No Money, No Beer, No Pennants. Scott H. LongertЧитать онлайн книгу.
The new manager was being conservative, but he knew the American League as well as anyone else if not better. He wanted fans to be hopeful but not expect a contending team right out of the gate.
A week later the infielders and outfielders arrived in camp. Full workouts were under way. There was the practice of leapfrog, where the players took turns jumping over one another across the field. The Indians had been doing this going back to 1916 when Lee Fohl was manager. It is difficult to determine the benefits of leapfrog, but the players seemed to really enjoy the drill. They ran a brisk lap around Heinemann Park and got in their share of calisthenics. Peck did not drive his players to exhaustion, but he made certain the entire squad got in a good day’s work. He even allowed them to play golf after the workouts.
Billy Evans had sent a large number of ballplayers to New Orleans to give his manager a chance to find some raw talent. There were three or four extra each of shortstops, catchers, and outfielders. One of the shortstops was a football and baseball All-Star from Syracuse University who impressed Peck immediately with some good fielding and timely hitting. His name was Jonah Goldman.
The new prospect was born in 1906 in New York City. He was by far the best athlete at Erasmus High School in Brooklyn, excelling at football, soccer, basketball, and track. With all the time devoted to sports, Goldman fell behind in his studies, causing him to spend a year at prep school. Many colleges were interested but Goldman decided to attend Syracuse University. There he immediately played halfback on the freshman football team and shortstop on the baseball squad. He quickly drew attention for spectacular long runs on the football field and belting doubles and triples on the diamond. The opponents were of high quality, including colleges like Michigan, Nebraska, Penn State, and Boston College. Some of the notice that went Goldman’s way had little to do with events on the playing field: he was a rare commodity, in being a multisport Jewish athlete.
Since the latter part of the nineteenth century, Major League Baseball had been one of the few places where immigrants had a chance to excel. Initially it was an opportunity for men who had arrived from Ireland and found little opportunity other than grueling manual labor. Those who had some athletic skill discovered that ballplayers could earn a living with a professional baseball club. Near the end of the nineteenth century there were McGraws, Delahantys, McGinnitys, and Kellys in the National League. Irish folks would pack the bleachers to see one of their own perform. Next came the German wave, with the great Honus Wagner, Hans Lobert, and Henry “Heinie” Groh. All had certain difficulties with lowbrow fans who loathed immigrants, but over time there came a general acceptance.
Jewish athletes entered baseball at a much slower pace. There were wealthy Jewish men who owned baseball teams, including Andrew Freedman of the New York Giants and Barney Dreyfuss of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Be that as it may, ballplayers were few and far between. Moe Berg entered the majors in the early 1920s. Buddy Myer became a star for the Washington Senators, but there is still debate today as to whether or not he was actually Jewish: apparently his father was, his mother not. Now Jonah Goldman began to make headlines in newspapers around the country, mostly due to his religion. Almost invariably, articles would mention he was a Jewish boy trying to make good with the Indians. If that was not enough to contend with, he had to beat out Joe Sewell for a job. The veteran from Alabama was not about to step aside for anybody.
Editors and columnists from around the country weighed in on the prospect of Jewish ballplayers in the big leagues. For years, manager John McGraw of the New York Giants had searched the New York City area, trying to find a talented Jewish player for his club. McGraw believed that if he could locate the right individual the Polo Grounds would be overflowing with Jewish fans. In 1928 the Giants brought second baseman Andy Cohen to training camp. McGraw hoped he had found the player that the vast Jewish population in the New York metro area would embrace. If Cohen made the Giants roster for the upcoming season, a large spike in attendance would surely take place. Some writers called it a fad, others commercialization.
A sports editor in Mississippi wrote a column on the subject, saying that there truly was a fad going on in baseball with this turn toward Jewish ballplayers. He referred to the Yankees signing Jimmy Reese, whose actual last name was Goldsmith, the Giants and Andy Cohen, and the Indians with Jonah Goldman, and noted the “ballyhoo” accompanying these players, mostly because of their religion. Some writers were hopeful that the fans around the country would be enlightened enough to boo or cheer based only on how the players performed. Most acknowledged that there were times when Jewish ballplayers were harassed out of the game, but the hope was that people in the late 1920s were more tolerant and would not hold a man’s religion against him.
Damon Runyon saw the lighter side of the issue. He wrote in a syndicated column that boisterous Irish fans could cheer the “Andrew” part of Andy Cohen while the Jewish fans could yell for the “Cohen” part. He suggested the name should be changed to O’Cohen to appease both factions.
The Cleveland papers picked up on the hot topic immediately. They made a strong point of letting the readers know the young shortstop was Jewish. Later they would publish stories about his playing ability, but for now his religion was selling the papers. Shortly after the signing was announced, a local reporter pulled out a telephone directory and located the page with the name “Goldman” listed. He called ten of the numbers for reactions to the signing. Some of those he spoke to had no idea what was taking place, while a few knew baseball and figured out why they’d gotten the phone call. The article probably triggered chuckles around the city, but if the name had been Smith or Johnson there simply would have been no story.
For his part, Jonah Goldman stayed as quiet on the sidelines as possible. Writers mentioned that he did not take part in the clubhouse banter, did not play cards, or even smoke. He enjoyed going to the picture shows and seeing the sights. Whether or not he did these activities alone is purely a matter of speculation. His teammates may have accepted him on the playing field, but social activities could have been another matter. When asked about how the other players treated him, Goldman praised his teammates for all the help they provided on the diamond. He expected to get the cold shoulder, but was pleased to be treated as just another ballplayer. Although recently out of college, he had ample maturity and the good sense not to give sportswriters any more headlines than necessary. Though the Cleveland players may have been tolerant to a degree, it would be years before all of baseball followed suit.
Spring training went along as usual with the workouts and exhibition games. Those pitchers trying to overcome arm troubles would tell the press they had never felt better. Hitters who had had an off year would remark how well they were seeing the ball. Manager Peckinpaugh needed to study each player to determine who would take the trip north to open the season.
As the weeks rolled by, Peck sensed he had found lightning in a bottle in second baseman Carl Lind. The newest recruit had played his collegiate ball at Tulane University. He got a timely opportunity when Joe Sewell fell injured and there was some shuffling done in the infield. Lind seized the moment and earned himself a place on the roster. Not so for shortstop Jonah Goldman. He displayed a lot of promise, but Peckinpaugh believed he would do better with a year in the minors. His time would come, just a little bit later.
With Opening Day on the horizon, the Indians left New Orleans and traveled north for Chicago. They were eager to start a new season and prove the previous year’s sixth-place finish was the exception to the norm. The White Sox were not expected to do much in the pennant race, which gave Cleveland a fighting chance to win a few early. Peckinpaugh opted to go with his veteran, penciling in George Uhle as the starter. It proved to be a wise decision, as the Indians won the opener, 8–2. The Sewell brothers led the way, with Joe (recovered from a sore knee) bashing three hits and Luke two. Uhle added three hits and a sacrifice for a perfect day at the plate. The game was not without plenty of excitement. In the bottom of the third inning, the White Sox had runners on first and third with two out. Willie Kamm, the Chicago captain, lifted a fly ball to short right-center field. Eddie Morgan raced in from center while second baseman Lew Fonseca drifted back. The ball was seemingly too far to reach and neither yelled they had it. Fonseca stretched out at the last instant and speared the ball. Morgan could not stop, slamming into his teammate at full speed. Somehow, Fonseca held the ball while both players fell to the ground. After a few minutes both stood up and walked slowly to the Indians dugout. Morgan came