Ray Chapman's Last Time at Bat, Courtesy of Carl Mays by Ron Elliot
Do you know the number of pitches thrown in major league baseball? It would be astronomical and the number of times a pitched ball has hit a batter would also be large. But how about the number of times a pitched ball has killed a batter? That answer is one.
As this is Kentucky history, do you think the man that was killed was a Kentuckian? Or, maybe the pitcher who threw the ball was from the Commonwealth? If you thought both, you win the prize.
The fatal
pitch was thrown by New York Yankees right-handed hurler Carl Mays (at left) to Cleveland
Indian’s shortstop Ray Chapman at the Big Apple’s Polo Grounds on August 16,
1920. Chapman stood at the plate staring as if transfixed as the ball sped
toward him. The ball struck Chapman’s head with such a resounding "whack!" that
Mays, thinking the ball had hit the bat, fielded the careen and threw to first
base.
Carl William Mays was born November 12, 1891 at Liberty (Casey County,) Kentucky, one of eight children born to William and Louisa (Callie) Mays. A mere seven years earlier, major league baseball had amended the rules to allow a pitcher to throw the ball overhand if he so desired. That’s right, until 1884, pitchers were required to throw underhand. Playing semi-pro ball, Mays came under the tutelage of Joe McGinnity, a Hall of Fame underhand pitcher who taught the young man the technicalities of the underhand technique. Mays learned to deliver the pitch leaning far to his right, swinging his right arm so low that sometimes his knuckles scraped the ground. He would release the ball as his hand passed the level of his ankle. The resulting trajectory made the ball difficult for a batter to see and, therefore, hit. By the time Mays reached the major leagues in 1915, although most hurlers had abandoned the old fashioned pitching method, Mays, at a powerful 6’ and 185 pounds, had perfected the "submarine" technique to the extent that he was nicknamed "Sub."
"Sub" was a pretty fair spitball, too. Loading the ball with saliva was legal in those days and most pitchers took full advantage of that allowance to load the ball whenever possible. Additionally, many pitchers stained the ball with dirt and tobacco juice making it difficult for hitters to pick up the ball as it sped toward the plate. Adding those advantages to the trajectory Mays’ delivery imparted, his pitching was very difficult to hit making him one of the top right-handers in the American League.
Additionally, Mays was a hard-nosed pitcher who, to put it mildly, was not above throwing a "brush back" pitch if he felt the batter was crowding the plate. He had earned that reputation, in part, while playing for the Boston Red Sox by brushing back the immortal Ty Cobb. In a game against Detroit at Fenway Park in September of Mays‘ rookie year (1915), Mays threw the ball far enough inside that it knocked Cobb to the ground. After he jumped to his feet, the fiery Georgian threw his bat at Mays and charged the mound. After the two were separated, Mays, not one to be intimidated, returned to the pitchers box and proceeded to hit Cobb with the next pitch. His pitching style reflected his personality; Mays was often described as "mean spirited" and was not well liked even by his teammates.
Mays went 6-5 in his rookie year in the big leagues and then hit his stride, compiling a 61-35 record over the next three seasons. Mid-way through the 1919 season, though, he boasted only 5 wins against 11 losses. Despite the presence of one George Herman Ruth among the Red Sox hitters, Mays complained of lack of offensive support from his teammates and demanded to be traded. The Boston owners accommodated his wishes by sending Mays to the New York Yankees. Mays being a valuable commodity,: in exchange for his services, the Red Sox received two players and $40,000. He finished out the 1919 season going 9-3 with the Yankees.
Raymond Johnson Chapman was born January 15, 1891 at McHenry, near Beaver Dam, in Ohio County. Although only a few months older than Mays, "Chappy" made the major leagues much sooner, breaking in with the Cleveland Indians in 1912.
Standing 5’ 10" at a wiry 170 pounds, Chapman, who would spend his entire nine year career with Cleveland, was a good hitter, averaging .278 for his career and hitting more than .300 four times. An excellent defensive shortstop (he led the American League in put-outs three times,) "Chappie" was a fast runner as well; stealing 233 bases in his career. In fact, his team record of 52 bases stolen in 1917 stood until broken by Miguel Dilone in 1980. Chapman’s main weapon as a hitter, though, was the bunt. Crouched over nearly out of the batters box, his ability to "lay one down" led to a league leading on-base percentage twice and a .lifetime on-base percentage of .358.
Chapman (at right) was a nice guy, too. He was liked by nearly everyone
with whom he had association, teammates and rivals alike and was a popular
social
figure in Cleveland.
The Indians had some good players before Chapman arrived-- Shoeless Joe Jackson and the legendary Nap Lajoie were teammates-- but the addition of Chapman to the line-up brought the Indians from the league cellar to contention for the American League pennant.
