In contrast, “Connie” Mack, the manager of the Athletics, and by many declared to be the greatest leader in the country (although each private, of course, is true to his own general), lets his players use their own judgment largely. He seldom gives a batter a direct order unless the pinch is very stringent.
The most difficult position to fill as a coacher is at third base, the critical corner. There a man’s judgment must be lightning fast and always accurate. He encourages runners with his voice, but his orders are given primarily with his hands, because often the noise made by the crowd drowns out the shouted instructions. Last, he must be prepared to handle all sorts of base running.
On nearly every ball club, there are some players who are known in the frank parlance of the profession as “hog wild runners.”
The expression means that these players are bitten by a sort of “bug” which causes them to lose their heads when once they get on the bases. They cannot be stopped, oftentimes fighting with a coacher to go on to the next base, when it is easy to see that if the attempt is made, the runner is doomed.
New York fans have often seen McGraw dash out into the line at third base, tackle Murray, and throw him back on the bag. He is a “hog wild” runner, and with him on the bases, the duties of a coacher become more arduous. He will insist on scoring if he is not stopped or does not drop dead.
Some youngster was coaching on third base in a game with Boston in the summer of 1911 and the Giants had a comfortable lead of several runs. Murray was on second when the batter hit clearly and sharply to left field. Murray started, and, with his usual intensity of purpose, rounded third base at top speed, bound to score. The ball was already on the way home when Murray, about ten feet from the bag, tripped and fell. He scrambled safely back to the cushion on all fours. There was nothing else to do.
“This is his third year with me,” laughed McGraw on the bench, “and that’s the first time he has ever failed to try to score from second base on a hit unless he was tackled.”
All ball clubs have certain “must” motions which are as strictly observed as danger signals on a railroad. A coacher’s hand upraised will stop a base runner as abruptly as the uplifted white glove of a traffic policeman halts a row of automobiles. A wave of the arm will start a runner going at top speed again.
Many times a quick-witted ball-player wins a game for his club by his snap judgment. Again McGraw is the master of that. He took a game from the Cubs in 1911, because, always alert for flaws in the opposition, he noticed the centre-fielder drop his arm after getting set to throw the ball home. Devore was on second base, and one run was needed to win the game. Doyle hit sharply to centre field, and Devore, coming from second, started to slow up as he rounded third. Hofman, the Chicago centre-fielder, perceiving this slackening of pace, dropped his arm. McGraw noticed this, and, with a wave of his arm, notified Devore to go home. With two strides he was at top speed again, and Hofman, taken by surprise, threw badly.
The run scored which won the game.