THAT JOB STUNK ANYWAY

August 29, 1924

Rachel beat me to it, and her letter was short and not all that sweet:

Dear Vinny:

Where in God's name are you? I thought we were engaged!

I crumpled the page up on our front stoop, getting a weird look from the postman. Didn't she know I'd been traveling with the team for two weeks? What did she think I was up to?

Benny gabbed my ear off on the streetcar about how many runs we were going to score off Joe Genewich and his 3-16 record, but I wasn't even pretending to half listen. I'd been trying to talk to Rachel's father about our wedding plan for a long time, but my batboy job and colored exhibition game business got in the way every time. On the next Phillies trip to Brooklyn I had to take care of things.

Joe Oescheger got elected to start our next win-or-die game, but he was a creaky wheel from the second batter, when he botched Stuffy McInnis' little bouncer to put a man on first. After the second out, Stengel, Bancroft, Gibson and Padgett all singled, Tierney walked, and it was 4-0 in favor of the lousy Braves. We got a run back in the last of the 1st, and then three singles a walk and passed ball in the 3rd tied the score and got the dugout all electrified when we saw the Reds were up 4-0 on the Pirates across the state.

Oeschie just couldn't keep himself together, though. A Padgett single with two outs in the 5th put them up by one, and then in the 6th, his arm turned into spaghetti. A walk, two singles and a double began things, and after one out Tierney knocked home two more with a single and five Boston runs were across. Glazner took over to mop the bloody floor but we all knew our crazy pennant dream was over.

And that was when I'd had enough. It was another in a string of brutally hot days, and after Cy singled in our 6th to put two aboard, Wrightstone picked the worst time to start yapping at me because I'd handed him "the wrong stick". After arguing for a few seconds I just went back in the dark dugout, brought out the same one and he never knew the difference.

Or so I thought. With the score 11-5 Braves in the last of the 9th he started for home plate to start our last rites, then turned back and shook his bat in my face.

"Ever since you showed up and helped those colored boys take our jobs, we haven't had one piece of luck." When I tried to yell back he told me to shut up, so I yelled even louder.

"So do something about it, you dope! Hit a six-run homer and tie the game!" He raised his bat like he was going to club me with it and I snatched it out of his paw, ran over to a rail next to our dugout and smashed the bat in half, threw both pieces in his direction. Fletcher, every player on the field, in both dugouts and every fan in the stands was staring at me in shock but I didn't give a crumb. I ripped off my hat and uniform, dropped them in the dirt and walked down the left field line and right out the exit gate in my long johns.

I think the first time I looked up again was when I reached the Western Union office and grabbed a telegram form. The guy behind the counter took one look at me and said, "You better put some pants on there, son." I didn't say a word, just stood there and wrote out my message:

DEAR RACHEL:

ROBINS SCHEDULED FOR DOUBLE-HEADER HERE ON LABOR DAY. BRING FATHER AND I'LL BUY HIM LUNCH BECAUSE DON'T THINK I'LL BE WORKING.

—VINNY

"Son?" the guy said again, "Your pants?"

"Never mind that. Where's the nearest flower delivery place?"

BOS 400 010 510 - 11 16 1
PHL 103 000 102 - 7 15 2

Other National League games today:

REDS 9-19-1, at PIRATES 6-11-1
Leave it to the Phils to drop through the pennant race trap door on a day when the Bucs actually lose. And give up 19 hits, no less. Sometime starter Rube Benton goes to 7-0, Bressler and Critz both rack up two singles and a triple, and Cuyler goes hitless for the first time in a couple of blue moons.

GIANTS 8-13-4, at ROBINS 5-11-1
Boy, no wonder Rachel was in a bad mood. Brooklyn drops their third straight as Grimes gets pummelled for four runs in the 5th after his team had gotten the game close. Kelly continues his late hitting charge with three more of them and three runs knocked in to help McQuillan get the win.

CARDINALS 5-9-0, at CUBS 3-8-1
Two homers from Ray Blades do in Elmer Jacobs and the Cubs, who always seem to lose when they're a win away from hitting the .500 mark. Geez, it's almost like they're cursed or something.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Mr. Scott Simkus of the great state of Illinois, well-known for his devout spelunking into the forgotten box score caves of colored baseball, graciously interviewed me for his Interweb page the other day. Click on this word to transport yourself at once!

