CHAPTER XXXVI. WITH THE KNIGHTS OF THE CUE.
There is no more fascinating game in existence at the present day than billiards, and no game that is more popular with gentlemen, and for the reason that it can be played indoors and in all kinds of weather and that it does not require the frame of an athlete nor the training of one 1111 to play it successfully, though it may be set down as a fact that the experts at billiards are few and far between, for the reason that it takes not only natural ability and constant practice to be even a moderately successful billiardist, the real geniuses at the game being born and not made. Since the days of my early boyhood billiards has divided my attentions with base-ball, and what little skill I have attained at the game is due as much to good habits and constant practice as is the success that I achieved on the ball field.
The game itself has undergone many and frequent changes since I first began to play in the old hotel at Marshalltown, and with tools of such a primitive character that they would be laughed at in a modern billiard resort. The four-ball game and the old-fashioned six-pocket table have both been relegated into the shadows of obscurity, and the new standard 5x10 table, without pockets, that is a model of the builder's art, has taken the place of the one and three-ball games of various styles, from straight rail to three-cushion caroms of the other. Each and every game that has been played has been an improvement on the style of game that preceded it and each and every style of game has had its own special votaries, some players excelling at one style of billiards and some at another, the players who excelled at all being few and far between.
It has been my good fortune to enjoy the acquaintance and friendship of nearly all of the billiard players who have become famous in the annals of the game since I first began ball playing for a livelihood in Rockford, among them being Frank C. Ives, the "Young Napoleon of Billiards," who, like myself, was a ball player before he ever became known as a knight of the cue, and whose early death was so greatly regretted by every lover of the game, both at home and abroad; Jacob Schaefer, "the Wizard of the Cue," who, as a ball-to-ball player, ranks at the head of the profession and who plays any and every game that can be played upon a billiard table with a skill that is akin to genius; George F. Slosson, the "Student," whose persistent application and studious habits have combined to make him one of the greatest prayers of his day and generation; Eugene Carter, "You-know-me," whose stalwart form and ready tongue are as well known in the majority of the European capitals as in the larger cities of our country; Thomas J. Gallagher, "Gray Tom," who is a hard man for any of the second-class experts to tackle; Edward McLaughlin, the little gentleman who first came into prominence at Philadelphia; Frank Maggioli, who has grown gray in the service of billiards, but who still retains his title of Champion of the South; Billy Catton, "the Rock Island Wonder," George Sutton, and many others, with the most of whom I have crossed cues either for money or in a friendly way at some time or other.
The first expert of any note that I ever met over a billiard table was Eugene Kimball, of Rochester, N. Y., who, in 1871, was a member of the Forest City Club of Cleveland, Ohio, and who at that time enjoyed a wide reputation as a billiardist as well as a ball player. Kimball, it had been generally conceded, played a strong game of billiards for those days, and on one occasion when the Cleveland Club visited Rockford he and I engaged in a game that attracted considerable attention both on the part of the members of the two teams and of other outside friends and admirers. There were no stakes up if I remember rightly, and I am not just certain as to how the game resulted, though, unless I am very much mistaken, it was in Kimball's favor, but not by such a large margin of points as to make me ashamed of myself.
It was while a member of the Athletic Club of Philadelphia that I made my debut as a billiardist in public. I played the game a great deal in those days and had acquired quite a reputation for skill in handling the cue among my fellow ball-players, nearly all of whom could play the game after some fashion, there being seemingly quite an affinity between base-ball and billiards. James Lentz of Trenton, N. J., at that time enjoyed quite a reputation as a billiard expert in the land of sandflies and mosquitoes, and he being in Philadelphia we came together at Nelms' billiard room in a match game, 300 points up, at the old three-ball style of billiards, for stakes of $100 a side, and I beat him by a score of 300 to 252, no account of the averages or high runs being kept for the reason, as I presume, that nobody thought them worth keeping, though enough of the filthy lucre changed hands on the result to keep some of my ball-playing friends in pocket money for some days.
That game was played on the fourth day of February, 1875, and it was not until more than ten years afterwards that I again appeared in public as a billiardist. Frank Parker, the ex-champion in the days of the old four-ball game, now dead, was then a resident of Chicago, and his friends thought so well of his abilities at the fourteen-inch balk line game, which up to that time had never been played in public, that they offered to match him against me for stakes of $250 a side, the game to be 500 points up. After some talk back and forth this match was finally made, and March 25th, 1885, we came together in Central Music Hall, Chicago, before a fair-sized crowd, and I won by a score of 500 to 366, averaging in the neighborhood of five, and astonishing both Parker and his friends.
