Count Hoffman’s Last Game

Count Henry Hoffmann hadn’t been feeling his old self for some months now. The doctors said it was his heart. Why, for the last week or ten days he’d been sick in bed, definitely no place for St. Louis’s Number One baseball fan and party giver. Oh sure, he’d just turned 65, and maybe the many years of mixology and good times had been a little hard on Henry Hoffmann’s system. But this had been his life to live, and he’d lived it with style and feeling. Still, maybe it was time to slow down a bit.

Ah, but maybe a day at the ballpark would be just the thing to shake this little setback. The Cardinals were back in town, the rains were gone and it looked to be a beautiful spring day. Henry’d been out for a drive yesterday and felt a little better. Today his brother-in-law Walter and nephew Joe were going to the game, and the doctor said he didn’t see any harm in the Count going out to the park. Besides, Hubbell was gonna pitch for the Giants, so how could he stay away?

So to Sportsman’s Park he went. Seemed as if everybody there knew him; the scorecard boy, the ushers, even the players waived to him. Shucks, Hoffmann’d been the master of ceremonies at the presentation of this or that gift to a dozen Cardinals over the years, so he had plenty of friends in the clubhouse.

Yessir, Henry Hoffmann had been coming to Cardinal games since the Cardinals were called the Browns, since before the turn of the century. Back before Prohibition, Henry’d been behind the bar at McTigue’s Cafe downtown, mixing drinks for the vaudeville crowd at night then taking them out to the game in the afternoon. Those glory days…a couple of new groups in town every week, giving Henry a new party to mastermind each time. Being on the road could be boring for DeWolf Hopper or John McGraw. But when they hit St. Louis, the Count was there to make their nights gay. Of course there were hangovers in the morning, for Hoffmann mixed the finest cocktails on either side of the MIssissippi.

A lot of ballplayers had come and gone since then. Today the Cardinals were pitching their new man LeRoy Parmelee, that sidearm fastballer they got from these Giants. Parmelee’s won his only other home start, beating tough Bill Lee and the Cubs two weeks ago.

The Volstead Act had shuttered McTigue’s, and Henry’d had to try his hand at real estate and insurance. This was not his true calling, however, and his fortunes declined a bit. But his parties went on, and when the Cardinals became world beaters, Henry headed the processions to celebrate their triumphs.

Parmelee was sailing through the early part of the game, facing only one over the minimum. Of course, Hubbell was just as tough, matching zeroes as the spring shadows crossed the diamond.

Now our Henry Hoffmann was not a real count. But years ago an enterprising newspaper man found out that his great-grandfather back in Germany was a count, and Henry’d been pinned with the title long ago. What’s more, there was a distinct nobility in the way Henry ruled his realm, be it the barroom, back room, or club car, while he looked after the welfare of his subjects with great care.

“Quite a pitcher’s duel today,” Henry told Sam Breadon after nine scoreless innings. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Henry’s seats were in the second row, Box 25, right behind the Cardinal owner, perfect for watching Parmelee’s speed and Hubbell’s cunning. Right next to Sam was Hoffmann’s boss, Charles Heiss.

Mr. Heiss had brought Henry back as bar manager after Repeal, and his Hofbrau at the Mayfair Hotel was a favorite gathering spot. Henry didn’t do so much actual pouring anymore, but he was still the man to ask on all pressing questions of mixology.

Zeroes in the tenth and eleventh before a leadoff walk in the twelfth turned into a Giant run. But Muscles Medwick saved Tarzan Parmelee a hard-luck loss by racing to third when Ott misplayed Mize’s blooper, and scoring on Gelbert’s single. Mize rumbled around third on Gelbert’s hit, but Ott played this one perfectly and threw the rookie out by yards. The game would go to the thirteenth, and it was not exactly as relaxing as the doctor had hoped. But Henry was loving every minute of it.

Maybe the Cardinals would be back in the Series again this year. The Count’s most famous parties just may have been his “World Series Specials,” when he’d take dozens of his friends on the road to see the Cardinals play for the world title. Henry left a $1,000 standing order with Breadon every spring for World Series tickets. And the Cardinals were slight favorites to wing the pennant this year.

A diving stop by Frisch and a backhand grab by Medwick stymied the Giants in the fourteenth. And the Birds left the bases loaded in the sixteenth.

It was getting mighty dark, and the seventeenth would obviously be the last inning. Though the Count hadn’t shown any signs of undue discomfort, one more inning would be enough for a man in his condition. Parmelee zipped through the top half in one-two-three fashion. Then Spud Davis opened the bottom half with a shot down the right field line for two bases. Fleet Lynn King went in to run. After an intentional pass, Durocher blasted one to deep left center, but Jo Jo Moore snatched it out of the night air. Manager Frisch let Parmelee hit for himself, since the hurler already had two safe knocks. This time, however, he bounced a double-play ball to short. But wait, an anxious bobble by Bartell made everybody safe. Bases loaded and one out! Terry Moore stepped in. Hubbell rocked into his motion and as Moore was starting to swing …

Suddenly the Count’s head fell onto the shoulder of his nephew beside him. A Moore’s roller to third was being hastily tossed home by Jackson, Henry’s friends were tying to shake him back to consciousness. The throw was wide, pulling catcher Mancuso off the plate as King slid home with the game-winning run. Flashbulbs exploded as the camerament near home plate recorded the historic run …

But Henry didn’t see it, his heart had given out. Such a great game, and he had missed the final triumph by seconds. His legion friends mourned his passing. But when their time came to join him, the doubtlessly filled him in on the details to the ending to the greatest pitcher’s duel in St. Louis history. Then they most likely started to catch up on their celebrating.

Click here to view the box score of the April 22, 1936 game at Baseball-Reference.com.