season, the Alleghenys dropped their last two games, setting a new record for defeats. Of the nine players used most often at each position, five would never play in the majors again. But the magnitude of Pittsburgh’s complete failure would be overshadowed by tumultuous off-season events. In October, a meeting between rival magnates resulted in the dissolution of the PL. Although NL representatives reported that the PL had “greedily” accepted the demand for “unconditional surrender” on the spot, the end was actually a drawn-out series of negotiations. Since so many players had deserted the senior circuit, few if any were blacklisted. Most returned to their former clubs, as the remainder were either released or distributed among weaker franchises. A handful of star players were left unreserved, and when J. Palmer O’Neill snatched premiere second baseman Lou Bierbauer away from the Philadelphia Athletics, he became known as J. “Pirate” O’Neill. The current team nickname originated from this turn of events.

In April of 1891, Nimick actively resigned from all interests in Pittsburgh baseball. The Pittsburgh Dispatch published a few flattering lines in his honor, including, “Mr. Nimick has so long been identified with local baseball matters that it is difficult to think of a club with which he has nothing to do. His career has not only been a busy one, but an honorable one.” The revitalized team was sold, with O’Neill retaining his status as president. Although the Pirates clawed their way to second place in 1893, it would be eleven more years before they captured their first pennant.

Bright Spots of 1890

Sam LaRocque

One of the first Quebec-born players to appear in the majors, 1890 was Sam LaRocque’s only season as a full-time player. Solidly built for the era at 5 feet, 11 inches and 190 pounds, the reliable second baseman got into 111 games, hitting .242 and stealing 27 bases. His 25 extra-base hits and 40 RBIs ranked second on the club. LaRocque was skilled at his primary defensive station, but with the team in constant flux, he was often asked to fill in at shortstop. The role didn’t suit him at all, as he accrued 36 errors in 31 games. He lost his job to Lou Bierbauer in 1891 and hit .314 in limited duty for the Louisville Colonels that same year. He went on to manage several minor league teams with modest success. While working as a fireman in 1903, he was held in criminal court for speaking “acidly” to a Birmingham judge. LaRocque had allegedly disturbed the court while performing his job duties in an adjacent alley. According to Sporting Life, the offending comment from LaRocque was actually a courteous greeting. The St. Mathias native continued his baseball career at various minor league levels until 1907. He hit .299 overall as a farmhand.

Doggie Miller

A Brooklyn native, Doggie Miller broke into the majors in 1884 with Pittsburgh, then of the AA. After four uneventful seasons, he developed into one of the most productive hitters on the club. In 1890, he led all teammates in numerous offensive categories, among them runs, hits, doubles, and RBIs. He also swiped 32 bags, second on the club to speedster Billy Sunday. Miller was highly versatile in the field, splitting time at five different posts, but he was somewhat error prone at each position. In 1890, he accumulated 60 errors at third base and 10 at short. In all, he led the league with 82 miscues. The previous year, he had paced the circuit with 48 muffs as a backstop. According to historian Bill James, Miller was opposed to wearing a chest protector. Consequently, the physical toll of catching limited him to no more than 76 games in any one season. Miller was a spirited player, an extremely vocal baseline coach, and a serial umpire baiter. While playing for Fort Wayne in 1900, he confronted umpire Fred Cooke at the player’s gate after a game in which he had been ejected and fined. With the help of a fan, he beat Cooke senseless. A two-fisted drinker, Sporting Life once described Miller as “one of the early type of stout set ball players, who could hit, field, and run the bases.” He retired in 1903.

Tun Berger

The year 1890 was Tun Berger’s big-league debut. A Pittsburgh native, he began his career with the Steubenville Stubs of the Ohio State League, serving most often as a catcher. A big man at 204 pounds, he was somewhat slow afoot, as evidenced by his mediocre success rate in attempted steals. Attaining full-time status in 1890, he hit at a competent .266 pace and tied for second on the Allegheny club, with 40 RBIs. As an outfielder, he gathered 8 assists and committed 11 errors in 41 games, passable but not exceptional numbers. He had a far rougher time subbing as a shortstop, compiling a fielding percentage nearly 40 points below the league average. With the collapse of the PL, Pittsburgh was well stocked with talent in 1891, and Berger saw far less playing time. Traded to Washington the following year, he failed to keep his roster spot with a .144 batting average. He played in the minors until 1898 and served as an umpire in 1899.

