2
NOT A BORN BALLPLAYER
Resting north of the Mason-Dixon Line, approximately 767 miles from Royston, Georgia, was the lively metropolis of Detroit, a city culturally and economically infused in contemporary American life. Embellished by striking and ever-growing structures in the downtown area, electric railways along the streets and a vast industrial complex, the urban sprawl, including an array of easy-to-reach suburbs, was a great attraction for people looking to settle in the Midwest.1 Life in Detroit was going to further improve, as the economic stability created by the exportation of chemicals, cattle, and stoves, plus the heavy enterprises of railroad cars, were going to be augmented by the mushrooming horseless carriage industry, which was better known as the all-encompassing realm of automobiles.
Motorcars and Detroit would forever be synonymous. In terms of pioneers in the field, Charles B. King, the first man to drive a gasoline powered auto in the city limits, Ransom E. Olds, and Henry Ford were innovators, setting an extraordinary trend for the world to follow. The Ford Motor Company, incorporated in 1903, grew from 31 employees in its second year to 229 in its third, and ultimately to over 55,000 by 1920. In that same amount of time, the number of cars produced went from under 2,000 a year to in excess of a million.2 The Detroit population also skyrocketed from 285,704 to 465,766 between 1900 and 1910, and by 1920 it was the fourth biggest city in the nation.3
Baseball was a fixture in Detroit, commonly expected from a viral and prosperous community, and beginning in 1881, it fielded a team in the National League known as the Wolverines. In 1887, the local nine, managed by Bill Watkins and headed by the renowned “Big Four,” comprised of Jack Rowe, Dan Brouthers, Deacon White, and Hardy Richardson, won both the league pennant and the world’s championship.4 Resoundingly, it was the biggest moment to date in area sports history, but the Wolverines fell from grace after the following season and faded into obscurity with only the memories of its accomplishments remaining behind. The game continued to be played on a smaller scale in the years that followed, but attendance waivered and the merit of competition was far below championship level.
By 1893, a West Coast entrepreneur named George A. Vanderbeck was actively seeking a position amongst the newly developing Western League and, frankly, he didn’t seem to care what city he represented as long as he had a franchise.5 However, soon after obtaining the rights to the Detroit club, he sought to relocate to Fort Wayne, Indiana.6 Nevertheless, league president Ban Johnson negated the idea, and plans to initiate a squad in Detroit went forward for the 1894 season. Initially known as the “Detroit Creams,” Vanderbeck adjusted the name to the “Tigers” in 1895 and, over the next five years, he wadded along, but fell short of winning a pennant. Vanderbeck dropped out of the team’s ownership in 1900, right around the time the Western League morphed into the American League.
Between 1900–01, as the Detroit Tigers and the rest of the eight-club American League broke from the National Agreement and became a major league in opposition to the National League, the local franchise went through some growing pains behind the scenes. The club passed from the ownership of the Vanderbecks to James D. Burns and then to a syndicate led by Samuel F. Angus. Angus, forty-six years old, was a shrewd businessman, having spent years in the life insurance racket, as well as working to establish electric railway systems in both his native Ohio and Michigan.7 Amongst the other shareholders of the syndicate were James McNamara, E. H. Doyle, and Frank C. Cook. The team was managed by Frank Dwyer, who replaced George Stallings, in 1902. Angus ultimately bought out his partners and, along with manager Ed Barrow, improved the team standings from seventh place in 1902 to fifth in ’03. Regrettably, the ongoing “war” between the leagues wore Angus thin, and he became more and more frustrated by his venture into baseball.8
Known for his class and personality, Angus was motivated to give dedicated fans a championship. He heeded the advice of a longtime trusted employee of his insurance business, Frank J. Navin, who was exceedingly interested in the business end of baseball. Navin stepped in and helped coordinate the reorganization of the Detroit Tigers in December 1903. The deal evenly split the $100,000 capital stock between Angus and twenty-eight-year-old business tycoon William H. Yawkey, giving each 40 percent. Navin joined in the ownership as a minority stockholder.9 This new triumvirate was short lived and, a few weeks later, Angus sold the remainder of his interest in the Tigers to Yawkey and retired.10 Angus later endured a debilitating three-year illness and died on February 6, 1908. He was well liked and an important part of the Detroit community for more than fifteen years.11