NATIONAL LEAGUE through Friday, August 29
Pittsburgh Pirates	80	44	.645	—
Brooklyn Robins	72	54	.571	9
Cincinnati Reds	72	55	.567	9.5
New York Giants	68	56	.548	12
Chicago Cubs	62	64	.492	19
St. Louis Cardinals	61	65	.484	20
Philadelphia Phillies	53	75	.414	29
Boston Braves	36	91	.283	45.5

BACK INTO THE BRONX SWAMP

KILLER NATS SWARM OVER YANKS, BITE FANS

By C. Jedediah Butterworth
Base Ball Freescriber

August 28, 1924

NEW YORK—So this is a juggernaut.

As my dearly departed Tigers train their way to the far west environs of St. Louis, my flight with Dean C. Smith from Boston arrives early here last night thanks to ferocious tail winds, and it takes me half of this morning to recover the use of my stomach. It then takes the Senators three innings for, me, the other writers and the 20,000 or so Yankee Stadium fans to lose their appetites all over again.

New York's pennant dream succumbed months ago, and now, save for the valiant efforts of one George Herman Ruth, they seem to be playing their shabbiest ball of the campaign. Far more worthy of my venom has been Herb Pennock, the alleged ace of their pitching lineup, who after today's debacle has a perfectly miserable mark of 14-15.

I've grown accustomed to Washington's ways, their unmatched pitching, speed and fielding, and all are on display here. Curly Ogden wins his tenth game in his last eleven outings with a tidy 6-hitter, half of the Yankee hits belonging to the Babe. After Pennock plunks Bluege in the 2nd, Peckinpaugh rifles a triple, scores on a Ruel single and the crowd is instantly morbid.

In the 3rd inning, though, the cemetery opens for business. Judge stains Pennock with a lead double. Goslin walks. McNeely singles. Bluege walks. Peckinpaugh singles. With the infield back to help their way out of the mess, the Yanks give up another when Scott butchers Ruel's little roller for an error. A wild pitch scores yet another, and after a Harris single and two more walks it is 8-0 for the landsliding Senators. A mashed Ruth double and 2-run Pipp single in the last of the 3rd gets the mob somewhat vocal, but it is fleeting. The next four frames offer nothing in the way of scoring or action, and the few Yankee fans who remain in their seats appear to be napping.

Leave it to the Nats, then, to wake them up with another flurry of cold slaps. A McNeely triple in the middle of a four-slice single sandwich adds three in the 8th to finally send Pennock packing, before six consecutive batters reach base off Al Mamaux in the 9th for the final three runs.

New York is actually a respectable 9-10 now against the first-placers, but there is nothing dignified about being drawn and quartered. Joe Bush will take on Zachary tomorrow in the latest local attempt to save face.

WAS 026 000 033 - 14 17 1
NYY 002 000 000 - 2 6 1

Only other American League games played today:

at RED SOX 6-14-1, ATHLETICS 5-11-0
The best game of the day occurs after I leave Boston. Trailing 5-0 to Heimach, the Red Sox score three times in the 7th with the help of a 2-run Flagstead pinch triple, tie the game in the 9th on two-out safeties by Heving, Geygan and Harris, then win it in twelve off Meeker on a Geygan double, Harris walk and Denny Williams single.

WHITE SOX 3-7-0, at INDIANS 2-10-0
Ted Lyons survives a game he has no business winning by coaxing the Tribe into three twin killings. Cleveland's wretched record in one-run affairs drops to 10-29 as a Willie Kamm single off Shaute in the 4th puts Chicago ahead for the duration.

AMERICAN LEAGUE through Thursday, August 28
Washington Senators	79	47	.624	—
Detroit Tigers	69	58	.543	10.5
Chicago White Sox	64	61	.512	14.5
New York Yankees	60	64	.484	18
St. Louis Browns	61	66	.480	18.5
Boston Red Sox	60	66	.476	19
Philadelphia Athletics	57	71	.445	23
Cleveland Indians	56	73	.434	24.5

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE NUTTY HOME

August 28, 1924

Ah yes, back in my own lumpy bed. Back to waking up to Mama's bacon and egg smells and an extra bowl of her maple oatmeal and geez I better write to Rachel soon if I know what's good for me. Back to Benny showing up at my door too early and the nickel streetcar ride to hot, smelly and nutty Baker Bowl, which was packed today for a weird Thursday doubleheader against the worst team in baseball.

With the number to kick the Phillies out of the pennant race down to three, I was looking forward to putting off that sad business with a nice long day running our smoking bats back and forth to the dugout while various Phils took them to the Braves' heads.

