11
ALWAYS EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED
New York baseball statistician Al Munro Elias published an incredibly revealing look at Ty Cobb’s twelve years in the major leagues in December 1916. The report, syndicated to papers throughout the country, proclaimed him to be the sport’s “most remarkable batsman of all-time.” Elias based his extraordinary statement on the whopping .369 career batting average of Cobb, which topped legends Ed Delahanty, Pete Browning, Nap Lajoie, and everyone else who stepped onto a big league field. Going a step further, Elias broke down Cobb’s work against nearly 200 pitchers, and found that he’d achieved a better than .350 average against Cy Young, Chief Bender, Eddie Cicotte, Rube Waddell, Dutch Leonard, and a slew of other premier hurlers. His .326 against Walter Johnson was nothing to scoff at either.1
The impressive stats illuminated the pure mastery of Cobb behind the bat and proved that his stylized techniques were working splendidly well. Each and every day, he went out to the diamond and played his game of ball, unaffected by the more traditional methods of those around him. Neither his manager nor his fellow players influenced his approach to hitting, fielding, or running. It was all Cobb, implementing his own personal science of baseball. And for those observers of his unique style and mannerisms during a game, they were treated to a distinctive performance only Cobb could execute. He was a bit idiosyncratic and a lot eccentric in his routine, and no journalist captured the subtleties of his behavior better than Frank P. Sibley of the Boston Daily Globe.
Sibley fancied the idea of giving readers an inside sense of the Georgian’s trademark habits during all phases of the game, and dissected his style and body language for a telling article aptly entitled “How Ty Cobb Plays Ball.”2 He took notice of Cobb’s habitual impulse to swing at the first pitch thrown, how he took “two or three steps forward to meet the ball” in the batter’s box, and the power of his swing. Cobb garnered a base hit, Sibley noted, and once safely planted at the bag, he held the attention of the pitcher while inching off first, threatening to steal.
Cobb’s jumpiness kept everyone guessing, and he settled to watch the pitcher’s motion with his knees bowed inward toward each other, prepared to either dash to second or slide back to first. It was the standard fare for Cobb, and his rivals across the league were in a constant struggle to overcome his unpredictable nature.
In terms of personality, Cobb was, at times, a loud rooter for teammates and a heavy instigator of opposing players. At other moments, he was withdrawn and lost in his own train of thought. But he was always observant, keenly aware of the game’s circumstances. Naturally, Cobb was in a much better mood when the Tigers were winning, brazenly smirking at pitchers, smiling after close plays, and ribbing infielders with an arrogant flair.3 A round of chuckles by Cobb easily goaded players into a rabid fury, and Sibley commented that he wasn’t “ever-popular” with contemporaries, but clearly, the kind of smugness he displayed had something to do with it. Interestingly, Cobb hadn’t always been a shameless trash talker, but grew into the role, likely out of a necessity to both fight fire with fire and to gain a mental advantage.
However, when Detroit was on the losing end of things, Cobb was far from jovial. He was furiously doing everything in his power to score runs. After hitting into an out, he walked with his head down, and was the kind of guy who’d browbeat himself for failing to produce. He’d also lash out at teammates for the same, and again, his vitriolic exhibition usually tended to turn attitudes against him. But altogether, Cobb’s techniques, superstitions, and temperament were resulting in astronomical individual records. And in many ways, there was truth in the statement of a fan, who explained, “He’s got ’em licked before he starts,” within earshot of Sibley.4 The reality of the matter was that Cobb did have great gains on his opponents because of the legend he created and the innuendos surrounding his gamesmanship.
He was a mystifying athlete, and by creating endless opportunities for the Tigers to win, die-hard enthusiasts knew to always expect the unexpected when he entered the game. Sibley wrote that Cobb added “more strength to a club than any other one man, and no man [had] so great a following of fans.” It was simple: people appreciated his hard work and exciting style of play regardless of their team loyalty. For older fans, he was amongst the last of a dying breed, a reflection of Kid Gleason, Kid Elberfeld, and hardnosed battlers of yesteryear; men who put great stock in doing everything humanly possible to win, and that meant fighting for each and every run. He wasn’t out there to make friends, but to achieve victory.
