This Great Game presents baseball history in 1915: Connie Mack's fire sale, Harry Hooper's bouncy homers
Though the FL had staged a fine first impression on the baseball public, the money put forward to spearhead its effort was fast evaporating. The only solution they could think of was to sue major league baseball for antitrust violations. Hearing the case in Chicago would be a famed, crusty trustbuster who doubled as a devout baseball fan: Kenesaw Mountain Landis.
While the FL was quickly making a victim of itself in saturating the baseball market, it was also making an impact on the two established major leagues as well.
Nobody felt that impact worse than Connie Mack and his Philadelphia Athletics.
As the American League entered its 15th season, Mack had all but emerged as its goodwill ambassador. His gentile personality was matched by his ability to bring constant success for his franchise. Mack remained as the league’s only active charter manager, and in his 14 years at Philly, he produced six AL pennants with three World Series triumphs—all achieved over the previous five years, courtesy of the league’s most powerful dynasty to date.
But even as the A’s ran away with another pennant in 1914, attendance shrunk to nearly half the previous year’s total, the Shibe Park faithful perhaps more spoiled over their team’s monotony of dominance.
While the Feds had little to do with the decreased gate—they provided no direct competition in Philadelphia—they were more likely to be blamed for the state of mind in Mack’s clubhouse. (A national recession may have contributed to lagging ticket sales in Philadelphia.) Baseball’s best grouping of talent had begun to argue with one another over who would jump to the Feds and who would remain loyal to the Tall Tactician.
But after Philly’s sleepwalking performance against the Miracle Braves in the 1914 World Series, the only loyalty Mack could entrust was to his franchise’s bottom line. He knew his vast supply of talent would slip away to the Feds if he didn’t pay them what they thought they were worth. Problem was, the A’s were losing lots of money—with not much left.
Mack knew that, one way or another, his dynasty would get dismantled. So he decided to do it himself, on his own terms.
Wasting little time after the Series loss to Boston, Mack set an unmistakable tone for what was to follow. In one day, he released his three top veteran pitchers—Eddie Plank, Chief Bender and Jack Coombs—who between them had won 596 games for Mack, nearly half of the A’s all-time total to date. All three pitchers cleared waivers and Mack lost any chance to get something in return. Free agents all, Plank and Bender migrated to the Federal League, Coombs to Brooklyn.
Shortly thereafter, Mack had to send Eddie Collins, his best offensive weapon, to Chicago after Collins threatened to jump to the Feds. White Sox owner Charles Comiskey paid Mack $50,000 to acquire Collins and assume his multi-year contract at $15,000 a season.
Home Run Baker, the team’s perennial deadball slugger also under a multi-year contract, wanted to stay with the A’s, but also wanted renegotiation. Mack wouldn’t budge, and neither would Baker, whose ensuing holdout would last through all of 1915.
Mack made one newsworthy acquisition during the off-season, bringing in Nap Lajoie from Cleveland. But at 39, Lajoie was no longer the superstar of lore, sending a clue that Mack’s purchase was a skeletal gesture to the fans.
If what was left of the A’s was to be underwhelming to their opponents, it wasn’t noticed on Opening Day. Starting pitcher Herb Pennock threw a one-hit shutout against the Red Sox, with Harry Hooper breaking up a no-hit bid with two out in the ninth.
A month later, Mack punished Pennock for being too good; he was placed on waivers. The Red Sox gladly picked up Pennock, who resumed his trek towards the Hall of Fame.
Things went immediately downhill after Opening Day. Lajoie committed five errors in a game one week later. The A’s headed straight for last place, and when it seemed they had hit rock bottom, they fell even deeper.
The talent of the young pitching staff evaporated. Rube Bressler, who in 1914 won ten of 14 decisions with a stellar 1.77 earned run average, crashed to 4-17 and a 5.20 ERA in 1915. Bullet Joe Bush, a 17-12 hurler the year before, dropped to 5-15. Weldon Wyckoff led the A’s with ten wins. He lost 22.
In one game Mack threw at the opposition Bruno Haas. Haas went the distance, but it was an exercise in torture; losing 15-7, he gave up 11 hits, a major league record 16 walks, and threw three wild pitches. (Haas reinvented himself as a star minor league hitter with the St. Paul Saints during the 1920s.)
As the team descended through the season, Mack continued to deal away his players for cash, though by now those who got traded we’re probably happy to go. Pitcher Bob Shawkey was sold to the New York Yankees; outfielder Eddie Murphy, to the White Sox; and shortstop Jack Berry, to the Red Sox. Berry’s departure left behind only Stuffy McInnis from the famed “$100,000 Infield,” a group of talent—if not a dollar figure—Mack could no longer afford to maintain.
By season’s end, the A’s were a laughable imitation of their former greatness. They finished at 43-109, a staggering 56-game turnaround from the year before. As their record plummeted, so did attendance. The average crowd at Shibe Park was under 2,000.
Mack, to his credit, gave it all he could, as evidenced by the record 56 players he tried out in uniform during the season. He waxed philosophical when it was over, making the understatement of his career: “You can’t win ’em all.”