Slosson's billiard room on Monroe street, Chicago, was at that time and for several years afterwards the scene of more billiard matches than any similar resort in the United States, it being the headquarters of the bookmaking fraternity as well as the billiardists from all sections of the country, and it is more than probable that larger sums of money changed hands over the result of the games that were played there during the winter of 1885 and 1886 than changed hands in any other hall in the country, the leading billiard rooms of Gotham not excepted. Among the billiardists who were making Chicago their headquarters that winter were Jacob Schaefer, George F. Slosson, Eugene Carter, Thomas F. Gallagher, and William H. Catton, while among the bookmakers that made Slosson's room their lounging place were such well-known knights of the chalk and rubber as Dave Pulsifer, who afterwards owned the famous race horse, Tenny; James H. Murphy, whose pacer, "Star Pointer," was in after years the first horse in harness to beat the two-minute mark; William Riley, who, under the sobriquet of "Silver Bill," is known from one end of the country to the other; Charlie Stiles, for years the trusted lieutenant of Bride and Armstrong, the Grand-Circuit pool sellers; George 'Wheelock, then hailing from St. Louis, but now known as one of the nerviest of New York's betting brigade; Joe Ullman, who then as now was a plunger; Johnny O'Neil, Frank Eckert, and many others, the place also being a favorite resort for the horsemen.
Thomas J. Gallagher was that fall in good form and there were several members of the book-making fraternity who stood ready to back him whenever he said the word. I had taken a notion into my head that I could beat him, nor was I alone in the opinion, for my friend, "Bart" White, thought the same way. The result was that I agreed to play him a match 300 points up at the fourteen-inch balk-line game for stakes of $100 a side. We came together on the afternoon of November 23d at Slosson's room, and Gallagher won by seventeen points, after a close and exciting contest, the game standing at 300 to 283 in his favor.
Neither my friends nor myself were satisfied with the result of this game, during the progress of which I had met with some hard luck, and which I was certain that I might have played better, and as a result we at once made another match at the same game to be played that night, the stakes this time being increased to $150 a side. The game was played in the presence of quite a crowd of billiard enthusiasts, and again Gallagher won by 309 to 280, but even this defeat did not convince me that he was a better player, and the result was still another match of 400 points up at the same game for stakes of $100 a side. This was played the following evening, and for the third time Gallagher carried off the honors, the totals showing 400 points for him as against only 183 for myself, and by this time I had come to the conclusion that he was a "leetle bit" too speedy for me, and that he could look for somebody else to pay his board-bills.
That same fall Wyman McCreary, of St. Louis, then as now recognized as one of the strongest amateur players in the country, dropped into Slosson's room, and the result was that I played him two matches at the fourteen-inch balk-line game, each one being for $50 a side, winning both, the score in the first one being 300 to 164, and in the second 300 to 194, my average in the last being 8 14-17, a performance that was at that time something better than the ordinary. Even as far back as those days there was a craze for angle games, and at three cushions Eugene Carter was especially strong, he having a standing challenge to play any man in the world at that style of billiards. He finally offered to play me so points, his backer to wager $300 to $100 that he could beat me, and this offer I accepted. The story of that game, as told in verse by a Chicago newspaper man under the title of "A Match of Slosson's Room," was as follows:
It was some time in the winter, and, if I remember right,
There were snowflakes softly falling, through the darkness of the night,
When I wandered into Slosson's, where the lights were all ablaze,
In the hopes of seeing billiards, for I had the billiard craze.'Round the table there had gathered all the sporting men in town,
Putting money up in handfuls; each was anxious to take down.
Some would yell out, "I'll take Anson at the odds of three to one,"
Then another'd cry, "I've got you," and the betting had begun.'Twas a match game at three cushions, fifty points up, for a stake,
'Tween the base-ball man and Carter, and it wan't an even break,
For the odds were all in money and the playing even up,
But the horse that packs the top weight does not always win the cup.Odds in money cut no figure from a betting point of view,
As I've found in life quite often, and, I doubt not, so have you.
If a man can't win at evens then he cannot win at all,
Be the odds they bet against him very large or very small.Carter had the style and finish, but the Captain had the nerve
That in base-ball oft had helped him solve a pitcher's meanest curve!
And he seemed to know the angles just as well as "You-Know Me."
That he wasn't a beginner was as plain as plain could be.'Round the table stood the bettors, looking on with eager eyes,
While first one and then another certain seemed to take the prize.
On the wire the clustered buttons sat like sparrows in a row,
'Neath the lights that gleamed and glistened while there outside fell the snow.Carter stood about and chattered just as Carter always will
(If you have a talking parrot you can never keep him still)
Anson only laughed and listened, saying as he chalked his cue:
"Frogs' legs measured up in inches don't tell what the frog can do,"When it comes to jumping, Carter, and the best fish in the brook
Finds at last he's met his master when he grabs the angler's hook.
Talking does not win at billiards, nor at any other game,
When you come to count your buttons, then perhaps you'll think the same."Went the buttons up together, one by one, upon the string,
Like two yachts that skim the waters, they were racing wing and wing.
Hushed was all the noisy clamor and the room was as still as death,
As they stood and watched the players chalk their cues with bated breath."Even up!" the marker shouted, and the buttons on the line
Counted up stood right together—each had stopped at forty-nine.
It was Anson's shot—a hard one—as the balls before him lay,
And he stopped to count the chances—then he chalked his cue to play."Call it off; I'll give you fifty," said George Wheelock, sitting near.
He had found the stakes for Carter and his voice was low and clear.