No deal. After seeing our colored replacements finish off the Bucs in extra innings yesterday, the white players were still in dreamland, and hit like a bunch of corpses against Mr. Larry Benton of Boston, who at game time had a 5-15 record and earned run average of 7.42. Formerly Luckless Lawrence walked seven Phillie hitters, all at the bottom of our lineup, and not a single one could score.

Meantime Hal Carlson got hurt after doing his typical escape tricks the first two innings, and Steineder had to take over for the next five. Casey Stengel singled in a run off him in the 3rd put he threw darn good until the 8th inning came around. A Cunningham walk and singles from McInnis and Sperber brought on Glazner, who quickly gave the Braves two more runs they didn't even need.

The 3-hit shutout got our club house all heated again between games and this time even yours truly made a speech. "C'mon guys," I piped up, "Didn't we just win three in a row in Cincy? How can we let these stinky jerks push us around? There's brats in knee socks at my school who swing harder than you!" Everyone was laughing at me under their breath up to that point, but then the brat line made everything quiet. I quickly apologized and took those words back, but Cy came over and patted my arm.

"We all hear what you're saying, kid. Just be ready to hit for me in the bottom of the 9th if we need you."

That shut me up good, and I thanked God he was kidding. Even though I did spend a little more time looking at our smaller bats before Game 2.

Dutch Stryker, who's even worse than Benton, was going for Boston, while the only pitcher who's so bad he should be in prison for impersonating one, Clarence Mitchell, went for us. Three singles gave them a run in the 2nd, but after Wilson got plunked with a ball in our 2nd, Hod Ford said enough of this malarkey and belted one into the packed bleachers in left to give us the lead, and our first runs for a few days.

Then it was time for Clarence the Clown. McInnis doubled with one gone in the 3rd. Mann singled, Felix singled. Cotton Tierney hit a two-out, three-run homer and it was 5-2 Braves. Steineder couldn't be used again, so after four Brave singles began the 4th, Art Fletcher walked out to the hill with his giant butterfly net and scooped Clarence out of the game for Glazner. Whitey wasn't much better, and it was 9-2 them when Betts took over in with two gone in the 5th.

I was suddenly hating my batboy job. The score board showed the Pirates beating up on the dying Reds to no one's surprise, and if we lost this second game we'd be finished for the year. I couldn't give another speech or even enjoy watching the game because it stunk like a dead mule and I was too busy hauling bats around anyway. All I had to look forward to was another club house of doom later and someone smashing something and everyone looking for a good illegal place to drink.

Which is when Betts tripled in a run for us. Old Huck, the only sort-of-reliable relief man we'd had all year and used more than an eskimo's snowshoes, had just knocked in our third run of the game for the sheer heck of it. From that point on, Betts didn't say a word, just pitched his brain off and gave the Braves nothing but three singles the rest of the way.

What he gave us was hope. It also helped that Stryker went out with a gimp leg and manager Bancroft stuck Lou North in, a pitcher even worse than Stryker. Cy looked a little insulted by that, and after Gus Felix dropped Heinie's fly for a 3-base error to start our 8th, he tripled Sand home, and two outs later, Wilson bombed a home run and it was 9-6 just like that!

North was still in there to begin the 9th, and after Ford walked and Henline hit a pinch-double, Skinny Graham, the best reliever on either team, came on. But Skinny didn't have a chance against the angry Phils. Harper singled right away, and Mann booted a ball in right to make it 9-8. Holke bunted the runners over, and here was Cy walking up again. The crowd was out of its skull. Skinny threw him a couple low ones, then missed high and Cy shot it on a line into right for a 2-run single and got every Brave walking off the diamond and every Phillie player and fan jumping around loony-style. What a win!

We felt like the governor had taken nooses off our necks, and Benny bought ice cold cherry fizzers for the whole room down at Mort's later. Which is exactly why you never, ever leave a ballpark early. Living for another pitch, another at-bat, another inning and another day is the sweet and sticky blood that squirts through baseball's veins.

BOS 001 000 021 - 4 10 0
PHL 000 000 000 - 0 3 0

BOS 014 310 000 - 9 18 2
PHL 020 010 034 - 10 10 1

Other National League games today:

at PIRATES 9-13-0, REDS 5-16-1
Cincy outhits the Bucs but spread theirs all over the place while Pittsburgh jumps on Dolf Luque for an Earl Smith homer in the 2nd and a single-single-single-double-single-pitcher error-single-single in the 3rd, all in a row with one out. Leadoff triples from Grimm and Traynor later produce the other runs in today's winning Pittsburgh classroom lesson for their 80th win.

at CUBS 8-9-2, CARDNALS 6-10-0
Two straight for the Cubbies over their western neighbors, and it's another teeter-totter game. the Cards wipe out 4-2 Chicago lead in 7th with back-to-back homers from Blades and Hornsby before Cubs score four times in same inning off Flint Rhem to take the lead for good. Back in the cleanup hole, Rajah also has a triple and two doubles and springs his batting mark up to .411.