During the winter of 1916–17, Cobb was no less enthusiastic about golf than he had been in previous years, even though he felt that playing midseason diminished his batting “eye.”5 Tris Speaker disagreed, believing that his devotion to golf throughout 1916 was a major factor in his winning the batting title.6 Nevertheless, Cobb was steadfast in his conviction, and planned to wind up his golf game once the season got under way. But that still left plenty of time to enjoy the sport throughout the spring, especially during training in Texas. He also centered his energy on hunting. On one of his jaunts into Louisiana to hunt duck, he was joined by two friends, Rick Woodward of Birmingham and Robert W. Woodruff of Atlanta, both prosperous businessmen.7 Cobb’s connection with the latter would be especially beneficial in the future, as the Woodruff Family became involved in leadership positions for the Coca-Cola Company.
After arriving at Tigers’ camp in Waxahachie, Texas, on the evening of March 26, 1917, Cobb got in a few days of practice before the team traveled to Fort Worth to begin a rematch series against the New York Giants. The two clubs faced off the year before and Detroit won three games to two. Despite camaraderie between managers Hugh Jennings and John McGraw, and the fact that the games were supposed to be lighthearted exhibitions, there was a serious spirit of competition amongst the players of both squads. In the opening contest on March 30, Cobb doubled in the eighth to score two runs and led the Tigers to a 4–1 win. While Cobb had a good reason to be contented with his performance, Giants team captain and second baseman Charles “Buck” Herzog was not thrilled by his play, going 0-for-3 and committing three errors.8
McGraw was an outstanding motivator of his men and knew he had three firecracker infielders, Herzog, shortstop Art Fletcher, and third baseman Heinie Zimmerman. He long supported a rowdier side of baseball, particularly the side that embraced verbal antagonizing of opposition players. Like Cobb, he knew a little provocation went a long way to disrupt the mindset of rivals, and he encouraged the barbs thrown at Tigers players. But things intensified once Herzog and Fletcher directed their attention to Cobb and began ribbing him unmercifully.9 That set the stage for the second game of the series at Dallas on March 31.
“Cobb was late arriving at the park,” Fletcher later explained. “He had been out at the country club playing golf. That in itself would have been enough to get us on him, for most of us shared McGraw’s scorn for ‘cow pasture pool,’ but when he insisted he must hit a couple of practice pitches before the game got under way [because he’d missed batting practice], he left himself wide open. We called him everything in the world and since he was hot-tempered and prideful, he naturally came back at us.”10
“When we started the second game with them at Dallas,” Cobb told a reporter, “they commenced attacking me at once. Herzog was awfully raw, and I warned him that I would attend to his case if he did not stop using such vile language. He kept it up and I warned him again, but he persisted.11 He taunted me to the limit. Finally I retorted: ‘When I get on first, Herzog, I’m going down to second. You can depend on that.’ I got to first in the third inning and the whole Giant team, tipped off by Herzog, knew that I planned to steal on the first ball pitched. As [Ferdie] Schupp swung his arm, I started for second. The throw was a pitch out. Herzog, instead of waiting on the bag to tag me as I was going in, deliberately took two steps up the line to meet me. And in doing so, Herzog trespassed on territory that belongs to the base-runner.”12
Convinced that the thirty-one-year-old Herzog was trying to show him up, Cobb slid hard into the bag with “both feet high in the air,” according to the Dallas Morning News. His spikes caught the infielder on the left leg, above the knee, cutting him open.13 In a split second, Herzog furiously lunged at Cobb and the two scuffled in the dirt before standing, only to resume their hostilities. But Fletcher crept behind Cobb, grabbing his arms and allowed his teammate unhindered freedom to strike the Georgian. But Cobb wiggled his body, evading a punch, and slithered away from Fletcher to land a blow of his own right in the mouth of Herzog. That was just before a combination of managers, players, and police broke up the commotion.14 Umpire Bill Brennan ruled Cobb out of the game, but strangely allowed Herzog and Fletcher to remain, even though they fully participated in the fracas.
