Baseball Hall of Shame™ Read online

  Second Baseman · Pittsburgh, NL · May 28, 1955

  Who doesn’t know that the most infamous baserunning boner in Major League history was committed by Fred Merkle, the guy who forgot to touch second base, negating a crucial game-winning hit in a tight pennant race?

  Well, apparently, Gene Freese didn’t know, or else he forgot, because he duplicated the classic blunder nearly a half century later.

  All ballplayers should know about Fred Merkle, the rookie for the New York Giants. In the bottom of the ninth inning of a 1–1 game against the visiting Chicago Cubs on September 23, 1908, the Giants’ Moose McCormick was on third and Merkle on first with two outs. The next batter, Al Bridwell, lined a base hit up the middle, scoring McCormick with the apparent winning run. Merkle was about 15 feet from second base when, in celebration, he veered off to the clubhouse while thousands of deliriously happy Polo Grounds fans swarmed the field. Cubs second baseman Johnny Evers retrieved the ball, stepped on second, and summoned home plate umpire Hank O’Day. The ump agreed that Merkle had failed to touch second and called him out on a force play. Because the umpires couldn’t clear the crowd from the field, O’Day declared the game a tie, a decision that was later upheld on appeal. As luck would have it, the Cubs and Giants ended the season tied in the standings, forcing them to play the makeup game at the Polo Grounds. The Cubs won 4–2 to capture the pennant. For the rest of his playing career, Merkle was saddled with the nickname Bonehead.

  For 47 years no player dared commit such an astounding blunder . . . that is, until Gene Freese did it, reversing an apparent Pirates victory.

  “People called me Merkle after my boner,” recalled Freese. “But, hell, he cost them the pennant. All I did was move my team from 31 games out to 32.”

  Freese’s baserunning bungle happened during a home game against the Philadelphia Phillies. In the bottom of the 10th inning of a 4–4 deadlock, the last-place Pirates had a golden opportunity to break out of their slump, having lost 13 of their last 14 games. They had Tom Saffell aboard on third and Freese on first with two outs. Batter Ramon Mejias then punched a single to center that scored Saffell for what the Pirates and their 3,082 fans thought was a 5–4 win.

  Freese started toward second, but he was so elated over their rare victory that he turned around and went back toward first to shake hands with Mejias. Then Freese ran into the dugout.

  Phillies center fielder Richie Ashburn spotted the gaffe and, having scooped up Mejias’s hit, fired the ball to shortstop Roy Smalley, who then stepped on second base for a force-out.

  Freese’s brother Bud, who played third base in the game, saw what happened. “Bud came off the bench and tried to drag me back onto the field,” Gene recalled. “I pulled away from him and ran into the clubhouse. But nobody followed me. I thought, ‘Gee, that’s a hell of a victory celebration.’”

  The umpires, who had started off the field, were surrounded by Phillies who claimed they had made a force-out at second, ending the inning and nullifying the run. The umps agreed and ordered the Pirates to take the field for the top of the 11th inning. But first the diamond had to be cleared of hundreds of victory-starved fans who had run onto the field, thinking the game was over.

  Given a reprieve, the Phillies promptly tallied four runs to win 8–4.

  “That was probably my shortest winning streak ever—a few minutes—but my whole career was like that,” Freese recalled. “[Manager] Fred Haney jumped all over me and said that since I was a rookie, a boneheaded play like that would stick with me for the rest of my life. I told him I doubted it. You have to be good before people remember how bad you are.”

  JEFF KENT

  Second Baseman

  J. D. DREW

  Right Fielder

  Los Angeles, NL · October 4, 2006

  In the most shameful baserunning fiasco in playoff history, Los Angeles Dodgers runners Jeff Kent and J. D. Drew were tagged out in bang-bang succession at home plate on the same play.

  Kent and Drew hit singles to lead off the top of the second inning of Game 1 of the National League Division Series against the New York Mets. Russell Martin then clubbed a liner that caromed off the base of the right field wall . . . and that’s when the fun began.

