13

MICROMANAGER

Prior to the 1920 baseball season, a joint committee made up of representatives of the American and National Leagues agreed to place a ban on “freak deliveries.” The tactic effectively abolished the spitball, emery ball, shine ball, and other trick pitches thrown from the mound, and would greatly alter the way the game was played.1 Hitters, for years, were at a disadvantage, and deceptive hurlers twisted them in knots on a routine basis. But once these techniques of modifying the ball were stripped from pitchers, batters were empowered at the plate. Offensive production increased and scoring was no longer contingent on clever base-running and small ball. The home run was fast becoming the primary feature of baseball and Babe Ruth’s powerful clouting had turned him into an international celebrity.

Ruth, who was purchased by the New York Yankees from the Red Sox in late 1919, led the league in more than a dozen categories in 1920, and his 54 homers established a towering record that captivated the imagination of the young and old.2 His rise to prominence in the wake of the “Black Sox” scandal couldn’t have come at a better time for baseball, and the public willingly overlooked any damage to the sport’s integrity to embrace Ruth as its central hero. In general, home runs were plentiful in 1920, as 630 were hit across the majors (183 more than the year before), and crowd enthusiasm was at an all-time high. Journalists and insiders spoke about the liveliness of the ball and theorized that a combination of weakened pitching, better quality yarn used in the manufacture of balls, and a pure motivation by hitters to emulate Ruth by swinging for the fences contributed to the dawn of what was dubbed the “Lively Ball Era.”3

Following the response of Ty Cobb and Ruth’s threat to jump his Boston contract if he didn’t receive a raise, the latter expressed a desire to fight his Detroit rival. But not only did he think better of a possible scrap in 1920, the two were photographed together at the Polo Grounds in New York in May. Interestingly, Cobb navigated into the tour he made of the West Coast with the aid of Ruth’s business manager, Johnny Igoe of Boston. In June of 1920, the latter compared the two, and favored Cobb. “Fans go to see Ruth do one thing—that is, hit home runs. They expect him to hit one and when he does they go home thrilled. Cobb stars every day. His hits are clean and he is always thinking of some way to outsmart the opposing team. Babe doesn’t hit them over the fence every day. Ty shows his assortment of wonder stuff daily.”4

With Cobb said to be the best of the old guard and Ruth the champion of the new, people loved to pit the two against each other, and everything from their box score numbers to their salaries were judged in side-by-side comparisons. Even their personalities were fodder for discussion. New York columnist Dan Daniel wrote: “Ruth had no enemies, only friends. Every fan was his pal and every person who saw him was sold immediately on George Herman Ruth. Ty Cobb somehow had few fans friends. He had a rasping manner, an overbearing way on the field.”5 Yankees locker-room manager Fred Logan added: “The greatest clubhouse character was Babe Ruth. Easy with his dough, never sulked, always in fine humor, always in hoss-play, joking, rough-housing.” Regarding Cobb, he noted that Ty was “erratic in the clubhouse,” but considered him the better of the two.6

Grantland Rice, formerly of the Atlanta Journal and now a syndicated columnist in New York, was honest in his perspective despite his longstanding friendship with Cobb. He stated that the Detroit outfielder was “held in admiration rather than in affection,” and those “who are not inclined to cheer his personality must yield him his due as a star.” Ruth, on the other hand, had “the name, the wallop, and the personality that make up a popular mixture.”7

The game was unquestionably evolving away from the style of Cobb, and fans were no longer centering their attention on his rousing performances on the base paths, but holding their collective breath anticipating monstrous home runs. Cobb, however, wasn’t yet ready to give up his place in baseball’s pecking order. He was more competitive than ever, and in battling Ruth on the field, he was prepared to fight tooth and nail to help his team win. And whenever he got the chance, he planned to antagonize the living daylights out of his foe and utilize his famous psychological methods to get inside Ruth’s head. He knew it had worked on Joe Jackson and scores of others, so why not Ruth?