The blame went to Cobb, and Dallas fans—about 4,000 at Gardner Park—showered him with boos, while cheering Herzog.15 Angry, frustrated, and undoubtedly wanting revenge, Cobb watched the rest of the game from the sidelines, pondering his next move. In that time, he focused his true antagonist, and it wasn’t Herzog or Fletcher. The chief instigator, he felt, was sitting on the Giants’ bench. “Believe me, John McGraw is a great deal worse than Charles Herzog,” Cobb declared.16 “He is a mucker of the lowest type. His language to me and other Detroit players during the games was unprintable. If I ever get him alone in a nice, quiet place, I shall be tempted to clean him up, but I understand he seldom moves without a bodyguard. The Detroit team will never play another series with his club. His work is too raw.”17
Cobb’s mind was just about made up. He had no interest in continuing to battle the unruly Giants and listening to McGraw’s hot air. He especially didn’t want to help McGraw fatten his wallet by adding to the box office draw. The best way to deal with the situation was to skip out on the rest of the series and train only with his teammates during practice sessions. No matter what anybody else said, he wasn’t going to let the matter slide, as his mind was made up. That evening, Cobb dined in the Oriental Hotel in Dallas, the headquarters for both the Tigers and Giants during their stay in the city. A special banquet had been arranged to celebrate the occasion, and Cobb was enjoying the chow when he was approached by Herzog. It seemed he also wasn’t about to let things slide.
Sportswriter Hugh S. Fullerton once called Herzog “one of the brainiest, cleverest men in baseball,” and said that he was a “hard fighting … bundle of nerve and determination.”18 His courage was on display when he stepped to Cobb, upwards of twenty-five pounds heavier, and requested a resumption of their earlier fisticuffs. Naively, Cobb at first thought Herzog wanted to solidify harmony between them, but was quick to consent to another fight, telling the Giant infielder that he’d be in his room in a half-hour. In the meantime, he finished his supper, adjourned to his room, and began shifting the furniture to create enough space for the expected brawl. He also used water to douse the carpet in effort to gain an advantage by keeping Herzog’s footing off balance.19 It might not have been necessary, but exhibited Cobb’s forethought.
With Zimmerman by his side, Herzog arrived at the scheduled time and the groundwork for their clash was laid. Instead of a straight boxing bout, which might have benefitted “Buck,” they agreed to a “rough and tumble” contest, allowing a mix of pugilism and wrestling. In his corner, Cobb had Oscar Stanage and team trainer Harry Tuthill, trusted allies, and with everyone on the same page, the battle commenced. The way Cobb explained it, the two began wilding throwing punches. “Each of us swung about six blows without a hit,” he said. “Then I luckily landed a wild one on Charlie’s jaw. He went down. I helped to pick him up but when he got to his feet he started to swing at me. So I squared off again and before Herzog could get home a punch, I landed another on his chin and he went down again. That ended the fight.”20 Cobb and Herzog shook hands before the latter left the room, nursing a battered face.
McGraw naturally found out about the confrontation, as well as its result, and was livid. After locating Cobb in the lobby of the Oriental Hotel, he lashed out with a bombardment of criticism.
Cobb later explained his version of what happened: “I was talking to a Texas friend at the time and my friend turned to McGraw and said, ‘If you don’t shut up I’ll put a bullet hole through your stomach big enough to drive a team of horses through.’ McGraw must have thought my friend meant it. He shut up.”21 Other accounts of this story claimed that it was Cobb who threatened McGraw, but either way, the feud between them escalated.
The next day, an estimated 10,000 spectators were on hand to see the wild and wooly antics of the two teams, but were saddened when the primary battlers sat out. Cobb was in uniform, but took in the festivities from a stationary position in the outfield.22 He also warmed the bench for an exhibition at Wichita Falls, and then decided to depart the tour completely because he wasn’t getting anything out of the brief, pregame workouts. Jennings agreed, saying: “I would not let Cobb play against the Giants again, even if every New York player assured me on his honor that there would be no more strife. He is too valuable a piece of property to be brawling around with men that have less to risk and I am glad that he is going to be removed from this atmosphere.”23
Notably, Cobb had no hard feelings for Herzog, telling one journalist that they “parted the best of friends.”24 In subsequent years, they bumped into each other several times, usually during spring training, but never again did they quarrel. Many years later, after it was revealed that Herzog was destitute and battling a dire case of tuberculosis at a Baltimore hospital, Cobb was one of many baseball figures to offer financial assistance.25 But, regardless of his willingness to tender aid to his old rival, most pundits wanted to remember their scandalous duel. After all, as sportswriter Dan Daniel put it, their clash was “perhaps the most famous fight in modern baseball.”26
Having bolted from the Tigers-Giants tour at Wichita Falls, Cobb arrived in Cincinnati on April 4 in the midst of heavy rains and registered at the Hotel Havlin. His intentions were to join Christy Mathewson’s Reds and complete his training with the National Leaguers at Redland Field. But the weather didn’t cooperate, and Cobb was relegated to a light workout with local players underneath the stands.27 Manager Roger Bresnahan and his Toledo Iron Men were in town as well, but the washout cancelled a scheduled game against Cincinnati. The ex-major league catcher was leading his club back to Toledo and asked Cobb if he’d accompany them. Since his plan was to meet up with the Tigers at that city anyway, Cobb consented.28 The move afforded him a chance to play the world champion Boston Red Sox in exhibitions that weekend.
