Ireland’s fiery contribution to baseball
This was his attempt to take one for the team by taking one from the other team. He even claimed he didn’t lose the head in the heat of battle. Instead, this was his way of salvaging some balance against the league champions elect in the white heat of a fight for survival during an era of football when relegation from the gilded Premier League could lead to Portsmouth-esque ruination.
But it didn’t quite work out that way and it should be noted that it fell far short of the high water mark for professional sports violence with exponential collateral damage as by-product.
That dubious honour belongs to baseball’s John McGraw, a turn-of-the-last-century Hall-of-Famer who came from humble beginnings as the Upstate New York son of an Irish immigrant. One of his most infamous episodes was a row he started that escalated so badly that he took a whole stadium with him.
Early in his career, McGraw, just turned 21, had already nurtured a vicious temper while playing with the Baltimore Orioles, the club where he spent most of the 1890s as a player before returning briefly as a manager, preparing for his subsequent despotic 30-year rule at helm of the New York Giants.
One of his blood rivals was Tommy Tucker of the Boston Beaneaters. On one quaintly absurdist occasion, the pair settled a dispute in the manner of a chivalric duel, standing 10 yards apart with three balls each which they flung at their foe with all the fielding power and rage they could muster up.
That fateful day which cemented his reputation arrived in 1894. McGraw was lurking with intent as the sprinting Tucker approached third base during a game in Boston, already clear in the knowledge that his opponent would rue the decision to advance from second.
Tucker slid hard into third only to be greeted by the foot of McGraw who kicked him in the head as he laid on the tag to get him out. Tucker leapt up to his feet and gave as good as he got.
As is the way with baseball, the fight spiralled out of control and the crowd, naturally, lapped it up. In the midst of the chaos, spectators inevitably began to tussle and this may or may not have led to a carelessly discarded cigarette (though an arsonist is also believed to have taken advantage of the anarchic atmosphere).
All of a sudden, the flimsy right field stands began to burn ferociously, the fire spreading throughout Boston’s old South End Grounds and destroying the two-tier grandstand behind home plate.
As the pair continued to fight, the fire continued to engulf more and more of the ballpark before eventually spreading to well over 100 buildings in the immediate vicinity, leaving an estimated 1,900 people homeless.
It’s a scene too old to be documented by photographic evidence but just about old enough to provide guilt-free delight at the sheer macabre improbability of it all.
McGraw is one of our many gifts to America’s cherished game. And he is also a recent inductee to the Irish American Baseball Hall of Fame, a four-year-old association led by Irishman Sean Clancy who operates it out of his pub Foley’s on West 33rd Street in Manhattan, just off Fifth Avenue in the shadow of the Empire State Building.
Foley’s is a cluttered tribute to baseball, the walls covered with every conceivable type of paraphernalia related to the game, be it an old seat from Fenway Park or the “Actual Tiffany Bag That Held 2011 World Series Trophy”.
Hanging from the ceiling is the Irish national baseball team jersey while all manner of signed balls adorn the walls. If there is such a thing as “pride of place” in as busily a decorated establishment as this, it belongs to the bronze plaques dedicated to the 26 inductees which have been honoured since 2008. First on the list that year was Connie Mack, who oversaw the Philadelphia Athletics for 50 years until 1950, the longest stint in history and one which earned more wins than every other manager including McGraw, who sits in second place.
Foley’s only had two signed baseballs on the wall eight years ago. That raised the ire of a Major Leaguer who asked why he didn’t have a ball hanging up. Now the collection of artefacts is valued at about $4m (€3.1m).
Maybe it adds to a well-worn cliche that a pub should pay homage to Irish-American baseball but it’s a fitting testament to how vital the community was in the early days of baseball, burnt out ballparks notwithstanding.
* john.w.riordan@gmail.com Twitter: JohnWRiordan
