CHAPTER XV
The batting order—The kid idea—Getting the most out of hitting strength—The lead-off man—Combs and Waner are good—No reason why pitchers shouldn’t be good hitters—A few examples—Heaviest hitters bat third and fourth—That’s the scoring position.
When I was a kid playing around Baltimore, we held to two general rules in fixing our batting order. There was the old system of starting with the first baseman and batting around to the right fielder, closing with the catcher and pitcher. There wasn’t anything very scientific in that scheme, but it had its advantages. It was easy to know who was up and didn’t offer much chance for argument. As a kid I saw more fights started over whose turn it was to hit, than for any other single reason I can remember.
The other method of arranging the batting order consisted in starting with a good hitter, then a weak one, and alternating right through. The idea of that was that there would be a good hitter coming up in every inning to start something. That there would also be a weak one to ruin anything that was started, didn’t come in for much consideration.
Of course arranging a batting order in a kid game is a matter that requires plenty of strategy. Just as the boy who owns a glove and ball is generally pitcher, so is the kid who owns a bat, pretty apt to be first hitter—baseball strategy be durned. At least that was true when I was a youngster, and from what I’ve seen boys haven’t changed much since.
But seriously the batting order is a mighty important thing—and managers consider it very carefully. Just as winning a ball game depends on the runs scored so are the runs scored dependent on the batting order. A manager must figure always on getting the most from his hitting strength, and at the same time covering up as much as possible his hitting weaknesses. And every ball club, no matter how strong, is sure to have hitting weakness somewhere.
If there are no others, there’s the weakness of the pitcher as a hitter. Most pitchers are weak hitters. Personally I’ve never been able to figure out just why. I believe that pitchers as a class, should be able to hit just as well as infielders or outfielders or catchers. The trouble is that most baseball men take the attitude: “Oh well, you can’t expect the pitcher to hit” and let it go at that. Just the same there are a lot of pitchers who can hit well.
“Dutch” Ruether was always a good hitter. George Uhle of the Cleveland Indians is about as tough a man up there at the plate as you’ll find anywhere. Walter Johnson always hit well—and Herb Pennock usually comes up with his share of basehits.
As a pitcher, I always managed to smack that ball fairly well, and, considering the little I played, I hit just as well when I was pitching as when playing the outfield. There are a number of pitchers who, through as pitchers, have made good in the outfield. Reb Russell the old White Sox left hander, is one of them. Joe Wood, the old Red Sox fast ball pitcher, went into the outfield and played several seasons after his pitching days were over. “Lefty” O’Doul, who comes to the Giants this year as an outfielder, with a reputation for real slugging, once wore a Yankee uniform as a pitcher. Joe Bush, the old Yankee pitcher, always could hit—and is frequently used as a pinch hitter.
These pitchers are only a few of many who can hit with the best batters in the business. It only goes to show that the old idea about pitchers not being hitters, is all wrong. The big trouble is that the pitchers don’t want to hit. They take the attitude that they’re carrying the burden of the defensive work, and that any strenuous effort at the plate or on the bases would injure their pitching effectiveness.
That idea started many, many years ago—when a club carried only one or two pitchers. In those days when pitchers were overworked, it’s true that they couldn’t afford to expend any more energy than possible at the plate or on the bases. But now a days things are different. With ball clubs carrying eight or ten pitchers, and pitchers called upon to work only every fourth or fifth day, there’s no reason in the world why the pitcher shouldn’t carry just as much of the defensive load as any man on the club. As I see it there are three reasons why a pitcher rates as a poor hitter.
In the first place he believes it himself. He has listened to the old howl for so long that he just accepts it as fact.
The second reason is that pitchers, being pitchers, are more interested in the opposing pitchers’ business than in their own. In other words, when they’re up there at the plate they’re always trying to “guess” what the other fellow is doing. Instead of getting a good firm stance and swinging at the good ones, they’re thinking about whether it’s to be a “curve” or a fast one, a low one or a high one. No “guess” hitter ever makes a good hitter.
The third reason why pitchers can’t hit, as I see it, is a lack of practice. Hitting requires constant practice. You’ve got to keep in there swinging. Pitchers on a big league club, get batting practice only on the days when they are scheduled to work—and only a couple of rounds then. The best hitter in the world can’t be at his best when he handles a bat for perhaps ten minutes twice a week. But given daily practice and the idea that they can hit, there’s no reason why pitchers shouldn’t smack that ball just as hard as any other type of ball player. And what a great thing it is for a club to have nine real hitters up there taking their swing, instead of eight batsmen and a pitcher.
