ncountered this was in
Brooklyn when Hanlon was the manager. Every time he thought I was going to
pitch there, he would have the diamond doctored for me in the morning. The
ground-keeper sank the pitcher's box down so that it was below the level
of all the bases instead of slightly elevated as it should be.

Hanlon knew that I used a lot of speed when I first broke into the League,
getting some of it from my elevation on the diamond. He had a team of fast
men who depended largely on a bunting game and their speed in getting to
first base to win. With me fielding bunts out of the hollow, they had a
better chance of making their goal. Then pitching from the lower level
would naturally result in the batters getting low balls, because I would
be more apt to misjudge the elevation of the plate. Low ones were made to
bunt. Finally, Hanlon always put into the box to work against me a little
pitcher who was not affected as much as I by the topographical changes.

"Why," I said to George Davis, the Giants' manager, the first time I
pitched out of the cellar which in Brooklyn was regarded as the pitcher's
box, "I'm throwing from a hollow instead of off a mound."

"Sure," replied Davis. "They 'doped' the grounds for you. But never mind.
When we are entertaining, the box at the Polo Grounds will be built up the
days you are going to pitch against Brooklyn, and you can burn them over
and at their heads if you like."

The thing that worried the Athletics most before the last world's series
was the reputation of the Giants as base stealers. When we went to
Philadelphia for the first game, I was surprised at the heavy condition of
the base lines.

"Did it rain here last night?" I inquired from a native.

"No," he answered.

Then I knew that the lines had been wet down to slow up our fast runners
and make it harder for them to steal. As things developed, this precaution
was unnecessary, but it was an effort to break up what was known to be our
strongest "inside" play.

Baseball men maintain that the acme of doctoring grounds was the work of
the old Baltimore Orioles. The team was composed of fast men who were
brilliant bunters and hard base runners. The soil of the infield was mixed
with a form of clay which, when wet and then rolled, was almost as hard as
concrete. The ground outside the first and third base lines was built up
slightly to keep well placed bunts from rolling foul, while toward first
base there was a distinct dow