Sport: World Series

Excitement confusing sense impressions, making recognizable the smell of the “Star Spangled Banner” as played on a brass band, the noises of two-for-a-quarter cigars, of D’jer Kiss, of this morning’s breakfast, the taste of anticipation. Bowlegged Honus Wagner and spry Tyrus Cobb, survivors of a Pittsburgh-Detroit World Series 16 years ago, pushed together seats through the press section; a white team (Pittsburg), a grey team (Washington), which had been warming up along the edges of a field earnestly green, looked up at a box wherein Pinchot, Governor of Pennsylvania, stood with a ball in his hand. He threw it as far as he could, and the 1925 World’s Series began.

First Game. Mastiff-faced Joe Harris (Washington), no blood relative of Manager Stanley (“Bucky”) Harris, but sharing his ideas, caused the first outbreak of hysteria by slamming a home run into the arms of the band behind a temporary fence in right field. Aged Roger Peckinpaugh (discarded by the Yankees as too gouty) came up to bat in the fifth inning, hit one of Pitcher Meadows’ (Pittsburgh) offerings, filled bases which already contained Harris and Bluege. Up came Rice. Oof! Strike one. . . . Sugg! Strike two. . . .Pitcher Meadows smiled, wound up to pitch strike three; Rice swung, fans shrieked seeing the ball streak far enough from the plate to bring in Harris and Bluege. Pittsburgh also came up to bat in its regular turn, but Walter Johnson was pitching. In 1913 he could pitch a ball so fast that the eye could not follow it. Twelve years have done his arm small harm; nor could nine innings. He struck out ten men, allowed only five hits. Score: Washington 4, Pittsburgh 1.

Second Game began with the solemn memorial exercises for Christy Mathewson (see below). A heavy mist made it hard to follow the ball. In the sixth inning Aldridge (Pittsburgh) hit boyish-faced Bluege behind the ear with a pitched ball. Spectators moaned. Having just commemorated one death, they feared they had witnessed another. Bluege revived, walked off the field. Moist-handed Pitcher Coveleskie, the Polish Spitballer (Washington), did well until the eighth inning when with the score tied, Kiki Cuyler (Pittsburgh) knocked a home run into the convenient right-field fence. Washington retaliated by filling the bases with none out in the ninth. Pitcher Aldridge had reserve and courage enough left to limit this rally to one run. Score: Pittsburgh 3, Washington 2.

Third Game was delayed for a day by rain, harassed when it finally began by wind and cold, which chilled President Coolidge and pinched his face. After half a dozen innings of erratic baseball, Manager Harris called his pitcher, Alex Ferguson, out of the game and sent in midget Nemo Leibold to bat for him. Nemo, a lefthander, shuffled and glared until Pitcher Kremer ( Pittsburgh) walked him. Poker-faced Goose Goslin stepped to the plate, swung high, swung low, like a man who would hit at anything. Pittsburgh outfielders spread out. Canny Goslin bunted. Traynor hit a sacrifice fly. J. Harris, the lines deeper than ever in his sulky, sagging face, smashed a single along the ground to left field and brought in the run that won the game. Had it not been for a catch in the next inning that run might not have counted for so much. Gaunt Sam Rice caught a Pittsburgh fly that would surely have been a home run. Pressed against the right field fence he saw it over his shoulder and reached up. Pittsburgh players declared that it was impossible—a spectator must have caught it and tossed it down to Rice—but Umpire Rigler shook the noise out of his ears and waved his arm. Score: Washington 4, Pittsburgh 3.

Fourth Game. The glamor faded a little. No band. Less bunting. More the atmosphere of an ordinary ball game. Johnson, refreshed, allowed only three clean hits, passed only two men (one in the first inning when he was cold and one in the ninth when he was tired). Pitcher Yde (Pittsburgh) gave journalists a chance to make puns about Yde and seek. Goose Goslin hit him for a home run, his second in two days; so did Joe Harris. Bucky Harris, called out after a slide to the plate in the seventh inning, screamed like a terrified horse. Umpire Moriarity waved him away. Score: Washington 4, Pittsburgh 0. “We won’t go back to Pittsburgh,” chortled the white-suited Senators.

Fifth Game. Aldridge, winning pitcher of the second game, faced Coveleskie, whom he had previously beaten. The fourth inning was noteworthy because the by-this-time popular “Joey” Harris hit a homerun—his third of the series. With the score 2 to 2 in the seventh inning, Moore, young Pittsburgh second baseman, drew a base on balls. Carey singled. Cuyler singled. “Sarah” Barnhart singled. Two runs had scored, and Washington advocates were crying: “Cheese!” and “Bummer!” at Coveleskie. The Polish pitcher (who won three World Series games in 1920 when he pitched for Cleveland against Brooklyn) trod slowly with downcast head toward a, shower bath; one Ballou, of scant fame, took his place, and Pittsburgh scored twice more. “Back, then, to Pittsburgh!” cried the fanatics.

The end was not yet.