8

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL ADVANTAGE

A player of superstitions and routines, Ty Cobb was heavily invested in the psychological aspects of baseball. His concentration extended to all facets of his game, from the way he approached the plate to his scrutiny of opposing pitchers. His belief in jinxes and omens ran parallel to many of his contemporaries, which meant it was pretty important to his day-to-day outlook. At times he sought mythic remedies for poor play, placing a horseshoe on his bats before a game or whipping the umpire’s broom from one side to the other.1 Not surprising, the maneuver didn’t always work. For instance, after chucking the ump’s broom from the left side of the plate to right prior to an at-bat in 1910, he was hit by a pitch.2 During another game, he joined manager Hugh Jennings in dumping out a barrel full of drinking water from the dugout so they could refill it with bottled spring water, apparently believing in its special revitalizing effects.

Heading onto the field for a plate appearance, Cobb was highly ritualistic. He wielded three bats at first, and then dropped one as he approached the batter’s box. The remaining two were his customized J. F. Hillerich Company model and a weathered black variety, a consequential weapon in his arsenal. Cobb called his black bat his “hit-getter and voodoo bat,” and was considered the “pride of the great Cobb’s life.”3 However, after wearing thin from overuse, the black bat was never officially used again. He instead held it as part of his mental and physical preparation. Cobb would initially swing both bats, but gently released the black a second before steadying himself in the box and awaiting the first pitch. To complete his routine, he always yanked down his ball cap a bit and tugged up his pants.4 Additionally, journalist Frank P. Sibley wrote that Cobb whacked the base of his cleats with his bat to clear any dirt, and also tapped the plate before readying himself for a pitch.5 At that point—and only at that point—was he ready to glare outward at the pitcher.

There were many varieties of baseball superstitions. Some batters enjoying a healthy streak of hitting refused to launder their uniform, regardless of how dirty it became. Others felt if bats were accidentally crossed for whatever reason, a bad omen was created; also if a player stood at the plate with the barrel of his bat facing downward, he was sure to expect a poor result.6 Cobb’s theories and superstitions played a significant role in his baseball career, and if understood at the time, would have explained much about his perceived erratic behavior.

Getting a full night’s sleep was a priority for Cobb and seeing that he was less likely to perform up to his standards without it, he was all too ready to miss any morning practice to achieve maximum rest. In fact, he avoided any pre-game workouts to preserve his strength. It wasn’t that he was shunning the ordeal because he was full of himself, but that he played better if all his energy was conserved for the game itself. And since he wasn’t going to practice prior to the game anyway, he didn’t see the importance in showing up until his thoroughly rested frame absolutely needed to be there. Cobb’s longtime friend Kenneth Stambaugh revealed that for a time, Cobb’s pre-game ritual included stretching out on his hotel bed and playing records on a portable phonograph machine. The works of violinist Fritz Kreisler were amongst his favorites, and helped settle his nerves.7 In some cases, it was minutes before “play ball” was called, and other occasions it was after the contest already started. Cobb had his own way of looking at the game, and it wasn’t so much that he was purely arrogant, just ritualistic in his preparations.

Once locked into the mindset of competition, Cobb was a machine in the way he focused and worked to achieve his goals. Bill Coughlin, who played with him early in his Detroit tenure, said: “Cobb was smart. Instead of kidding when he came in from the field, he would sit in a corner of the dugout and watch the pitcher every minute. Then, when he got on base, he knew exactly how to proceed. That helped him immensely in stealing so many bases.”8 His quiet and concentrated nature was amongst his early secrets to success, and his ample studying garnered plenty of inside knowledge of players throughout the league. It wasn’t until he got a little older that he mustered the courage to verbally joust with rivals and even members of the audience.

Baseball in the “Dead Ball Era,” a period beginning around 1900, was full of colorful performers, striking athletes, and spirited play. Strategy rather than slugging was the priority of teams across the majors, and games were more often won by a mixture of smart base-running and sacrifices than by homers. Interestingly, the ball itself was literally considered “dead” because umpires refused to swap out the orb until it was in absolutely no condition to be used any further. Balls were pummeled mercilessly and were sometimes losing stitches and misshapen while still in the field of play. Needless to say, those balls lacked the velocity of newer ones, and many drives that would normally have been hit out of the park were caught by fielders.