"Take your stakes down, Captain Anson, and take fifty 'plunks' of mine."
With a nod the Cap consented; Carter's backers bought the wine.In that billiard-room of Slosson's, Carter argued half the night,
While the snowflakes drifted earthward like a mantle soft and white.
And he swore that he'd have won it if it wasn't for a miss
That he'd made up in the corner when he'd played to get a "kiss."Now it may be that he would have, but I'm still inclined to believe
That he weakened o'er the billiards that he found up Anson's sleeve.
For I've noticed that the "sucker," or the chap you're thinking one,
Proves the "shark" that gets the money, "doing" 'stead of being "done."
The only match that I have engaged in since those days was one that I played last fall with Conklin, a West Side amateur in Chicago, and was at the eighteen-inch balk-line game, 400 points up for stakes of $50 a side, 200 points to be played in my own room and 200 in Clark's resort. The first night in my own room I obtained such a lead as to make the result look like a foregone conclusion, but the next night he came back at me like a cyclone and averaging over seven, a rattling good performance at that style of billiards, he beat me out and did it in such a handsome manner as to challenge my admiration and respect. Since then he has beaten Morningstar, a Boston, Mass., professional in the same easy fashion, and it would not be surprising were he yet to make his mark in the billiard line.
I may say right here that I intend to devote more time to billiards in the future than I have in the past, and that I am always willing to match, provided that the game is a fair one, in which I have an even chance, as, unlike some players that I could name, I am not always looking for the best of it.
CHAPTER XXXVII. NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPING.
The proposed New American Base-Ball Association, of which so much was heard during the fall and winter months of 1899 and 1900, is not dead, as some people fondly hope, but only sleeping. That the National League fears the birth of a new rival has been time and again shown, and in my judgment without good and sufficient reason, for I hold that "competition is the life of trade," and that with a strong and healthy competitor in, the field the rivalry would be of benefit to both organizations.
From personal experience I know that the National Game was never in as healthy condition as it was when the League had the old American Association for a rival and when such a thing as syndicate base-ball was unheard of. The Harts, the Friedmans and the Robisons were not then in control, and the rule-or-ruin policy that now prevails had at that time not even been thought of.
Base-ball as at present conducted is a gigantic monopoly, intolerant of opposition and run on a grab-all-that-there-is-in-sight policy that is alienating its friends and disgusting the very public that has so long and cheerfully given to it the support that it has withheld from other forms of amusement.
It was Abraham Lincoln, I believe, who once remarked that you can fool some of the people all the time but that you cannot fool all the people all the time, and yet it is this latter feat that the League magnates are at the present time trying to perform.
That the new Association did not take the field in 1900 was due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, but that it will do so another season I firmly believe, as many of the men interested in its formation are still enthusiastic over the project and determined to carry it to a successful conclusion.
St. Louis may justly be regarded as the birthplace of the newcomer, as it was there that the idea of a new rival to the worn-out old League first originated in the brain of Al Spink, who, like the majority of the game's best friends the country over, had grown sick of syndicate methods and believed that the time had come when a new association, run on strictly business principles, would secure the patronage of the people. Associating with him Chris Von der Ahe, who became famous as "der boss" of the old St. Louis Browns, George Shaefer and others, he at once begun pulling wires looking toward the formation of an organization based on the old American Association lines, one that should do away with many of the evils that now exist.
Milwaukee and Detroit capitalists were soon interested in the scheme, and early in October, 1899, an informal meeting was held in Chicago, at which Chas. Havenor, Harry D. Quinn and Alderman O'Brien of Milwaukee; Chris Von der Ahe, George Shaefer and Al Spink, of St. Louis, and Frank Hough, of Philadelphia, were present.
This meeting I attended by invitation in company with Walter H. Clough, my son-in-law, and after talking the prospects over I finally agreed to place a team in Chicago to represent the new association, providing that a proper circuit of eight cities could be secured. I was then, as I am now, in favor of invading the cities already occupied by the National League clubs, and leaving the other cities to be occupied by the minor leagues.
At this meeting Harry D. Quinn was elected temporary President and Frank Hough temporary Secretary.
Quinn proved to be a hustler of the first class and spent both time and money in interesting the capitalists of other cities in the proposed deal. In November matters had progressed so far that a second meeting was held in New York, which was attended by the St. Louis and Milwaukee delegations, and by Secretary Hough of Philadelphia, Thomas Navin of Detroit and representatives from Boston and Providence.
Owing to family troubles I was unable to be present, and but little was accomplished. An effort was made, however, to interest Tom O'Rourke and "Dry Dollar" Sullivan in the scheme, and this might have been successful had it not been known that Richard Croker, the Tammany chieftain, was a great friend of President Freedman of the New York League Club, and might be tempted to cut streets through any grounds that were secured. McGraw of Baltimore was also on hand looking over the ground, but he was then still confident that Baltimore would be retained in the League, and therefore was unwilling to cast his fortunes with the new venture.
