I thought that on the eve of the Yankees first trip to Fenway this season, a good Ted Williams story was called for. Recently, a good friend of mine and a rabid Red Sox fan, Dan Gwirtzman shared this story with me about how Teddy ‘Ballgame’ got the umpires to call the strike zone the way he liked it. This is the story the way Dan told it to me. It is adapted from the original telling in the  book, "The Brothers K" by David James Duncan.

When Williams came into the league he was confident and quiet, he was focused and he kept to himself. He wouldn’t sign autographs and he wouldn’t say anything much to the reporters. The Boston fans didn’t much like it. So the press and the fans booed him. But Ted didn’t care a bit. He just took it in. He accepted the resentment and the press. This made the fans complain he was arrogant. But he stuck to his game.

As Teddy’s greatness continued to grow, the tension with the fans and the press mounted. He was hitting so well, making Boston shine in the AL East, that people now simply had to know what made him tick. They still resented him, but they needed to have some substance. So now every reporter in town was after him for an interview. But Old Ted held his ground and continued to hit the ball. He also never so much as glanced at an umpire after a close pitch. The umps didn’t mind this. Also, as much as fans hate umps, umps hate fans. So the fact that the fans also booed Williams in his own stadium gave him solidarity with the umps.

All the while Ted was just waiting. And then, one summer day, out of nowhere he relaxed his public stance and decided to grant one sports journalist an interview. They met at a hotel. The journalist fired off three questions – whose your favorite director? what’s your favorite burger in Boston, how long is your noodle?"

Williams didn’t flinch. He answered the questions except the last one. Then the reporter hauled off with the question everyone wanted to ask him, "how do you hit so darn well?"

Ted sat back, took a sip of tea, folded up the paper, and relaxed his manner. He talked of high fastballs, and curveballs he had known, and bat speed, hitters with quick wrists and slow wrists, and as he got on to the subject of fast sliders, Williams suddenly sat up and leaned in.

The reporter was rapt.

"The thing is," Ted said, "I can see the ball from the moment it leaves the pitcher’s hand right to where it jumps off the bat." 

The reporter took it in, delighted – he had an article. He ran home and typed it out. It was in the papers the next day. And now the message was out: Williams had perfect eyes. The umps began to figure he was right and who were they going to try and be by disagreeing with Ted Williams on a meaningful close pitch? From then on Williams had his strike zone and went on to put together two of the best seasons any man ever had, including probably the last .400 season.

 

 

                                                                                                                  Carl The Cabbie

 

There was a time before catcher’s masks, an era when catchers wore tightly wound rubberbands around their teeth to protect from getting them knocked out. As with any popular new past time, baseball evolved quickly. Cincinnati Red Stockings’ founder and shortstop George Wright began to use a mouthpiece in the 1860’s. He patented it and made a pile of money selling his mouthguard on the open market. While many catchers were saving teeth, there wasn’t much they could do for the rest of their face, until the mid-1870’s. That’s when a few fellows at Harvard started talking about making a mask that would change the catching position forever.

The popular tale begins in 1875 with a late season game between arch-rivals Harvard and Yale.  Somewhere in the early innings, Harvard pitcher Harold Ernst came to bat. As the first pitch approached he jumped back, startled by the extreme new swerving movement on the ball as it crossed the plate. Ernst struck out on three pitches. The rest of the Harvard lineup also seemed to be swinging at air. Ernst watched Yale pitcher Charles Avery’s throwing motion very closely for the rest of the day. Yale went on to easily defeat Harvard for the sixth time in their last seven meetings. After the game, Ernst knew that to be one of the best he would have to learn the delivery of this tantalizing pitch. In the off-season he went about teaching himself how to throw what we now call the curve ball. The effects of Ernst’s offseason work were immediate. On opening day in 1876, throwing as many curves as his elbow could stand, Ernst no-hit the powerhouse Lowell, Massachusetts club. He led Harvard to a 25-12 record that season and established himself as one the pioneers of pitching.

