CHAPTER X

Team play—What it is—What it means—Signs and how they operate—The pitch-out—Backing up the throw—The cut-off play—How it was invented—The coaches, and their duties—Miller Huggins puts one over—The McGraw coaching system—A world series episode—The old practice of signal stealing—How it operated—Out-of-date now—Dangers of signal stealing.

Baseball always has been and always will be a game demanding team play. You can have the nine greatest individual ball players in the world, but if they don’t play together the club won’t be worth a dime.

Two things make for real team play. The first is players’ knowledge of each other that comes from constant playing together. It’s this knowledge which is lacking on all young teams. That’s why old-timers shake their heads when anyone talks of pennant winning with a team that is made up of young ball players. The second means of whipping play into teamwork is by means of signals—“signs” we call them in the big leagues.

Everyone who ever played baseball knows about signs—but there are mighty few amateur clubs that know how to use them. Either they go along, hit-or-miss with no signs at all, or else they swing to the other extreme and get so many signs that no one can remember them all. Lot of folks think that big league ball players have signals for everything they do. That’s bunk. As a matter of fact, a big league ball club has very few signs—but the ones they have they use.

Take for instance the signal between the catcher and pitcher. I can remember as a kid catcher at school, using so many signs that we didn’t have fingers enough to go around. We had every curve labeled. One finger, for instance, would be an inshoot; two fingers, an outcurve; three an outdrop; four, a drop; five, a fast ball—and after that we’d start in on the other hand and have signals for that one, too.

In big league baseball the catcher and pitcher usually have three signs. One for a fast ball; one for a curve; and one for a pitch-out. On a curve ball sign the pitcher may throw a “hook” or he may throw a slow one or screw ball. There’s no difference made between curves in the big leagues. Even a freak delivery like Wilcy Moore’s “sinker” is thrown on a fast ball signal. As a matter of fact, Wilcy’s fast one is always a sinker. It’s a “natural,” as the boys say.

The pitch-out sign is an important one. The catcher who is on his toes is always watching the opponent’s bench and the coaches for possible signs. If he thinks the opponents are putting on a hit and run or a steal, he calls for a pitch-out, which simply means that the pitcher tosses a ball wide of the plate, where it is impossible to hit. If he has caught the signal right and the play actually is on, the base runner naturally is caught flat footed and thrown out. When a catcher knows that the pitcher has great control and can “come in there” with the ball whenever necessary, he uses the pitch-out a great deal. “Wasting one,” we say.

The greatest danger of the pitch-out is that the pitcher will get himself in a hole and possibly walk the hitter as a result. With a pitcher who is inclined to be wild anyhow a pitch-out is a mighty dangerous thing. That’s something the catcher will have to figure out as he goes along.

Very frequently fans, watching a ball game, will see a base runner start with the pitch. The batter stands with the bat on his shoulder and the runner is thrown out by a city block.

“Oh what a bum!” the fans say. “What a bum!” and they boo and jeer the runner all the way back to the dugout.

Sometimes of course a runner is caught flat-footed like that when it’s his own fault, and he deserves the boos. But nine times out of ten on a play like that, you can mark it down that the catcher caught a hit-and-run signal and ordered a pitch-out. Being caught wasn’t the base runner’s fault at all. He was just out-smarted by the catcher.

The pitcher and first baseman have a set of “signs” for throws to first base in an effort to catch a runner. The importance of such a sign is two-fold. In the first place the first baseman is in a better position to judge the lead a runner takes. And in the second place each knows what the other is doing and has his head up all the time. There’s less chance for throws getting away or going wild and letting the runner advance.

One of the prettiest plays in baseball is to see a pitcher catch a runner off second. It isn’t worked as much as it used to be, but you still see it occasionally. That is done by means of signals between the pitcher and shortstop or second baseman. That one usually is a word signal, since the infielders are behind the pitcher who can’t, ordinarily, turn around to get a glove signal.

The infielders watch the lead the runner is taking and if he thinks there is a chance to nab him, he works the word signal into his line of chatter. Then he starts for the bag on the sign. The pitcher, standing with his back to the play, gets the signal and starts counting to himself: “one-two-three!” On the count three he whirls and throws direct to the bag, and by the timing of the count the man covering arrives with the ball set to make the play.