With special permission from Detroit owner Frank Navin, Cobb lined up as a member of Bresnahan’s franchise, and Dick Meade of the News-Bee wrote, “Cobb in a Toledo uniform will be a novel and unusual attraction and will undoubtedly draw many people.”29 Thousands poured into Swayne Field over the next two days to see Toledo beat the Red Sox twice, 6–0 and 6–1, including a pounding of Boston pitcher Babe Ruth. Although Cobb only had two hits, Meade wrote that he “hustled and gave everything he had at the plate, on the bases and afield.” He added, “It isn’t hard to understand why he stands at the head of his profession.”30 The Tigers arrived on April 9 and, with Cobb in the right uniform, Detroit beat Toledo, 8–5.
Jennings made a preseason adjustment to the Tigers roster, sending Cobb back to right field, placing Heilmann in center, and utilizing venerable “Wahoo” Sam Crawford as a pinch hitter. The shift didn’t seem to bother Cobb, as he told the Detroit Free Press, “I don’t care where I play. I’ll hold down any position they assign to me.”31 Team defense was strengthened by the maneuver, mostly because Crawford, playing his nineteenth year in the big leagues, had slowed considerably. The thirty-seven-year-old was less than 60 hits away from 3,000 in his career, and, since most observers felt it was his final season, achieving the honor all depended on how much playing time he received.
The campaign opened on April 11, 1917, versus Cleveland, and over 25,000 fans set a new attendance record for Navin Field. But the enthusiasm of Detroit fans didn’t match the team ability at the start of the season, and the Tigers not only lost the initial contest, but went 3–7 over the course of their first ten games. The team’s offense was horrendous, and by May 25, Cobb was the only regular hitting over .275, with several players barely batting their weight. That same day, Cobb, averaging .319, was switched back to centerfield prior to a home game against Philadelphia with Heilmann heading to right. The Georgian was particularly motivated to do well on that occasion, as he was roasted by an obnoxious spectator near the visitor’s bench, and went 2-for-3 with two walks and two stolen bases. The team, however, lost in 11 innings, 10–6.32
From the New York area circulated an unsubstantiated report that Cobb, in his blind desire to regain the batting title, was once again demonstrating the qualities of a lone wolf. The claim was that he was experiencing tunnel vision and ignoring teammates all to center on that single, individual goal.33 There was no doubt that Cobb was working extremely hard and boosting his personal numbers, but, in a way, he was being forced to step it up because of the lack of production elsewhere in the lineup. The report was also slightly similar to Cobb’s anti-Giants statement in April. In essence, the attack on Cobb was likely part of a propaganda-type rebuttal to dredge up controversy in the Detroit camp. But the publicity didn’t hurt the team, as the Tigers began playing its best ball so far that year in June.
Detroit went 11–6 during a trip to Eastern cities, including a sweep of Boston. In that same period, Cobb batted .463 and had a 5-for-5 day in New York on June 5.34 Additionally, he built a consecutive game hit streak that was headed toward 30 by the end of the month. At St. Louis, he was cheered riotously by local enthusiasts following an eighth inning hit to continue his streak on July 1. The run continued for a few more days, ending at 35 games on July 6.35 In the Chicago series, an entertaining episode between Cobb and third baseman Buck Weaver occurred after the Detroiter had slid to the bag safely. Weaver, in trying to tempt Cobb to make a break for the plate, rolled the ball away from him, telling the latter to go for it. Cobb teasingly danced off the base and Weaver, with amazing agility, seized the ball and nearly made the out.36 Whether Cobb was still in a joking mood afterwards can only be guessed upon.