Unbelievably, it would get even worse before it got better for the Athletics. And it wouldn’t get better for a long time.
For the second straight year, Philadelphia and Boston would get represented in the World Series. But it would be the “other” teams—the Phillies and the Red Sox—vying for the title.
For the Phillies, it was their first National League pennant in their 33-year existence. Stuck for a decade around the .500 level, the Phils broke to the top under rookie manager Pat Moran—but in getting there, had to hold off another miracle attempt by the Boston Braves to claim the NL flag. As in 1914, the Braves went on a run after getting stuck in last place in July—but this time, the magic fell short. Boston could only extend as far as second place, finishing eight games back. (What the Braves lacked in 1915: Their clutch game and a decent batting average (the NL’s worst at .240).)
Two top players who enjoyed the year of their lives boosted the Phillies. Pete Alexander had perhaps the finest season of his great career, leading the NL with 31 wins (against just ten losses), a 1.22 ERA and an exhausting 376 innings pitched; opponents hit just .191 against him. Offensively, the Phillies were shouldered by slugger Gavvy Cravath, whose 24 home runs nearly doubled the runner-up total. It would be the most homers hit this century before Babe Ruth emerged as an everyday hitter.
In Boston, it was Ruth who helped propel the Red Sox back to the World Series—mostly by pitching. The 20-year old lefty won 18 of 24 decisions and was part of an impressively youthful five-man rotation. Ruth was also beginning to raise a few eyebrows at the plate; despite batting just 92 times during the year, Ruth’s four home runs were more than anyone else—regulars included—on the Red Sox. His .315 batting average was surpassed on the roster only by the great Tris Speaker.
The Red Sox survived a close and highly competitive pennant race with the Detroit Tigers to take the AL flag. Both teams had reached the 100-win mark, but the Red Sox had an extra win—and four less losses—to pull away by 2.5 games. Crucial was head-to-head competition between the two teams, of which the Red Sox won 14 of 22. Detroit fell short in spite of another batting title for Ty Cobb, who spiced the achievement with 96 stolen bases—a record that would stand for 47 years.
Both the Red Sox and the Phillies did what they could to bring in extra customers for the World Series. Those adjustments would first handicap, then backfire upon, the Phillies.
For the first two games at Philadelphia, owner William Baker had installed 400 additional seats in right-center field to help ante up more cash for his coffers. But he also did it to make the relative small dimensions of the Baker Bowl even cozier for slugger Gavvy Cravath against a Red Sox lineup that had shown no long ball muscle all year. But Cravath was neutralized by stellar Boston pitching, and the Phillies were lucky to split the first two games thanks to a solid outing by Alexander in Game One.
A year after the Sox had loaned Fenway Park to the Braves during their World Series drive, the defending champs—having since built Braves Field—returned the favor and allowed the Sox to play at their new ballpark for the Series. Strategically, as well as economically, the decision was a no-brainer; Braves Field sat nearly 10,000 more spectators, and its immensely spacious outfield—which included a 550-foot distance from home plate to just right-of-center, and 400 feet down the lines—would hurt Cravath’s chances of driving one out.
Behind more outstanding pitching by Dutch Leonard and Ernie Shore, the Red Sox won both games at Braves Field by 2-1 scores to take a 3-1 Series lead back to the Baker Bowl.
In a seesaw Game Five, the Red Sox became the ironic benefactors of William Baker’s greed. Outfielder Harry Hooper erased an early 2-1 Phillie lead by bouncing a line drive into the temporary bleachers in right-center—decreed, according to the ground rules, as a home run. After the Phils reclaimed the lead at 4-2, the Sox tied it up in the eighth inning on a two-run homer—the legitimate, over-the-fence-on-the-fly kind—by Duffy Lewis.
But in the ninth, Hooper again foiled Baker’s best-laid plans by drilling another bouncer into the same extra seating in right-center. The second of Hooper’s hoping homers matched his entire regular season total, and rewarded the Red Sox with a lead they would keep to help capture their third World Series title.
Only three Red Sox pitchers—Leonard, Shore and Rube Foster—were needed in Boston’s five-game triumph. Babe Ruth sat on the bench, appearing only once in the Series as an unsuccessful pinch-hitter. More frustrated was Gavvy Cravath, who at least had the chance to contribute. Handcuffed throughout, he managed only two hits in 16 at-bats.
Before the season closed down, Kenesaw Mountain Landis had closed his book on the antitrust lawsuit brought on by the Federal League—telling both parties to settle it amongst themselves. It neutered the Feds’ ability to sue for peace and forced them to negotiate, dooming any hope for survival.
Just before Christmas, the three leagues reached agreement. Fed owners in Chicago and St. Louis were allowed to purchase, respectively, the Cubs and the Browns and bring aboard their players. Other Fed franchises got healthy doses of severance pay. All Fed players became free agents, and the league officially declared itself defunct after just two seasons.
Feeling they got the very short end of the settlement stick, owners for the Feds’ Baltimore Terrapins went back to court to keep the antitrust suit alive. Their long and winding road would lead to the Supreme Court seven years later, where they met resounding defeat—and witnessed the creation of a little something for baseball called the antitrust exemption.