Baseball game summaries from the New York Times, 1935
SCHUMACHER FINALLY DEFEATED BY REDS AS GIANTS FALL BEFORE HEAVY BARRAGE
REDS ROUT GIANTS
WITH 18 HITS, 13-6
Schumacher's 11-Game Streak
Ends as He Meets First
Defeat by Cincinnati.
HUBBELL, CHAGNON FAIL
New York Lead Cut to 5 Games
--Ott Gets His 20th Homer
and Leiber 14th.
By JAMES P. DAWSON.
Special to THE NEW YORK TIMES.
CINCINNATI, July 15.--A Giant
pitching star went into eclipse at
Crosley Field this afternoon, long
before the moon went into its lunar
fade-out.
Hal Schumacher, hero of thirteen
victories since April, eleven of
them straight, a blond young Hercules
who has been unbeaten by the
Reds since he came up with the
Giants back in 1932, today met up
with fate.
He was hammered off the mound
by an aroused band of Rhinelanders
who, not content with the humiliation
of Schumacher, continued
their work on Carl Hubbell and
Leon Chagnon in one of the most
discouraging routs the Giants have
suffered this year.
Second Defeat in Row.
The Reds took the ball game, 13
to 6, cutting to five games the
Giants' pennant lead, as the Cardinals
won in St. Louis, and gave the
Terrymen the questionable distinction
of tying their season's longest
losing streak--two straight.
The Reds collected eighteen hits
off Schumacher, Hubbell and Chagnon,
the richest hit harvest an enemy
squad has enjoyed at the expense
of Giant pitching in a long
time.
In fifteen flings at the Reds
through his four seasons as a
Giant, the best the Rhinelanders
could do with Schumacher's sinker
ball was tie him. They did this
last may 5 at the Polo Grounds in
ten innings, but today, Schumacher
faced an inspired band fresh from
five straight victories over the
Dodgers.
The Giants tonight are faced with
the danger of losing their catching
mainstay. Gus Mancuso had to retire
in the midst of the exciting
seventh inning with an injured
right wrist. Whether he will be
able to play tomorrow was not ascertained
tonight.
[***NOTE: more article follows - not typed***]
SPORTS OF THE TIMES
By JOHN KIERAN.
A Couple of Stout Fellows.
THERE were a couple of stout fellows watching
the Yankees and White Sox indulge in that bargain
bill in the Bronx on Sunday. Reading
across, they were Freddy Fitzsimmons and G. Herman
Ruth.
Stout Fred, the Mishiwaka knuckle-ball tosser, said
he was "just out of prison," by which he meant the
hospital. It wasn't a chipped one in the elbow
region at all. "Adhesions," said Freddy, "a cartilage
job. They knifed me, and I don't remember
a thing about it. They gave me the gas and I was
an orderly citizen--I went out quietly. Got a bandage
on the elbow now, but it will come off in a couple
of days, and then they'll just keep a pad on it."
Well, it was good weather for resting up. Rather
hot work out there laboring in the sun.
"That Lyons is sure doing a smart job," said
Freddy, referring to the artistic way in which Ted
Lyons was laying a coat of kalsomine over the indignant
Yankees. "Feeding them a slow curve and a
knuckler. Oh, I'll be able to give the arm a little
exercise in two weeks or so. And go to work in a
month--I hope."
The Distant Scene.
The Giants probably would go along all right in
his absence. Even with Stout Fred and Clydell Castleman
laid up for repairs, they had enough pitching
strength left to hold off their rivals. All they had
to do was to hold them off. They had an elegant
lead for this time of year.
"Don't say that," begged Mr. Fitzsimmons, in what
was almost a tone of horror. "We had a lead last
year. Boy, you need all you can get in this game.
Sure, we've got the best team. We oughta win. But
a couple of accidents to a couple of fellows could
put us on the rocks."
They had a double armful of accidents earlier in
the season and went rolling along just the same.
