Edward Achorn

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

PROVIDENCE, R.I. – Old Hoss Radbourn lugs his tired arm back into the box at the Messer Street Grounds, again facing his old enemies, the White Stockings.

His third pitch draws horrified gasps, as it rockets off the skull, just behind the right ear, of leadoff batter George Gore, who is apparently in no condition to lean out of the way. Gore has gone on the field “so drunk,” the Fall River Daily Evening News charges, “that he could not catch a ball or dodge one that hit him in the head when it was pitched for him to hit.”

Though the blow to the cranium only raises an egg, Anson wisely thinks it best to let George ride the bench the rest of the afternoon. Larry Corcoran, who has not planned to play and does not have his uniform with him, runs into the dressing room, puts on the Providence Grays togs of little Sandy Nava, and takes over in center field.

It is a rough day for Kelly, too, who is hit by foul tips no less than nine times, and is finally forced to trade places with third basemen Ned Williamson. At first, Ned, not terribly interested in getting pummeled by foul tips, argues with Anson about going in, warning that opponents might run on him. The captain is furious. “Go in, even if they make a thousand runs!” he screams at the slugger, in earshot of the press box.

Little Barney Gilligan suffers his own agonizes, as a foul tip splits his fingers in the eighth inning. In that same inning, a foul ball shoots back and gets stuck in the eaves of the grandstand’s roof. Rather than cough up the money for a new ball, the ever-frugal Bancroft gets some men and a ladder, and finally sends “a boy on the roof after the sphere,” extracting the ball in a ten-minute operation.

That day, Chicago introduces a brilliant young pitcher who might have been Radbourn’s 1884 partner in Providence. One of five sons of a prosperous Boston jeweler, John Gibson Clarkson is a thin and touchy twenty-three-year-old who has pitched a few unimpressive National League games for Worcester two years earlier, before getting in two years of minor-league seasoning with the Northwestern League franchise in Saginaw, Michigan.

Frank Bancroft, who knows talent when he saw it, has avidly sought Clarkson’s services for the Grays, willing to run the risk that another young star on the team will leave Radbourn sullen, jealous and contentious. He reportedly offers Clarkson a cool $400 a month, which would make him one of the league’s best-paid players.

But it isn’t enough. The pitcher goes for even bigger money to play for Chicago — and proves he is worth every penny. A highly intelligent, baseball-savvy pitcher who, like Radbourn, relies on craft and strategy, Clarkson goes on to win 328 major league games.

The Providence Journal declares that his debut for Chicago that afternoon “showed him to be a player of much value. Though wild at times, his delivery is swift and effective, and the Grays find it no easy task to gauge his curves correctly.”

But he is not good enough to beat Radbourn and the Grays’ fielders. Chicago loads the bases with no outs in the fifth, but Radbourn doggedly retires the side without surrendering a run. Cliff Carroll makes a marvelous running catch to the foul line in left field, while Paul Hines’s magnificent one-handed grab averts a double to right center.

The Grays win 5-3, their twelfth straight. Providence seems unstoppable. The Boston Beaneaters win their seventh straight to keep pace, 4½ games back.

RADBOURN’S RECORD: 38-9

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