Quinn was nothing daunted, however, and continued to work like a beaver. Hough's promised backing in Philadelphia failed to materialize, and F. A. Richter, of the Philadelphia "Sporting Life," claimed to be able to find both the men and money necessary to put a club in the Quaker City. A lawyer by the name of Elliott, and some friends of his, were first mentioned as the club's backers, but they failed to come to time, and then Mr. Richter trotted out a son-in-law of John Wanamaker, but he failed to materialize with his money.
This was the situation at the time that the third meeting was called by Mr. Quinn at Philadelphia, and which was held there just before the holidays. In the meantime I had attended a meeting of the National League in New York, and had gone from there on to Baltimore. While in the latter city I had a long talk with McGraw and all but convinced him that Baltimore was certain to be dropped by the League and that it would be to his best interests to join hands with us in the formation of the new association.
Acting on the information I had given him McGraw and his friends at once secured a lease on the National League ball grounds over the head of the League people, and then came on to attend the Philadelphia meeting. Here it was announced that Tommy McCarthy had things fixed all right in Boston and that Providence would leave the Eastern League and join with us.
McGraw had now become an enthusiast so far as the new scheme was concerned, but while the way to mend matters looked rosy on the surface, I fancied there were breakers ahead. I was disappointed in the showing made by Philadelphia at the meeting, and had even then grave doubts as to the genuineness of the backing promised there, though Richter, who was even at that time pulling wires in order to be elected Secretary and Treasurer when the final organization was made, asserted positively that he had found the necessary capitalists in the persons of George Regar and a theatrical man by the name of Gilmore.
The circuit so far as made up at that time looked like Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis and Milwaukee in the West, and Boston, Baltimore, Philadelphia and some city yet to be determined upon in the East.
As the days went on Quinn became more and more confident regarding Philadelphia, and a strong effort was made to get Washington into line, but without success, as the Washington people were certain at that time that the League would consist of ten clubs, and that the Senators would be retained. Louisville in the meantime was clamoring for admission, while Providence had determined to stick to the Eastern League.
A meeting to effect a permanent organization was then called. This was to be held at the Great Northern Hotel in Chicago on February 12th, 1899, but as several of the delegates expected had failed to put in an appearance an adjournment to the following day was decided upon.
When this meeting was called to order by temporary President Quinn there were present Hecker, Harlan and Spink, of St. Louis; Quinn, Havenor and O'Brien, of Milwaukee; McGraw and Peterson, of Baltimore; Regar and Richter, of Philadelphia, and myself representing Chicago. Tommy McCarthy, of Boston, was said to be somewhere on the road, though Quinn held his proxy, and Col. Whitside of Louisville was on hand to represent the Falls City in case it should be taken into the fold.
Numerous telegrams failed to locate Navin of Detroit, and as the Louisville people proved that they had the necessary backing it was finally decided to take them in. Detroit's assurance that everything was lovely there came too late, Navin not returning home until after the meeting was over, while McCarthy of Boston did not materialize until after the meeting had adjourned.
A permanent organization was finally effected and officers elected as follows:
President, A. C. Anson, Chicago; Secretary-Treasurer, Phil Peterson, Baltimore; Directors, C. S. Havenor, Milwaukee; Geo. D. Shaefer, St. Louis; W. J. Gilmore, Philadelphia; it being left for Boston to name a member of the Board at a later date.
Richter had come to the meeting firmly convinced that the office of Secretary-Treasurer was to be his for the asking, and he was decidedly put out when turned down, and was disposed to be decidedly ugly. That he had not gotten over it for some time afterward was shown by the attitude of his paper, which indulged in indiscriminate abuse of every one who failed to agree with him.
After the adoption of a constitution and by-laws the meeting finally adjourned, though not until McGraw and Peterson had been appointed a committee to look into the standing of Philadelphia and to select an eighth city in the East, the seven cities making up the circuit at that time being Chicago, St. Louis, Milwaukee and Louisville in the West, and Boston, Baltimore and Philadelphia in the East.
It was also decided to open the playing season on April 16, the matter of arranging a schedule being left in my hands. The Philadelphia end of it had a decidedly fishy look to me, even then, and McGraw was by no means as enthusiastic as he had appeared at Philadelphia. McCarthy's failure to appear cast a damper over the crowd, and, in spite of all that had been accomplished, I had grave doubts as to the successful launching of the project.
McGraw and Peterson stopped at Philadelphia on their way home and had an interview with W. J. Gilmore that was evidently satisfactory, as the former wired me that Philadelphia was "four-flushing" and that everything was off, after which he fixed up his differences with the League people in Baltimore and prepared to play with the club there another season.
The dropping of Baltimore from the list of League cities, just as I had prophesied, followed, after which came the sale of McGraw and others to the St. Louis Club, the terms of which McGraw has refused to ratify, the result being that the snappy little Baltimorean will in all probability not be seen on the ball field in a League uniform.
The calling off of the deal was a great disappointment to me at the time, and yet, as things have turned out, I am satisfied that everything happened for the best after all. The recent iron-clad agreement entered into between the American League and National League magnates, by the terms of which a team from the first-named organization is to be placed in Chicago, smacks too strongly of syndicate methods to become popular.