GIANTS-ROBINS start tomorrow at Ebbets Field, for what that's worth.

NATIONAL LEAGUE through Thursday, August 28
Pittsburgh Pirates	80	43	.650	—
Brooklyn Robins	72	53	.576	9
Cincinnati Reds	71	55	.563	10.5
New York Giants	67	56	.545	13
Chicago Cubs	62	63	.496	19
St. Louis Cardinals	60	65	.480	21
Philadelphia Phillies	53	74	.417	29
Boston Braves	35	91	.278	46.5

A FLIGHT FROM STAGNATION

BENGALS BOMB IN BEANTOWN BOW BUT DAILY THRILLS AWAIT

By C. Jedediah Butterworth
Base Ball Freescriber

August 27, 1924

BOSTON—I meet Mr. Munsey of the New York Sun outside Fenway Park this morning, and sign my contract to write for his newspaper on top of a sausage wagon. The new venue does have a sweet, meaty aroma to it. While the Sun will own the first day of publication, I will keep my "freescriber" status and be able to sell my work twenty-four hours later to anyone I desire. What's more, Munsey's outift will handsomely pay for all of my travel necessities, which will be numerous and swift if I am to follow both pennant leaders. In fact, as I climb the steps into the Fenway press row, I worry that I am diving into a pot of boiling water too hot to grasp.

Then I look up to see the host of reporters doffing their boaters and clapping at me. All ball writers secretly wish for the freedom and respect I've just obtained, and are either honored to have me among them or thrilled I'm to be leaving. I vote on the former scenario.

My ball club apparently never receives the telegram, though, for they turn in their second straight ghastly showing to close out the far eastern portion of their trip. Ed Wells throws his usual nonsense in the 1st, giving Boston two runs on four quick singles before settling down to watch from the dugout in despair as Alex Ferguson smotes his mates. The Tigers only score a run in the 4th after Geygan throws away a Lu Blue grounder and Bassler singles him in.

Detroit does put other men aboard throughout, but each effort is wasted, and it's just a matter of time before Wells loses his mettle again. Yes, with two outs in the last of the 8th and no one on base, Shano Collins rips his third single, Val Picinich triples, Homer Ezzell singles and the Red Sox lead is three. Shano makes a hideous two-base error in the top of the 9th to help us get both tallies back, but it only makes for a more frustrating defeat when Manush and Heilman roll out with the lead runs aboard.

So the Tigers slink off to St. Louis for the weekend, tails drooping. I exit the ball park gate, ready to start the next phase of my employment, when a taxicab screeches up to the curb in front of me. A shadowy figure leaps out of the back door, yanks me inside and we drive off.

"Congrats, chief."

I turn and see it's Dean C. Smith the, wild young flier who piloted me from Michigan to Pennsylvania for the great white/colored series in Darby. He has a flask in his hand and something foul on his breath.

"Nice gig they gave ya, Cal old buddy. Sounds like you're gonna need a little bit of aerial transport to make it all work, dontcha think?"

Come to think of it, I probably do, but Smith smacks the driver on the shoulder before I can even reply.

"East Boston Airfield, on the quick."

DET 000 100 002 - 3 6 0
BOS 200 000 02x - 4 10 2

Other American League games played today:

BROWNS 5-11-0, at SENATORS 3-6-1
The tough Brownies steal another one from the Nats, who they are now a decent 8-11 against. Mogridge gives them four runs early and Danforth keeps the wall up until Washington gets three of them back late. But a big Jacobson double off Slim McGrew in the 9th basically finishes the game and keeps Detroit ten back on the highway.

at YANKEES 4-5-1, INDIANS 3-11-1
Ruth finally does what he's paid to do, swatting his 37th homer, a 3-run shot, in the 6th inning off Sherry Smith to erase what was a 3-1 Tribe lead and make Sad Sam Jones happy.

at ATHLETICS 2-5-0, WHITE SOX 1-8-3
The kind of ridiculous affair Chicago often wins this time goes to their enemy. Rommel outfoxes his way out of many predicaments, then breaks the 1-1 tie with a scoring single in the 7th to plate Harry Riconda.