The Yawkey-Navin combination, along with Barrow at the helm, appeared to be a formidable pairing. Previous pickups Jimmy Barrett, Sam Crawford, Bill Donovan, and George Mullin were joined by Charley O’Leary, Ed Killian, and Matty McIntyre, and followers believed they were surefire contenders. That was not the case. While respected by members of the team, Barrow was unable to fashion a winning record even though he clearly had competent talent. Sportswriters believed that Barrow made a dire error when he traded Kid Gleason for George “Heinie” Smith, and the move hindered his entire managerial stay in Detroit. The Sporting News called it the “biggest gold-brick deal in the history of baseball,” and felt it was utterly detrimental to the team because it also led to the loss of Kid Elberfeld, who was schooled by Gleason.12 The 1904 Tigers once again fell to seventh in the standings, with a 62–90–10 record, and were 32 games behind champion Boston. Barrow tendered his resignation before the season was over (the Tigers record before he stepped down was 32–46), and was replaced by veteran infielder Bobby Lowe.13
Quick, aggressive maneuvering was needed, and management stepped up to purchase third baseman Bill Coughlin, a Pennsylvanian upstart and future team captain, from Washington for a reported $7,000.14 The next logical step was finding a battle-tested manager, and Navin felt William R. “Bill” Armour, another Pennsylvania product, would fit the mold. An ex-player himself, Armour had recently walked away from his job as leader of the American League’s Cleveland franchise after a three-year tenure. In that time, he supervised the signing of Napoleon Lajoie, the sensational second baseman, and transformed the team from a financial loser into one that was firmly on solid ground and in the green from a financial standpoint. In 1904, Cleveland won 86 games, but landed in fourth place, and Armour was displeased so much so that he promptly resigned. (Armour’s resignation was effective at the end of the 1904 season.)15
Rumored animosity between Armour and Lajoie was also bandied about. But whatever the strife in Cleveland, Navin didn’t care. He rushed to Detroit in September 1904, sporting a blank check in his pocket, and immediately met with Armour to discuss terms. Armour initially sidestepped an agreement, claiming to have offers from other teams on the table.16 He soon changed his tune and signed a contract, but the deal was kept quiet because of Armour’s lingering responsibilities in Cleveland through the end of the season. Notably, Armour made a move in September, signing Arthur L. “Bugs” Raymond, a pitcher, not to Cleveland, but for Detroit, which was obviously indicative of his future plans.17 Official confirmation of his status didn’t come until the second week of October.18
Armour was exceedingly motivated to get started and by the first part of November, he was established in Detroit and finalizing plans for spring training at Augusta in March 1905. On the other hand, Navin was busy handling the club finances and figured that the team broke about even during the course of the recent season. The news was altogether surprising considering Detroit was seventh in the league in attendance and not faring too better on the road. Additional investments for personnel and refurbishments to Bennett Park, the home stadium of the Tigers, put the franchise into the red, but there was no way getting around it—that was the cost of doing business.19 Navin, however, had a shrewd proposal to guarantee financial capital for shareholders in 1905, but the idea worked adversely toward the players themselves.
The concept was to take advantage of the cessation of hostilities between the American and National Leagues, which came about in 1903, and the elimination of all war-time contracts. For the two years of battle, owners were compelled to lock their athletes into long-term and inflated contracts to ensure team loyalty at a time when jumping leagues was prevalent. Those multi-year agreements were coming to an end, and Navin revealed to the press that he figured to save as much as $14,000 by making widespread salary cuts.20 Poor performances in 1904 made the dramatic decline in payroll easier to stomach, at least from the managerial perspective, and The Sporting News attributed a telling statement to both Armour and Navin, saying, “Not a man on the team played $3,000 ball. Why should any of them expect [a] $3,000 salary?”21
There was a certain amount of understanding amongst major league athletes in the post-war years that contracts would be downsized, but the knowledge of such a reduction didn’t make the application of such a move any easier to cope with. The possibility of holdouts or disgruntled players didn’t alarm Navin, and he sent out contracts ranging from a low of $1,800 to a high of $3,000.22 “Wild” Bill Donovan, a standout right-hander, went 16–16 in 1904 and saw a significant decrease. With a clear right to be angry, Donovan turned the other cheek, expressed a level-headed response to the pay cut, and looked forward to a promising new year in the box.23 Other members of the Tigers weren’t as forgiving.
