The World Championship That Almost Wasn't
A Red Sox-Cubs World Series? Cynics might think that neither
star-crossed franchise could win. In fact, when they met in 1918,
the Series almost ended with no winner, as players on both clubs
threatened a mid-Series strike.
The seeds of the strike were sown before the season, when
baseball’s governing National Commission changed the rules
governing distribution of World Series money. Before 1918, the
players on the participating clubs shared 60% of the gate
receipts from the first four games, split 60-40 between the
winners and losers. The winner’s share often exceeded
$3,500 -- a very substantial sum in those days. In both 1915 and
1916, Babe Ruth’s World Series share was more than his
entire season’s salary.
But the National Commission now decreed that the World Series
money would be shared among eight teams, not just the two
participants. Players on the winning club would receive a flat
$2,000/man, the losers, $1,400. Once the participants had been
paid, the remainder of the pool would be distributed among the
other first-division clubs: half to the each league’s
runners-up, 30% to the third-place clubs and 20% to the
fourth-place finishers. The decree effectively reduced the
participants’ World Series share by more than forty
percent.
The Commission’s ruling went almost unnoticed at the time,
as World War I cast a long shadow over the 1918 season. Major
league attendance fell 40% and only one of the 10 minor leagues
completed its schedule. With over four million men serving in the
armed forces, able-bodied men were taken from playing field and
bleachers alike. Finally the government’s “work or
fight” order brought the regular season to a sudden close
on September 1.
The abrupt end to the season combined with the World War to
reduce public interest in the Series to an all-time low. Even
with World Series tickets sold at regular-season prices, fewer
than 20,000 fans saw Babe Ruth outpitch Hippo Vaughn in the
opener. After the third game, the National Commission voted to
reduce the players’ share still further, to $1,200 for the
winners, $800 for the losers.
The Cubs and Red Sox learned of this latest reduction shortly
before they boarded trains for Boston. The long journey gave them
plenty of time to confer, vent their frustrations and plan their
next move. The players voted to confront the National Commission,
demanding the full shares promised to them before the Series.
Their representatives, Harry Hooper of the Red Sox and Leslie
Mann of the Cubs, spoke to the Commission but received no
promises. The players fumed. But what could they do?
On the afternoon of September 10, 1918, they did exactly nothing.
As fans flocked to Fenway for the fifth game of the World Series,
the players remained in the clubhouse. They took no batting or
infield practice; no pitchers warmed up. Game time came and went
with no sign of either team. The crowd of almost 25,000 grew
restless.
Meanwhile, player representatives Hooper and Mann were meeting
with the National Commission. Well, with most of the
Commission. Its dominant member, AL president Ban Johnson, was
celebrating the World Series at the bar of the Copley Plaza
Hotel. The Commission refused to act without him.
By the time Johnson reached the park, he was in no condition to
reason with the players. Once apprised of the situation, Johnson
staggered up to Harry Hooper, threw an arm around his shoulder,
and (according to baseball writer Fred Lieb) slurred,
“Harry, do you realize you are a member of one of the
greatest organizations in the world – the American League.
And do you realize what you will do to its good name if you
don’t play?” Hugging Hooper, he pleaded,
“Harry, go out there and play. The crowd is waiting for
you.”
Hooper and Mann were prepared for a debate, but not for the
drunken Johnson. Throwing up their hands, they told their
teammates that rational discussion was impossible under the
circumstances. The Cubs and Red Sox reluctantly took the field.
After an hour’s delay, Mayor John “Honey Fitz”
Fitzgerald told the crowd that the game would go on “for
the sake of the public and the wounded soldiers in the
stands.”
But the public, and those wounded soldiers, resented the
players’ threats. The next day only 15,238 came out to
watch the Red Sox win their fifth World Series. Their
winner’s share fell short of the promised $1,200. The
National Commission voted not to award the traditional World
Series pins: “the mutinous and mercenary action of the
contesting players in the recent Series demonstrates that the
members of the championship team are unworthy of a World Series
emblem, and none shall be presented to them.” And the stage
was set for the 1919 Series, in which many White Sox concluded
that they could earn more by throwing the World Series than by
winning it...
Copyright © 1998 Doug Pappas. All rights
reserved.
Originally published in the September 1998 issue of Boston
Baseball.
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