AMERICAN LEAGUE through Wednesday, August 27
Washington Senators	78	47	.624	—
Detroit Tigers	69	58	.543	10
Chicago White Sox	63	61	.508	14.5
New York Yankees	60	63	.488	17
St. Louis Browns	61	66	.480	18
Boston Red Sox	59	66	.472	19
Philadelphia Athletics	57	70	.449	22
Cleveland Indians	56	72	.438	23.5

AN ALL-DAY BATTLE INTO THE WET AND DARK

August 27, 1924

I was tossing and turning all night, and it wasn't because of the nearby factory smoke coming in my Schenley Hotel window. Fletcher wanted Rube to bring the colored stars to Pittsburgh for the last game of the trip and put the dang Bucs in their place. To me and Benny it was a great idea, but also a completely nerve-cracking one, which is probably why my friend was down at Muzzy's Pool Hall most of the night distracting himself. If the Black Phillies even showed up who knew what the white ones would do, or how the Pirate fans would feel, or if Judge Landis would kick our team out of the league!

Cy was the only real quiet player at breakfast, so I knew he hadn't told any of the others what was going on, and Fletcher wasn't there because he was at the train station waiting for Rube. That crazy kitchen girl Gretchen who I almost got into trouble with on my last time through here was staying far away from my table, but I was so twisted up over the upcoming game I almost asked if I could hide out in her river cabin the whole day and make possum stew or something.

But no, I am a professional batboy and emergency third base coach after all, and whatever players ended up taking the field were gonna need their bats. So I got off the trolley at Forbes and South Bouquet, walked through the side gate and into the visiting club house ready for anything.

And anything's what I got. Rube was in there with a team of his best stars, going forehead-to-forehead with George Harper and Fletcher between. "You HAD your playin' time already, boy!" is all Harper kept saying, and Rube came back with "Then how come you invited us back? Maybe 'cause you lillies beat these Pirates twice all year." To which Wrightstone butted in with his goony face all red, "WE wasn't the ones who sent the invitation, and you haven't beaten 'em ether!" The other players milled around but none of them jumped in until Cy finally separated the mess and yelled at the room.

"No one's taking your job, George! That goes for all of you! We just don't want to leave Pittsburgh knowing they got their 80th win against us, that's all. And what's wrong with seeing them get their teeth knocked out for one day? Forget what color these guys are, they got our big winning steak going, didn't they? Seems to me we owe 'em a little encore."

Harper, who'd already dressed for the game, ripped his uniform off, marched over to a trash barrel and stuffed it inside rather than give it to one of the coloreds. Wrightstone did the same thing, but the other players felt dumb with Oscar Charleston and Mule Suttles standing there looking at them none too happy, and handed over their uniforms.

The Forbes crowd went wild in a good way when the Black Phillies took their field. They'd been reading in the papers about how the Pirates were hoping to play and beat them again, and sure enough, every Buc in the home dugout had a big smirk when they saw Smokey Joe Williams lead the pack onto the field. Bullet Joe had started for us last time instead of the smokey one, and the Pirates cuffed him around for 13 hits. We all knew Smokey meant business because he had a bigger Cuban cigar in his mouth than usual before he left the dugout.

The game started on the later side to fit all the Pirate and colored fans into the park, and there were folks standing everywhere. The air was real humid and green-black clouds seemed to be getting together on the horizon. Ray Kremer was going for the Bucs and even though Torriente walked to start the game and Mule got him to third with a single, Charleston fanned to help Kremer get out of the jam and set off the crowd. Turkey Stearnes singled off him to begin the 2nd, went nowhere, but Smokey Joe was all-game-faced and got the first six Pirates without a hitch, whiffing Traynor too.

Then Wright booted Torriente's grounder on the hard Forbes infield to begin the 3rd. Pop Lloyd and Oscar both skied out, but Mule crushed one high off the left wall that just missed going out and Torriente ran in all the way from first, giving me a pretty nice breeze in my third base coach box when he went past. Wright made up for the boot with a lead single off Smokey in the last of the 3rd but he was left high and dry. Smokey bounced into a double play to kill a little rally in the top of the 4th, and then the bottom of the 4th happened.

It started kind of quiet with an infield single from Carey. Max danced around off the bag more than he usually does, which I figured was his way of making fun of the colored style. Smokey threw over there a bunch of times, which got the crowd all angry and lost him his focus. Yup, there went Eddie Moore whacking a single into left and bringing up the dreaded Cuyler. Kiki helped us out with a roller out to Dobie Moore, but the shortstop tossed it wide to Pop for an error and the bases were loaded!