A slightly elevated amount of enthusiasm surrounded Detroit during spring training at Augusta, but predictions placed the club seventh in the American League by season’s end.24 Trying to disprove preseason “dope,” Armour’s men opened on a positive note in April, and had a brief stint in first place before settling into fourth, where they’d linger most of the season. One of the foremost problems was that a handful of individuals, players Armour hoped would prove suitable in the outfield and behind the plate, failed to make the grade. The difficulties began when first baseman Charlie Hickman, known as “Cheerful Charlie,” was late to spring training and, upon arrival, nursing a lame wrist. That compelled Armour to shift Sam Crawford to first, leaving the outfield to Jimmy Barrett, Matty McIntyre, and rookie Denny Sullivan. When Sullivan proved inadequate, Hickman was sent to replace him. He too lacked the instincts of an outfielder and later deserted the team.25 This issue was compounded by the devastating injury to centerfielder Jimmy Barrett, who was knocked out with a twisted left knee in the seventh game of the season against Cleveland on April 26, 1905.26 The catching position was also a hardship because both John Sullivan and Bob Wood washed out early in the season due to their inability to perform at the major league level. Armour only had two reliable backstops, Lew Drill and Tom Doran, until Jack Warner was added in August. These issues combined severely handicapped Detroit.
Quick on his feet, a superlative outfielder with a rocket arm, and a capable .300 hitter, Barrett was, according to Detroit sportswriter B. F. Wright, the “most popular player who ever wore a Tiger uniform.”27 He was a well-liked teammate and fans grew to love his fleet heroics, whether it was in the field making a great catch or laying down a bunt to get on base. The loss of Barrett was immeasurable and changed the complexion of the team. The addition of Chris Lindsay at first allowed Crawford to return to right field, while recent signee Dick “Duff” Cooley, a grizzled major league veteran, patrolled center. With the talented Matty McIntyre in left, the outfield was somewhat stabilized, but Armour knew there was a missing cog in his machine.
During the latter stages of July and into August, the Tigers put up an abysmal record (going 9–22 from July 23 through August 28), and the team began to freefall from fourth into sixth place.28 Sensing imminent disaster, Navin and Armour signed Jack Warner, a thirty-two-year-old catcher with ten years of major league experience, hoping he could offer some semblance of leadership to the struggling pitching staff, and maybe help groom some of the younger players.29 Warner was a good choice to balance duties with Lew Drill and Tom Doran, but he had a history of butting heads with management. In fact, he ventured off the grid to the independents after problems with St. Louis Cardinals manager Jimmy Burke earlier in 1905. He also fought with Pittsburgh’s Otis Clymer, illustrating the disposition of a roughneck.30
Ty Cobb was the next major acquisition, and it was the single most important move Detroit made to date—and arguably in history. The visual reports of Cobb’s worthiness came that spring at Augusta, and word of his impressive batting during the 1905 South Athletic League season circulated freely throughout the nation. Bill Coughlin and Bill Donovan, active Detroit players, both would later take responsibility for “discovering” Cobb, and they weren’t the only ones. But regardless of who put the thought in the minds of Armour and Navin or that Detroit representatives initially thought he was a “nut” during the 1905 spring training games, the trigger was pulled, and arrangements were made to sign Cobb.31 A total of $500 was paid to Augusta for his release, with an additional $200 sent to ensure that he joined the club as soon as humanly possible. Cobb would reportedly agree to a standard rookie salary of $1,800, which amounted to about $300 a month.32
The purchase of Cobb was arranged to supplement Detroit’s weakened outfield. Although Cooley was batting well and popular with fans, he was not the blazing centerfield leadoff man that Barrett was. Cooley was also either ill or reportedly injured at the time of Cobb’s importation. Cobb was uniquely speedy, a report in The Sporting News stating that veterans of the South Athletic League believed Cobb was “the fastest youngster that ever broke into professional ball,” and Armour wanted to test his quality against major-league competition.33 It was a rare opportunity for an eighteen-year-old to step into the limelight of a big-time stadium and display his wares outside the harsh regular spring audition period. For Cobb, he was joining the team in late August and facing no real job competition. Nowhere was his future position with the Tigers guaranteed, but it was a chance of a lifetime. Unfortunately, the stroke of good fortune had emerged only weeks after the death of his father.