The reason for hanging onto the battered balls was purely monetary, as it saved cash for club owners to keep them in use for as long as possible. Cobb, when he felt a ball was damaged, was known to request a new one from the umpire during a game. He was sometimes refused. On July 21, 1911, in the ninth inning of a contest against New York, he displayed a flattened ball to umpire John Egan. Egan checked it over, but thought it was suitable to continue. Cobb raged in response, kicking up dust, and was subsequently thrown out of the game. He didn’t leave the field and dugout quietly. Instead, he tossed bats, and verbalized his anger for minutes before finally relenting.9

Balls during the “Dead Ball Era” were also affected by all sorts of legal tricks employed by cunning pitchers. Russell Ford of the New York Highlanders went 26–6 in 1910 utilizing the “emery ball,” a type of pitch created by scuffing or cutting the exterior of the ball. The “shine ball” materialized by generating a smooth spot on the ball’s surface, and Cobb’s former Augustan teammate Eddie Cicotte would gain great fame using that method. The “spitball” was yet another “freak delivery,” and Chicago White Sox hurler Ed Walsh brilliantly doctored the ball with saliva or tobacco juice to create, at times, a virtually unhittable pitch.10 In 1908, he won 40 games and was the last pitcher to do so. Cobb’s challenge as a hitter was to not only decipher the array of atypical pitches, but to handle the complete repertoire of regular “stuff” thrown by future Hall of Famers including Rube Waddell, Addie Joss, Cy Young, and others.

Playing for the Cleveland Bronchos-Naps from 1902 to 1910, Joss had great respect for Cobb as a hitter and comically told a journalist in 1908 that he didn’t mind if Cobb remained out of Detroit’s lineup. Cobb, at the time, was going through a holdout with Tigers management. Joss said, “I can get along just as well with him off the team.”11

Following the 1910 season, Cobb joined an All-Star team managed by Jimmy McAleer and selected to warm up Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics for their World Series contest against the Chicago Cubs.12 In addition, he received a $1,400 payday by Publisher John B. Townsend of the Philadelphia Press to provide expert coverage of the Series itself. With the experience of writing for the Atlanta Journal under his belt, Cobb took an active role in the creation of the articles, and insisted that it was his voice represented, not the lone comments of a ghost writer. He would subsequently work with sportswriter George E. “Stoney” McLinn and translate his copious notes from each of the games into professional articles, syndicated to more than twenty newspapers. McLinn recalled that Cobb wasn’t a “prima donna,” and was “eager to cooperate.” Cobb also contributed at least one article for the Metropolitan News Syndicate.13

On October 18 in Philadelphia, he was presented with his new Chalmers automobile for winning the batting title. He drove his car around the field at Shibe Park as the audience cheered. Lajoie, however, was unable to be present to receive his car.14

Before heading southward with his wife and son in his new Chalmers “30,” Cobb took the opportunity to thank one of his most important mentors. Herman “Germany” Schaefer had been his teacher and friend for a number of years, and Cobb admitted, “If it were not for Schaefer’s interest in me, I would not have made myself the ballplayer I am.” Displaying his gratitude, he gave Schaefer his old automobile as a gift, and acknowledged the “many kindnesses” he exhibited through the years.15

Cobb agreed to participate in a best two-out-of-three heats auto race against his fellow Georgian, Nap Rucker, a pitcher for the Brooklyn National League franchise, at the Atlanta Speedway beginning on November 3, 1910.16 But following the death of driver Al Livingstone, at the same track, two days before, Tigers President Frank Navin wired an immediate termination of those plans. He was too concerned about Cobb’s well-being to let the race occur, but Bill Nye, manager of the Speedway, lashed out at Cobb, claiming the latter had a “yellow streak” for pulling out. Nye also believed Cobb refused to drive because the money wasn’t satisfactory. Cobb, of course, didn’t take Nye’s words sitting down, and the two loudly argued.17 The risk was unnecessary, Cobb concluded, and although he enjoyed the speed, there was no reason to jeopardize his life, especially with his wife pregnant with their second child. Incidentally, Cobb did do a few speed laps at the Indianapolis Raceway on April 4, 1911, in a National “40” roadster.18