One thing's been clear all season with this Buc team: make one mistake and they'll bash your brains into oatmeal. Mama? Serve it up! Big and tough Earl Smith walked to the plate, spit on his hands and put the first pitch high and long over the brick wall in right for a grand slammer! The Forbesians went crazy (except for the colored fans), Smokey Joe hung his head with a hand on his hip and didn't even watch Smith roll around the bases. He walked Traynor, but then got the next three guys and re-lit his cigar when he got in the dugout and just sat there with his legs crossed, like he'd just been taking out the trash.

Kremer, meanwhile had gotten even tougher. He put us down in the 5th and 6th with only a Turkey single in the way. Smokey got the side 1-2-3 in the same innings, back to his old self, but he knew he couldn't stay in the game if we weren't scoring. So Cool Papa Bell batted for him with one out in the top of the 7th and ripped a single. Torriente got him over to third with another one, which was when I whispered in Cool Papa's ear to tag up on a deep fly. Bell brushed me off like I was a bug and said, "Son? I'm comin' in on a sneeze." Lloyd then popped one halfway out to Cuyler in left and Cool Papa was across the plate in a dust cloud before I could even turn my head.

Cannonball Redding took over for Smokey and got Kremer to bunt-pop into a double play with Wright on first, killing their 7th. Then Mule clubbed his second double to start the 8th. Jud Wilson knocked him home with a single to make it 4-3. The stands got nervous. The dark clouds were closer now and had erased the sun. With Turkey at the plate, Smith let a ball dribble off his mitt and Wilson went to third. Stearnes grounded out to hold him there but Dobie picked out a fast ball and cracked it into center to tie the game! Whoa, boy.

Redding threw two more scoreless innings, giving up two singles in each one but getting out of the jams, and on we went into extra innings. Not one person had left the park, also because the exit tunnels were so jammed with standers that no one could move down them if they wanted to. A few drops of rain were falling and rumbles and lightning flashes were kicking in.

Arnie Stone, who took over for Kremer, got the first two Black Phils in the 10th but then Turkey worked himself a walk. Willie Wells batted for Dobie and destroyed a ball into the left gap between Cuyler and Carey. I windmilled my arm, jumped around in the coach box and yelled at Turkey, but he didn't need any help from me. The problem was that Kiki had already picked up the ball and uncorked it toward home. Turkey almost ran into me rounding third, started sliding on his belly four feet from the plate but Smith was waiting there like a good-sized tree, the ball waiting in his hand and Turkey ramming into his gut couldn't knock the thing loose. OUT! ! No one could believe we were still tied.

Redding gave up two more singles in his 10th, one to Cuyler of course, but he got Smith on a deep fly to send us to the 11th. Beckwith hit for Cannonball in the 11th and whiffed, and Bullet Joe Rogan came on to pitch. Traynor, Wright and Rabbit couldn't touch him, and we went to the 12th.

It was almost too dark to play all of a sudden, and the umpires had a meeting to talk about it. But the crowd started yelling and they kept the action going, which was definitely the best plan. Tubby Scales agreed, as he hit for Lloyd and creamed a triple to begin the 12th. Up came Oscar, who was zero-for-five with two whiffs and in no mood to be the game's goat. Stone threw him a big curve and he whacked it high and deep to center. Carey caught the ball and Tubby skipped home clapping his hands. Mule celebrated the lead with a second triple, but Stone got a couple of grounders to end the inning.

It was up to Bullet Joe to save this thing. He got pinch-hitter Gooch and Carey, but then Rev Cannady at third let Grimm's grounder play him and the Bucs had a man on first. Eddie Moore was up, with Cuyler on deck. If everyone in the place wasn't screaming, they sure were inside themselves. Moore worked the count up, then sent a hot grounder out to Willie Wells at short, who stepped on the second bag for the force. It was never close to being easy, but we'd beaten the Big Bad Bucs!

The Pirate fans were so stunned by what they'd seen they forgot to throw things on the field, and we were off it and into the dugout before they could breathe again. The thunderstorm exploded over the park right then, too, and by the time it ended about a half hour later, the Black Phillies and dark clouds were gone forever, and there we were boarding our train back to Philly, ready to roll out the rest of our sorry season with a victory twinkle in our eyes.

—Vinny

BLACK PHILLIES
001 000 120 001 - 5 13 2
PIRATES
000 400 000 000 - 4 10 1

W-Rogan L-Stone HR-Smith


Only other National League game today:

at CUBS 7-11-1, CARDINALS 6-14-1
Another great one, not that anyone noticed who wasn't at Cubs Park. With both teams tied for 5th place with the exact same record, it's a back-and-forth teeter totter game between Dickerman and Aldridge, finally won on a two-out, bases loaded single by Cliff Heathcote in the 8th. Hornsby tried hitting in the third spot and went 0-for-5, so don't expect him there again tomorrow.