Cobb’s emotions, unquestionably, were mixed. The excitement of becoming a ballplayer on the grandest stage was balanced against the loss of the most influential person in his life. He was excited and enthusiastic, but anxious and angry at the same time. The reasoning behind his father’s killing remained murky and, logically, he knew that it was something that didn’t necessarily have to happen. A certain amount of confusion still remained, and there was no way to know whether the answers rested on the baseball diamond or in a courtroom. But his destiny was already decided for him, as his services were purchased by Detroit.
Announcement of Cobb’s procurement was made by club officials on August 22, 1905, and, exactly seven days later, he arrived in Detroit for the first time.34 The city, which was three times more populated than Atlanta—the largest metropolis Cobb had seen in his young life—was dark, but still intimidating. The fact that the team didn’t send anyone to meet him at the train depot didn’t help his apprehensive nature, but he plugged on, found a hotel, and rested his head.35 He held on to the words members of his family had given him before he left Royston, reminding him to heed the directives of his leaders and conduct himself in a responsible manner.36
In a way, he hoped that the same kind of mentorship and encouragement his Augusta manager George Leidy offered was prevalent on the Tigers. It seemed reasonable enough that even though his first instinct was to distrust, if he was met by a generally welcoming atmosphere, there was little doubt he’d react positively both on and off the field.
The bottom line was that Cobb wasn’t a well-adjusted young man. Being asked to report to the majors so soon after his father’s murder was almost asking too much of anyone, let alone a born fighter with a Rock of Gibraltar-sized monkey on his back. His body was almost moving too fast for his mind, completing physical tasks, but not altering his mindset to deal with the enormity of what had occurred back home. But he was certainly following his dreams. Cobb was acting, for the most part, on complete intuition and pushed by an inner fire to succeed at all costs. Failure was not an option.
Even before his first appearance at Bennett Field, Cobb was hyped in local newspapers. The Detroit Free Press stated he was a “natural born hitter,” reflecting on his .326 average in the South Atlantic League, and acknowledged that he was a “tricky” batter, able to disorientate fielders by utilizing a skillful bunt and impressive speed.37 Other reports labeled him “Cyrus Cobb,” but the written content remained positive. He was a leading prospect and his midweek debut on August 30 was highly anticipated by those who’d read the exciting headlines. To Cobb himself, donning Tigers garb for the first time was a proud moment.38 He was wearing the uniform of a big leaguer and ready to challenge his own capabilities on the field of play against the best that baseball had to offer.
The leadership of Armour, with an assist from Captain Coughlin, inspired Detroit at times to demonstrate an unusual degree of heart, and optimism renewed itself on occasion.39 Armour was getting solid work from many of his hired guns, especially right-fielder Sam Crawford. Crawford, nicknamed “Wahoo” after his hometown of Wahoo, Nebraska, a hamlet 40-odd miles west of Omaha, was the heaviest hitter on the Tigers and one of the best sluggers in the majors.40 At 6’ tall and upwards of 190 pounds, he was powerfully built (for that time) and, routinely through the years, sportswriters have commented that had Crawford played in the live-ball era, he surely would be amongst the all-time home run leaders. He was known for his long swing, his shockingly potent right-field drives, and was popular around the clubhouse.41
Coming off his worst year in 1904, having batted just .254, Crawford was determined to return to his former self. His move to first base also showed his versatility and value to the team as an all-round athlete. Over in left field, Matty McIntyre, a twenty-five-year-old in his third major-league season, was a top-notch fielder and a promising hitter. Originally from Connecticut, he grew up on Staten Island, New York, of Irish descent, and was a genuinely intelligent ballplayer. He was also a practical joker, and oftentimes went out of his way to razz teammates. A good example of McIntyre’s light-hearted nature came later in his career, when he first joined the Chicago White Sox for the 1911 spring training camp in Texas. He went to great lengths to stage a fake break-in at the clubhouse by moving all of the team’s equipment and personal items out prior to the arrival of players one morning. Needless to say, after a few scary moments for the team, McIntyre had a good laugh.42 Of Cobb’s two future outfield partners, it was hard not to admire Crawford, and difficult not to occasionally smirk at the shenanigans of McIntyre.
