In ‘Field of Dreams’, Shoeless Joe Jackson mentions all the players who want to come back to play, and includes Ty Cobb ‘but none of us could stand the son of a bitch when he was alive so we told him to stick it.’ Ty Cobb also featured in a story in a book I had as a boy about American heroes. As a young player he is told to bunt, but hits a home run instead. He is then fired for disobeying the manager’s orders. I’ve also seen part of a film called ‘Cobb’ where Cobb is old, bald and looks a lot like Tommy Lee Jones. That was the extent of my knowledge of Ty Cobb.
I was rummaging in a rather large bargain bin called ‘Borders’ and I saw a book called Cobb for not much. Intrigued by one quote on the cover: “[Author Al] Stump has resurrected Cobb in all his terrifying malevolence,” I decided to buy it. Inasmuch as I have ever thought about it, I have a romantic view of baseball. Sure like all professional sports it’s more business than game these days but surely there was a golden, more innocent era, and perhaps Cobb’s ‘terrifying malevolence’ was relative.
Boy, was I wrong.
A lot of modern day sportsmen like to talk about the killer instinct, ruthlessness, wanting it more, compare their games to war, and so on. Cobb got there first and makes them look like – well, young men playing games. His ferocious style of play resulted in multiple leg injuries and open wounds, but he would keep playing even as they bled or grew infected. He would deliberately wound opposition players, barrelling into them if they were between him and the plate or sliding in with sharpened spikes raised and slashing – in a non-contact sport. He beat up spectators, verbally abused and threatened opposition players, and, to be fair, took as much as he handed out. Off-field he was worse, his temper exploding into violence that should have seen him in jail several times. He was also perhaps the greatest player of the game ever. In the inaugural induction into baseball’s Hall of Fame, voted for by sports writers, he gained the 222 of a possible 226 votes, or 98.23%, above other inductees such as Babe Ruth and Walter Johnson. (I judge baseball players on the basis of if I have heard of them or not.) Yet at his funeral, only three men from professional baseball attended. It was true: great as he was, none of them could stand the son of a bitch.
Not that the rest of the baseball world was innocent. Baseball was a rough and coarse life for most of the players. In teams owned by millionaires, pay was low and conditions dire, creating opportunities for corruption, which culminated in the 1919 Black Sox Scandal. And if Cobb injured other players, abused them, psychologically destroyed them, it didn’t stop them (or the crowd, for that matter) trying to do the same to him. He just did it better, more viciously, and with more success.
He was an early champion of players rights, not only getting good pay for himself (which he did) but arguing for better pay for all players, better conditions, and more freedom of movement. And unlike many sportsmen, he was a shrewd businessman too. Among many successful investments and businesses, early shares in Coca-Cola certainly paid off, and he died a wealthy man.
His rage was astounding. We can only speculate on what drove it, in our half-arsed sub-Fruedian way. His mother killed his father in dubious circumstances in his first year of professional baseball, and was found not guilty of manslaughter. He helped her for a few years then later shut her out of his life. His teammates in his rookie year tormented the teenager from the South, less than a generation away from the Civil War, by ways and means that would appal today. He grew up in a society and an era that turned a blind eye to his overt racism. And he was a great player. It’s not only now that sportsmen get away with illegal and immoral behaviour. On the other hand, if people did say no to Cobb, he would never take that for an answer.
He is a fascinating character. A great player, an appalling man, a neglectful father and abusive husband, yet not without saving graces. To call him psychopathic is too easy, and denies him his moments of empathy. Despite his legendary meanness, he could be generous with money or advice, giving regular money to poor ex-ballplayers that he liked ie who didn’t back down from confrontation, and establishing scholarships for poor students from his home state.
And there is one story that deserves a wider audience. Shoeless Joe Jackson of course was one of the players banned for life after the Black Sox Scandal. Years later, in the middle of nowhere, Cobb was in a store and recognised the man behind the counter, who gave not a sign of recognition in return. Finally, Cobb said “Joe, it’s me Ty. Don’t you know me?” Jackson replied, “Sure I know you. But a lot of them other fellahs, they don’t want to know me.” So while that line in the movie was true, it’s a little sad they had to give to Shoeless Joe to say it.
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