By the late summer of 1920, Cleveland was locked in a hot battle with the Chicago White Sox and the Yankees for the league lead. In a critical four game series at Cleveland’s League Field in early August, the Indians, leading the New Yorkers by 4 ½ games at the start, lost all four to the Yankees throwing the race into a virtual dead heat among the three teams.
Such was the setting when the Indians arrived at the Polo Grounds for a show down on August 16. Despite the muggy conditions and a light rain, 23,000 fans showed up for the game. With the league lead in the offing, the Yankees were to start their best pitcher, Carl Mays, even though it was not his regular turn in the pitching rotation. As if that were not drama enough, Mays was going for his 100th big league win.
By game time the rain had stopped and the thermometer stood at a humid 82 degrees. In his first at bat, Chapman laid down his 34th bunt of the season moving him further into the league lead in that category. Up again in the third inning, Chapman bunted again, but this time he popped it up for an out.
Cleveland was ahead 3-0 when Chapman came to bat in the top of the fifth. Mays wound up and delivered his first pitch of the inning. According to all observers, (except Mays) Chapman did not move, but simply stood transfixed until the ball struck him on the left temple. Mays would later say that he thought Chapman ducked into the pitch. As the pitcher fielded the ball and threw to first, Chapman stood, stunned, for a moment then slowly began to sink to his knees. The umpire and the catcher, noting blood running from Chapman’s left ear, screamed "Is there a doctor in the house?"
A doctor arrived and helped the injured player to his feet. He took a few steps before his knees buckled. With a teammates supporting each of Chapman‘s arms, the doctor accompanied them to the locker room. There, stretched out on a table, Chapman whispered something the men present could not hear. Leaning close, the Indian’s trainer caught the word "ring" and remembered that Chapman had deposited his wedding band for safe keeping. When the ring was placed on his finger, Chapman appeared to be content.
Back on the field, the game resumed. Mays had the ball that had hit Chapman thrown out and continued to pitch. If he was affected by the incident, it did not show -- he retired the Indians in order in each of the next three innings before giving way to a relief pitcher in the ninth. As a footnote in history, the Indians won the game 4-3.
At 9:30 that evening, X-rays showed that Chapman had suffered a depressed fracture on the left side of his skull. Deciding that surgery was necessary, the doctors operated at 12:30 to remove a 3 ½ inch square bone fragment. Following the procedure, Chapman’s condition seemed to improve, but he later took a turn for the worse and died at 4:40 AM, August 17, 1920. Later in the day, Raymond Chapman’s body was transported back to Cleveland where he is buried in Lake View Cemetery.
Carl Mays visited the New York district attorney the next day. After hearing Mays’ statement, the lawyers declared that Chapman’s death was an accident and no legal action was in order.
Mays pitched several more games that season with varying effectiveness. His next time out, on August 23, he pitched at Detroit and was heard to shout "Look out!" to the batter several times when he thought the ball was too far inside.
A young man
from Alabama named Joe Sewell replaced Chapman in the Indians line up. Amid the
furor resulting from the previous year’s World Series "Black Sox" scandal,
Sewell helped the Cleveland club to the American League pennant. In the 1920
World Series, Cleveland beat the Brooklyn Dodgers 5-2 in the best of 9 series
for the Indian’s first championship. Sewell, who got his chance due to Chapman’s
death, was to put in a hall of fame career with Cleveland and the Yankees.
One would think that major league baseball would have required batters to wear a helmet as a result of the Chapman incident, and it was discussed, along with boycotting Carl Mays and banning the "submarine" pitching technique. All those discussion came to nothing and life, and baseball, went on.
Perhaps to avoid further conflict, the Yankees traded Mays to the National League where he would face new hitters. He put in nine more years in the major leagues, most of it with the Cincinnati Reds before retiring in 1929. To the end of his days, Mays declared that the incident was an accident and that the one pitch to Chapman kept him out of baseball’s Hall of Fame. His record would seem to bear witness: Mays’ 208 -126 won loss record and career 2.92 ERA are better than several members of Cooperstown. Carl Mays’ lament that he would be remembered only for throwing the pitch that killed Chapman was correct. Following his death on April 4, 1971, The Sporting News headline read: "Carl Mays, the New York Yankee pitcher who threw the pitch that hit and killed Cleveland’s Ray Chapman died yesterday."
A modern day update to this story was provided late in 2006 when a long-lost bronze plaque honoring Ray Chapman was discovered while the Cleveland Indians were constructing a new facility to honor past players at their new ball park. The plaque was restored to its original condition and is now on display at Heritage Park at Jacobs Field.
Now, Kentucky History fans, given the hint that major league baseball players did not wear batting helmets until 1941, you get extra credit if you can name the first person to ever wear a helmet in a major league game. None other than Louisville’s Pee Wee Reese was the first to wear a batting helmet to the plate when he did so in an exhibition game between the Dodgers and, appropriately enough, the Indians on March 8, 1941.