Rumors were rampant in late 1920. Joe LeBlanc of Collyer’s Eye, a publication out of Chicago, announced that Cobb was sold to the White Sox for $50,000, which was, incidentally, half of Ruth’s purchase price.8 Frank Navin told a reporter that the story was, “Too ridiculous to even think of.”9 Other gossip related to the Tigers managerial job vacancy, and ex-White Sox boss Clarence “Pants” Rowland was believed to be a top candidate. George Stallings and Jimmy Burke were also apparently being considered, according to hot stove chatter. But Navin wanted Cobb first and foremost, and sent six telegrams to his star on the coast trying to induce him.10 En route back east in December, Cobb stopped in New Orleans and discussed the opportunity at length with a trusted friend, Detroit sportswriter E. A. Batchelor. Batchelor was fond of the idea, and by the end of their meeting, Cobb was almost convinced.11

Yet, still, a little part of him was conflicted and he explained his anxieties to the press. On one hand, he liked the idea of imparting his philosophies and molding a championship squad. He wanted the glory that accompanied such a feat and sought to add a World Series title to his career record. On the other hand, he felt his playing skills would be hampered by managerial responsibilities. Additionally, he knew that it would take a couple years to build the Tigers into a contender and didn’t want fans to become frustrated by his inability to magically construct a winner after one or two seasons.12 He seemed confident to a certain degree, but held back by the many questions that remained. From the viewpoint of experts, though, it was more about whether or not Cobb could inhibit his own caustic disposition enough to be a successful leader.

After a brief stay in Augusta, Cobb ventured to New York for a meeting with Navin at the Vanderbilt Hotel on December 18, 1920. Contract terms, various obstacles, and other concerns were debated for several hours and, with a handshake and a signature, Cobb agreed to become the playing manager of the Detroit Tigers for 1921. In the subsequent announcement, it was made abundantly clear that his one-year, $25,000 deal made him, once again, the highest paid man in baseball, topping Ruth, and no doubt Cobb took a lot of satisfaction from that fact.13 As manager, Cobb was given full authority to modify the team roster, and it is notable that he scouted a handful of potential recruits while in California. Southpaw pitcher Bert Cole, a twenty-four-year-old from San Francisco, was particularly impressive, and upon getting the scouting info from Cobb, Navin quickly worked out an arrangement to land the hopeful.14

Fighting off a winter cold, Cobb went to Detroit for an elegant day-long gala to celebrate his new position on February 1, 1921. In addition to a special breakfast and luncheon, there was an exclusive evening banquet at the Hotel Statler, and amongst the 900 dignitaries in attendance were Ban Johnson, Hugh Jennings, Sam Thompson, Jimmy Barrett, and Davy Jones. Politicians, businessmen from the auto industry, and other well-known socialites were present, and when Cobb stood to express his gratitude, he “spoke feelingly,” at times holding back his emotions. He later told a journalist that the testimonial was the “greatest honor ever paid him,” according to the Detroit Free Press.15

Cobb’s approach to being a manager was the opposite of what was expected of him. Instead of ruling with unyielding aggressiveness, he planned to offer “encouragement and advice” to his men.16 Beginning in spring training at San Antonio, he worked to foster the image of a brother, not as a domineering chief standing off to the side barking orders. He was right there with his players, doing everything they were doing, running laps and making sure they received appropriate accommodations. Going against his personal nature, he became more outgoing, getting to know the guys on the team and listening to their stories.17 He disallowed the growth of destructive cliques and put a lot of thought into being the kind of ideal manager he would want for himself.

In terms of doctrine, Cobb made a number of significant changes. He called his men to report at around 1 p.m. every afternoon, having cancelled morning practice. Theorizing that productivity was vastly reduced after just waking up and having breakfast, he believed he could get better results from his players later in the day. He eliminated clubhouse strategy meetings, calling them a waste of time.18 Cobb encouraged instant reaction to the happenings on the diamond and didn’t want his players trying to force a specific set play they’d figured out beforehand, especially if it didn’t correspond with what was breaking down in front of them. Another change came to the club’s on-field signals, which were tossed out and replaced with a completely new system. He advocated heads-up play, teamwork, and wanted a fierce fighting spirit. He also expressed the necessity of having a versatile attack to keep opponents guessing.