But I started out to talk about the batting order. Most big league managers follow the same general scheme in making up their batting order. Naturally the more good hitters they have, the easier is the job, and the less attention they have to give to placing their men. The ideal batting order would be one of nine men—all of them Cobbs or Hornsbys. But that doesn’t happen.
Managers, if they’re smart, pay a lot of attention to the selection of their first hitter. “The lead-off man” he is called. Here must be a man of good and quick judgment, a player who can hit well, and one who is inclined to be a “waiter.” His job is to get on base. It doesn’t make any difference whether he gets there by a hit, by walking, or by being socked in the ribs—so long as he gets there.
The mere fact that a man is a good hitter, doesn’t make him a good lead-off man. He has to have speed in addition—but most important of all is that good judgment of pitched balls which enables him to force the pitcher to “come in there.” As I said before his job is to GET ON BASE—and to MAKE THAT PITCHER WORK ON HIM.
Few lead-off men, if you will notice, are first ball hitters. In nine ball games out of ten, you’ll see that first man up “take” the first one without swinging—whether it’s outside or right through the middle.
The best lead-off man I’ve seen since I’ve been in baseball is Earl Combs of the Yankees. Probably I’ll get a lot of argument on that statement, but it stands. There are other men in the league who can bunt better than Earl; there are other fellows in the league who get more bases on balls. There are other lead-off men, though not many, who may have better hitting averages. But there’s one thing at which Earl has no equal—and the most important thing of all. He gets to first base safely. Last season for instance, Combs reached first base safely seven times out of every thirteen times he came to bat. Think of that! For every two times he comes to the plate he reaches first once. And that’s not counting the times he was safe by reason of having forced some other runner at second!
I’m not up on records, but I doubt if that record of Combs last season has ever been equalled by anyone. And that’s why I say he’s the best lead-off man I ever saw. He gets on base the most! And once on base, he knows how to get the rest of the way ’round.
The Yankees have been very fortunate in their lead-off men in the past few years. Before Earl Combs came along Whitey Witt held the job, and Whitey was a wizard too. Being little and short he was a tough man to pitch too—and he used to draw a good many passes in the course of a season. But Whitey had one weakness. He could go down to first base like a flash. There were few men in the league who could go faster. But once he reached first he was actually slow. Somehow he didn’t seem to have the knack of baserunning.
Lloyd Waner, the sensational little outfielder of the Pirates, is another fine lead-off man. Waner not only is a keen judge of a pitched ball, but his size is in his favor. Little fellows are always tough to pitch too. A lot of managers figure that the lead-off man should be a small fellow—the smallest on the club. I never could see that size made a lot of difference except that little fellows usually are fast, and they present a small target for the pitcher. It’s the keen eye that counts most however. Earl Combs isn’t small. Neither is Sam Rice of Washington. Johnny Mostil of the White Sox is pretty sizeable, too. Yet they all have been mighty useful lead-off men.
On the other hand there are some little fellows who have rated as stars. Jimmy Sheckard of the old Cubs is one. And Jimmy deserves to be rated among the really great outfielders of the game. Miller Huggins was small, and a great lead-off man—though Huggins was just about as good batting in second place or the “sacrifice” position. Donie Bush, former shortstop of the Detroit Tigers and now manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates, led off for the Tigers through many a long season and many a tough campaign. And Willie Keeler, the one man whom all critics agree was the daddy of scientific hitters, was a lead-off man through a life time of baseball seasons.
There’s one important, thing to remember in selecting a lead-off man. Don’t waste a real slugger on the job—for the lead-off man gets little opportunity to drive in runs, as compared to other posts in the batting order. The reason for that is simple enough. The tail end of the batting order brings up the catcher and pitcher, and these two, by actual record, get to first base less than any other two hitters on the club.
Take the case of Earl Combs for instance. In 1927 Earl got well over 200 hits during the season; more than any other man on the club. Yet he rated fifth or sixth in the matter of runs driven in. It wasn’t because he was a bad hitter with men on bases, either. Just the opposite he’s one of the best boys in a pinch you’ll find anywhere. But usually when he comes up there is nobody on. His business wasn’t to advance other runners for the most part. It was to get on base himself.
Second place in the batting order is looked upon as the “sacrifice” position. The lead-off man is supposed to get on first. Then it’s up to the second man to sacrifice him to second where he will be in scoring position. But the practice doesn’t work out as well as the theory, particularly in these days of plain and fancy slugging. Nevertheless it’s a wise move to have a good hitter batting in second place—and one who can put on either the hit and run, or the sacrifice as occasion may demand. Smart managers are careful to use a “choke” hitter in second place if they have one on the club. That’s because the second place hitter is often called upon to put on the hit-and-run and that’s a play that is next to impossible for a swing hitter to put over right.
