Old Hoss: A Fictional Baseball Biography of Charles Radbourn, and: A Prince at First: A Fictional Autobiography of Baseball's Hal Chase, and: Tyrus: An American Legend (review)

For some reason people have a nostalgic view of baseball in "the good old days," when things were better, more pure, less mercenary, and more gentle.

One only has to read these fictional accounts of Ty Cobb, Charlie "Hoss" Radbourn, and Hal Chase to see how misguided those notions are.

To read these pseudo-biographies, folks at the turn of the century were justified in their opinions that baseball players were the scum of the earth: lock up your homes and hide your womenfolk. In fact many boarding house proprietors specifically stated "No actors or ballplayers" when advertising their premises.

In Old Hoss , John Trapp, a reporter from the Chicago Tribune , has the somewhat unenviable assignment of reporting on the "day" given by the good citizens of Bloomington, Illinois, in honor of two native-son ballplayers, Clark Griffith and Charles Radbourn. As he travels to that distant burg, Trapp finds out more and more about his subject. His interviews with townsfolk keep opening new doors, leading to new questions and an ever-widening investigation into what happened to the man called "Hoss."

Radbourn was one of baseball's early iron men. Pitching in an era when the mound was a mere fifty-four feet from home plate, Radbourn dominated the game. It was a time before teams carried ten-men pitching staffs. One or two twirlers were the rule of the day, and they were obviously expected to finish what they started: in 1884 Radbourn completed all 73 of his starts, posting a 59-12 record.

James Bennet and Donald Raycraft portray Radbourn in broad strokes. On the one hand he was an alcoholic whose demise was hastened by the syphilis he contracted from his longtime companion. He was coarse, argumentative, and selfish, seeking his own pleasure, whether from a bottle or a woman. At the same time he was unusually forward thinking in his relations with African Americans, treating them as well as he did anyone else (which was usually poor to begin with). The depiction of his untimely death is both fascinating and disturbing.

Hal Chase was another character whom no one would pick as the poster boy for the national pastime. In Ed Dinger's account, "Prince Hal" entered the game with the best of intentions: to be the best he could be. He especially wanted to make his family proud, a dubious possibility since they were so dead set against his chosen profession. He lies to them, making them believe he is actually studying at college when in fact he is a "ringer" used on the school team and never, in fact, goes to classes. The snubs he endures at the hands of his snobby teammates start his journey, playing to show the rubes his superiority.

But gradually Chase begins taking the easy way. We see him falling in with the wrong crowd, heading toward the gambling scandals that would not only wreck his own career but put the entire industry in peril.

Of course, Chase always has a ready excuse—or justification, if you prefer—for his actions. The owners don't respect him, don't pay him what he is worth as one of the self-proclaimed best players in baseball. Or perhaps the fans are too dumb to appreciate him and need to be taught a lesson. Or maybe it is the owners who need schooling. Or his teammates are a bunch of dogs. Why should...