"Oh, no," said Rube. "But that's not the reason. The real reason is … Well, maybe it's because that was my first club. I don't know. Whatever the reason, though, it was wonderful to be a Giant back then.
"Take Mr. McGraw, for example. What a great man he was! The finest and grandest man I ever met! He loved his players and his players loved him. Of course, he wouldn't stand for any nonsense. You had to live up to the rules and regulations of the New York Giants, and when he laid down the law you'd better abide by it!
"I'll never forget one day we were playing Pittsburgh, and it was Red Murray's turn to bat, with the score tied in the ninth inning. There was a man on second with none out. Murray came over to McGraw—I was sitting next to McGraw on the bench—and he said, 'What do you want me to do, Mac?'
"'What do I want you to do?' McGraw said. 'What are you doing in the
National League? There's the winning run on second base and no one out.
What would you do if you were the manager?'
"'I'd sacrifice the man to third,' Murray said.
"'Well,' McGraw said, 'that's exactly what I want you to do.'
"So Murray went up to the plate to bunt. After he got to the batter's box, though, he backed out and looked over at McGraw again.
"McGraw poked his elbow in my ribs. 'Look at that so-and-so,' he said. 'He told me what he should do, and I told him what he should do, and now he's undecided. I'll bet he forgot from the bench to the plate.'
"Now, in those days—and I guess it's the same now—when a man was up there to bunt, the pitcher would try to keep the ball high and tight. Well, it so happened that Red was a high-ball hitter. Howie Camnitz was pitching for Pittsburgh. He wound up and in came the ball, shoulder high. Murray took a terrific cut at it and the ball went over the left-field fence. It was a home run and the game was over.
"Back in the clubhouse, Murray was as happy as a lark. He was first into the showers, and out boomed his wonderful Irish tenor, singing My Wild Irish Rose. When he came out of the shower, still singing, McGraw walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. All of us were watching out of the corner of our eyes, because we knew The Little Round Man—that's what we used to call McGraw—wouldn't let this one go by without saying something.