Weighing over 195 pounds, Cobb arrived in San Antonio the heaviest he’d ever been, but was his same old self, striving to shed his extra poundage and sharpen his batting eye. Most of his time was spent observing the thirty or so other players in camp, including the rookie upstarts, and the cumbersome job of weaning the roster down to around twenty-four was his alone. Five prospects, Lu Blue, Johnny Bassler, Carl Holling, Harvey “Suds” Sutherland, and the aforementioned Bert Cole, were imports from the Pacific Coast League, and impressed Cobb enough to earn regular berths with the team. Blue stood out as a first baseman and allowed Harry Heilmann to shift back to right field, strengthening the entire defense. Catcher Bassler was highly touted as well, and was acquired in a trade that sent veteran Tigers backstop Oscar Stanage to Los Angeles.19

The general consensus was that Cobb was doing well as a rookie manager in his first couple of months on the job, but he was pretty much guaranteed to face growing pains along the way. His famous temperament wasn’t going to disappear no matter how much he tried to repress it, and differences between himself and his players were going to crop up from time to time. But morale was good in March and April 1921.20 Dutch Leonard, the well-known pitcher, returned to the Tigers soon after Cobb was appointed manager, despite quitting the club the September before because of problems with Jennings.21 Leonard apparently believed the fresh leadership of Cobb offered new potential for Detroit in the American League pennant hunt and rejoined his teammates.

Although the overall mood of the team was positive, it likely would’ve been undermined to a large extent had pitcher Howard Ehmke and Cobb not made peace months earlier. The two men had frequently butted heads in recent years and the feud was amongst the most harmful clubhouse dilemmas facing the Tigers. However, The Sporting News indicated that they “parted excellent friends” just prior to the end of the 1920 season.22 With Leonard and Ehmke, his top two hurlers, in good spirits, Cobb was enthusiastic, yet levelheaded about Detroit’s chances of playing competitive ball against the likes of the Yankees and Indians. He predicted sixth place for his club and said he’d resign if they didn’t fare better than seventh. “If we do better, the boys can rejoice with the fans,” Cobb told a reporter.23

San Antonio, ironically, was the spring training locale for the New York Giants and no one had forgotten the bad blood between Cobb and John McGraw, stemming from the dust-up between the two in 1917. Nevertheless, locals welcomed a series and hoped bygones were bygones for the sake of old-fashioned, civilized baseball. The Tigers trained on a makeshift diamond at Brackenridge Park just north of downtown and stayed at the Travelers Hotel, while the Giants had the choice ball grounds at League Park, and were quartered at the Menger Hotel near the Alamo.24

Impatient officials scheduled two games for the proposed series without a working agreement between Cobb and McGraw, and the exhibitions slated for March 12–13 didn’t come to fruition. According to Cobb, he refused to “eat humble pie” by personally asking McGraw to participate, and announced, “From now on, the Giants don’t exist.”25 The pro-McGraw account claimed Cobb did turn up at the hotel to work a deal, and McGraw angrily told him, “I wouldn’t play you a series if there were ten grand in it for us in every game.”26 Years later, New York Yankees manager Casey Stengel remembered the story and said McGraw ran Cobb out of the hotel lobby after the latter inquired about a series.27 Once again, like most of baseball lore, the truth was somewhere in the middle of these versions.

The condition of the Tigers heading into the season opener on April 13 was the best in four years, Cobb believed, and excitement was not only running high in Detroit, but across the league. He invoked a little nostalgia in trying to pump up his players, harkening back to a retro style of uniform with an Old English “D” on the front, worn by the championship squads of the late 1900s. Amusingly, Cobb’s superstitiousness was also prevalent, and Joey “Six-Toes” Joslin, about eleven years of age, hung around the dugout as a mascot. His job was simple: to inspire good luck and ward off any jinxes.28 The first game versus Chicago was rained out and played on April 14 before 25,000 spectators in Detroit. Wet weather lingered in the area, but didn’t damper the enthusiasm of fans. In the seventh inning, the Tigers charged back from a 5–1 deficit to tie things up, and then, in the bottom of the ninth, Harry Heilmann scored Ralph Young on a base hit in an amazing climax to Cobb’s debut as manager. Detroit won, 6–5.29

The thrilling finish was an exceptional way to launch the 1921 campaign, but it didn’t take long for Cobb’s unique disposition to become apparent. At Chicago on April 21, he became aggravated to his limits by the instability of Ehmke to throw with any semblance of accuracy. He ran from centerfield to the pitcher’s mound a number of times, halting the game in the process, and laid into Ehmke, which undoubtedly destabilized their recently mended relationship. Harry Bullion remarked that Cobb was going to be “prematurely old” if he expressed the same kind of nervousness every time the Tigers were defeated.30 He appeared overanxious and akin to a micromanager, trying to control each and every moving part of the game. Maybe it came with experience, but he had to learn that the fate of the season usually didn’t rest in the result of a single contest. He couldn’t take a loss personally, and, at the same time, hold a defeat against whichever players were not up to par on that given day.