On July 30, 1917, at Washington, D.C., an impressive “world record” was established, according to the Detroit Free Press, after Cobb, Bobby Veach, and Oscar Vitt each attained five hits against Senators pitching.37 The team improved significantly and won a number of close games with a pronounced confidence, fighting back from late inning deficits to briefly seize third place. Cobb’s passion was infectious in many ways, but at times he was overbearing and caustic. For instance, on a ball hit into left field, easily playable by Veach, Cobb’s gusto carried him a little too closely to his teammate, causing Veach to lose sight of the ball and commit an avoidable error.38 On another occasion, as he coached third base, he gave a forceful shove to Detroit’s George Burns, who was hesitating to advance home after a triple and a defensive error, breaking a rule prohibiting coaches from making any physical contact with players.39
The Tigers had little chance to catch the league-leading White Sox down the stretch, and locked up fourth place behind Chicago, Boston, and Cleveland. On August 25, Detroit took time out to honor the storied career of one of the town’s iconic baseball heroes with a special “Sam Crawford Day.” Crawford participated in only 61 games in 1917, his final coming on September 16, and racked up only 18 hits, leaving him 39 shy of 3,000. His displacement from the active roster was not sudden. Jennings didn’t hide the fact that he wanted a younger and quicker outfield, and two years earlier dropped Crawford to fifth in the lineup to get better results from the Cobb-Veach combination. Crawford’s batting remained an asset and had the designated hitter spot been available to the Tigers in 1917, it is certain he would’ve been a prime candidate for the job. But as things stood, he was expendable and his big league career came to an end.
Baseball history has seen plenty of rivalries between teammates, but the Cobb-Crawford relationship stands out as one of the most turbulent. They were cohabitants of the same outfield, dugout, and clubhouse for thirteen years and enjoyed three league titles together. But they were different in so many ways and prone to clash. At the base of their association, there was mutual respect, and while some people might have thought Cobb was too conceited to acknowledge the superstar qualities of his fellow Tiger, that was an erroneous assumption. In 1910, Cobb bluntly declared Crawford “one of the greatest hitters in the game,” even admitting that “Wahoo” was “better” than he was.40 The following year, Cobb named his teammate one of the twenty all-time best and also referred to him as the “Mighty Sam Crawford” in an article he authored.41
But Cobb was paranoid about Crawford, and that feeling went back to his earliest days with the team when he thought Sam was heading up a clique against him. Crawford had never been one of his toughest critics, but nevertheless, Cobb was ever suspicious about his motives. Bob Dunbar of the Boston Journal conveyed a story which shed light on just how far Cobb’s distrust of Crawford went. Apparently there were times when Cobb would swing through the ball and miss, then immediately turn and glance at the Detroit dugout to see if Sam was laughing behind his back and taking joy from his failure.42 Clark Griffith, in addition, commented on Cobb’s disjointed perspective, saying: “He accused Walter [Johnson] of bearing down on him and letting up on Sam Crawford, who followed Ty in the Detroit batting order. Cobb was jealous of his own teammate.”43
A lack of communication, punctuated by literally months and months of not talking to one another, combined with an overt passive aggressiveness, made the rapport between Cobb and Crawford difficult to mend. They definitely went through periods where they endured flawless teamwork on the field, but the smallest misinterpreted event often triggered quiet fury—particularly on Cobb’s part—and turned things ugly fast. But near the end of Crawford’s tenure on the team, he was the one developing hard feelings and a sense that he was being pushed out by Cobb and Jennings.44 Long of the theory that Cobb influenced roster moves, Crawford never believed he’d ever suffer the same fate as some of his contemporaries, who’d allegedly been pushed out because of Cobb’s disfavor. His attitude changed in 1917 with his own dismissal, and he felt Cobb, not Jennings, was the actual manager of the Tigers.45
