Edward Achorn

(A daily diary of the greatest season a major-league pitcher ever had.)

NEW YORK — You think umpires had it easy in 1884? Not on the field, where they had to work alone, and especially not in New York, where local fanatics have a tendency to act on their oft-stated desire to kill the umpire.

New Yorkers, boiling angry at a series of defeats by the formerly first-place Gothams, are ready to erupt when the Gothams host the Boston Beaneaters at Manhattan’s Polo Grounds this afternoon. Things get off to a bad start when the assigned National League umpire, Eugene Van Court, fails to show up. The clubs deputize the Beaneaters’ twenty-two-year-old backup catcher, Tom Gunning, to do the job.

Adding to the explosive atmosphere: John Morrill, the quiet, resolute and fair-minded captain of the Beaneaters, has left town for his father’s funeral. Taking his place as captain this afternoon is the hotheaded Black Jack Burdock.

He quickly goes to work, in his inimitable fashion, infuriating everyone. “This gentleman was in the worst humor possible, and he pranced about the field and yelled in a manner that would lead one to believe he was a fit subject for a lunatic asylum,” the New York Times complains.

Gunning, who has been with the club for only two weeks and stands “in mortal fear” of crossing up his captain, begins shading his calls for Boston, the paper claims.

The Sporting Life gives Gunning slightly more credit, saying he initially “umpired fairly and impartially, if anything, giving the New Yorks the best of it” — but, by the end, he lets himself be “bulldozed” by Burdock.

After the Beaneaters rally from behind to tie the game, 8-8, Burdock — worried that his pitcher is finished for the day — gives the kid an order: “Call the game. What can they do?”

And so, after eight innings — though it is cloudy, there is still light enough to play for another hour, according to New York reporters — Gunning ends the game on account of darkness.

An audible “growl of indignation” spreads ominously through the crowd. A “wild and uncontrollable rabble,” as the Sporting Life’s correspondent puts it, jumps the fence and rushes onto the field. While well-dressed gentlemen and handsome women “forget themselves” and join the mob, shouting spectators surround the umpire, accusing him of throwing the game.

Suddenly, one man launches his fist into Gunning’s face — “a stunning blow,” the Times says — and in a flash, several others seize the umpire, eager to finish the job. Policemen race onto the patchy grass and beat back the thugs with their batons, forcing them to release Gunning.

They hustle him to the dressing room, while the rabble, still in a fury, storms the door. “A regular pitched battle ensued, but the police eventually succeeded in driving the howling mob into the street and the gates were closed,” the Sporting Life reports. Nonetheless, the feral crowd lingers at the entrance of the Polo Grounds, waiting for Gunning.

When he finally emerges, he is surrounded by three police officers, with another six lurking in the background. They hustle him into a carriage and speed away for the elevated railroad station, to a chorus of jeers and shouts.

Though not seriously injured, the young catcher is bruised and badly shaken by his debut as a major-league umpire. “Things have reached such a state in New York city that it is as much as a man’s life is worth to umpire a game on the Polo Ground,” the Sporting Life notes with disgust.

Maybe so, but the New York players sides more with the crowds than the umpires. “We have been shabbily treated by the umpires, even the official ones,” one unidentified Gotham complains bitterly to the Times. “One or two of the clubs rule the League, and I give you my word every umpire favors Boston and Chicago. New York somehow or other gets the worst of it in this respect, and it is about time it should be stopped.”

That afternoon, a quieter game unfolds at Philadelphia. Providence Grays manager Frank Bancroft finishes up the road trip by giving Charles Radbourn’s aching arm a rest — though Radbourn still has to earn his pay out in right field.

Ed Conley, the local kid who had owned the Phillies on July 19, has been coaxed to make another start. Little Eddie is even better in his second big-league appearance, shutting out Philadelphia, 6-0, on a two-hitter. After the game, the men hustle to the station and board a night train for home.

RADBOURN’S RECORD: 29-9.

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