Rapidly sinking to the depths of the American League standings, the Tigers were failing to capitalize on opportunities and pitching was weaker than expected. Hitting and defense were above standard and even a little consistency from the mound would have gone a long way to win the games they were losing. In May, Detroit braced itself in third place and home fans continued to pour into Navin Field to see what kind of team Cobb was churning out. But things fell apart in the east, and Detroit lost nine in a row between June 11 and June 19, including sweeps by New York and Boston. The heated series against the Yankees saw Cobb resume his quarrel with Babe Ruth.

The hostilities began on June 12, when a photographer sought an updated photo of Cobb and Ruth together, and asked the latter to pose with his Detroit adversary. Babe responded in the negative, curtly dismissing the idea. The photographer instigated matters by telling Cobb about Ruth’s rejection, and the Tigers’ manager was prompted to do a little instigating of his own. He opened up a full barrage of criticism, sarcastic remarks, and vile epithets directed at Ruth, mocking him as a “gorilla,” amongst other things. The situation developed further after both men rushed onto the field to pull Lu Blue from New York catcher Wally Schang, who’d erupted into near fisticuffs moments earlier. With the tensions heightened, they directed frantic comments at each other, and came close to exchanging punches. The verbal jousting went on throughout the game, and likely the rest of the series.31

Ruth was very much superman-like the next day, blasting out two homers and pitching five innings in a 13–8 victory over Detroit. The Brooklyn Standard Union stated that he was out for “revenge” for the recent ridicule and Cobb, incidentally, was the only Tiger to go down on strikes.32 On the whole, the June eastern tour symbolized everything that was wrong with the Tigers, from poor pitching to collapsing in the pinch. A slump by second baseman Ralph Young on defense hurt the infield significantly, and Cobb experimented with Joe Sargent at second and Ira Flagstead at shortstop, replacing veteran Donie Bush. On June 30, Cobb went out with a left knee injury, and placed Chick Shorten in centerfield.33 The club temporarily rebounded, and even though his condition improved in the days following, Cobb refused to disrupt the winning environment that was in place without him, remaining on the sidelines.34

The momentum trailed off, and by the end of July, he was back in the game. But the Tigers were determined to hold down sixth place in the standings and made no serious threat to improve their position for the balance of the season. Cobb, as usual, had a few colorful moments. During a midweek contest at Navin Field on July 13, he watched as his third baseman Bobby Jones was ejected for protesting a called third strike by umpire Billy Evans. Joe Sargent was slated to replace Jones, but when he didn’t listen to Evans’ directions, he too was tossed. Cobb was livid. He yelled his displeasure and later told a reporter that the umpire had exceeded his authority by ejecting Sargent before he even had a chance to get into the action. He said Evans smugly announced, “Get out your check books; this is going to cost you some money!”35

Not ordinarily intimidated on the diamond, thirty-seven-year-old Evans was a capable fighter, and had defended himself from unruly players and patrons innumerable times since becoming an American League umpire in 1906. Mixing with Cobb, whom he respected as a ballplayer, was just another day at the office, and he wasn’t going to shy away from the harsh communication being passed back and forth on that occasion or any other. A little more than two months later, on September 24, 1921, at Washington, D.C., Cobb and Evans picked up where they left off, and had a running dialogue that would’ve made a sailor cringe. Cobb was particularly expressive after being thrown out stealing a base and the final score, 5–1, in favor of the local squad, was anything but pleasing. Jawing on the way to their respective clubhouses, Cobb and Evans agreed to meet under the grandstand to settle things up, but this time using only their fists.36

It was easy to assume that Cobb was the aggressor, but he later refuted any such claim. “I did not challenge him,” he explained in a letter to Joe Williams of the New York World-Telegram. “I have never challenged an umpire to fight.”37 In sync with other controversial moments from Cobb’s career, his scrap with Evans became legendary, but was marred by poetic sportswriters looking for more melodrama than accuracy. He was often portrayed as a sadistic gladiator, provoking fights because he got a kick out of it. But in this case, Evans was the instigator, and acknowledged it himself: “I challenged Cobb and there was nothing else he could do but accept.”38