In third and fourth place in the batting order you usually find the sluggers. These are the fellows who are counted on to drive in the runs—the siege guns of the attack as the sport writers call them. They may not have as high a batting average as the fellows who bat second and first, but they’re the babies who can be counted on to drive the ball for long distances when they do connect. If they don’t get a base hit they’ve always got the chance of driving out long flies that will score runs, anyhow. Managers of big league ball clubs have differences of opinion on a lot of subjects but they all agree on the value of centralizing their “slugging” power in third, fourth and fifth place in the batting order.
You have only to look at the old box score to prove the statement. In the first world series—the one between Boston and Pittsburgh in 1903—you find Leach and Wagner batting third and fourth for the Pirates and Stahl and Freeman for the Boston club. These were the sluggers doing their stuff then as they do now. And it’s been the same all through baseball history. There were Schulte, Chance and Steinfeldt of the old Cubs, Cobb, Crawford and Veach of the smashing Detroit Tigers of twenty years ago. Collins and Baker batted third and fourth for the famous old Athletics, and they were the sluggers of the outfit. Speaker and Lewis were the clean-up pair for the championship Red Sox; Collins and Jackson for the White Sox of 1917; Frisch Young and Kelly for the Giant champions of a few years ago. With the Cardinals of 1926 Hornsby and Bottomley drew the slugging posts of honor and the Pirates of 1927 had Waner and Harris on the job. It all tells the same story. Third and fourth place in the batting order is the spot for slugging strength, and if you have any left over you can send them into fifth and sixth place as well.
Personally I’d rather bat in third place than any other spot on the lineup. That’s probably because I’m used to it. And then too, I know that I’m being followed by another man who has a good chance of coming through if I fail. I don’t go up to the bat feeling like some sort of a last chance or as though the whole weight of the game was on my shoulders.
I want to say this right here and now too. I feel that a lot of my success in hitting home runs has been due to the fact that I’ve always had fellows following me in the batting order who were just as dangerous as I was. In 1920 when I got 54 home runs and again in 1921 when I hit 59, I was followed in the batting order by Wallie Pipp and Bob Meusel. Both of them had particularly good seasons, and there wasn’t much percentage in passing me to get at fellows like that. Then last year I had Lou Gehrig coming up after me—and the pitcher who passed me to get at Lou was taking a mighty big chance, believe me. Consequently they pitched to me. They had to.
Here’s a funny thing about a batting order that most folks don’t realize. Next to the lead-off man, the fellow who is called upon most often to start the inning at bat is the chap in sixth place. And next to the man batting in third place the fellow who bats sixth comes up most often with men on bases. I don’t know why that is. I only know it’s true! A couple of seasons ago some of the newspaper men traveling with the Yankees got in an argument over it, and one of them went over the scores for a whole season of play to check the thing up. The scores book showed the truth of the claim.
The answer, of course, is that sixth place is a mighty important spot, and requires a man second only to the lead-off man in his ability to get on base. You know in baseball there’s nothing so important as getting the jump on the other fellow. And the most important way of getting the jump is for the first man up in an inning to get on first base. If a team is fortunate to have two men who are good at the business of reaching first base the problem is easy. Put one of them in to lead off and bat the other in sixth place in the batting order. Of the two, take the one that is the best slugger for sixth place. The reason for that is that he is more apt to be followed by weak hitters and it’s ♦therefort necessary that he be able to hit for extra bases as much as possible since he can’t expect so much help from the fellows who follow him.
♦ “therefort” replaced with “therefore”
Which brings us down to the tail end of the batting order, and unless a team is mighty fortunate in having unusual hitting strength that’s apt to be the dumping ground. Some managers believe in putting a little of their hitting strength at the bottom, but personally I’d rather see it bunched. Of course if you’ve got a top-heavy batting order, there will be times about every other inning when your team won’t threaten. But just the same I’ve got a hunch that it’s a good idea to have all your dynamite ready for explosion at once, even if you can get around to it only every second or third inning.
Unless the catcher happens to be a very strong hitter and some other player is unusually weak most managers prefer to bat their catcher eighth and the pitcher ninth. It’s a sort of custom now—but it has a basis of judgment too. It’s simply this. The pitcher and catcher are not in the game regularly, and putting them at the bottom of the batting order breaks up team play the least of any place you could have them. The other six men, batting in regular position learn to know each other’s style of play and can make the most of their base hits. And anyhow the tail end of the order is always the weakest and can stand shifting without harm, better than any other place you can name.