Guy Hecker

Like many players of the 1800s, Guy Hecker was adept at several different positions. Few matched his level of success. While playing for the Louisville Colonels between 1882 and 1889, he won a pitching Triple Crown and posted the highest single-season mark at the plate by a hurler (.341). His 52 victories in 1884 were the direct result of a kinetic windup, which included a “hop, skip, and jump.” When rules were established to make the pitching area smaller in 1887, Hecker altered his style and lost his effectiveness. He also suffered from chronic arm trouble, most likely as a result of the 670.2 innings he logged in 1884 (roughly three season’s worth of work nowadays). As Hecker spent less time on the mound, his popularity with teammates waned, and he was replaced as captain. A frail reminder of his former self, the versatile hurler went 2–9 with a 5.11 ERA in Pittsburgh during the 1890 campaign. He disappointed at the plate as well, hitting just .226. But on a team full of rookies and scrubs, Hecker’s experience was indispensable. The fact that he guided one of the worst squads in history to 23 victories while playing most of the season on the road cannot be taken lightly. Sporting Life pondered his fate in a December 1890, writing, “Where will Guy Hecker be next season? No player ever had two seasons of hard luck as the Whilom King of Louisville. He is one of the best ballplayers in America and a gentleman withal, but with the season of 1889 and 1890 as criterion, he is liable to be set down in that dread category of hoo doos, Jonahs, and other appellations of hard luck.” As predicted, Hecker never played or managed in the big leagues again after 1890. In later years, he ran a grocery store in Wooster, Ohio. His pitching arm was maimed in a 1931 car accident.

Billy Sunday

As a member of the White Stockings in 1886, Billy Sunday found God at a Salvation Army gathering. He became the most influential evangelist of his era, preaching to millions and converting many. Before then, he was used sparingly as an outfielder in Chicago. After three shaky seasons primarily in right field, his defense began to improve dramatically. He never developed into a productive hitter, but he made up for this with blinding speed on the base paths. Between 1887 and 1890, he averaged 59 steals a year, reaching a pinnacle with 84 thefts during the 1890 campaign. Evidently tired of losing, he circumnavigated the NL’s reserve clause by negotiating his unconditional release from Pittsburgh. Instead of pursuing a higher calling, as he had claimed, he signed with the Phillies during their stretch run. They climbed as high as second place during Sunday’s 31-game stint. He left baseball for good after 1890. In later years, he openly admitted his short comings at the plate, excluding himself from a fantasy all-star team the press had asked him to compile.

Hecker’s Hacks

Ed Sales

Ed Sales began his career as a pitcher in the Pennsylvania State Association during the 1887 slate. It was an auspicious debut, as he hit .420 in 38 positional games and won 2 of 3 decisions on the mound. The Coal Barons were a seventh-place team, playing poor defense behind him, with errors leading to 27 unearned runs in his six appearances. He never pitched again after that season. Sales was Pittsburgh’s most often-used shortstop in 1890, with just 51 assignments. He split time with Tun Berger and Sam LaRocque. A left-handed hitter, he batted .228 and swiped a meager total of 3 bases. His defense was equally questionable, as he fielded his position 31 points below the league average. Still, there were good days in the field, prompting Sporting Life to comment in August that, “Sales is playing a good game at short for Pittsburgh.” Dropped from the roster at season’s end, he continued in the minors through the 1897 slate and compiled a .314 batting average beyond the majors.

John Kelty

John Kelty got his only cup of coffee in the majors during the ill-fated 1890 campaign. Born in Jersey City, he came up through the New England League, where he hit .276 for two different teams in 1888. He moved on to the Tri-State League the following year before signing with Pittsburgh in 1890. Kelty played all of his 59 games before mid-July and patrolled left field in each of those assignments. He was a middling player all-around with a slightly subpar fielding percentage and .237 batting average. He provided little power and was somewhat of a free-swinger, registering 42 strikeouts in 207 at bats. Kelty liked to drink from time to time and was known to hit the town with teammate Doggie Miller. Miller told a reporter about the time Kelty took him out one night in New York and spread money around frivolously. “You’d think he was Vanderbilt’s son the way he let his coin go,” Miller told Sporting Life in 1890. The following day, Miller found out that Kelty had swiped one of his best bats and sold it to a Brooklyn player for $10. Released by Pittsburgh after the 1890 slate, Kelty finished his professional career with Hartford of the Connecticut State League.