Critz out; Jackson out; Bartell out. Mell Ott hauled
in to pick up grounders. Mark Koenig playing a different
position every other day. It didn't seem to
make much difference in the box scores.
"Well, I hope nothing happens to Hank Leiber"
said Freddy. "Has he been a help to us! He sure
pounds in those runs. That's why we have a better
team this year than last year. Leiber. And Mancuso
is hitting great--away above last year. And Bartell
has tightened up in the infield."
Daredevil Dick was just about the best in both
leagues for grand fielding around his position.
"I don't get to see much of this league," said
Freddy, waving a hand toward the Yankee-White Sox
performance, "but our boys will be glad to keep Bartell--
as is."
The Use of the Knuckles.
Speaking of pitching, which Mr. Fitzsimmons had
been doing a bit earlier, what about his own use of
the knuckle-ball. He probably threw from 100 to 120
baseballs towards the plate in a game. How many of
them would be knucklers?
"It all depends," said Freddy.
On how his knuckles felt that day?
"Aw, no!" said Freddy with a grin; "On how the
game is going--or what team we're playing. Some
games say I throw a hundred balls up there. Well,
maybe fifty of 'em would be knucklers. But I remember
one game where I'll bet I didn't throw six knucklers
all afternoon. Won it, too--easily."
Used the knucklers indiscriminately against right<>handers
and left-handers, did he?
"Sure," said Fred, "it doesn't make any difference
which side you swing from. The knuckler breaks
straight down. What you have to do is to give it
to them when they think you won't. Then when
they're looking for the knuckler--slip them a fast
one or a curve. You know, if you give a good hitter
what he's looking for you're liable to get the ball
knocked down your throat. There's a lot of good
hitters around ready to tee off if you don't keep
them guessing."
The Prominent Golfer.
Stout Fred then turned his attention to the pitching
argument between Don Vernon Gomez and Ted
Lyons. He remarked that he found it harder work
to look at a game than to pitch one, but evidently he
liked hard work because he became intent on the
diamond duel and refused to rise to the lure of any
more questions.
Just after Lyons came out on top in his pitching
debate with the hurling hidalgo, Sen<ñ>or Gomez, that
prominent golfer, G. Herman Ruth, was encountered
under the stands. He was wearing white shoes,
white flannel trousers, a polo shirt and a coat of
deep tan on his broad features.
"Too bad Lefty lost," said the Babe. "Pitched a
good game, too. Great kid. Say, you oughta see me
hit that golf pill now. Playing every day. I've been
playing with Dick Chapman--you know he's good--
and I'm ahead of him off the tee all the time."
Walking?
"Hitting!" said the Babe, with a roar. "And when
I was out in Cleveland I played with Bill Burke and
I was yards ahead of him. Missed a short putt for
a 34 going out the other day, and on the tenth I took
a brassie and"--
Getting a Player Off His Game.
There didn't seem any need to go into that. The
weather was too warm. Furthermore, the Yanks
were having a hot fight on their hands to hold the
lead.
"You bet," said Mr. Ruth; "Detroit's been coming
along like a runaway freight. On the tenth hole I
took a brassie and"--
Yes, sir, if Schoolboy Rowe began to run up a
string of pitching victories the way he did last year,
the Tigers would--
"He got his ears knocked down the other day," said
Mr. Ruth. "I'm going to enter that Westchester
Country Club invitation tournament this month.
You'll see some shooting. No kiddin', I'm getting
good. Putting and everything. On fourteen greens
yesterday I"--
Pitching was what Detroit needed to make it hot
for the Yankees. Bridges couldn't do it all alone.
Those other fellows--
"Aw, they've been making runs in carloads for
weeks," said the Babe scornfully. "You can get by
with almost any kind of pitching when you do that.
And if you don't hit, you're licked. Look at the game
Lefty just lost. Tough, hey? Listen; get your golf
clubs out tomorrow and come with me. I'll knock
your ears down."
The invitation was declined, thus saving a pair of
inelegant but fairly useful ears from the threatened
Ruthian depression process.
To Baseball from 1950