In a recent letter from Baltimore McGraw and Peterson both strongly urge the necessity of going on with the new association and getting in readiness to place strong teams in the field at the beginning of the season of 1901, and this is likely to be done.
That the time is ripe for such a movement I am confident, as I am also that plenty of good ball players could be found to join its ranks.
The methods of the League in late years have not been calculated to make friends either among the ranks of the players or of the public, and both would gladly welcome a rival in the field.
It would, however, be a mistake, I think, to start with anything but a strong circuit or to antagonize any of the minor leagues, with whom nothing could be gained by rivalry.
If I could have my way in the matter I would place a strong team in every single one of the League cities, taking in Chicago, St. Louis, Cincinnati and Pittsburg in the West, and New York, Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore in the East.
Such a circuit would, in my estimation, be a paying one from the start, and that is the circuit that I hope to see formed in the future.
There is one thing certain, and that is that a rival to the National League will spring up sooner or later, and that without any help from Mr. Richter.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. L'ENVOI.
With my retirement from the Chicago Club in 1897, my active connection with the game may be said to have ceased and it is more that probable that I shall never again don a uniform. My affection for the game still exists, however, and I am confident that, purged of the many evils that now exist, the game itself will continue to be in the future what it has been in the past, the National Game of the American people.
Looking back over my twenty-seven years of active service on the diamond, I feel that I have but little to regret and much to be proud of, and if I failed at times to come us to the expectations of my friends, it was simply because I was heavily handicapped and unable to carry the load. For the gentlemen who have criticized my actions fairly and honestly I have naught but the kindest feelings, and for those who did not and who criticized simply to be in the fashion, or because they were advised to do so by those in authority over them, I have—but perhaps it is as well to "let the dead past bury its dead." The League Guide of 1898 contains an article on my retirement, from the pen of the veteran, Henry Chadwick, that I am particularly proud of, and a portion of which I quote, as follows:
"Professional base-ball history records the development of many an original character in the ranks alike of its press-writers, its club magnates, and its most noteworthy players; but it can be safely said that its most unique figure can be found in the person of the League's greatest representative on the field, Adrian Constantine Anson, who today stands forth as one of the most sturdy, fearless and honest exemplars of professional base-ball known to the game. The bright particular attribute of Anson is his sterling integrity, combined with which is his thorough independence. The former was strikingly illustrated at the very outset of his career as a member of the Chicago Club in 1876, when he kept true to his agreement with the club, though under the base-ball law as it then existed the club could not, enforce its contract; and his independence was plainly exhibited in the act of his refusing this year to accept a money testimonial at the hands of his base-ball friends, he preferring to depend upon his existing physical powers for his maintenance rather than upon the proffered financial aid.
"In some respects Anson resembles a rough diamond, his brusque manner and impulsive temper needing the keen polish of the refining wheel of the conventional amenities of life to make his inherent worth shine forth in its full brilliancy. Anson, too, reminds one somewhat of that old Western pioneer, Davy Crockett, inasmuch as his practical motto is, 'When you know you're right, go ahead.' This latter trait was conspicuously shown in the year of the players' revolt in 1890, when, almost alone as a minority man, he stood by the National League in its greatest hour of need, in opposition to the desertion of hundreds of his confreres in the League ranks. In these prominent characteristics, we say, Anson stands as the most unique player known in the annals of the professional fraternity."
This is indeed praise from Sir Hubert, and I raise my hat in recognition.
What I may conclude to do in the future it is hard to say, and if I return again to my first love, base-ball, it will not be as a player, but wherever I may be or whatever I may do I shall still strive to merit the approval and good will of my friends—God bless them!
THE END.
AMOS RUSIE'S PITCHING.
Amos Rusie, who, for several years has probably come nearer being the premier pitcher of the country than any other man, gives some ideas of pitching to the New York Evening Journal. He says:
"In delivering a straight, swift ball, when my object is to obtain the utmost speed at my command and to cut the plate, so that an umpire can have no doubt as to its being 'over,' I grasp the ball firmly with the two first fingers, with the thumb not clutching the ball too tightly. It is not my intention to twist or curve the ball at those times, but to catch the batter napping or else to prevent him from 'walking' to first. I take one long preliminary swing to prepare the shoulder muscles for the coming strain, and with my right foot firmly braced on the slab, I lurch forward with a high, straight throw, the weight of my body adding impetus to the ball.
"A slow ball when mixed up with great speed, is most effective if the change of pace is so disguised as to fool the batter. It does not do to telegraph your intentions or the ball will go soaring over the bleachers—from off the old 'wagon tongue.' Exactly the same preliminary motions should be gone through with as if to send in your swiftest ball. For this delivery I hold the ball loosely in my hand, holding it with my thumb and little finger. The ball will at times almost seem to hang in the air, and the batter, who is looking for a singing swift one, makes a vicious swipe before the ball gets to him. The change of pace is used mostly when a batter has two strikes and is worked up to the anxious pitch. Nothing pleases a pitcher more than to fool a batter with his 'slows.'
