The Next Pope
Amid the on-going coverage of recent events out of the Vatican, some of you eagle-eyed news junkies may have discovered that it is not a requisite to be an ordained member of the Catholic clergy in order to be voted as the winner of Pope Idol. It is with this understanding that I hereby publicly nominate the following saintly figure:
That's right! Pope Big Randy the First.
Of course, there would necessarily have to be some changes made to standard Catholic protocols. For example, processional music. His Holiness Pope Big Randy the First (PBR#1 for short) would enter to "Paradise City" and exit to - what else? - "Rocket Queen." Also, the Communion wafer would be replaced with Kodiak-branded smokeless tobacco. Holy Water for Holy Old No. 7 Quality Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey. Administratively, PBR#1 would have to replace the title of Cardinal with something that suggests greater moral character and reverence, like Redleg. And instead of the traditional Peace be with you greeting, we Catholics would say How 'boutcha?
Now I know that for you pagan derelicts (i.e. non-Catholics) out there this would all come as a shock. I mean after all, it is difficult to grasp the concept of the Popemobile being an Olds Delta 88 with a crushed fender or a rusting Mustang with leaky t-tops. In time, it would all become commonplace.
Pope Big Randy would be in need of loyal, trustworthy consiglieres. I humbly present to you:
Redleg Mike and Redleg Claudio.
Long-range Reconnaissance
In 1904 the American League, the "Junior Circuit" to the older National League's "Senior Circuit," was in just its 4th season of infancy. The ball club which dominated the earliest few years of the A.L. was Boston's Red Sox, an assortment of ballplayers which largely have been forgotten by modern fans of Our National Pastime save for the ace of their pitching staff. The star pitcher for the Red Sox of this era was an Ohio native named Denton True "Cy" Young. 1904 was Cy Young's 15th Major League season, a season in which he went 26-16 and led the American League with 10 shutouts. Unknown to baseball executives, managerial and coaching staffs, players and fans alike, Cy Young also led the Junior Circuit that season in a statistic invented nearly a century later, "WHIP" or Walks plus Hits divided-by Innings Pitched. The lower the figure the better and in 1904 Cy Young's league-leading WHIP was 0.937.
On August 14th, 1904 the defending 1903 World Champion Red Sox (Major League Baseball's first World Champions) rolled into Chicago to play that city's White Sox. One day earlier the White Sox played host to the New York Highlanders (soon to be re-named Yankees). That game ended in a 3-3 tie when the game was called in the Fifth Inning on account of rain (and, probably, the Highlanders inability to wait out a rain delay on "getaway day" and, thus, an urgent need to get to the train station on time in order to get to the next city's opponent). Pitching for the New York Highlanders in that 3-3 draw was Jack "Happy Jack" Chesbro who in 1904 would set the modern-day (meaning post-1900) MLB record for Complete Games with 48 [the all-time MLB record of seventy-five Complete Games was set in 1879 by Cincinnati Red Will White].
In 1904 the Chicago White Sox boasted of a rookie pitcher who himself would soon set the modern-day MLB record for Innings Pitched in a season when, in 1908, spitballer extraordinaire Ed Walsh threw 464 Innings and led the American League in Wins with an overall record of 40-15 (for the math-challenged out there, that's a .727 winning percentage). No doubt you have already guessed that the all-time MLB record for Innings Pitched belongs to the Reds' Will White who pitched 680 Innings in 1879. The physically imposing "Big Ed" Walsh ranks #1 all-time in career Earned Run Average with an ERA of 1.816. Walsh is one of only three pitchers in MLB history to post a qualifying lifetime ERA (minimum 1000 Innings pitched) under 2.00 and is the only one of the three to have pitched for at least 10 seasons (Big Ed eventually pitched for 14 seasons). For perspective, among currently active pitchers (as of the conclusion of the 2012 season), Yankee closer Mariano Rivera ranks 13th all-time with an ERA of 2.214, making a career of - essentially - pitching one Inning per outing. The next-highest ranked currently active pitcher is the St Louis Cardinals' Adam Wainwright. His lifetime ERA of 3.154 ranks 228th all-time. That's two hundred twenty eighth all-time. In 1907 & 1908, and then again from 1910 through 1912 Ed Walsh led all Junior Circuit pitchers in Games Pitched per season with, in order; 56, 66, 45, 56 and 62. Not surprisingly, Big Ed led the A.L. in Innings Pitched in 1907 and 1908 and again in 1911 and 1912 with 422.3, 464, 368.7, 393. That workload took its toll and in his final five seasons following 1912 Big Ed only once pitched as many as 90 Innings (97 in 1913) and never as many as 50 Innings over his final four Major League seasons. Speaking earlier of the modern SABRmetric statistic of WHIP, Big Ed Walsh ranks 3rd all-time with 0.9996 (Mariano Rivera is 2nd all-time with 0.9978 [watch that stat explode in 2013] and Addie Joss is #1 all-time with 0.9678. Joss pitched five fewer seasons than did Walsh).
