and and the crowd got the put-out unassisted.
Finally, while somewhere near Coogan's Bluff, he called Merkle out and the
score a tie. When the boys heard this in the clubhouse, they laughed, for
it didn't seem like a situation to be taken seriously. But it turned out
to be one of those things that the farther it goes the more serious it
becomes.

"Connie" Mack, the manager of the Athletics, says:

"There is no luck in Big League baseball. In a schedule of one hundred and
fifty-four games, the lucky and unlucky plays break about even, except in
the matter of injuries."

But Mack's theory does not include a schedule of one hundred and
fifty-five games, with the result depending on the one hundred and
fifty-fifth. Chicago had a lot of injured athletes early in the season of
1908, and the Giants had shot out ahead in the race in grand style. In the
meantime the Cubs' cripples began to recuperate, and that lamentable event
on September 23 seemed to be the turning-point in the Giants' fortunes.

Almost within a week afterwards, Bresnahan had an attack of sciatic
rheumatism and "Mike" Donlin was limping about the outfield, leading a
great case of "Charley horse." Tenney was bandaged from his waist down and
should have been wearing crutches instead of playing first base on a Big
League club. Doyle was badly spiked and in the hospital. McGraw's daily
greeting to his athletes when he came to the park was:

"How are the cripples? Any more to add to the list of identified dead
to-day?"

Merkle moped. He lost flesh, and time after time begged McGraw to send him
to a minor league or to turn him loose altogether.

"It wasn't your fault," was the regular response of the manager who makes
it a habit to stand by his men.

We played on with the cripples, many double-headers costing the pitchers
extra effort, and McGraw not daring to take a chance on losing a game if
there were any opportunity to win it. He could not rest any of his men.
Merkle lost weight and seldom spoke to the other players as the Cubs crept
up on us day after day and more men were hurt. He felt that he was
responsible for this change in the luck of the club. None of the players
felt this way toward him, and many tried to cheer him up, but he was
inconsolable. The team went over to Philadelphia, and Coveleski, the
pitcher we later drove out of the League, beat us three times, winning the
last game by the scantiest of margins. The result of that series left us
t