"To give an outcurve to the ball I take the same grip with the first two fingers as for the straight ball. The thumb, however, with which the twist which causes the ball to curve is given, is brought up in touch with the ball with a tight grip. Then, with a long, slow preliminary swing I give a slight side motion to my hand with a decided snap to the wrist just at the instant the ball leaves my hand. I endeavor, of course, to hide my right hand as much as possible from the batter, and go through exactly the same motions as for a straight ball. I can get just as much speed with my curve as my straight, which in consequence, has proved my most successful ball.
"The drop ball is a most effective one if a pitcher can get control of it. If the ball falls even a half inch from the expected line, the batter is liable to strike over it. In pitching this ball I take a tight hold with the thumb and two forefingers, with the third finger underneath in touch with the sphere. Then with a very high swing and a raise on my toes, I bring the arm down swiftly. The reverse twist is given with the third finger. A great deal of practice is required to acquire control of this puzzling ball, and at times speed is sacrificed in its use."
APPENDIX. SOME NEWSPAPER COMMENTS.
With the retirement of Captain Anson baseball loses its most dignified and courageous figure—a man who has striven through a number of years to preserve the national game in all its best phases and a man who has fought for decency and gentlemanly conduct on the field, and by whose efforts the club of which he has been typical for a long time has come to be known as one of the most dignified organizations on the National League diamond. His retirement from the leadership of the Colts is received with regret by the devotees of the national game, although opinion is divided as to its advisability. It has long been believed by certain patrons of the game that a change in the management and captaincy of the team was advisable, and that a younger man might make the nine more successful. But whether they are of this opinion or not, the patrons of the game this year will miss the presence of the big first baseman who has come to be typical of the Chicago team.
Captain Anson retires with a record of which he may well be proud. He has been a prominent figure in hundreds of games in all of which he has done excellent work. As the head of the Chicago club he has piloted the team through good and bad fortune. During the last few seasons he has not done as well as had been expected at the outset of the season. Internal dissension crept into the ranks of the Colts and the men did not work together. This fact started a sentiment in favor of a change of management. There were disturbing elements which militated against the success of the team, and it was believed by many admirers of the game that a new leader might be able to reconcile the warring factions and get more substantial results out of the aggregation. This was urged as a reason for the retirement of Anson. He had served a longer term than any other base-ball player, and it was believed that he could retire on his record and give way to a younger man who would he able to secure more harmonious work. In this opinion there was no desire to belittle the work of Anson, nor cast any discredit on his management.
His work has been such as to win the respect of every sportsman, whatever his opinion of the desirability of the change of management, but with individual players of the first class might not another manager be able to attain better results was the argument. He is to be succeeded by a man who worked with him as a fellow-member at one time of the Chicago team, a man of experience in base-ball affairs, and who it is believed will continue the work which the veteran has done for the best interests of the game. Whether or not he will be able to make the club work together better than Anson and whether he can secure better results from the material he has to work with remains for the coming season to show.
But whatever be the future success of the team, it will owe a debt to Captain Anson, for to him is due the credit of being one of the greatest of base-ball generals. He has done a great work for the Chicago team, and can now give way to another, resting on the honors which he has already won and which the base-ball public gladly concede to him.—Chicago Tribune.
The former captain-manager of the Chicago base-ball team has just replied to a proposition to offer him a testimonial in such terms as do him infinite honor. Mr. Anson had held his position for many years. He had done the work and discharged the duties of the place faithfully, laboriously, and ably, and he had received for his services a salary which be accepted as sufficient. When it was, thought best to depose him and to employ another captain, he gave way without protest. He had done his best, he had been paid, he had nothing to complain of, and no favors to ask. The proposed testimonial was offered, perhaps, under the impression that he was needy or that his feelings were hurt, and the idea seems to have been that in giving him a benefit they would placate any resentment he might harbor and at the same time proclaim their own generosity. Anson, however, declined to be put in the position of a martyr or a suppliant. He replied: 'I refuse to accept anything in the shape of a gift. The public owes me nothing. I am not old and am no pauper. Besides that, I am by no means out of base-ball.'
We think that everybody will applaud Mr. Anson in this attitude. There is no reasonable doubt that the projected benefit would have netted him several thousands of dollars—it is not too much to estimate the result at $10,000. He has long been a favorite with the Chicago base-ball lovers. He enjoys a high reputation for courage, fairness, honorable methods, and professional ability. But he refused the well-meant offer of the Chicago Athletic Association, and we feel sure that all right-minded men will give him their sympathy and approval. He prefers to occupy the position of one who has served his employers zealously and received full consideration for his work, who has no complaint to make and no pity to invoke. He is not superannuated, has not been ill-treated, and is quite able to support himself for the future. It is a manly, modest, self-reliant, and self-respecting position and it raises him infinitely in public estimation.—Washington (D. C.) Post.
