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.