""I"d sacrifice the man to third," Murray said.
""Well," McGraw said, "that"s exactly what I want you to do."
"So Murray went up to the plate to bunt. After he got to the batter"s box, though, he backed out and looked over at McGraw again.
"McGraw poked his elbow in my ribs. "Look at that so-and-so," he said.
"He told me what he should do, and I told him what he should do, and now he"s undecided. I"ll bet he forgot from the bench to the plate."
"Now, in those days--and I guess it"s the same now--when a man was up there to bunt, the pitcher would try to keep the ball high and tight.
Well, it so happened that Red was a high-ball hitter. Howie Camnitz was pitching for Pittsburgh. He wound up and in came the ball, shoulder high. Murray took a terrific cut at it and the ball went over the left-field fence. It was a home run and the game was over.
"Back in the clubhouse, Murray was as happy as a lark. He was first into the showers, and out boomed his wonderful Irish tenor, singing _My Wild Irish Rose_. When he came out of the shower, still singing, McGraw walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. All of us were watching out of the corner of our eyes, because we knew The Little Round Man--that"s what we used to call McGraw--wouldn"t let this one go by without saying _something_.
""Murray," McGraw said. "What did I tell you to do?"
""You told me to bunt," Murray said, not looking quite so happy anymore.
"But you know what happened, Mac. Camnitz put one right in my gut, so I cow-tailed it."
""Where did you say he put it?" asked McGraw.
""Right in my gut," Murray says again.
""Well," said McGraw, I"m fining you a hundred dollars, and you can try putting that right in your gut, too!" And off he went.
"Oh, G.o.d! I never laughed so much in my life! Murray never did live that down. Years later something would happen and we"d yell to Murray, "Hey Red, is that right in your gut?"
"There were a lot of grand guys on that club: Christy Mathewson and Chief Meyers, Larry Doyle and Fred Snodgra.s.s, Al Bridwell and Bugs Raymond. Bugs Raymond! Ah, yes! What a terrific spitball pitcher he was.
Bugs drank a lot, you know, and sometimes it seemed like the more he drank the better he pitched. They used to say that he didn"t spit on the ball: he blew his breath on it, and the ball would come up drunk.
"Actually, there was very little drinking in baseball in those days.
It"s a shame that drinking will become more and more commonplace in American sports with the pa.s.sage of time. I have seen it, and it is sad.
Myself, I"ve never smoked or took a drink in my life. I always said you can"t burn the candle at both ends. You want to be a ballplayer, be a ballplayer. If you want to go out and carouse and chase around, do that.
But you can"t do them both at once.
"Of course," continued Rube Marquard"s shadow, "when we were on the road, we had a nightly eleven o"clock bed check. At eleven o"clock we all had to be in our rooms and the trainer would come around and check us off. We"d usually have a whole floor in a hotel and we"d be two to a room. I always roomed with Matty all the while I was on the Giants. What a grand guy he was! The door would be wide open at eleven o"clock and the trainer would come by with a board with all the names on it. He"d poke his head in: Mathewson, Marquard, check. And lock the door. Next room, check, lock the door.
"As far as I was concerned, I never drank a drop even when I was in show business. In 1912 I made a movie with Alice Joyce and Maurice Costello, and then I was in vaudeville for three years, Blossom Seeley and I.
That"s when she was my wife. It didn"t work out, though. I asked her to quit the stage. I told her I could give her everything she wanted.
""No," she told me. "Show business is show business."
""Well," I said, "baseball is mine." So we parted."
"You mentioned that you were with the Giants for seven years, and then the Dodgers for five, did you not? How did it feel when you were traded from the Giants to the Dodgers?" asked Elephant.
"Well," said the shadow, "not too bad. See, I traded myself. I didn"t seem to be able to get going in 1915 after I pitched that no-hitter early in April, and late in the season McGraw started riding me. That was a very bad year for the Giants, you know. We were favored to win the pennant, and instead we wound up last. So McGraw wasn"t very happy.
After I had taken about as much riding as I could stand, I asked him to trade me if he thought I was so bad.
""Who would take you?" he said to me.
""What do you mean?" I asked. "I can still lick any club in the league."
And I could, too! Heck, I wasn"t even twenty-six years old then.
""Lick any club in the league?" scoffed McGraw. "You couldn"t lick a postage stamp!"
""Give me a chance to trade myself, then," I suggested. "What would you sell me for?"
""Seven thousand five hundred bills," he answered.
""Okay," I said. "Can I use your phone?"
""Sure," he said.
"We were both pretty mad at that point, so I got "hold of the operator and asked her to get me Wilbert Robinson, manager of the Brooklyn club.
You see, Robbie--that"s what we called him--had been a coach with us for years before he became the Dodger manager in 1914. After a while, she got Robbie on the phone.
""h.e.l.lo?" he says.
""How are you, Robbie?" I asked.
"Fine," he said. "Who is this?"
"Now, I had to handle this conversation very carefully. My whole world depended on it. "How would you like to have a good left-handed pitcher?"
I said in a jovial tone.
"I"d love it," he said. "Who is this? Who"s the man? Who are you going to recommend?"
"I then dropped the clincher. "I"m going to recommend myself," I told him.
""Who are you?" he repeated.
""Rube Marquard," I said, trying to sound impressive.
""Oh," Robbie said. "What are you kidding around for, Rube? I have to go out on the field and I don"t have time to fool around."
""No," I told him, "I"m serious! McGraw is right here and he says he"ll sell me for seven thousand five hundred buckaroos! Do you want to talk to him?"
""Of course I do," Robbie said. And right then and there I was traded from the Giants to the Dodgers.
"And, of course, we--the Dodgers, that is--won the pennant the next year, and I had one of the best years I ever had. I think I had an earned run average of about one and a half in 1916. And then we won the pennant again in 1920. So everything worked out pretty well.
"One day when I was pitching for Brooklyn, I pitched the first game of a double-header against Boston and beat them, one to zip! I was in the clubhouse during the second game, taking off my uniform, when the clubhouse boy came in. "Rube," he said to me, "there"s an elderly gentleman outside who wants to see you. He says he"s your father from Cleveland.
""He is not my father," I said. "My father wouldn"t go across the street to see me. But you go out and get his autograph book and bring it in, and I"ll autograph it for him."
"But instead of bringing in the book, he brought in my Dad. And we were both delighted to see one another.
""Boy," said my father to me, "you sure are a hardhead. You know I didn"t mean what I said ten years ago."