It’s a play that requires a lot of practice to perfect, and the count of course has to be varied for different men. The shortstop might be especially fast in getting over, and in that case the pitcher probably would throw on a “two” count. Or perhaps he’s slow in covering in which case the count might be extended to “four.” The first few times it’s tried you’re apt to see a few balls go rolling into center field, but after practice a team can get it down pat and make it one of the strongest plays in their whole defensive list. So far as the pitcher is concerned his part consists simply in this. “Be sure and get the count right and in turning to throw, make the throw direct to the bag—don’t pay any attention to the infielder. He’s supposed to be there.”

It’s important too, in building team play to have the infielders know what the pitcher is throwing on each pitch. But you don’t need signals for this. Either the second baseman or shortstop is in position to see the catcher’s sign, and he in turn can tip the rest of the players off to it.

♦Urban Schocker is a wizard on that second base play, and Bob Shawkey is another pitcher who used to pick men off second without missing often. Washington uses the play a lot—and they were particularly good at it in the days when Bucky Harris and Roger Peckinpaugh were the second base combination. These two players have a great sense of timing, and always seemed able to start for the bag at just the proper moment to make the play, yet not too soon to tip the base runner off to their intentions.

♦ “Urban Schocker” replaced with “Urban Shocker”

A thing that can make a team look either great or rotten, is the way they back up plays on balls hit to the outfield. The idea is to get as many men into each play as possible, in order to prevent a throw from getting away, and if a club is properly coached there will be four men lined up to protect the throw-in on every hit to the outfield.

The shift of the various players, of course, depends on where the ball is hit and where base-runners may be at the time. The best way I know of to show how shifts are made on throws is by a series of charts. My art work isn’t so good, but what it attempts to show is Okay. With a single to right for instance, with nobody on, you will note that the second baseman moves over and out toward the ball, the shortstop comes in to cover second, the third baseman shifts a little to the right of the bag and the pitcher goes over back of third base. On a ball hit to left field where the play is at second the shortstop goes out toward left for a possible relay, the second baseman covers the bag, the first baseman moves over toward second and the catcher moves down the first base line.

Each play has its own shift, but the important thing is that whenever possible there be four men always in line with the throw, with the cut-off man always ready to cut the throw and divert it to another base if he sees the opportunity.

For instance there’s a man on second and a man on first and the hitter singles to right field. Naturally the runner on second will try to score on the play, and the right fielder’s first thought when he gets the ball, will be to throw to the plate and try and cut off the run. The minute the ball is hit the second baseman cuts out to short right, the first baseman digs in to a spot about ten feet in front of the catcher on a line with the throw-in, and the pitcher goes around behind the plate to back up the catcher in case the ball goes through.

In that case the first baseman is the “cut-off” man. He watches the speeding runners, and he watches the ball. As the throw comes in he senses that it’s just a split-second late to nail the man at the plate, but he sees that there is a chance to get the runner going to third base if he makes the play properly. So, instead of permitting the throw to go on to the catcher he takes it or “cuts it off” as we say, and whirls to throw to the third baseman and nail the other runner going to third.

That’s the so-called “cut-off” play, and it can be worked on any sort of hit, though the cut-off man may be either the shortstop, the second baseman or the first baseman depending on the play.

That particular play, incidentally, was invented by John McGraw and the late Hughey Jennings when they were playing with the old Baltimore Orioles, and it came near revolutionizing baseball. The Orioles worked it a hundred times in the course of a season, before the other clubs got wise. And in the 1922 world series Frisch and Bancroft made the Yankees look like suckers on it no less than three times. The whole success or failure of the thing of course, depends on the good judgment of the “cut-off” men who must decide in an instant whether to “cut-off” the throw or let it go on through to the plate or the base.

In the development of team play the most important man in the business is the coach who watches the scrap from the bench on defense, and occupies the base line coaching boxes when the team is at bat.

It’s a funny thing about coaches. When ball clubs first began to send men down the baselines, there was no idea in mind of using him for giving signs or directing play. He was out there to rag and annoy the opposing players, and particularly the pitcher. “Jockeying” we call it now—or taking the other fellows for a “ride.”