Our illustrious fellow townsman, Adrian Constantinus Anson, has given to the New York Sun a few reflections concerning the duties of womankind, with a comparative review of the charms of the ladies of Chicago and New York. It is Mr. Anson's deliberate opinion that woman has a most beautiful sphere of action in this pleasant life which is likely to be jeopardized by an association with clubs. Mr. Anson thinks that the average woman cannot attend to her regular knitting and to clubs at the same time, and he facilitates himself that the ladies of his immediate family have been restrained by his influence and his arguments from wasting time in society work that should belong to the needs of the small and sympathetic domestic circle. We congratulate Mr. Anson on the ability he has shown in the presentation of his argument, and we turn with confidence to his discussion of the ladies who have come under his observation. "In Chicago," says Mr. Anson, "the ladies dress very stunningly, just as well as they do here, if I am not mistaken, and they are certainly just as fine looking. I'll admit that the New York men dress a great deal better than those of Chicago." Mr. Anson is right. The Chicago man gives little thought to the morrow, wherewithal he shall be clothed. He has his charms, his graces, his many fine points, but as a fashion plate he is not a success. He is content to know that his wife and his daughters are keeping up the standard of Mr. Anson's expectations, and to feel that in providing them with gorgeous raiment he is contributing his share of the beautiful, the true and the good in the world. We have believed for some time that the shopping ladies on the east side of State street constituted a panorama of feminine loveliness unexcelled, but we are glad to have this opinion corroborated by 40 eminent an authority as Mr. Anson, who has a critical eye for the feminine toilet and has been in New York often enough in a professional capacity to exercise a just and accurate judgment.—Chicago Post.
The announced retirement of Adrian Constantine Anson from the management of the Chicago base-ball team marks the end of a career that is without parallel in America. For nearly thirty years Anson has stood among the foremost representatives of the national game, and for half that time. He has been a popular hero whose name was more familiar on the lips of the people than that of any statesman or soldier of his time. Ever since professional base-ball became a feature of American life, he has stood in the front rank of its exponents, and as long as it shall continue to be played his name will be remembered. He reflected credit upon his calling and helped raise it to a plane which made it creditable to him. A certain measure of true glory cannot be denied to such a man. In all his long publicity no charge of dishonorable methods, no rumor of the buying and selling that are too common in athletics was ever laid at his door. He possessed many of the qualities that make leaders of men, and his continued success was due to the same study and application which bring triumph in more highly esteemed fields of activity. Base-ball owes him much, the public owes him something and Chicago owes him more. He is entitled to an honorable discharge.—Detroit Tribune.
The passing of Adrian C. Anson from the position of manager and captain of the Chicago League base-ball club is deserving of notice by everybody. While it is not our purpose or custom to comment on athletics, in general, we deem it proper to drop a few thoughts concerning this man and his life.
For twenty-six years he has been playing base-ball with prominent clubs throughout the country, twenty-two years of this time being spent with the club which just disposed of his services. Five different times he brought his club out at the close of the season as a pennant winner, a record which has not yet been equaled by any manager. Besides being a bright star in the ball-playing constellation, Anson was an expert at cricket, hand-ball, billiards and shooting.
He has ever been temperate in his habits, and his long period of service in this line proves what a man may do by taking care of himself. No better lesson can be taught the young man of to-day than the observance of this man's life. After all, is it not a mistake made by the temperance people that they don't teach the physical as well as the moral effects of intemperance?
The name Anson means athletics. Honest, honorable, clean, pure athletics. No man has done more to place outdoor sports above reproach than he has.—Springfield (Ill.) Sun.
Captain Anson is going to retire. He has played his last championship game, has piloted his young men through the last season and has made his final forceful appeal to a league umpire. With the honors of unnumbered years thick upon him, with a fame that will endure till the last league ball is batted over the palisades of time, with fortune far beyond the hope of thousands who have howled his praise, "the grand old man" will leave the "profession" Jan. 1, 1898, when his contract with the Chicago team shall expire.
There comes a sentiment akin to sorrow in the incident. The man has so truly represented the spirit of sport, he has so honestly and industriously devoted his every energy to its requirements, and he has so persistently abstained from those customs that too often discredit men in his line, that the great public which loves base-ball will regret his departure.
Aside from that there is a measure of compensation. We know that young blood and new methods may help the Chicago team to that eminence it won in the old days. This sentiment is entertained by so many patrons of the game that it may be fair to concede them something.
One thing is certain. No man living will more cordially wish success to the old White Stocking club than will the man who has shared its joys and its woes, and who voluntarily, even now, yields place to a younger man.—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
A few days ago Captain Anson, a representative of the typical American game, declined to accept a public testimonial earned by years of hard work, honesty, uprightness, and faithfulness as a player. Mr. A. G. Spalding guaranteed that the fund would reach $50,000, and from the great flow of telegrams, letters, and offers of contributions that swept down upon the promoter of the testimonial it seemed as though that sum would be exceeded. Anson replied modestly that, while conscious of the high honor conferred in the almost unanimous expression of good will, he could not accept a moneyed tribute. A few years ago Dr. W. G. Grace, the champion cricketer of England, retired from the game, a game typical of England. Headed by the Prince of Wales a great public subscription was raised and more than $40,000 was given the champion. He accepted. The two men occupied the same position toward their games and their countries. The spirit of admiration was unanimous in both countries. Both were athletic heroes. Grace accepted; Anson declined.—Chicago Tribune.