A tour of Cuba’s baseball fields was planned for the off-season, led by pitcher George Mullin and this time Cobb agreed to join his teammates.19 Sam Crawford, George Moriarty, Tom Jones, Charlie O’Leary, catcher Oscar Stanage, and even ex-Tiger Herman Schaefer took part in the 12-game series against the Habana and Almendares clubs.20 Almost expectedly, Cobb was a late arrival to Havana, and his tardiness was blamed on business responsibilities.21 Seven games had been recorded when he appeared for the contest against Almendares on November 27, and his assistance was badly needed. Offering a homer and two base hits, he led Detroit to a 4–0 win.22 In fact, the Tigers prevailed in their last four of five games with Cobb in the lineup, and were victorious in the overall series, 7–4–1.23 Enormous crowds attended the games and Cobb’s presence attributed to the great turnout. Cobb said that the series was “great sport” and that the Cubans played “good ball.” He predicted that within two years, Cuba would be the “sporting center of the world.” Cobb also came to the defense of the Tigers when a local Georgia paper gave an unfavorable critique of their performance. He said: “Detroit played rings around [the] Cubans and would have circled more but for their lack of condition. The Cubans could not beat our fourth league teams in this country in midseason when they are in practice, and we didn’t have any trouble copping the series under adverse circumstances.”24

Cobb batted a towering .370, but his average was behind three of his competitors, John Henry Lloyd (.500), Grant Johnson (.412), and Bruce Petway (.390), each an African American playing in Cuba to enhance the local squad. The color barrier in major league baseball prevented the integration of talented black players into the everyday ranks, and the Cuban series allowed Lloyd, Johnson, Petway, and Pete Hill, all members of Negro clubs in the United States, to display their skills against their white counterparts.25 There was a measure of camaraderie during the games, even though, in Cobb’s desire to perform well, he undoubtedly flashed his famous temperament. Regardless, Lloyd told the New York Age that Cobb and his teammates were “jolly good fellows on and off the field.” It was believed that if ballots were circulated amongst white players, blacks would be admitted to the majors.26

Shortly after the holidays, the twenty-four-year-old Cobb was honored with his second “Honey Boy” Evans Trophy at Augusta’s Grand Theater.27 Spring training approached rapidly, and Jennings collected his players at the team’s new Monroe, Louisiana, camp in early March 1911. Club management was rightfully concerned about Cobb’s previous lack of interest in reporting anywhere on time, and Navin sent him several letters expressing his anxieties. The gist of his correspondence was twofold, and he wanted Cobb to know that his failure to arrive and participate in training had a demoralizing effect on the team, similar to what was caused in 1910. Secondly, gate receipts for exhibitions were going to decrease measurably if he was not in the lineup. Southern fans, he felt, wanted to see their Southern baseball superstar.28

Navin directed Cobb to be in New Orleans for an exhibition on March 15, 1911, and Cobb respected his boss’s wishes. His emergence in a Detroit uniform was a boon for ticket sales, but the Tigers were outgunned by the New Orleans club, losing 12–3.29 The major feature of camp was the speculation and commentary of journalists as to the relations between Cobb and his teammates. The hubbub provided stirring content for excitable writers, and everyone claimed to have insider awareness of Cobb’s various feuds.30 But the environment was topsy-turvy and even those really on the inside, including manager Hugh Jennings and George Moriarty, captain of the team, were perplexed by the seemingly unforgiving attitude of several players.

Things were evolving, however, and by the end of March, the tension appeared to be lifted. Doing his part, Cobb was putting forth an extraordinary effort to smooth things over, and his bonds with Davy Jones were mended first.31 Next, the walls separating him and Donie Bush were torn down, and, soon afterward, Sporting Life noted they were “best of friends.”32 Last but not least was Cobb’s association with Sam Crawford, probably the most important player relationship on the team. The two superstars were locked into a mulish episode and neither wanted to be the first to give in. Despite their stubborn efforts to continue the rivalry, the two men began to exchange signals again on the field, and ultimately shook hands, demonstrative of the diminishing bad blood.33

The press also latched onto the gossip that Cobb was much slower than usual in his spring training performances, and, essentially, out of shape. Attributing comments to Detroit trainer Harry Tuthill, the New York Daily Tribune asserted that the outfielder had made “little progress” in three weeks of training, was feverish, and went forward to French Lick Springs in Indiana to receive medical help.34 A revelation was made a few days later at Indianapolis, and Cobb’s alleged “slowness” was said to have been caused by his wearing of the “heaviest pair of shoes” he could find.35 He was using the special footwear to build his leg muscles and improve his speed. He removed the weighted spikes and immediately began to display the old Cobb rapidity. In Cincinnati, witnesses responded to the statements that he was slowing down as being the “stuff … dreams are made of.”36 He hadn’t lost a step.