NATIONAL LEAGUE through Wednesday, August 27
Pittsburgh Pirates	79	43	.653	—
Brooklyn Robins	72	53	.576	8.5
Cincinnati Reds	71	54	.568	9.5
New York Giants	67	56	.545	12.5
Chicago Cubs	61	63	.484	19
St. Louis Cardinals	60	64	.488	20
Philadelphia Phillies	52	73	.411	28.5
Boston Braves	34	90	.274	46

OUT OUT, DAMNED FATE!

ILL-TIMED JOHNSON INJURY SPARKS 6-3 RED SOX COMEBACK

By C. Jedediah Butterworth
Base Ball Freescriber

August 26, 1924

BOSTON—My breakfast at the Copley Plaza today is surprisingly paid for by one Frank Munsey, publisher of the New York Sun. He travelled up from Gotham to expressly thank me for inadvertently publicizing his newspaper during my recent Ruthian escapade in his city, but now he has a new flower for me to pluck.

"Why cover the Tigers day in and day out when you can wax eloquently on only the best?" I ask what he explicitly means and he offers me a new job: to follow only the Senators and Pirates for the rest of the campaign while they battle for base ball's top record down the September stretch, and publish my findings in the Sun for more weekly money than I've ever earned. I remind him how loyal my Detroit reading audience has been, and that the Tigers are currently just nine games to the rear and fully capable of making a late charge, but Munsey merely scoffs, comfortable with his proposal and ready to tip our waiter.

And then the Grim Ball Reaper, the Dark Queen of Fates, chooses to intervene.

Syl Johnson is pitching a marvelous game at Fenway, surrendering only one single and two walks through the first four innings, while a Denny Williams outfield error helps give us our 1-0 advantage in the top of the 1st. Sylvester then swings awkwardly at a Howard Ehmke pitch in the 5th, twists his ankle and is forced to leave the game. Cobb triples in two runs moments later, maybe his most important hit of the year, but everyone in our dugout knows our road-weary bullpen will be no match for the Boston bats with Johnson gone.

And we are correct. Herm Pillette comes on first to face the righties, but two singles and a walk leading the Boston 6th finish him off. Then Bert Cole tries his luck and has none, Val Picinich tripling in two for the 4-3 Red Sox lead. Two singles and two walks in the 7th bring on Stoner, but the contest is already lost.

Meanwhile, Ehmke gives us only one hit after Cobb's 5th inning triple and sails the late-inning seas for the easy win. With the Senators painting the Griffith Stadium walls with the Browns (see below), it is a most disheartening loss, and puts me in a most blue frame of mind as I return to my hotel suite.

And contact Mr. Munsey by telephone...

DET 100 020 000 - 3 4 1
BOS 000 004 20x - 6 6 2

Other American League games played today:

at SENATORS 12-15-1, BROWNS 4-8-1
Walter Johnson notches his 20th win, and the outcome is never in doubt from the opening bell. A Ruel walk and Leibold triple startle Urban Shocker as the Nats plate runs in the first six innings against the purported St. Louis ace, included a 2-run homer in the 5th stroked by Walter himself. As he did his last time out, the Big Train derails in the 8th as the Browns score four times, but on this occasion earns his relaxing time on the bench watching Russell finish up.

INDIANS 3-8-3, at YANKEES 0-4-0
After a rare home win, the Yanks revert to godawful form, getting blanked easily by Luther Roy, he of the 3-11 record and 153 hits allowed in 96 innings. The Tribe has Speaker and Myatt out of the lineup, commit three errors, and New York still can't do anything. Per usual, Ruth is 0-for-3 with men on base and doubles with no one aboard.

WHITE SOX 4-9-0, ATHLETICS 1-8-3
The Mackmen bobble three balls, hit into four double plays and somehow make Sarge Connally resemble Ed Walsh out there.

AMERICAN LEAGUE through Tuesday, August 26
Washington Senators	78	46	.629	—
Detroit Tigers	69	57	.548	10
Chicago White Sox	63	60	.512	14.5
New York Yankees	59	63	.484	18
St. Louis Browns	60	66	.476	19
Boston Red Sox	58	66	.468	20
Philadelphia Athletics	56	70	.444	23
Cleveland Indians	56	71	.441	23.5

THE FIRST DAY OF THE END OF THE PENNANT RACE

August 26, 1924

After the Bucs ambushed us in the 9th yesterday and squeaked out another late win (making them 15-2 against us and 13-4 in extra innings vs. the league), they were mouthing off to writers again about how lousy a team we were and that the Black Phillies really bowed out because they were afraid to face them again. This drove Art Fletcher crazy. He was so mad afterwards he wouldn't come out of the shower and Cy had to do all our talking to the reporters.