Agreeing beforehand to what was essentially a no rules brawl, the player and umpire matched up and as many as fifty people watched the “savage” encounter unfold. The fight consisted of wild punches, a modicum of wrestling, and a furious effort put forth by both individuals to gain the upper hand. According to the Washington Evening Star, a total of eight wallops successfully landed, and at the point in which the fight was halted, Cobb was in charge.39 Blood spilled from a cut to Evans’ lip, and after cleaning up, Evans went directly to the Tigers clubhouse and apologized. “I liked him so much for that that I wished our quarrel had never happened,” Cobb explained. “In fact, it should never have happened, because my respect for him was so great.”40

Cobb silenced his critics by regaining his batting form in 1921, and his only competition in the race for league honors came from fellow Tiger Harry Heilmann. Heilmann, a product of San Francisco, had been with Detroit since 1914 and was one of the most talented athletes in the game. Standing 6’1” and weighing more than 190 pounds, he was a natural slugger with an exceptional eye at the plate. Baseball biographers have long scrutinized the relationship of Cobb and Heilmann and emphasized a break in their relations after the latter was designated the 1921 batting champion with a .394 average to Cobb’s .389.41 They offered the theory that Cobb was bitter about losing the title and employed his old trick of not speaking to his right fielder in a display of childish anger.

As was well known, Cobb’s will to be number one in everything was a key personality trait, and he was undoubtedly disappointed in placing second for the batting championship. But with regard to Heilmann, he didn’t appear hostile, at least publicly. He lauded his outfielder, telling a reporter that Heilmann stood next to Nap Lajoie as the best right-handed batter he ever saw perform. “From the start of the recent season, he took the lead, and, excepting one day, he never lost it,” Cobb explained. “He consistently kept his average above the .400 mark all the way, and his work didn’t show a flash in the pan at any time.”42 Heilmann also had good things to say about his manager, declaring, “Whatever success I attain as a ball player, in the game and financially, I owe it to Ty Cobb.” He specifically attributed his upswing in hitting, beginning in 1921, to the mentorship offered by the Georgian.43

On a personal note, Cobb missed three games in June because he hurried to the bedside of his sick grandmother, Sarah Ann, in Cherokee County, North Carolina. The eighty-three year old was the matriarch of the Cobb clan, and was hugely influential in Ty’s life. Throughout his childhood, he spent many summers with his father’s parents in the western mountains of North Carolina, and the wonderful visits were indelibly etched in his mind. He always held his grandmother in the highest esteem. She was wise, perceptive, and, as a “header,” able to brew homemade concoctions to cure just about any kind of ailment. Cobb said that she possessed “one of the most remarkable minds, if not the most remarkable,” he ever came into contact with, and that he “never knew another woman like her.”44 Sarah succumbed to her illness on October 4, 1921.45

Another significant family-related event occurred midseason for Ty, as he and his wife welcomed a new baby son, James Howell, on July 24. In the wake of a difficult delivery, Charlie’s health was of serious concern and Ty rushed home to Augusta to tend to his wife. Many years later, his oldest daughter, Shirley, revealed to biographer Don Rhodes that Charlie suffered “eight miscarriages” in her lifetime and “wasn’t supposed to have any children” after her birth in 1911.46 Fortunately, her condition improved following the arrival of James, their fifth offspring, and he would be their final child.

The Tigers ended 1921 in sixth place with a 71–82 record, 27 games behind the pennant-winning Yankees. New York, led by Babe Ruth’s amazing 59 home runs, ultimately lost the World Series to their cross-town rivals, the New York Giants. Shortly following the season finale in early October, Cobb went to San Francisco to manage a local club for the California Winter League, seemingly building upon his experiences from the prior year. Heading up the three other squads were baseball luminaries Harry Heilmann (Mission district of San Francisco), George Sisler (Vernon), and National League batting champion Rogers Hornsby (Los Angeles). While the four headliners were likely guaranteed sums at or around $10,000 apiece, the league itself was a financial bomb, and moneymen lost upwards of $40,000.47