  Kent had tagged up at second, waiting to see if the ball would be caught, while Drew had gone slightly more than halfway between first and second. When the ball landed safely, both runners took off. But because Kent got such a late jump, Drew was practically nipping at his teammate’s heels.

  Dodgers third base coach Rich Donnelly waved them both around third. Mets right fielder Shawn Green pegged the ball to second baseman Jose Valentin, who fired a perfect throw to catcher Paul Lo Duca, nailing Kent as he dived headfirst for the plate.

  Stuck in no man’s land between home and third, Drew decided to try his luck at scoring because Lo Duca was spun around on the play at the plate and didn’t realize at first that another Dodger was foolish enough to head for home. When Lo Duca struggled to his feet and turned his head, he saw Drew bearing down on him. The catcher then tagged out Drew, who also tried a headfirst dive. It was your typical 9-4-2-2 double play—on a base hit, no less.

  After the game Donnelly told the press that he had no choice but to send the runners. “If I hold Kent, we’ve got two guys at third base,” he explained. “I was hoping they’d throw the ball away. I didn’t really want to send Jeff, but J. D. was right behind him, and I thought, one’s going to be out and one’s going to be safe.”

  It never occurred to him that both might be out.

  Double trouble for the boys in blueNew York Daily News/Getty Images

  After the game, Dodgers manager Grady Little sighed and tried to make light of the double play at home, saying, “We know about traffic jams [in L.A.]. We certainly had one again right there.”

  Lo Duca called the play “bizarre,” adding, “It was one of those I’d like to see again, because I’m still not sure exactly what happened.”

  Said Valentin, “I couldn’t believe we got them both. We got two for the price of one.”

  Mets manager Willie Randolph had seen this play before when he played for the New York Yankees in a game against the Chicago White Sox on August 2, 1985. Yankees runners Bobby Meacham and Dale Berra were both tagged out at home on a double by Rickey Henderson. New York manager Billy Martin was so furious at Berra, who was the trailing runner, that Martin benched him on the spot. The Yankees ruined a scoring threat and lost 6–5.

  Recalled Randolph, “I remember very vividly [third base coach] Gene Michael throwing his hands up like, ‘What the hell’s going on?’ I remember how funny that play was when I first saw it. This one [with the Dodgers] was even more humorous to me.”

  It wasn’t quite so funny for the Dodgers. The baserunning bungle proved costly, as the Mets won 6–5 and went on to sweep the series, three games to none.

  RICKEY HENDERSON

  Left Fielder · Oakland, AL · July 25, 1982

  Oakland Athletics star Rickey Henderson—the greatest base stealer in baseball history and one of the game’s most daring and exciting players—once was called out while advancing from first to third on a ground-rule double!

  Anyone, even your kid sister, can safely stroll from first to third on a ground-rule double. But Henderson found an embarrassing way to mess up the easiest baserunning play in baseball.

  In the top of the fifth inning of a 6–2 loss to the Baltimore Orioles, the A’s were losing 3–0 with Henderson on first base and Dwayne Murphy at the plate and one out. On the pitch to Murphy, Henderson took off for second and slid into the base headfirst before realizing that Murphy had looped a fly ball to left field.

  Believing that Murphy’s ball might be caught, Henderson got up and retreated toward first. But the ball landed safely and then bounced into the seats for a ground-rule double. So Henders
on jogged across the infield to third base. But he forgot to retouch second base.

  Orioles second baseman Rich Dauer alertly spotted the infraction and called for the ball. Pitcher Dennis Martinez tossed it to Dauer, who stepped on the bag, and umpire Nick Bremigan called Henderson out.

  A’s manager Billy Martin rushed out of the dugout to argue. Bremigan cited the rule, which says that a runner must retouch a base once he relinquishes it. Martin claimed the ball was dead once it was ruled a ground-rule double. He lost his case and Murphy lost his double. Murphy was sent back to first and credited with hitting a pitcher-to-second force-out.

  Henderson’s gaffe cost Oakland a run because Dan Meyer followed the controversial play with a two-run homer—a blast that would have been a game-tying three-run shot if Henderson hadn’t screwed up. Several Oakland players waved towels from the dugout and heckled Bremigan after the round-tripper. The A’s should have directed their anger at one of their own—Rickey Henderson, who seemed to forget that in baseball, the shortest route between two points is not necessarily a straight line.