Today with Jimmy Ring going against Johnny Morrison, we figured we at least had a fair chance, but the first two innings proved that this is a Pirate year through and through, and nothing Fletcher tries with our bunch is going to work.

Need a little evidence? After Carey and Grimm went out in the Buc 1st, Eddie Moore doubled and up came Cuyler, haunter of our dreams. After winning the game yesterday with a deep blast, Fletcher got cute and walked him on purpose, setting off the home crowd and bringing up Earl Smith.

Why did anyone think that would work? Smith cold-cocked the first Ring pitch into the right corner to score both runs. The Phils got angry enough to get them right back when Cy doubled leading the 2nd and two singles, a walk and passed ball followed, but these Pirates eat challenges for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Wright singled, Rabbit walked, Morrison bunted them over, and Fletcher pulled in the infield for Carey, who cracked one right past Ford for a 2-run single. After a Moore walk, Art said the hell with it and pitched to Cuyler this time—who of course singled for run number five.

The score stayed 5-2 them for the next four and a half innings, Morrison showing why he's 12-4 by shutting down every scoring chance easily. In the 7th the Bucs got another run on a Traynor single and Wright bounced one out to Heinie, who booted the double play chance to make it 7-2 and send Fletcher screaming into the club house tunnel.

Cy took over but he was just as disgusted and wouldn't even take Ring out when Carey led with a homer in the 8th and four straight Pirates singled. Fletcher was nowhere to be found later, and when I asked Cy where he went he took me aside and dropped his voice.

"Western Union. He's sending a telegram to Rube Foster in Chicago."

Oh boy. I knew what that meant. But wouldn't that get us in trouble with Judge Landis?

"Worth the consequences if you ask me," said Cy, "Damn Bucs want some competition for a day? Guess we might as well oblige 'em."

—Vinny

PHI 020 000 010 - 3 9 1
PIT 230 000 25x - 12 16 0

Other National League games today:

at CARDINALS 6-4-0, ROBINS 5-14-1
Yes readers, you are not seeing things with this line score. Proof that the NL race is just about over is displayed out at Sportsman's Park when Dazzy Vance guns for his 20th win and gets only one run by his teammates in the first six innings. Hornsby then pokes a ball just over the left wall to tie the game, and after Brooklyn takes a 2-1 lead back in the 8th, the earth opens up below their cleats. With the bases filled and two outs, Blades skies one out to Zack Wheat, who drops it for a 2-base error and the St. Louis lead. Hornsby then creams another homer and five unearned runs are across! Just to torture the Robins even more, the Baseball Lords let them score three times in the 9th before Milt Stock, forced to bat against lefty Fowler with Johnston injured, pops out with the bases loaded to end the game and knock Brooklyn nine games out.

at CUBS 8-13-3, GIANTS 5-7-3
Not that they were even in the race, but the Giants start to miss their usual awful ballplaying and dish out another fine serving of it. Back-to-back errors from the Flub Boys, Ross Youngs and Travis Jackson, give the Cubs the game's first run, Virgil Barnes throws away a 3-1 Giants lead in the 5th with two walks, a hit batter and single, and after the teams go neck-and neck and New York ties it 5-5 in the 8th, Barnes loses his mind and hands the Cubs five hits and three runs in the last of the 8th. Just to make it all even worse, George Kelly continues his hot hitting with a triple and homer, Pete Alexander goes out with an injury after eight innings and the Giants still manage to lose.

at REDS 2-7-2, BRAVES 0-11-2
At least the arsenic bottles are put away for a day in Cincy, as Eppa Rixey throws a nice little 11-hitter for his 19th win and fourth shutout. For the Braves, it's loss number 90.

NATIONAL LEAGUE through Tuesday, August 26
Pittsburgh Pirates	79	42	.653	—
Brooklyn Robins	72	53	.576	9
Cincinnati Reds	71	54	.568	10
New York Giants	67	56	.545	13
Chicago Cubs	60	63	.484	20
St. Louis Cardinals	60	63	.488	20
Philadelphia Phillies	51	73	.411	29.5
Boston Braves	34	90	.274	46.5