The curve ball was considered by most players and spectators as the best new pitch in baseball- but also the riskiest. Catchers everywhere were having a heck of a time holding on to pitches, causing a rise in errors as well as a rise in mangled jaws and noses. Harvard catcher Howard Thatcher wasn’t returning for the 1877 season, but he had helped to prepare James Alexander Tyng (man with mustache in photo to the right) as his replacement. Tyng was Harvard’s best all-around athlete and would later go on to become the first Harvard alum to play in a major league game (1879 Boston Red Caps). Like Thatcher before him, Tyng was having a terrible time catching Ernst. His face was taking a beating and he was becoming increasingly worried about permanent disfigurement. This safety concern prompted Player/Manager, Fred Thayer (man with hat in photo to the right) to consider how to boost Tyng’s confidence and protect his face:                                                                                                                   

"In one or two games in which he caught behind the bat, he had been hit by foul tips and had become more or less timid. He was, by all odds, the most available man as catcher for the season of ’77, and it was up to me to find some way to bring back his confidence,"
                                                                                                                                 
                                                                                                                        Fred Thayer   
                                                                                                         
Thayer had been brewing an idea for a while, ever since some dugout chats he had once held with former catcher Howard Thatcher. Back in 1875, after Thatcher had taken a few too many foul tips to the noggin, the two men had discussed how to better protect a catcher without impeding his visibility. Realizing he could no longer sit on the idea, Thayer decided a fencing mask provided the closest blueprint to what they needed. In the winter of 1876 he hired a local tinsmith to construct a "bird cage" mask with padding in the chin and forehead area. During practices Tyng and Thayer experimented and revised the mask several times until they got it just right for Tyng’s face. On April 12th, 1877 James Tyng became the first man to wear a catcher’s mask in a professional game. The reaction in the media was mixed to say the least:

"The new mask was proved a complete success, since it entirely protects the face and head and adds greatly to the confidence of the catcher, who need not feel that he is every moment in danger of a life-long injury. To the ingenious inventor of this mask we are largely indebted for the excellent playing of our new catcher, who promises to excel the fine playing of those who have previously held this position."
                                                                                                                  Harvard Crimson   

                  
"There is a good deal of beastly humbug in contrivances to protect men from things that don’t happen. There is about as much sense in putting a lightning rod on a catcher as a mask."

                                                                                                                 Unknown SportsWriter 
                                                                                                                                                                  
Thayer received a patent for the mask in 1878. Later in the year, A.G Spalding and Brothers Company, the leading sporting goods dealer in the country, began selling the Thayer Catcher’s Mask for $3.00 in their catalogue. Slowly, catcher’s  started to use it, but it wasn’t until 1879 that sales took off because of a rule change that did away with the one bounce rule. It was now necessary for a catcher to catch a two-strike foul tip in the air in order to record an out. With catchers moving closer to the batter in order to take advantage of this new ordinance, the catcher’s mask became indispensible. Although Fred Thayer received the patent, it should be noted that both Howard Thatcher and James Tyng also layed partial claims to the invention of the first catcher’s mask.

                   
                        

                          Click Here To See The Evolution
                          Of The Catcher’s Mask Since 1876

When it comes to hitting, Ted Williams has long been remembered as the "Scientist" or the "Splendid Splinter" of baseball. Here is a photo from the Baseball Hall of Fame of Ted Williams’ hitting chart. He broke up the strike zone into 77 parts (signified by colored baseballs) and assigned a number for what his batting average should be if pitches were thrown in those areas. Notice that there are only three areas where he thinks he should hit .400—talk about a picky hitter! In 1941 Williams became the last major leaguer to hit over .400 for an entire season (.406). Williams’ uncanny patience also led to 2021 career walks and a lifetime .482 on base percentage.

                     

       

  

 

 

 

 

               

                   

                   The "Scientist" at Work