  THE BLIGHTS

  OF SPRING

  For the Zaniest Spring Training Shenanigans of All Time, The Baseball Hall of Shame™ Inducts:

  GEORGE HARPER

  Outfielder · Cincinnati, NL · March, 1922

  George Harper shamed the name of hitters everywhere when he slunk back to the dugout even though he hadn’t finished taking his turn at bat.

  After four years in the minors, Harper was called up by the Cincinnati Reds for spring training in 1922. When Cincinnati met the Washington Senators in Tampa for an exhibition game, it was the first up-close-and-personal look many of the Reds had at fire-balling pitcher Walter Johnson. Even though he was near the end of his career, Johnson had a fastball that was still a fearsome pitch for the fainthearted at the plate. Harper was among the faintest of the faint.

  The first time he went up to hit against Johnson, Harper didn’t even get the bat off his shoulder. The ball whizzed by him as umpire Bill Klem barked “Strike one!” Harper stepped out of the batter’s box, shook his head in astonishment at the velocity of the Big Train and then moved back into his stance. Harper had hardly planted his feet when another pitch zipped past him, and Klem hollered “Strike two!”

  That was enough for Harper. He turned and began walking away.

  “Wait,” Klem said. “You still have another strike left.”

  “I don’t want it,” the white-faced Harper answered. He then kept heading straight for the safety of the dugout.

  LONNY FREY

  Second Baseman · Cincinnati, NL · April 12, 1942

  Lonny Frey was a bit too patriotic during the last spring training game of 1942.

  Playing at home against the Detroit Tigers, the Cincinnati Reds took to the field for the start of the exhibition game. The players paused for the playing of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” but the public address system malfunctioned so the game began without honoring the flag.

  Tigers leadoff batter Jimmy Bloodworth then swatted an easy grounder toward Frey at second. Just as Frey bent over to field the ball, the maintenance guy got the public address system to work. Suddenly, the loudspeakers blared, “Oh, say, can you see . . .”

  At the sound of the national anthem, Frey dutifully stopped, doffed his cap, and stood at attention, allowing the ground ball to bounce right past him for a single.

  “When the anthem started playing, I stopped running down toward first,” recalled Bloodworth. “But then I figured I’d better run it out. If Lonny hadn’t been so patriotic, I wouldn’t have had a hit.”

  WILBERT “UNCLE ROBBIE” ROBINSON

  Manager · Brooklyn, NL · March 13, 1915

  Brooklyn manager Wilbert Robinson tried catching a baseball dropped from an airplane and ended up catching a lot of good-natured flak instead.

  During spring training in 1915, “Uncle Robbie” was listening to several of his players marvel over the feat achieved a few years earlier by Washington Senators catcher Gabby Street. In 1908, Street, on his 13th try, caught a ball dropped from the observation level of the Washington Monument—a distance of 500 feet.

  Robinson, a former catcher with the old Baltimore Orioles, took this as a personal challenge. “Hell, that’s nothing,” the roly-poly, 52-year-old skipper told his players. “I can catch a ball dropped even higher from an airplane.”

  Team trainer Jack Coombs, a wizard with figures, calculated the velocity and force of a baseball dropped from the height of nearly 600 feet. He said it seemed a little dangerous, but Robinson scoffed at him. Uncle Robbie—as the Brooklyn manager was fondly called—was determined to be the first to accomplish this feat for the aviation and baseball worlds.

  Coombs climbed into a biplane in the lone seat behind pioneer woman flyer Ruth Law. But there was a slight snag in the plans. She confessed to Coombs that she had forgotten the baseball back in her hotel room and as a substitute handed him a grapefruit from the lunch of one of her crew members. Whether out of concern for Robinson’s safety or out of a lust for laughs, Coombs decided not to tell Robinson.

  The plane took off and circled above the team’s training camp in Daytona Beach, Florida, at an altitude higher than the Washington Monument. When the signal was given, Coombs dropped the grapefruit.