Opening the campaign with his preferred lineup, Jennings had Jones leading off followed by Bush, Cobb, and Crawford, and a fraternal spirit prevailed for the most part. Detroit took first place on the second day of the season and rampaged over its rivals, building up a nine-game advantage by mid-May.37 The entire squad was collaborating and the Tigers often capitalized on opponents’ mistakes to eke out wins. A prime example of the club’s renewed energy came on April 30 against Cleveland when, down three runs in the ninth, Detroit stormed back and won the game. E. A. Batchelor of the Detroit Free Press summed it up by writing, “There never has been a more exciting game at Bennett Park.” The 14,000 people in attendance agreed, and it was Cobb’s grounder at the finish that contributed to the result.38

Unburdened by the widespread presumption that he was only out for himself, Cobb was in tremendous form and his numbers skyrocketed. His actions on occasion were borderline unbelievable, and a Detroit sportswriter, in the aftermath of Cobb’s showing on May 12, said it was “the greatest individual exhibition ever given by a ball player.” He scored three runs and drove in two during a 6–5 win over the New York Highlanders. The game was a streaming highlight reel for Cobb, as he made play after play in remarkable fashion. In the first inning, he astonished both teams and the crowd by running from first to home on a simple base hit by Crawford. Then in the seventh, he pulled off another stunner by stealing home on catcher Jeff Sweeney.39 Batting better than .400, Cobb was headed toward the best season of his career, and became, to this day, the youngest player to achieve 1,000 hits.40

But a year in the life of Ty Cobb was not fulfilled without a notable off- the-field happening and a bit of baseball controversy. On the evening of May 22, 1911, he was relaxing just outside the Hotel Pontchartrain in Detroit when he observed a man, later identified as nineteen-year-old John Miles, exhibiting a little too much interest in his Chalmers automobile. Seconds later, Miles was in the driver’s seat and riding along Cadillac Square, making a hasty escape. Cobb, wearing his civilian attire, nimbly burst into a full stride, chasing down his car with fire in his eyes. Like something out of a modern-day action movie, he managed to hurdle himself into the auto while it was moving, turn off the engine, and proceeded to yank Miles out from behind the wheel. Police arrived within moments and arrested the thief. Cobb declined to press charges, but Miles was prosecuted anyway.41

A few weeks later, in Philadelphia, a particularly impassioned game rekindled the feud between Cobb and Frank Baker of the Athletics. The infamous incident of 1909 was thought to have been put well to rest, but in the sixth inning, after Cobb tried to steal third, members of the crowd cried foul. They vocalized their opinion that the Detroit player, once again, was out for blood in attempting to purposefully spike Baker. The Philadelphia Inquirer reported that Cobb’s spikes touched Baker’s hand in the slide, and the third baseman gave a “nice ladylike twist” to Cobb’s foot in response.42 The crowd was volcanic and a further eruption was possible. In the eighth, the exuberance of the Philadelphia audience elevated to its highest point with Cobb standing on third and looking to score. Real fireworks were about to begin.

Eddie Plank was on the mound at the time and he wanted to keep the demon of the paths hugged to the bag, so he tossed over to first. Cobb, in going back to the base, slid at Baker a second time, and the two apparently made unavoidable contact. Baker was enraged by the maneuver, and tried to kick his adversary in the leg.43 That aggression propelled Cobb into a state of fury, and the quarrel was seconds away from becoming a full-fledged duel when others stepped in to pull them apart. A segment of the crowd was incensed by the scuffle and threatened mob violence targeting Cobb. The danger was all too real, and once the game ended, Cobb was approached by a horde of angry individuals looking for some semblance of vengeance.