Upon his first meeting with Armour, Cobb was impressed by the leadership and methodology of his new manager.43 There wasn’t much time for a lengthy orientation process, as he was going straight into the lineup on August 30. Cobb absorbed what little information and advice he received, but was obviously travel weary and nearly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the happenings around him. That afternoon, he tried to shed his nervousness and allow his instincts to kick in because, essentially, the game of baseball was the only thing he could relate to the others around him. The different style of mannerisms, conversation, and attitudes were foreign, and although he wasn’t from a distant planet, being from a smallish corner of the South limited his worldly experience. Overall, Cobb stood out like a sore thumb.
Despite Cobb’s efforts to maintain his coolness, observers still sensed his anxiety. H.G. Salsinger, viewing the 5’10”, 155 pound Cobb, described him as “gawky-looking” in his first appearance.44 As he stood at the plate for the initial time in the bottom of the first inning, looking across from future Hall of Fame pitcher Jack Chesbro of the New York Highlanders, one could only imagine what was coursing through his mind. With two outs and Chris Lindsay on second, Cobb swung and missed the first pitch, and then watched another go by for a strike. The tension rose, but Cobb didn’t back down. He reached out for another Chesbro offering and made contact, launching the ball to centerfield and over the head of Ed Hahn. Lindsay scored and Cobb raced to second, where he’d remain until the end of the inning.45 Cobb also walked and made two putouts in the field. It was an impressive start to say the least.
For a rookie feeling the weight of the world, Cobb didn’t lose his composure, and while not immediately recognized as an All-Star-caliber player, he was given his due in the press. The Detroit Free Press called his debut “satisfactory,” and mentioned how he was “well-received.”46 Another report in the Free Press explained that if Cobb hit .275, it would be satisfactory to all, and that no one expected him to lead the American League in batting like he did in the S.A.L.47 Before the end of the series against New York, he had a run-in with Highlander shortstop Kid Elberfeld, which was recounted in Cobb’s 1961 biography, Ty Cobb: My Life in Baseball. Cobb remembered sliding headfirst into second and Elberfeld dropping his knee onto his neck in what would ultimately become a significant early base-running lesson. Not only was he out on the play, but he realized that many of the tricks he made successful at Augusta were not going to work against big leaguers.
The next time the two teams met, Cobb demonstrated a smarter, more potent feet-first slide, and was actually safe against Elberfeld. The latter paid him a small compliment for his efforts, and Cobb noted that nothing gave him “a greater lift than Elberfeld’s spontaneous gesture of sportsmanship” in either 1905 or ’06.48 Such a statement was somewhat shocking, considering he played 139 games in that period and was around innumerable teammates, coaches, managers, and other officials. But it was indicative of the cold environment Cobb found himself in and the lack of real, personal tutelage and encouragement he had while a rookie member of the Tigers.
Barrett made several unsuccessful attempts to return from injury and Cooley, who was said to have had a poor arm from the outfield, was ultimately released in favor of Cobb.49 With firm hold of the centerfield position, the youngster expectedly performed as a raw recruit would, making outstanding plays and absurd mistakes. Sometimes his own enthusiasm got the best of him, causing him to overstep, over-slide, or overreach his recommended bounds. B. F. Wright believed that Cobb was “too fast” for the health of the Tigers, demonstrated by his willingness to run into right and left field, intruding on the regions covered by Crawford and McIntyre to snare flies.50 Maybe it was just Cobb trying too hard. One example occurred in the second game of a doubleheader against the White Sox on September 5, 1905, when he went after a ball clearly in McIntyre’s grasp, knocking it loose and causing an error credited to McIntyre. The game was close and in the ninth inning, so the blunder could have cost Detroit the game. It didn’t, fortunately, and the Tigers won, 3–2.51
Such a maneuver fed the early perception that Cobb was trying to “hot dog” and steal the limelight out from under his teammates. Even if the error was chalked up to general anxiousness that couldn’t really be controlled, Cobb was still figured as a scene stealer, and McIntyre was the first to develop bad feelings. Incidentally, the day before the gaffe, Cobb reacted perfectly to a drive by White Sox first baseman Jiggs Donahue in the fourth inning and made what the Detroit Free Press called a “sensational catch.” The Detroit crowd of 7,500 gave him a standing ovation and Cobb lifted his cap several times in response to the ruckus en route to the dugout.52
Cobb’s daring was also already on display. Versus Addie Joss of Cleveland on September 12, he reached first in the ninth inning on a slow grounder by speed and speed alone. After getting to second on a sacrifice, he waited for the right moment to advance, and it came when McIntyre attained an infield hit. Cobb rushed to third and although any further running was inadvisable, he kept going and compelled Cleveland’s George Stovall to make a rushed throw to the plate. It was off target and Cobb scored. Detroit took the game, 4–3.53
Going through the circuit and facing each team, Cobb started to pick up various tidbits of information; which runners were faster than others, and particularly the dynamics of certain pitchers. He made assists from the outfield, completed at least one double-play, and aided his pitchers when they were in a jam. On offense, he sacrificed, stole a few bases, and offered occasional timely hitting. He had much to learn, but Armour was impressed by his abilities, as were baseball fans around the league.