Poor attendance and bad weather were a detriment, but Cobb made his presence felt on and off the field. Community leaders asked him to attend social events such as the Knights of Columbus gala at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. He was called to make a speech, and Cobb preached clean living and regaled the audience with stories about his big league experiences.48 On the diamond, his San Francisco team was less than successful, and finished last with a 21–29 record. Individually, he batted around .400 and his tenure on the coast included a spiking of catcher Sam Agnew and a ferocious verbal exchange with umpire Bill Phyle, leading to a forfeit, and a $150 fine, the largest penalty of that kind in his career.49 During a game in Los Angeles, he chided a few obnoxious bleacher bums and welcomed any one of them to come down and speak with him personally about their criticisms. None responded favorably to the challenge.50

Already engaged in making preparations for spring training, Cobb moved camp from San Antonio to his hometown, Augusta, Georgia, and began searching for a private home to house his players. He wanted better accommodations than a hotel, improved meals, and quieter surroundings. Two colonial mansions across the Savannah River in North Augusta, South Carolina, filled the bill, and Cobb arranged to rent the structures in January 1922.51 Warren Park in Augusta, additionally, was a much better training ground than what was available in San Antonio, and Cobb believed his team was going to be much better prepared for the upcoming campaign based on that fact.

Trade talks were commonplace in the winter months and Cobb sought a replacement for shortstop Donie Bush, who was placed on waivers in August and picked up by the Washington Senators. Cobb inquired about infielders Joe Dugan and Everett Scott, and Bobby Veach’s name came up as a pawn in a possible swap. But because of Veach’s value, Cobb wanted equal talent in any kind of trade. When nothing panned out, the Tigers embraced the combo of second baseman George Cutshaw, a ten-year veteran of the National League, recently picked off waivers from Pittsburgh, and rookie shortstop Topper Rigney of the Texas League. Cobb also convinced Detroit President Frank Navin to invest heavily in two pitching prospects from the Pacific Coast League, Herman Pillette and Sylvester Johnson.52

California infielder Fred Haney was another addition, joining Detroit by way of Omaha of the Western League. However, the loss of pitcher Dutch Leonard over a salary squabble offset any major gains, and left the rotation weak. Howard Ehmke, the team’s other top hurler, was again at odds with Cobb and requested a trade, only to be rejected.53 The few problems in camp were manageable, and Cobb’s “merciful” training regimen was arranged to properly eradicate winter sluggishness. He told his players to work into form slowly, warning of injuries if pushed too hard, too soon.54 At a Rotary Club barbecue on March 14, with Baseball Commissioner Judge K. M. Landis in attendance, Cobb was praised by his Augusta neighbors, and was touched when the body, in unison, sang their song, “My Hero.”55

A series against George Stallings’ Rochester franchise of the International League was launched in March, and, like Detroit’s tours with Boston in 1919–20, was booked by Walter Hapgood. Hapgood was known for scheduling games in small towns on shoddy fields and he lived up to his reputation. The diamonds were dangerously substandard and accommodations were repugnant. On the first day of the torturous journey, Cobb became sick and bowed out. But his men were forced to continue on and team morale was hurt considerably. On April 4 at Americus, Georgia, Cobb was back in the lineup, and, in trying to help his team, suffered serious injuries sliding into second base. He badly twisted his right knee and ankle, and the demoralizing news highlighted the overall insignificance of the Hapgood tour.56 No exhibition money was worth the loss of a player like Cobb.

Hobbled and in need of a cane to walk, Cobb was nixed from the opening day game at Cleveland on April 12, 1922. He did try to lend his bat for the cause in a brief pinch hitting role, but was unsuccessful. Not counting the home opener on April 20, which he struggled to participate in for the benefit of fans and a handful of pinch hitter appearances, Cobb missed nine games in April and was batting under his weight by the end of the month. On April 30, he was shut down, like the rest of his teammates, by twenty-six-year-old Charlie Robertson of the White Sox on a historic afternoon at Navin Field. In an epic display of mastery, Robertson threw baseball’s fifth perfect game, turning Cobb and his Tigers away one at a time until twenty-seven batters had dejectedly returned to the bench. Sportswriter Harry Bullion said that Detroit was, simply, “helpless.”57

Cobb was “crazy” during the contest, according to Sox captain Eddie Collins. He rampaged back and forth, calling for inspections of the ball by the umpire crew, and assumed Robertson was doctoring the ball in some way. Not only were innumerable balls checked and rechecked, but efforts were made to examine the pitcher’s uniform as well, all in the hopes of locating evidence of trickery. Collins explained that Cobb also slid hard into first base, trying to knock the ball from Earl Sheely’s grip. The tactics didn’t work and Robertson’s invincibility was sustained at the end of the 2–0 game. “[Detroit] tore our clubhouse to pieces that night trying to find what he had done to the ball, but they never found anything,” Collins said.58