Kirtley Baker

This right-hander made his big-league debut in 1890. The hardest working member of the Pittsburgh staff, he made 21 starts and 4 relief appearances, coming up with a sore arm in September. He was positively dreadful with a 3–19 record and 5.60 ERA. Baker lacked control, plunking 20 batters and unleashing 22 wild pitches while running his WHIP average (walks and hits per inning) up to 1.65. In spite of this, he was “believed to be a rising pitcher” and established an avid fan base. Sporting Life reported that he was presented with a diamond pin by a “delegation of admirers” before a May start in Cincinnati. According to the same publication, the slightly built moundsman was plagued by a “slowness of delivery.” This may have been the case in 1894, when he made one appearance with the Baltimore Orioles and compiled an ERA of “infinity.” He surrendered 1 hit, 2 walks, and 5 earned runs that day without retiring a single batter. Baker spent significant time in the minors between 1891 and 1900, making major league appearances in 1893, 1894, 1898, and 1899.

“Crazy” Schmit

Frederick Schmit made an impression on people with his unusual habits and thick German accent. He received the nickname “Crazy” due to this eccentric behavior, but it may also have had something to do with his outward appearance (he looks a bit unbalanced in various photos). The slender southpaw kept a notebook of batters’ strengths and weaknesses hidden under his cap. One day, he actually held up a game looking for it. A difficult man to work with from a catcher’s perspective, battery mate Joe Sugden remembered that, “No matter what you signaled, Schmit always shook his head. He never failed to do this. He didn’t have much stuff anyway, and I used to get sore.” But when Sugden would tell Schmit to throw any pitch he liked, the hurler would invariably respond, “No, Joe. Try me again.” And still he’d shake off the sign. Schmit was completely ineffective in Pittsburgh during his 1890 major league debut, surrendering more hits than innings pitched while compiling a disproportionate strikeout to walk ratio. In all, he lost 9 of 10 decisions and averaged close to 6 earned runs per nine frames. He did record one shutout against Cincinnati. Schmit spent 1891 with two teams in the Three-I League and then returned to the bigs in 1892–1893. He later played for the worst club of all-time—the 1899 Cleveland Spiders. In a likely apocryphal story, Schmit got into a fight with a man who turned out to be a prosecutor one day after a successful Southern League appearance. Arrested for striking the man with a brick, he was brought before the judge—a rabid baseball fan who had once remarked that Schmit had so much speed he could kill a man with an errant pitch. Asked who would defend him in court, Schmit said to the judge, “Your Honor, with my well-known speed and command, do you suppose for one moment that if I’d hit a man with a brick he’d be here to tell the story?” He was immediately acquitted.

Harry Decker

By the time Harry Decker joined the Alleghenys in July of 1890, he had spent time in the American and Union associations, as well as the NL. A defensively challenged catcher, he had never played more than 27 games in any one season. There was little hope of Decker stealing the catching job away from talented veteran Jack Clements in Philadelphia. Off to a hot .368 start with a bat in 1890, Pittsburgh purchased his contract. The Illinois native could not be faulted for his offensive performance, as he collected a team-leading total of 5 homers and placed third among regulars with 38 RBIs. It was his defense that needed work. A liability behind the plate, Decker committed 34 errors in 70 catching assignments. He also allowed 74 percent of opponents to steal successfully on him in an era when runs were at a premium. A handsome man, Decker had ongoing trouble with the opposite sex and was threatened with more than one lawsuit. “I think I am a most unfortunate man,” he told a Sporting Life correspondent. “It seems to me that if I merely look at a girl, she fancies me so much that a breach of promise suit is the result.” Decker’s relationship with umpires wasn’t much better. While playing in the Three-I League, he got into scrapes with two different arbiters. In his own defense, he posted a statement in Sporting Life alleging that, “both umpires were under the influence of liquor when the trouble occurred. Both came to me afterward and publicly acknowledged it and said they were in the wrong.” Decker played one more season in the Eastern Association before retiring after the 1891 slate.