
BASEBALL ENCYCLOPEDIA OF POPULAR CULTURE
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game in a scientific manner, utilizing various strategies and tactics to
win ball games; in the process, they brought to the game a maturity
and complexity that increased the sport’s drama. The construction of
great ballparks of concrete and steel and the game’s continuing power
to bind communities and neighborhoods together behind their team
further solidified the coming of age of professional baseball. Baseball
had achieved a new institutional prominence in American life. Boys
grew up reading baseball fiction and dreaming of becoming diamond
heroes themselves one day. The World Series itself became a sort of
national holiday, and United States chief executives, beginning with
William Howard Taft in 1910, ritualized the commencement of each
new season with the ceremonial throwing of the first ball.
The appeal of the game had much to do with what many
considered its uniquely American origins. ‘‘It’s our game—that’s the
chief fact in connection with it: America’s game,’’ exclaimed poet
Walt Whitman. Baseball, he wrote, ‘‘has the snap, go, fling of the
American atmosphere—belongs as much to our institutions, fits into
them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in
the sum total of our historic life.’’ To preserve this patriotic image,
baseball administrators such as Albert Spalding and A.G. Mills
vehemently dismissed any claims that baseball had evolved from
rounders. In 1905, Mills headed a commission to investigate the
origins of baseball. The group found that baseball was uniquely
American and bore no traceable connection with rounders, ‘‘or any
other foreign sport.’’ Mills traced the game’s genesis to Abner
Doubleday in Cooperstown—a sketchy claim, to be sure, as Mills’
only evidence rested on the recollections of a boyhood friend of
Doubleday who ended his days in an institution for the criminally
insane. Still, Doubleday was a war hero and a man of impeccable
character, and so the commission canonized the late New Yorker as
the founder of baseball, later consecrating ground in his native
Cooperstown for the purpose of establishing the sport’s Hall of Fame.
Baseball’s revered image took a severe hit in 1920, when eight
Chicago White Sox were found to have conspired with gamblers in
fixing the 1919 World Series. The incident horrified fans of the sport
and created distrust and disappointment with the behavior of ballplay-
ers idolized throughout the nation. A young boy, perched outside the
courtroom where the players’ case was heard, summed up the feelings
of a nation when he approached ‘‘Shoeless’’ Joe Jackson, one of the
accused players, and said tearfully, ‘‘Say it ain’t so, Joe.’’ The eight
players were later banned from the sport by baseball commissioner
Kenesaw ‘‘Mountain’’ Landis, but the damage to the sport’s reputa-
tion had already been done.
Baseball successfully weathered the storm created by the ‘‘Black
Sox’’ scandal, as it came to be known, thanks in large part to the
emergence of a new hero who brought the public focus back to the
playing field, capturing the American imagination and generating
excitement of mythic proportions. In the 1920s, George Herman
‘‘Babe’’ Ruth—aptly nicknames the ‘‘Sultan of Swat’’—established
himself as the colossal demigod of sports. With his landmark home
runs and charismatic personality, Ruth triggered a renewed interest in
baseball. While playing for the New York Yankees, Ruth established
single-season as well as career records for home runs. Ruth’s extrava-
gant lifestyle and Paul Bunyan-like appearance made him a national
curiosity, while his flair for drama, which included promising and
delivering home runs for sick children in hospitals, elevated him to
heroic proportions in the public eye. In mythologizing the sport, Ruth
restored and even escalated the sanctity of the ‘‘national pastime’’
that had been diminished by the ‘‘Black Sox’’ scandal. Along with Ty
Cobb, Honus Wagner, Christy Mathewson, and Walter Johnson, Ruth
gained immortality as a charter member of the Baseball Hall of Fame,
opened in 1939.
By the 1940s, the heroes of the game came to represent an even
more diverse body of the population. Substantial numbers of Italians,
Poles, and Jews inhabited major league rosters, and a host of these
Eastern Europeans became some of the game’s biggest stars. Hank
Greenberg and Joe DiMaggio, among many other children of immi-
grants, became national celebrities for their on-field exploits. In this
respect, baseball served an important socializing function. As the
Sporting News boasted, ‘‘The Mick, the Sheeney, the Wop, the Dutch
and the Chink, the Cuban, the Indian, the Jap, or so the so-called
Anglo-Saxon—his nationality is never a matter of moment if he can
pitch, or hit, or field.’’ During World War II, when teams were
depleted by the war effort, even women became part of baseball
history, as female leagues were established to satisfy the public’s
hunger for the sport. Still, the baseball-as-melting-pot image had one
glaring omission. A ‘‘gentleman’s agreement’’ dating back to the
National Association excluded African Americans from playing
alongside whites in professional baseball. Various so-called Negro
Leagues had formed in the early twentieth century to satisfy the
longings of African Americans to play the game, and a number of
players such as Josh Gibson and Satchel Paige posted accomplish-
ments that rivaled those of white major leaguers. Still, for all their
talent, these players remained barred from major league baseball. In
1947, Brooklyn Dodgers general manager Brach Rickey signed
Jackie Robinson to a major league contract, ostensibly to end segrega-
tion in baseball but also to capitalize on a burgeoning African
American population newly migrated to the cities of the North. When
Robinson played, blacks across the nation were glued to their radios,
cheering him on as a symbol of their own hopes. Robinson was
immensely unpopular with many white fans and players, but his
performance on the field convinced other clubs of the correctness of
Rickey’s decision, and, by 1959, every team in baseball had
been integrated.
The popularity of baseball reached an all-time high in the 1950s.
A new generation of stars, among them Mickey Mantle, Ted Wil-
liams, and Willie Mays, joined Babe Ruth in the pantheon of
American greats. Teams such as the Brooklyn Dodgers, affectionate-
ly known as ‘‘Dem Bums,’’ won their way into the hearts of baseball
fans with their play as well as with indelible personalities such as
‘‘Pee Wee’’ Reese, ‘‘Preacher’’ Roe, and Duke Snider. Baseball
cards, small collectible photographs with player statistics on their flip
sides, became a full-fledged industry, with companies such as Topps
and Bowman capitalizing on boyhood idolatry of their favorite
players. And Yogi Berra, catcher for the New York Yankees, sin-
gle-handedly expanded baseball’s already-sizable contribution to
American speech with such head-scratching baseball idioms as ‘‘It
ain’t over ‘til it’s over.’’ By the end of the twentieth century,
Berra’s witticisms had come to occupy an indelible place in the
American lexicon.
The 1950s witnessed baseball at the height of its popularity and
influence in American culture, but the decade also represented the end
of an era in a sport relatively unchanged since its early days.
Continuing financial success, buoyed especially by rising income
from television and radio rights, led to club movement and league
expansion. In 1953, the Boston Braves transferred its franchise to
Milwaukee, and, five years, later, the New York Giants and Brooklyn
Dodgers moved to California, becoming the San Francisco Giants and
the Los Angeles Dodgers, respectively. Later, new franchises would
emerge in Houston and Montreal. The location of the ballparks in