  Robinson saw the “ball” leave the plane and waved players and spectators away like an outfielder, shouting, “I got it! I got it!” The plummeting sphere looked bigger and bigger to him as it sped earthward. Still thinking it was a baseball, Robinson bravely camped under the grapefruit, poised to make the historic catch.

  The grapefruit slammed into his glove with a loud splat as seeds, juice, and pieces of fruit exploded and splattered all over him. The impact tore the glove off his hand and flipped him right over on his back. Feeling the warm grapefruit juice, Robinson thought he was covered in his own blood and called for help. The players rushed to his aid, but once they saw that he wasn’t hurt, they burst out laughing.

  Robinson, however, didn’t think it was all that funny. He was fuming because he had risked his life and limb over a lousy grapefruit instead of an official baseball.

  “I’d have caught it,” he said, “except for that damn cloudburst of grapefruit juice.”

  PING BODIE VS. PERCY THE OSTRICH

  April 3, 1919

  Ping Bodie, the 5-foot, 8-inch, 195-pound New York Yankee, handled a knife and fork with the same skill as a bat and ball. The pudgy outfielder covered more ground at the dining table than Joe DiMaggio ever did in center field.

  Bodie’s most ludicrous gastronomical feat occurred in 1919 at the Yankees’ spring training camp in Jacksonville, Florida, when he challenged an ostrich named Percy to the heavyweight pasta-eating championship of the world. As one of the first Italian-Americans to play in the Majors, Bodie (who was born Francesco Stephano Pezzolo) loved his spaghetti.

  In front of a packed local hall known as the South Side Pavilion, Yankees co-owner Til Huston introduced his trencherman to the cheering crowd. Bodie bowed gracefully after stepping into the boxing ring where the eating event was about to take place. Truck Hannah, the team’s 190-pound catcher and fellow gorger, acted as Bodie’s second.

  The ostrich, sponsored by the Jacksonville Chamber of Commerce, was led in by Brooklyn manager Wilbert Robinson, himself a legendary greedy-gut who consented to act as Percy’s second.

  Bodie scowled defiantly at his feathered opponent while the ostrich sharpened his beak on the canvas and then playfully poked Robinson in his jelly belly.

  The match, which was not advertised for fear of arousing the wrath of animal lovers, would determine whether Percy or Bodie could eat the most bowls of spaghetti. The following is an actual round-by-round, firsthand account:

  The champ: Ping BodieNational Baseball Hall of Fame Library

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bsp; Round 1

  Both pasta bowls were cleaned within seconds after the bell rang. Bodie was a trifle disconcerted by a sprig of spaghetti that eluded his fork, so he grasped it between his thumb and forefinger and flung it in his mouth with a flourish.

  Round 2

  Once again Bodie polished off his bowl in less than a minute while Percy seemed to tarry a bit. Experts began to figure that the ostrich—billed as the world’s greatest eater—had met his match at last. Members of the Chamber of Commerce, who had wagered heavily on the contest, began to look for a chance to hedge their bets.

  Round 3

  Percy came back strong and gobbled his third bowl of spaghetti with such gusto that he accidentally swallowed Robinson’s pocket watch and chain when the manager was timing him. The smile of confidence remained on Bodie’s face as his teammates shouted, “Stay with him, Ping!” Bodie sneered at the ostrich when they went to their respective corners at the end of the round.

  Round 4

  The ostrich began displaying signs of discomfort. Percy’s sides had begun to swell visibly while Bodie showed not an ounce of trouble. Both contestants finished their fourth bowl.

  Round 5

  The ostrich came out of his corner looking a bit weary. Bodie’s smile widened, and he refused the napkin offered by his solicitous second. It took a bit longer but both competitors ate their pasta.

  Round 6

  It was obvious that Percy was tiring. Many women at ringside started for the door because they couldn’t stomach seeing the poor bird topple over. But the ostrich rallied and matched Bodie by finishing the sixth bowl.

  Round 7

  Even strong men began to edge back from the ring, fearing that at any time Percy would explode. Somehow, though, the ostrich downed the pasta to keep up with Bodie.