“I never tried to run the Detroit team,” Cobb said in response to the charges, “and Hughie Jennings will tell you that. Often I went to Hughie with suggestions that I felt might help the team. That was my right. Every player who has the interest of his club at heart should make suggestions for betterment. But never did I try to usurp Hughie’s authority.” And with regard to his butting heads with his fellow players, he admitted to such wrangles, saying: “There is nothing unusual in that. I dare say that there isn’t a player who was in the big leagues for a long period of years who didn’t at some time or other, have a jam with a few of his teammates. This is especially true of a club that is in the thick of a pennant fight and where everybody is keyed up to the highest tension possible. But every quarrel that I ever had was patched up.” In fact, friendships were formed, according to Cobb.46
Crawford, as far as he was concerned, later agreed with that fact, telling a reporter: “We always got along well, despite what people said. There were some differences, but none that wouldn’t exist on any teams. We were friends.”47
The 1917 batting race ended with Cobb leading both leagues with a .383 average, exactly 30 points ahead of his closest rival, twenty-four-year-old George Sisler of the St. Louis Browns.48 Cobb was also baseball’s top scorer in hits (225), doubles (44), triples (24), stolen bases (55), on-base percentage (.444), and slugging percentage (.570). He placed second in RBIs (102) and runs scored (107) behind teammates Bobby Veach (103) and Donie Bush (112), respectively. His play was consistent throughout the season and although he faced a few leg problems, mostly from excessive sliding, he participated in 152 games. In that time, he went hitless in only twenty-five contests and regained the honor of the batting championship.49
The importance of baseball was far overshadowed by the devastating extensiveness of World War I, which was drawing immense concern. On April 6, 1917, the United States entered the conflict, declaring war on Germany, and initiated a draft calling for men from ages twenty-one to thirty-one. Cobb, thirty, met the age criteria, but as a married man with three children, he was initially thought to be exempt from military service.50 However, since his secure financial standing was pretty well known, the legitimate dependency of his family was drawn into question. As required, he filled out his registration card and, after being named to Class I status, accepted his eligibility for duty.51 In the interim, he was more than willing to offer his assistance to the soldiers at Camp Hancock outside Augusta, and began helping out where he could in November 1917.
A short time later, Cobb’s status was adjusted by Augustan officials, and he was placed in Class II, meaning that he was temporarily deferred, but still eligible for future military service. Cobb made it clear that he was willing to serve, and if not drafted, was very likely to enlist sometime late in the summer. Sportswriters, in the absence of any concrete news, connected him to trade rumors, insisting that Cobb was soon going to be a member of the New York Yankees, but Navin adamantly denied the gossip.52 For Cobb, though, he proceeded to follow his usual off-season schedule, and kept his legs active by hunting regularly. On March 25, 1918, he reported to Waxahachie, Texas, joining the Tigers to begin his training, and on the first of April, Detroit began a thirteen-game exhibition series against the Cincinnati Reds.
Excelling as a team, Detroit beat the Reds ten times, and Cobb was firing on all cylinders, batting .424 during the series.53 En route to Cleveland, where the season was to open on April 16, Cobb developed a 101 degree fever and was suffering from a bad case of the grippe, better known as influenza. The contagious disease had also sidelined pitchers “Deacon” Jones and Bill James, and yet a third hurler, Willie Mitchell, was battling pneumonia.54 With Howard Ehmke, a 10-game winner in 1917, in the service, the Tigers were stretched thin. To make matters worse, Harry Heilmann left the club because of the death of his mother, adding to the complexities. Bad weather delayed the opener for two days, and on April 18, the Tigers took Dunn Field with Frank Walker, Lee Dressen, and Babe Ellison in spots usually occupied by Cobb, Heilmann, and Crawford.55
The Tigers quickly established that they were not a .500 ballclub, dropping from a third place position shortly after the season began to last, and would maintain a spot in the lower second division (sixth through eighth) for a majority of the year. Cobb’s season was tumultuous.