Over the final stretch of the 1905 season, the Tigers battled back to .500, then soon returned to the top four and captured victories in 24 of 37 games played.54 Some people believed it was Cobb’s spark that kickstarted the successful run of the Tigers.55 Detroit would finish third when the final bell tolled with a 79–74 record, their first winning record since their inaugural season of 1901. The remarkable turnaround was the talk of baseball in many quarters and, without any delay, predictions for 1906 had the Tigers amongst the top clubs in the American League. But there was a dark undercurrent to all the hype, statistics, and fanaticism. Detroit had the worst home attendance in the league and when Boston sportswriter Fred P. O’Connell called it a “dead baseball town” in August, he was seemingly right. He intimated that, if any consolidation of teams was to occur in the majors, Detroit would be a surefire candidate for elimination.56 Another rumor circulated that Detroit management was going to transfer the Tigers to Toledo.57 These topics, however, were more gossip than anything else.
Cobb finished 1905 with a .240 batting average.58 He was honest in his 1961 biography, stating that he wasn’t a “born ballplayer,” and that it was “highly dubious” that he’d be brought back the following season based on his ghastly performance.59 He was, in his own head, revealing his self-doubt, but Cobb was not going to be left off the 1906 spring training roster regardless of how he felt at the conclusion of 1905. That was the opinion of manager Bill Armour, the man pulling the strings. Armour knew there would be more competition for outfield slots in the coming year, but if Cobb still yearned to prove himself, he’d have many more opportunities to do so.
Two exhibition games followed the regular season, one in Jackson, Michigan, and the other a benefit sendoff at Bennett Park. The Tigers won both, garnering about $80 extra per player.60 The funds came in handy for road expenses going home, and Sporting Life revealed that Cobb was headed back to Royston with a particularly grueling job ahead. He was responsible for the finalization of his late father’s estate and, because of the length of time required to do so, he needed an assist from an uncle to ensure he could return to baseball on time the following year.61 On November 30, he attended the Georgia Tech–Clemson football game at Atlanta and spoke with a local newspaper. He apparently repressed any of his concerns and boldly gave his opinion that he’d be in centerfield for the Tigers in 1906.62
The only problem with acquiring any semblance of overconfidence was that Armour and Navin had made previous arrangements to bolster the club’s outfield. The August before, Davy Jones, a Wisconsin athlete with several years of pro experience (including spells with the Chicago Cubs and St. Louis Browns), was obtained from the Minneapolis Millers of the American Association.63 Jones was an incredible speedster and claimed to have race victories over Archie Hahn prior to the latter’s Olympic track conquests in the early 1900s.64 He was touted as the fastest man in the American Association, and his .346 batting average was nothing to sneeze at. A graduate of law school, Jones never originally figured on becoming a ballplayer, but his athletic skills were too advanced to ignore.
