bogged down in the trenches, the war proceeding inch by bloody inch. In comparison, Ruth was the precise opposite, all kinetic action and excitement.
Even Ruth was getting into the act. Dick Hoblitzellâs number had finally come up and he was on the precipice of joining the service, so Barrow moved Stuffy McInnis back to first base and installed Fred Thomas at third. Ruth wasnât happy about that. Playing outfield was boring, and he didnât give a damn what was best for the team. He wanted to play first and complained, âI get sleepy out there in the field.â
But there may have been something else at play as well. Ruthâs home run explosion in Detroit, giving him seven for the year in only 23 games, may have also marked a turning point in the season, because from that point forward, not only did Ruthâs home run production drop, but so did that of the entire league. Of the 95 home runs hit in the American League in 1918, 59 came during the first half of the season, when most teams presumably were still using baseballs manufactured before the war effort commandeered wool and horsehide. By midseason, these inferior baseballs, wound with lower quality wool and covered with hides that would have been discarded before the war, were coming into use, a subpar and less resilient product that rapidly turned soft. Although hitting, in general, was not much affected, home run hitting was. After averaging a home run every three games so far in 1918, Ruth would hit only four more over the remainder of the season.
Day by day, which team won and which team lost seemed to matter less and less. While baseball hemmed and hawed and waited around for Washington to make a decision, some players began looking around at other options. There was already a tradition of industrial semipro baseball in many places in the United States, and more than a few players earned more money playing semipro ball than they ever could have in professional baseball, with the added benefit of being able to live in one place and have a cushy job in the postseason. The captains of industry who operated the nationâs largest industrial plants liked nothing better than to beat the competition, so at some levels these teams were semipro in name only. Most ballplayers never saw the assembly line.
With the âwork or fightâ order pending, there was a sudden buildup in industrial production, particularly in the steel, textile, and shipbuilding industries. Eager to avoid the war, and afraid that if they waited much longer they might be drafted, major leaguers began to entertain offers from âessentialâ industries that also just happened to sponsor a potent baseball team. The White Sox star outfielder Joe Jackson was already threatening to quit and Red Sox pitcher Dutch Leonard was mulling an offer from the Fore River shipyard in nearby Quincy, Massachusetts. Lacking any real leadership at the top from Ban Johnson, the season was taking on the character of a sinking ship. It was every man for himself and not enough lifeboats.
Ruth was not an exception, and he led the way in the âwhatâs in it for me?â brigade. The Red Sox needed him on the moundâparticularly if they lost Leonard or anyone else. Yet after pitching in relief and losing to Cleveland 14â7 on June 7, walking the only two batters he faced, Ruth let Barrow know he didnât want to pitch anymore.
He didnât make a big announcement, and Barrow didnât push back very hard, but Ruth now balked every time Barrow brought it up, first telling the manager that pitching and playing in the field made him too tired. The press didnât make much of it, either. With the Red Sox on the road, there wasnât even a Boston beat writer with the team.
The next day Ruth struck out to end the game, stranding the tying run as he swung for the fences. When Barrow pushed him again about pitching when his turn came up next, Ruth suddenly complained
Even Ruth was getting into the act. Dick Hoblitzellâs number had finally come up and he was on the precipice of joining the service, so Barrow moved Stuffy McInnis back to first base and installed Fred Thomas at third. Ruth wasnât happy about that. Playing outfield was boring, and he didnât give a damn what was best for the team. He wanted to play first and complained, âI get sleepy out there in the field.â
But there may have been something else at play as well. Ruthâs home run explosion in Detroit, giving him seven for the year in only 23 games, may have also marked a turning point in the season, because from that point forward, not only did Ruthâs home run production drop, but so did that of the entire league. Of the 95 home runs hit in the American League in 1918, 59 came during the first half of the season, when most teams presumably were still using baseballs manufactured before the war effort commandeered wool and horsehide. By midseason, these inferior baseballs, wound with lower quality wool and covered with hides that would have been discarded before the war, were coming into use, a subpar and less resilient product that rapidly turned soft. Although hitting, in general, was not much affected, home run hitting was. After averaging a home run every three games so far in 1918, Ruth would hit only four more over the remainder of the season.
Day by day, which team won and which team lost seemed to matter less and less. While baseball hemmed and hawed and waited around for Washington to make a decision, some players began looking around at other options. There was already a tradition of industrial semipro baseball in many places in the United States, and more than a few players earned more money playing semipro ball than they ever could have in professional baseball, with the added benefit of being able to live in one place and have a cushy job in the postseason. The captains of industry who operated the nationâs largest industrial plants liked nothing better than to beat the competition, so at some levels these teams were semipro in name only. Most ballplayers never saw the assembly line.
With the âwork or fightâ order pending, there was a sudden buildup in industrial production, particularly in the steel, textile, and shipbuilding industries. Eager to avoid the war, and afraid that if they waited much longer they might be drafted, major leaguers began to entertain offers from âessentialâ industries that also just happened to sponsor a potent baseball team. The White Sox star outfielder Joe Jackson was already threatening to quit and Red Sox pitcher Dutch Leonard was mulling an offer from the Fore River shipyard in nearby Quincy, Massachusetts. Lacking any real leadership at the top from Ban Johnson, the season was taking on the character of a sinking ship. It was every man for himself and not enough lifeboats.
Ruth was not an exception, and he led the way in the âwhatâs in it for me?â brigade. The Red Sox needed him on the moundâparticularly if they lost Leonard or anyone else. Yet after pitching in relief and losing to Cleveland 14â7 on June 7, walking the only two batters he faced, Ruth let Barrow know he didnât want to pitch anymore.
He didnât make a big announcement, and Barrow didnât push back very hard, but Ruth now balked every time Barrow brought it up, first telling the manager that pitching and playing in the field made him too tired. The press didnât make much of it, either. With the Red Sox on the road, there wasnât even a Boston beat writer with the team.
The next day Ruth struck out to end the game, stranding the tying run as he swung for the fences. When Barrow pushed him again about pitching when his turn came up next, Ruth suddenly complained
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