At Washington on May 26, he received right arm and shoulder injuries after diving for a difficult ball and missed four games.56 As he mended, he worked as a pinch hitter before stepping into the first baseman’s role on June 6. He remained at the initial bag for the next eight games, doing relatively well, but with a noticeable hiccup here and there. Fans at Navin Field were evidently so riled up after he mistakenly dropped a ball thrown in the ninth inning of a game on June 8 that they booed him without relent.57
Aside from the team’s dismal standing in the pennant race, there was another possible reason for the backlash against Cobb, and that was his poor showing at the plate. His batting was far below average, around .277 when he first went out with his injury. By the middle of June, he had fought his way back to .300, but fans in Detroit were still antsy. Earlier in the month, as the Tigers were facing a no-hit bid by Boston’s Dutch Leonard, patrons at Navin Field came alive to actively root for Leonard to achieve the distinction, and opposed Cobb as he entered the fracas as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the ninth. Cobb popped out in foul territory and Leonard made history, much to the delight of the audience.58
Personally challenged by the turmoil, Cobb went on the “most remarkable batting spree he ever has taken,” according to the Detroit Free Press, and hit .512 over a 19-game period into July, elevating his overall average to .380.59 But despite the impressive run toward yet another batting championship, he was not completely engulfed by his baseball responsibilities. In fact, his concentration was divided between his day job and what he expected to soon be his number one responsibility, and that was serving his country in a military uniform.
“I believe every man in the United States who is able to render some service to his country should get on the job,” Cobb told a reporter. “I am shaping my business affairs to that by the time the season ends, I will be able to do my part. I don’t believe the people care to see a lot of big, healthy young men out on the field playing ball while their sons and brothers are abroad risking their lives to conquer the Huns. I will quit the game until the war is ended and do what I can to aid in speedily winning it.”60
Following a “work or fight” decree from Provost Marshal General Crowder in May and the declaration that the sport was not essential employment, players throughout Organized Baseball were impelled to either enlist or join vital labor organizations. Two of Cobb’s longtime on-field rivals, Eddie Collins and “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, were such examples, with Collins headed to the Marines and Jackson taking up with a shipbuilding corporation in Delaware. Cobb settled on a position in the Army Chemical Warfare Service and passed a thorough physical exam in Washington, D.C. on August 16. Eight days later, before a patriotic crowd in New York, he announced his intention of being in Europe by the first of October to help the war effort.61 The 15,000 in attendance were overwhelming in their respectful admiration.
A doubleheader at Detroit against the White Sox on September 2 ended the abbreviated campaign, which was purposefully cut short to allow players to adhere to the new laws. Cobb went 6-for-10 between the games—both victories for the Tigers—and pitched two innings in the finale.62 It was a praiseworthy way to end the season and exemplified Cobb’s status as the major league batting leader, as he finished with a .382 average, well ahead of his nearest competitor. The Detroit club didn’t have much to crow about otherwise, finishing with a 55–71 record and in seventh place, 20 games behind the Boston Red Sox. The statistics didn’t mean much in the big picture, and Cobb immediately embraced his new occupation as a commissioned officer in the United States Army.63
The newly designated Captain Tyrus R. Cobb tied up loose ends in Detroit and Augusta, said goodbye to his family, and departed for Washington on September 30. Sportswriters assumed he would head into training at the Camp Humphreys, Virginia, engineers school, and the report that he was at the latter venue engaged in studies circulated in newspapers. But Cobb didn’t want to be tied up for months stateside. He wanted to sail for France as soon as possible, reaffirming that he was “not trying to avoid military duty.” The perception that ballplayers were “slackers” and working to evade combat was grinding on Cobb’s nerves. He told reporter Robert W. Maxwell that he was in the military to fight, and that he planned to toil harder for the service of the country than he ever did on the diamond.64
“Nobody ever felt more proud of a uniform than I do at the present moment,” Cobb explained, wearing his Army duds. Discounting the rumors that he was going to have a rear-echelon job as a physical trainer, he said, “I am in the field offensive service and my work has to do with the practical application of gas on the enemy.”65 Noisy cynics criticized the athletes who entered the chemical service as officers, believing that it was a sort of safe-haven to protect the pampered stars. Cobb reiterated his motivations a half-dozen times, but regardless, doubters were still going to have something negative to say.
Ex-heavyweight boxing champion James J. Corbett wrote a series of articles based on a “heart-to-heart talk” he enjoyed with Cobb in September. Cobb offered a realistic perspective of his career, saying: “I have played perhaps the last game of baseball that I ever shall play. It is my hope that I will be on the battlefields of France before winter. And I may never come back. Even if I do, there is no assurance that I’ll get back in diamond harness again.”66 If there was any truth to his statement, his Army garb was perhaps the final uniform he’d ever wear.