Appearing unruffled by the looming storm, he actually took steps toward his would-be assailants before being surrounded by teammates and police. Thousands of people were active in the chaotic display and, en route to waiting taxis, Detroit players carried bats as protection.44 In depictions of the 1909 Baker spiking, for which Baker was blamed, writers have often alluded to a riot scene in its aftermath, which didn’t occur in any shape or form.45 It wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that the 1909 incident and the ramifications of the 1911 event were somehow conjoined instead of remaining two, separate happenings. Cobb was indeed threatened by an unruly element of the Philadelphia baseball public, but it was still obvious he had many admirers in that city. It was apparent by the routine ovation he received each time he successfully made a hit.

July 4, 1911, saw the Tigers play Chicago in a doubleheader and by the end of the day, Cobb was emotionally drained. In the morning contest, he was silenced by Ed Walsh, and his 40-game hit streak—the sixth longest in major league history—had ended. Cobb’s achievement did establish a new American League record.46 Detroit lost the match as well, 7–3. The second game was a lengthy battle, going 11 innings before the Tigers won, 11–10. But since Philadelphia swept their holiday games, they knocked the Tigers out of first place for the first time since April. Cobb dealt with an exceptionally abusive crowd at Bennett Park, and throughout the late innings of the second game he was battered by loud critics who seemed to delight in running him down. Tigers’ players had a generally negative impression of Detroit fans. In this instance, fans were angry Cobb had not tried to snag a difficult drive by Chicago’s Rollie Zeider in the eighth inning, which ended up being a home run.47 His limit of punishment was exceeded and he withdrew himself from the game in the 10th inning, simply unable to deal with the hateful taunts any longer.

The Tigers quickly regained first place, but Cobb was feeling the physical effects of his continuous superhuman effort. Suffering from a throbbing headache and a terrible cough, he was losing both sleep and weight.48 He remained in the lineup to help his teammates in the pennant fight, and writers repeatedly made note of his outstanding play in spite of playing at less than a hundred percent. In fact, journalists joked about Cobb’s so-called illness while he amazingly maintained an over .400 average and performed epic feats on the bases and in the field.49 On top of that, he made three of what reporters called the “greatest catches” of his career during this time frame, two at Philadelphia on July 28, and the other against Chicago on August 12.50 But in the midst of his gutsy endeavors, Detroit dropped into second place, and would remain there for the rest of the season. Conversely, the Athletics locked up the division lead and never gave it back. Philadelphia would win the American League pennant in 1911 with a 101–50 record.

“I have already stolen nearly as many bases and scored as many runs this season as I did all year in 1910,” Cobb said in August. “I feel that the exertion has been too much for me. In only a few of the games in the east did I feel right.”51 Things were aggravated much worse at Boston after his prized bat was stolen in a mass rush of the field by spectators. He idiosyncratically believed the loss of his faithful weapon, a tool that had contributed greatly to his success all season, was going to propel him into a prolonged slump. Cobb offered a “liberal reward” for its return, and in the meantime, not only had to use an alternate bat, but had to mentally cope with the superstitious notions such an adjustment caused, however irrational they were.52

The batting championship was on Cobb’s mind, mostly because of his competitive sensibility, and he yearned to again finish first. His strongest challenger came in the form of twenty-four-year-old Joseph Jackson, nicknamed “Shoeless Joe,” a product of Pickens County, South Carolina. Three years earlier, the Detroit Free Press made references to Jackson following his major league debut for Philadelphia, going 1-for-4. It was mentioned that some Southern writers thought Jackson was “as good as Ty Cobb,” which was a startling opinion.53 Jackson’s first full season was 1911, and he was living up to the hype. Now playing for Cleveland, he was learning much as an understudy of Nap Lajoie, but he wanted to bond with his fellow Southerner, Cobb. The two talked and Jackson inquired about Cobb’s polished sliding abilities. The Georgian, without hesitation, agreed to teach Jackson what he knew, and conveyed the optimal tricks of the hook slide.54

Cobb could plainly see that Jackson was somewhat star struck by him. Essentially a rookie, the Clevelander was a mighty ballplayer, but easily intimidated. A lack of education cut down dramatically on his reading and writing skills, and Cobb knew he could be manipulated without too much effort. As the competition for the batting title tightened, Cobb invoked a little mental warfare against Jackson, intending to get inside the head of his rival. He became condescending, sarcastic, and eventually started talking straight trash, all in the hopes that Jackson would collapse under the pressure.55 Cobb’s psychological advantage worked in the long run, and he ended up winning the title with a .420 average compared to Jackson’s .408.