The expected arrival of Jones should have reduced Cobb’s confidence in any automatic return to the outfield. It was now a matter of competition and which player wanted the position most. Nevertheless, Cobb had reason to be content. A few months earlier, he spoke with Armour about a proposed contract for ’06, and the manager offered him $1,200 for the upcoming season. Seeming reasonable enough, Cobb verbally accepted the terms. When the document arrived in January 1906, he saw that the amount had been bumped up to $1,500 for the season of work. Armour, in a letter sent around the same time, informed Cobb that he had a “bright future,” and management wanted to ensure he was pleased by their offering.65 He was, and his contract was signed and promptly returned.66
With the contract offered, Armour did have a singular request for Cobb. The Tigers were returning to Augusta for spring training in 1906, and since Cobb was already spending time in the region, Armour wanted him to venture over to Warren Park, the central ball field in town, and get a look at the playing ground to assess its condition. Cobb did what he was asked and sent a missive back to Armour, explaining that the field was in awful shape.67 A carnival had recently used the land and destroyed what was considered a superior field, and Armour didn’t take the news lightly. In fact, word of the terrible conditions at Augusta circulated far and wide. Locals, according to the Detroit Free Press, took offense to Cobb’s assertions about Warren Park, demonstrating the pride they had in their community.68 This report was contradicted by later stories that Augusta was firmly behind Cobb during spring training.69 But the truth of the matter remained the same, and the field needed intensive care to be ready for the Tigers to train.
Cobb had a request for Armour too. He asked for permission to accept a fine proposal to coach a college prep baseball squad at the University School for Boys in Stone Mountain, Georgia. The gig would eat into the first few days of spring workouts and, for that reason, Armour refused.70 He wanted Cobb to get the most from their training sessions, and, in turn, the press claimed that Cobb had come to the same conclusion, rejecting the opportunity.71
But that isn’t what happened. Cobb ended up going to Stone Mountain anyway, and spent about two weeks as an instructor there. He met with the Tigers as they passed through Atlanta en route to Augusta on March 4,72 but he personally didn’t report until four days later.73 It is unclear whether Cobb directly defied Armour by taking the coaching position or whether there was a mutual agreement. However, it didn’t appear to affect their relationship.
From the initial training session at Warren Park, which was up to snuff by the time Detroit was ready to take the field, Davy Jones displayed an awesome presence. Paul H. Bruske of Sporting Life declared him the “foremost” of all recruits, and it was obvious that Cobb was in the fight of his young career to maintain a spot on the everyday roster.74 Furthermore, Armour felt Jones was the greatest outfielder ever surrendered by the American Association.75 While no decisions were yet made, Jones looked to be the favorite for the outfield slot.
Cobb, notably, had an influential supporter in Joe S. Jackson of the Detroit Free Press, who, throughout the spring, praised his abilities. Almost from his arrival, Jackson noticed that Cobb was conditioned and ready to play. Others routinely waited for the spring to get into shape and often entered the regular season at a bit less than top speed. But Cobb was prepared, and because of his extra dedication to training, he was a better base runner, an improved slider, and his bunts were more along the lines of a professional at the major league level.76 He even turned out to the grounds on a cold, wet morning after Armour announced that workouts had been cancelled, just to get in some added exercise.77
Another component of spring training was the general bonding of teammates. Old acquaintances were renewed, introductions were made, and usually cordiality was shared throughout. The Tigers possessed a good number of established friendships, some of which were fostered by sharing teams in the past. For instance, Davy Jones was teammates with new Detroit catcher Charley “Boss” Schmidt and pitcher Ed Siever in Minneapolis in 1905. Three years earlier, he also teamed with pitcher Red Donahue of the St. Louis Browns and infielder Herman “Germany” Schaefer of the Chicago Orphans. Siever and Donahue were on the same St. Louis club in 1903, and Barrett was an old friend of Crawford going back to Cincinnati in 1899–1900.78 Others like McIntyre and pitcher Ed Killian were roommates and shared the same ideals, making friendship easy.
The more outgoing and charming personalities were, expectedly, easier to get along with. Those who quickly jumped into the ongoing conversations, made jokes, and related by interests or vices, were generally welcomed, regardless of their experience. Cobb was neither outgoing nor charming. He didn’t relate to his teammates through hobbies, vices, religion, background, or outlook. Cobb didn’t drink or smoke, and refrained from using foul language. He was from a Baptist household, whereas baseball historian Fred Lieb suggested that “perhaps half” of Cobb’s teammates were Catholics.79 Cobb didn’t tell stories, laugh at jokes, and certainly avoided sociable situations.80 The humor of those around him didn’t compute in his rigid mind and, instead of trying to understand and grow from personal interaction, he backed further away. It was a tremendous character fault, and early in 1906, it hampered his development as both a player and as an adult.