Despite losing the first six games of the season and seven-straight to close 1921, plus the perfect game pitched against them, Cobb was still optimistic. He felt his players were maturing quickly into a well-oiled machine—and he was right. The Tigers swept Boston and took three of four from the Yankees on the road in May, and went from last place to third. Cobb’s dramatic arguments with umpires, his precise management style, and willingness to do whatever it took to win was spreading like wildfire throughout the roster, and players who were normally passive were battling for every inch. George Chadwick, a syndicated baseball writer, called the Tigers the “sensation of both leagues,” and said that Cobb’s fighters were proving everyone wrong by doing exactly what pundits said couldn’t be done in Detroit. They were getting timely pitching, strong fielding, and, of course, top-notch hitting up and down the lineup.59

Cobb’s batting average shot from .176 on May 1 to .389 on May 7, helped by a 5-for–5 showing on the latter date. St. Louis fans on May 29 were treated to a rare exhibition of Cobb’s offbeat shenanigans as he yelled passionately at the umpires for repeated transgressions. He crossed the line by stepping on umpire Frank Wilson’s foot, was ejected, and suspended for five games by American League President Ban Johnson. The punishment was excessive, Harry Bullion believed, especially when compared to Babe Ruth’s one-day suspension for throwing dirt at an umpire and running into the stands in chase of a fan at the Polo Grounds on May 25.60 A New Orleans States editorial equated Ruth’s actions to “hoodlumism” and the Tampa Tribune added that the Babe was temperamental, “like all great stars.”61

But questions had to be asked: Was there a double-standard in baseball? Were Johnson and Judge Landis applying one set of laws for their top star, Ruth, and another for everyone else? What kind of punishment would have been levied on Cobb had he thrown dirt into the face of an umpire and again stampeded into the crowd? These were all logical queries, and Bullion was right to compare the two suspensions. However, there was another fact that had to be taken into consideration. Ruth had just come off a thirty-nine-day suspension for barnstorming during off the off-season, easily demonstrating that officials were not pampering the home run king. In fact, Johnson fined Ruth $200 for his rowdy actions at the Polo Grounds and stripped him of his Yankees team captaincy.62

The suspensions of Cobb and Heilmann, who was also punished for his actions in the disorderly St. Louis game, and the illness of Lu Blue temporarily halted the team’s momentum. Bouncing between third and fifth place in July and August, the Tigers were in desperate need of a reliable pitcher to push them over the hump. At the plate, Cobb had a superb July, achieving five hits in each of three different contests, and his average was comfortably over .400.63 He enjoyed a 16-game hit streak into early August and briefly overtook George Sisler at the top of the league rankings. Sisler, though, was having a career year and didn’t fade far from the lead. The press followed every point gained and lost by the two competitors in the clash and displayed amazement at Cobb’s perseverance in his eighteenth big league season.

Tempers flared in New York on August 16, 1922, when Yankees hurler Carl Mays was blamed for throwing a little too close to Bobby Jones, high and inside, with two outs in the ninth. Cobb protested to the umpire, and then went out to jaw at Mays near the mound. The tension was too much for Mays and he gave up a three-run homer to Jones soon thereafter and lost the game, 7–3.64 The next afternoon, Cobb had words for Babe Ruth, in what the Detroit Free Press called “strong repartee.”65 Notably, Ruth’s 1922 figures were down compared to the year prior, but no one could really complain that a .315 average and 35 home runs were overly disappointing.

On September 17, Sisler attained a hit in his 41-straight game, breaking a mark set by Cobb in 1911, and, in keeping with the spirit of good sportsmanship, Cobb sent his friendly rival a telegram of congratulations.66 Sisler went on to win the batting championship, his .420 average beating out Cobb’s .401, and it marked the third and final time Ty would bat over .400 in his career. With the Tigers finishing in third place, unable to touch the Yankees or St. Louis, Cobb started looking toward 1923.67 He was making no promises, but planned for better results in the upcoming year, hoping for team unity and success. Time and again, he proved that individualism was out the window. After one particular hitless afternoon earlier in the season, he told a reporter, “What do I care? We won the game!”68