By posting additional major league leading numbers in hits (248), runs (147), RBIs (127), and stolen bases (83), he was the natural selection to win a second Chalmers auto. Unlike 1910, the award was not based strictly on batting figures, but all-round play on behalf of his team, making it essentially the first ever Most Valuable Player (MVP) designation for the major leagues. The newspaper writers making up the Chalmers Trophy Commission were united in naming Cobb the victor.56 American League President Ban Johnson questioned the unanimous decision, reminding the public that Cobb was fined and scolded by the National Baseball Commission for playing an unsanctioned game in New York in September. “Ty Cobb is a grand player,” Johnson told the press, but then proceeded to mention how he “caused dissension” in the Tigers’ ranks. His potent comments were accompanied by the partial headline “Ty is Overrated.”57

The president of the league was entitled to his opinion, and Cobb undoubtedly withheld a vitriolic response. Short on time, the Georgian returned to his post as an expert pundit for the Philadelphia Press and a variety of syndicated newspapers covering the World Series. He watched as the Philadelphia Athletics won their second-straight championship, beating the New York Giants, four games to two. From there, he was off to rehearsals for his theatrical debut in the stage hit The College Widow, a comedy written years earlier by George Ade. Ever since 1907, producers had tried to coax Cobb to spend his winter on vaudeville, convinced his name and popularity would garner impressive money at the box office. He turned the prospects down, but relented to Cleveland’s Vaughan Glaser after his longtime friend offered a nice guarantee.58

Surrounding Cobb with the attractive nineteen-year-old lead actress Sue MacManamy, who was relatively new to the stage, and a horde of unique characters, Glaser, as manager and producer, launched the play on October 30, 1911, at the Taylor Opera House in Trenton, New Jersey. “Shoeless” Joe Jackson was initially supposed to join Cobb, but backed out at the last minute.59 Sports editor Marvin A. Riley of the Trenton Evening Times was in attendance, and said Cobb made a “credible performance” as an actor. He commented on the loud and positive reactions of the audience to his actions, and it was evident that Cobb overcame the normal jitters to remember his lines.60 Many people were surprised by his composure throughout his performance as Billy Bolton, the star football halfback at the fictitious Atwater College. As the story went, “Bolton” was planning to transfer to rival Bingham, but the “College Widow” intervened to keep his allegiance firm.61

The play featured a bit of intimacy between Cobb and his leading lady, and climaxed in a major football scene. Theaters as spelled below were lined up down the East Coast and across the South before heading to Detroit, Chicago, and Cleveland. “I don’t know much about it yet,” he told the press early in the run, “but I’m learning fast. So far I am about as enthusiastic as anybody could be. Things have gone pretty good for us. The people seem to like our show, and they don’t seem to dislike me as an actor.”62 Cobb did have his critics along the way and the highbrow sect of the theater probably looked down their nose at his amateur thespian abilities. But others simply appreciated his efforts. “Ty is a good actor, because he acts naturally,” a writer for the Cleveland Press stated, and in many towns, the crowd demanded a curtain speech.63

Detroit spectators bided their time before celebrating the arrival of Cobb and his troupe in mid-December. He was excited about it as well, sending out invitations to local buddies for his December 23 performance at the Lyceum Theater. After the second act, he was beckoned to say a few words, but was interrupted from the crowd by teammate Bill Donovan. Donovan met Cobb on stage, and the two embraced in a handshake, then “Wild Bill” proceeded to give Cobb a special gift on behalf of his friends. It was a traveling bag, “full of base hits,” Donovan explained, and the contributors to the present included Frank Navin, Bill Yawkey, Harry Tuthill, Eddie Cicotte, H. G. Salsinger. E. A. Batchelor, and teammates Davy Jones and Sam Crawford.64