Years later Cobb explained: “I have been accused frequently of keeping off by myself and not mixing very much with my teammates. People have construed that to mean [I have felt I’m] a whole lot better than my teammates. But they have misjudged me. I have always been a poor mixer, not because I wanted to be a poor mixer, but simply because nature intended me that way.”81
Undoubtedly, Cobb’s mind was rather fractured by the approaching court action that involved his mother in the death of his father, a drama that was literally days away.82 He did his best to keep his focus on baseball and little else. Communal happenings and finding friendly companionship was the last thing on his mind. In total, Cobb remained the odd man out, and that status didn’t work against him, surprisingly, as one might think. It made him sharper, more passionate about doing his best and his work improved day after day.
His mother, Amanda Cobb, was well represented when proceedings opened at Lavonia, Georgia, on March 30, 1906.83 Charged with murder, she was supported by five attorneys, including Judge George C. Thomas and Judge William R. Little, of Athens and Lavonia, respectively. For the prosecution, Solicitor General S. J. Tribble led a four-man team and, altogether, the trial drew impressive attention from the local populace, mostly because of the high profile of the deceased. The case unfolded shortly after a jury was selected, but finding the right twelve individuals to be impaneled was no easy task.84 Evidence, testimony, and arguments dominated the next day and a half, and one of the most striking moments occurred when Cobb spoke in her own defense, fully denying the crime she was accused of. The jury watched as she firmly announced that she didn’t know it was her husband when she fired the deadly weapon.
That evening, Ty Cobb left Augusta en route to Lavonia and witnessed the closing arguments on March 31.85 The lawyers on both sides were passionate, and Mrs. Cobb’s lead attorney, Judge Thomas, was said to have given “one of the greatest efforts” of his long, esteemed career.86 Once the final words were spoken in open court, jury deliberations began, and the panel required an hour and forty minutes to find Amanda Cobb not guilty. She beamed at the decision, and the correspondent for the Atlanta Journal noted that it appeared that the acquittal was “no surprise” to her. Ty responded by sending news to the team in Augusta via telegraph wire.87 Interestingly enough, Amanda spoke with the Denver News when in that city six years later and was quoted as saying that she was “unable to follow” Ty’s early baseball career because her husband was “ill.” She noted that “he died soon after that.”88
Perhaps trying to break the lingering stress, Cobb went out one evening with a couple of friends and attended Kittie Baldwin’s mind reading performance at an Augusta theater. The gimmick of the show was that audience members could write down a question on a piece of paper, and Kittie would call an individual’s name, broadcast their question, and then divulge the answer. Cobb followed the rules, asking her how Detroit would finish in the American League standings. Baldwin called his name, and then didn’t hesitate to proclaim the Tigers’ fate as being fifth place in the 1906 race. So upset by the prediction, Cobb quickly called it an evening and rushed back to the hotel to clear his mind.89
A rash of injuries and illnesses seized Detroit as the team entered the early April exhibition schedule. Tom Doran and Bobby Lowe were joined by both Jones and Armour on the inactive list, and at Cincinnati, Crawford suffered a painful strain. Jones was initially sidelined by tonsillitis, but then suffered a head injury in an accident on the train from Indianapolis to Toledo.90 Jones’s bout with tonsillitis was healing when Cobb went down with the same problem. The agony began while at Birmingham, and Cobb tried to brush off the continuous ache, hoping it would heal on its own. Also gripped by an intense fever, he needed swift medical attention. Guided by teammate “Germany” Schaefer, he visited the resident physician at the Boody House, the team’s hotel in Toledo, and was operated on three separate times over the course of three days, without anesthetic. Cobb told the story in his autobiography, claiming that his doctor was later committed to an asylum. However, no further details can be located, and the Toledo doctor who worked on Cobb remains a mystery.91
Living through a bloody nightmare, Cobb survived the ordeal and on the third day, hopped on a train for Columbus, Ohio, to rejoin the club. He arrived just hours after being operated on, entered the game in the sixth inning, demonstrating his tremendous grit.92 Despite his obvious tenacity and improved play, Cobb was headed for the dreadful role of utility-man, and his long-term status was up in the air. Other teams requested his services, but Armour declined their offers. There was something special about Ty Cobb, and, as far as he was concerned, Detroit fans were going to be the ones to watch him develop from a young, immature tiger cub into a baseball luminary.