Some of the things the old-time coaches used to say, and some of the names they used to call their opponents were terrible. They’d begin with “Bum” and “cut-throat” and “Robber” and go steadily up from there. And if they could get their victim to talking back to them they were more than pleased. For the minute a player begins talking to an opposing coach he’s lost. That takes his mind from the game and he’s ripe for a killing.

The coaches, out there on the lines, are the fellows who are in best position to grab an opposing team’s signals and tip them off. Then they can see the flight of a ball, and are in a position to guide and direct the base runner.

A lot of smart stunts have been pulled on the coaching lines.

One of the best yarns I ever heard, was a stunt pulled by Miller Huggins when he was manager of the Cardinals.

The Cards were mixed up in a tough, tough game, and opposing them was a young pitcher, who for that day at least, seemed to have everything. Inning after inning he went along, setting the Cards down in order, until Hug was almost licked. Finally along in the seventh inning the Cards got a runner to third with two men out. A weak hitter was up and Huggins, coaching along the third base line, knew very well that he couldn’t hit.

Hug was thinking fast, and as the kid pitcher wound up and started to pitch, he yelled from the coaches’ box:

“Hey you, let me see that ball!”

Without thinking, the kid turned and tossed the ball over to Hug, who promptly stepped aside and let it roll to the bench. The runner on third scored standing up, and the ball game was won.

Right there was one kid pitcher who learned a lesson. From that day on he surrendered the ball to nobody but the umpire, and then only after strong urging.

John McGraw, of course, is one of the greatest coaches in the business. John directs not only the important moves of a game, but all the details. He pulled one on me in the 1923 world series that I won’t forget for a long time.

It was in that wild eighth inning of the final game in which we won the series. Art Nehf had been going great guns for seven innings but in the eighth you may remember, he developed wildness. He walked three men in a row and finally was taken out and Rosy Ryan put in.

To make a long story short I came to bat with runners on second and third, one out, and a run needed to tie or two to win. What a spot to be a hero. But it wasn’t my hero day.

Ryan was curving every ball and after “whittling,” he carried the count down to three and two. I thought he was going to walk me sure, and I was rarin’ to sock it. If I ever wanted to hit a ball in my life that was the time.

McGraw stopped the game and came to the edge of the dugout and called Hank Gowdy the Giant catcher over to him.

“Go out there and tell Ryan to throw this one into the dirt,” he ordered. “Ruth is so anxious to hit he’ll swing at anything.”

And Ryan did just that!

The ball hit the dirt in front of the plate and I swung for a third strike. Afterward when I found out what McGraw had ordered and how he had crossed me up, I was fit to be tied. But luckily for us, Bob Meusel smacked one for a single and we won the game and the series anyhow. If we hadn’t I’m afraid there would have been murder done around the Polo Grounds.

In the old days coaches used to spend a lot of time trying to steal the catcher’s signals and tip off the hitters. Old Chief Bender, the Indian pitcher who used to be with the Athletics, was one of the best signal stealers in the business. So was Harry Davis. And many a time they both helped the A’s win a ball game by grabbing the other boys’ signals and tipping their own hitters off as to whether it would be a “hook” or a fast one.

But that has gone out in recent years. In the first place it’s dangerous business. If a batter is tipped off that a curve ball is coming and he gets set for it, and then the pitcher sends up a fast one, the hitter is apt to get his chin torn loose from his undershirt. More than one player has been hit in the head because the coacher thought he had the pitcher’s signs and then found out he was wrong.

In the present age the chief signal stealing that is tried, is the effort to discover the batting team’s hit and run, and sacrifice and base stealing signals. Those of course, are valuable things to know, and if you can grab them successfully you’ve got two strikes on the other fellow before he ever steps up there to the plate.

But the boys are pretty cagey, and it isn’t easy to steal ’em, anymore. Usually a club has five or six different sets of signals, and they’re apt to switch five or six times in the course of a game if they think their opponents are getting wise. And then, if you think you have the signs and haven’t you’re in an awful fix.