The Baseball Chronicle
June 1883
Edition 12.3
The King Is Idle But The Princes Reign
Gothams In Fierce Battle With Quakers For Flag
New York, N.Y., July 1 — Baseball fever has gripped the great metropolis once more, and this time it’s the oft-overlooked New York Gothams giving the faithful something to shout about. Perched atop the National League standings with a mark of 46 victories against 35 defeats, the Gothams are the talk of the town, a town that has known too many lean summers and far too few winners.
The dream of a pennant — the first in the club’s checkered history — is no longer confined to smoke-filled backrooms and barbershop banter. It’s in the streets, the streetcars, the corner soda fountains. Everywhere a fellow turns, there’s talk of the Gothoms.
And all this without the services of their most celebrated ballplayer, King Kelly. The famed outfielder, whose diamond exploits have filled the columns of this very paper for years, is laid low by a stubborn hamstring and will be out of action for another seven weeks. Yet, in his absence, the Gothoms have caught fire like a July grass field.
On the mound, the indomitable Tom Mullane has been nothing short of sensational. With 18 triumphs already tucked under his belt and a stingy earned run average of 1.83, Mullane has been the very backbone of the club’s surge. The old horse has shown the pluck and polish of a man half his age, carving up opposing lineups with a mixture of guile and grit that would make any hurler of yesteryear proud.
Meanwhile, in the batter’s box, two seasoned campaigners have turned back the hands of time. John McMullin and Cal McVey, both past the age when most men are swapping spikes for rocking chairs, are batting well over .300 and driving in runs with the regularity of a milkman making his morning rounds. Their steady hands and keen eyes have made them the twin pillars of a batting order that has refused to wilt under pressure.
Looming large on the horizon are the ever-dangerous Philadelphia Quakers, winners of six pennants and eager to add yet another flag to their crowded trophy room. The Quakers, with their championship pedigree and deep ranks, remain the odds-on choice of the betting men. Yet, the Gothoms, with the city’s hopes at their back and a newfound taste for victory, may prove a harder nut to crack than the Quakers anticipate.
If Mullane’s arm holds up and the elder statesmen in the batting order keep finding grass with their base knocks, there’s no telling how far this club can go. For now, the good folk of New York can dream — and, judging by the swelling crowds at the Polo Grounds, they intend to dream loudly.
Could it be that, at long last, the Gothams will give New York a summer to remember? The city waits, the city wonders, the city dares to believe.
A Ball Game Every Day
League Condenses Schedule In Laborous Way
The summer sun beats down upon the diamonds of America, and with it comes a growing murmur from dugouts, bleachers, and press boxes alike: is the National League pushing its players too hard?
Once upon a time — and not so long ago at that — league clubs played two, perhaps three contests in a week, with ample days of rest between. It was a gentleman’s pace, suited to rail travel and weary legs. But in 1883, the magnates of the National League turned the calendar on its head, forging a schedule that now sees clubs in action nearly every day from April to October.
The result? A baseball buffet for the paying public — save for Sundays, of course, for the Lord’s Day remains sacrosanct — but a relentless grind for the men in flannel.
The critics, and they are legion, argue that the unbroken succession of games robs players of the time needed to recover from the inevitable strains, bruises, and pulls of the long campaign. “The body is not a steam engine,” one veteran trainer was heard to remark this week. “You can’t fire the boiler every day without burning it out.” There is a growing fear that the rash of injuries seen this season — most notably King Kelly’s lingering hamstring — is no mere coincidence.
Yet, on the other side, there is an equally loud chorus insisting that baseball was never meant to be a part-time affair. “This is a workingman’s sport,” said one league official. “The people want their ball games. A fellow gets off his shift and knows there’s a game waiting for him. That’s the beauty of it.” Indeed, in city after city, grandstands swell with patrons eager for daily drama on the diamond.
And drama there is. The National League pennant chase has become a two-horse race, with the upstart New York Gothams clinging to a slim lead over the storied Philadelphia Quakers, winners of six league flags. Every day’s contest feels like a turn of the screw, each game a potential pivot in the standings. In the American League, the defending champion St. Louis club sits atop the heap, though challengers lurk in the shadows, eager to spoil their reign.
As the season thunders toward its final weeks, the question remains: will the daily grind forge champions from steel and sinew, or will it break even the stoutest clubs upon the wheel of fatigue? For now, the fans care little for the debate, so long as the umpire’s cry of “Play ball!” rings through the summer air — six days a week without fail.