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stealing—How it operated—Out-of-date now—Dangers of signal stealing.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.