The firm of Chicago & Anson expired by its own limitation last night. The partners parted on the best of terms. It is now twenty-two years since they began to do base-ball together, and the record made is an honor to the world of athletics. Long ago, while the dew of youth was still in his locks, the junior partner was known as "Old Anse," much as in army circles the pre-eminence of General Grant won for him the designation of "the old man." Anson first gained distinction as the heaviest batter that had ever gone to the plate. Then, for many seasons, he was captain. He marshaled his forces with the skill of a great commander. He lost many a battle royal, but he never threw a game, and, alike in victory and in defeat, the honor of Chicago was maintained unflecked. May he live long to enjoy the distinction of being "the grand old man" of the diamond field.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
Our ancient friend Captain Adrian Anson will find ample scope for his disciplinary talents in dealing with the cherubim whom Mr. Freedman has aggregated into his base-ball club. At various times the Baltimore, the Pittsburgs and the Clevelands have held the championship for all-round blackguardism and "dirty ball," but now New York, like "Eclipse," is first and the rest nowhere. In this connection it is interesting to recall that early in the season several of Mr. Freedman's young men haughtily refused to sign the Brush hoodlum agreement upon the ground that they were "gentlemen" and incapable of using vile language. The Brush rule is valid nevertheless, and the patrons of base-ball will watch with interest to see whether it will be enforced against the umpire baiters and vulgarians lately led by Mr. "Scrappy" Joyce. If Anson is given a free hand he will keep the rowdies in subjection. If he is hampered we venture to predict that Mr. Freedman will soon be hunting another captain. The "old man" will not stand sponsor for hoodlums.—Chicago Chronicle.
"I notice," said the Old-Timer, "that a hit was wanted in Louisville yesterday, and that James Ryan (who would quit rather than play with Anson as manager) was at the bat. How many, many times the cranks at the Chicago ball grounds have waited and watched for that same hit, and how often, oh, how often, they have been regaled with that same play—a pop-up to the infield. It is time, long, long ago, that James Ryan was relegated to the bench or the turnstile—for good. Decker is his superior in everything but grumbling."—Chicago Journal. New York, April 2.—A. G. Spalding absolutely denied to-day the truth of the published reports that he had jestingly offered the franchise of the Chicago club to Anson for $150,000, and that while Anson was hustling around trying to raise the money he had no intention whatever of releasing the franchise when it came to a showdown.
"The story is absurd," said Mr. Spalding. "In the first place, Anson is not trying to get the franchise. No one has made overtures to me with that end in view. I have set no price on the franchise, because I had not the slightest intention of letting it go."—Chicago Chronicle.
Temporarily war rumors must sink into innocuous desuetude and other old things. A matter of more far-reaching importance now claims our attention. We shall continue to hope that Sampson and Dewey and Miles will do their whole duty, but we shall not be able to give our personal attention to the trifles that occupy them until we have received definite information whether or not Anson is really going with the New Yorks.—Chicago Post.
As a fielder many have surpassed him, but as a batsman—and batsmen, like poets, are born, not made, and are the kind of players hardest to get—his record has never been excelled. He has not always stood at the head of the list, but always kept up a steady fusillade.—Des Moines Leader.
The passing of Anson from the National League removes from the national game its most conspicuous and active spirit. For many years this young old man has been the principal figure in the grandest of outdoor sports and his setting aside by the managers of the team that he made famous will be lamented everywhere.—Detroit Journal.
Now it is claimed that Anson hasn't a chance on earth of getting control of the Chicago Club, even if he raises that $150,000 option. It is claimed that the price set by Spalding was one of his little jokes, and Ans took it seriously. People who ought to know say Spalding and Hart would not part with the Chicago Club for $250,000.—Cincinnati Enquirer.
O. P. Caylor has this to say: "Anson may be getting old, his step less springy, his joints not so supple as of yore, but his eyes and brain are unimpaired. For all that, he knows more about playing the game than the other men on his team combined. There are at least seven less valuable players than Anson among the Chicago Colts."—New York Herald.
Owing to the De Lome incident and the destruction of the Maine the retirement of Colonel Anson from base-ball generalship is not receiving the general attention its importance warrants.—Chicago Herald.
The young philanthropist who sent $too to Leiter with which to corner the wheat market would exhibit more genuine patriotism if he would inclose a few thousands to Captain Anson for the purpose of obtaining the Chicago ball team.—Chicago Record.
Yesterday was a cold day for base-ball. That grand old man, Captain Adrianapolis Chicago Anson, was umpired out by Father Time, after twenty-two years' signal service at the first base.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
When the sporting world finds a better or more manly man than "Old Anse" it will have to advertise for "the best the country affords." He honestly won his honors in a fair field.—Chicago Inter Ocean.
There is no reason why Cap'n Anson, now in the full maturity of his powers, may not have a successful career before him as a trainer of horses.—Chicago Tribune.
It was worth losing the job for Captain Anson to learn what a royal good fellow he is.—Chicago Record.