“The reception given me by my Detroit friends [was] one of the most satisfying things of my whole career,” Cobb told a reporter. “This actor’s life isn’t exactly the round of pleasure that some people’s fancy may paint it. The hardest thing about it, to my mind, is the fact that a man can’t get his regular sleep. When I go home after the evening performance, it is impossible to go right to sleep like I would do in the summer months, for I am all keyed up and under a nervous strain. The stage is very well in its way, but there is nothing about it so pleasant to me as the satisfaction of slamming out a nice, clean hit.”65

His eyes strained by theater lights, Cobb cut short the breadth of the tour in January 1912, and admitted, “I am more fatigued right now than I ever was at the end of the baseball season.”66 The tour was expected to continue until March 1912. Cobb told one reporter, “I think that a man needs a vacation.”67 The curtain closed on The College Widow in Cleveland and Cobb pined for a speedy return to his family in Detroit, where they were spending the winter. The June before, Charlie had given birth to their second child, Shirley Marion Cobb, and Ty enjoyed a much needed rest in the comfort of his loved ones.68 He was a perpetual mover by heart, though, and his time recuperating from his arduous schedule was brief. Soon, he was seeking out new hobbies like bowling and iceboating, and in January 1912, he joined the Michigan Sovereign Consistory, a branch of Freemasonry, in Detroit. Having already joined the Order at Royston several years before, he was welcomed as a thirty-second degree mason in a ceremony at the Moslem Temple.69

The off-season gave Cobb time to contemplate the comings and goings of the American League, particularly roster changes around the circuit. He read varied baseball publications to get the scoop on promising recruits and immersed himself in the statistics of rivaling teams, essentially giving him the intelligence he needed as to which players were heating up or slowing down in their careers. It wasn’t that he was just randomly inquisitive, but plotting a legitimate psychological blueprint for the upcoming season. In fact, ever since becoming a major leaguer, he’d kept a mental database of opposing players and became highly adept at knowing their weaknesses and routines. He found that such information played perfectly into his line of attack, consisting of skill, a set of theories, and working the percentages.

The combination was lethal. Cobb’s intrinsic understanding of “enemy” limitations was astoundingly beneficial. He knew which players were poor throwers, which were high-strung and easily flustered, and those who were caught in a wicked slump. Beyond that, he went out of his way to garner certain inside information about rivals who were battling illnesses or mentally exhausted by engaging in small talk with players on other teams, intending to use a mixture of all the “dope” to gain an advantage.70 He’d often pass off incorrect data about one of his teammates to fool the opposition, as well. Meaning, he’d customize his offensive approach specifically because of the players in the field before him. If a rookie was at third base, for example, Cobb was more likely to bunt in that direction because he felt the percentages were better for him to get to first safely. The recruit was more apt to boot, bobble, or toss the ball wildly than a hardened veteran.

Cobb analyzed baseball religiously in his free time and studied the habits of his peers. He took real notice of the way they responded to his movements, working to improve his chances for success. As one might expect, Cobb’s rivals regularly established a reactionary plan to his off-beat style, planning out layered resistance to combat his techniques. But when the defense felt they had Cobb solved, he switched up his attack plan and did something a little different. His desire was to always keep opponents guessing to what his next move was going to be, and the concept worked solidly for years.

Depending on the circumstances, Cobb wasn’t above using tricks to triumph in a ball game. He was occasionally known to fake an injury to his leg, limping to sell the handicap, only to erupt into a full stride and score a pivotal run in the same contest. He’d kick up clouds of dust to obscure the vision of umpires, run in the line of thrown balls, and if given the chance, he’d punt the ball out of infielders’ glove. Cobb pulled one of his infamous stunts during a game against Chicago on April 30 when he slid into a ball laying on the base path, kicking it off the diamond, and then ran home to score a winning run in the 10th inning. White Sox players claimed it was a deliberate interference, while Tigers supporters said it was an accident. The umpire agreed with the latter and the score counted.71 The legendary hidden ball trick wasn’t out of the realm of possibility either. Later in the decade, while playing first base against the Chicago White Sox, he performed the deception following a meeting at the mound with his pitcher. Cobb casually returned to his position with the ball under his arm, and then tagged out runner Joe Benz when he eased off the bag.72 These stunts were textbook Cobb and took many shapes and forms throughout his tenure in baseball.