Jumping ahead just a few days after the Boston ball club arrived in Chicago on August 14th, 1904 to begin their series with the home-standing White Sox, Red Sox left handed pitcher and native of Dayton, Kentucky Jesse Tannehill threw Boston's second-ever No-Hitter. He blanked the White Sox (and his own brother, Chicago third baseman Lee Tannehill) on August 17th, 1904 by a score of 6-0 and allowed just one base runner (Cy Young tossed the first No-Hitter in Red Sox history when he threw a Perfect Game on May 5, 1904). The Home Plate umpire for Tannehill's No-Hitter was former Cincinnati Red pitcher Frank Dwyer. Tannehill bookended his career in Cincinnati, making his Major League debut with the Reds in 1894 and then concluding his playing days with Cincinnati on April 12, 1911.
The foregoing serves as context to help illustrate how precious Runs were in the Dead Ball Era, a period in baseball history dominated by pitchers scuffing, cutting, and spitting on loosely wound, darkened and dingy baseballs in cavernous ballparks. The foregoing also serves as prelude to the scene depicted in the panoramic photo below of the August 14th, 1904 game between the visiting Boston Red Sox and the home team Chicago White Sox.
First, however, a word of caution.
The panoramic photo below is very large and will stun you into stupefaction upon first glance of the scene taking place on the field of play. Closer examination will cause immediate and synchronized cerebral detonation among my loyal subscribers. I have taken the initiative and notified the proper authorities of this pending medical crisis.
Now, allow me to set for you what I believe to be the stage. I have found no box score or newspaper report, this is all my own interpretation:
It is August 14th, 1904. As night baseball had yet to be pioneered by the Cincinnati Reds, it was a daytime ballgame. The shadows were lengthening, the game must have been in its later Innings. The White Sox, discernible by their white stockings, are in the field - on defense. The Red Sox, likewise discernible by their dark-colored stockings, are batting. My own close examination leads me to believe that the Red Sox had the bases loaded; There appear to be Boston base runners standing on First and Third Bases, with a Boston base runner taking a short lead off Second Base. A Boston batter appears to be joined by the White Sox catcher and the Home Plate umpire (wearing all black) as the three assembled around and behind home plate wait for the White Sox pitcher to knock dirt from his spikes. It will not affect the impact the photo below will have upon you to learn that the Red Sox won the ball game that day by a score of 5-2. Yet that knowledge may help you (and me) to understand the severity of the White Sox defensive positioning at this evidently crucial moment of the game. The game may have been tied 2-2, or perhaps the White Sox were then desperately clinging wide-eye and white-knuckled to a 2-1 lead, trying to stave off a dramatic Red Sox rally. There must have been fewer than 2 Outs. With 2 Out and the bases drunk with Red Sox, a force would have permitted the White Sox to kill the rally at any base on a ground ball to any infielder or simply via a routine pop out or even fly ball to an outfielder. But with the infielders and outfielders drawn in, the scenario unfolding before you is unmistakable; The White Sox had to prevent the base runner on Third from scoring at all costs. It was the base runner on Third run which must necessarily have represented either the tying run or the go-ahead run. Late in the game, in the Dead Ball Era, that potential Boston run may very well have been practically insurmountable.
If you are sufficiently prepared for pending cranial catastrophe, click on the photo below and study it closely before reading on.
The White Sox third baseman is playing behind the bag (but not too deep). Chicago's first baseman is standing next to the base, conversing with the Boston base runner there. The White Sox second baseman is standing squarely in the base path, midway between First Base and Second Base. The shortstop is very nearly in the base path, shifted closer to Second Base in order to keep the Boston base runner from taking too large a lead. So far, so good and not in and of itself unusual.
You may have noted the lack of a second Umpire. The American League began employing 2-man Umpire crews two years earlier, in 1902. Initially the 2-man Umpire crew wasn't the standard, even by 1904. Occasionally games were scheduled and played with but one Umpire. Maybe the (missing) second Umpire had taken ill earlier in the day, he might have missed his train to Chicago or perhaps he'd been arrested and jailed for fraud and general vagrancy. Who knows?
Undoubtedly, when you observed the First Baseman you were struck - stupefied - by the defensive position of the White Sox Right Fielder. He is playing on the infield dirt. Wow!
Then, certainly, you would have scanned the rest of the outfield and this must have been the point when your eyes began to spin like a dial telephone [credit: Marty Brennaman], smoke started pouring from your ears and your brain imploded in a gravitational singularity normally reserved for collapsing stars.