The psychological game was a huge asset to Cobb and he went to great lengths to get into the heads of opposing players. Rivals were frequently demoralized by his clever base-running and left to wonder how in the world they were going to stop him. Notably, one of his principal concepts was based on the notion that certain aggressive maneuvers not only worked to serve a purpose in the current game he was playing, but that it would have a lasting mental effect on opponents in subsequent games as well. It applied greatly to running the bases, he felt, and the threat of stealing was remembered by adversaries regardless if he intended to follow up with a second attempt or not. Thus, it caused a disturbance and played right into his hands. The propaganda surrounding his so-called sharpened spikes created another level of intimidation entirely, and infielders psyched out by the allegations were left rattled.

Going into the 1912 season, there were rumors of a nearly complete team aversion to Hugh Jennings continuing as manager of the Tigers. Cobb publicly denied this, claiming the internal dissension was limited to a few individuals.73 He was unenthusiastic about attending spring training camp in Monroe, Louisiana, and agreed to meet the team a few weeks later in New Orleans. In the meantime, he visited relatives in Georgia and participated in a game Royston had against nearby Elberton. With Cobb in the box, Royston was victorious, 7–0.74 Before the end of March, he was alongside his Detroit teammates battling through an exhibition schedule, but the team appeared sluggish. Cobb was on his way to regaining his batting eye when he developed a cold in Toledo, Ohio. Suffering from a fever, sore throat, and relentless cough, he was severely weakened, but still determined to start the season in the lineup.

At Cleveland on Opening Day, he was held hitless in four at-bats in the opener, and the Tigers lost a heartbreaker in eleven innings, 3–2.75 From there, he had a few painful mishaps in the first couple of games, including a foul tip off his leg, a hit-by-pitch, and a rib injury. These added to his persistent illness and only served to frustrate him all the more. By the time Detroit reached Chicago early on April 15, he needed a thorough rest before that afternoon’s game. All he wanted was peace and quiet, but unfortunately, his room at the Chicago Beach Hotel gave him a constant barrage of excruciating train sounds from the nearby tracks of the Illinois Central Railroad. Cobb protested to hotel management for another room, but after feeling dismissed by a hotel clerk, he began to flash signs of his famous temper, and the Chicago Beach Hotel banned Cobb after the incident.76

The clerk worked to pacify Cobb, telling him that he could give him another room later in the day, but only if he kept it secret from his teammates as new rooms couldn’t be offered to everyone. Additionally, the Tigers agreed to send him to another hotel, but Cobb stubbornly declined to move unless the entire team left. He didn’t want to appear a prima donna, but after Cobb departed Chicago that night to return to Detroit for medical attention from his private physician, press reports spun the story to do just that. Sensationalistic headlines claimed he “quit” the Tigers because he didn’t like his room, and any mention of his prolonged illness was minimized.77

The grand opening of the brand new Navin Field, a modern steel and concrete structure, captivated Detroit baseball fans and Cobb did his best to recuperate in time to participate in the April 20 game. Seeing how important it was to the franchise, he not only appeared, but pulled his superstar magic against Cleveland. In the first inning, he combined with Sam Crawford to pull the double steal twice, and the second time he safely went home in a mad dash for the plate. He went 2-for-4 and had a pair of terrific defensive plays, giving the energetic audience of 26,000 a thrill in a 6–5 victory.78 The next day, pitcher George Kahler nearly came to blows with Cobb after a mix-up around first base. As the Detroit Free Press noted, Cobb was perfectly willing to oblige the twenty-two-year-old, but the umpire prevented any fisticuffs.79

Already with signs of controversy and his inglorious fighting spirit in full view, Cobb was in rare form. Detroit was clearly not a championship caliber squad in 1912, but they had the ability to impact the pennant race by knocking around those at the top of the first division. Headed into its first eastern swing, the Tigers were much more unified than sportswriters believed, and the alleged internal dissension was not going to prove a hindrance to the team’s success. In fact, going into New York, club unity was going to be tested more than any team in baseball history, and the players were going to come together for the sake of one man, backing him to the fullest. That man was Ty Cobb, and he’d once again be at the center of a hailstorm of contention.