The 26-Inning Duel

This article was originally published in “The Northern Game—And Beyond,” the 2002 SABR convention journal.

 

On Saturday morning, May 1, 1920, Joe Oeschger looked up from the newspaper and laughed. “The weather forecast says fair today,” the 6’1”, 195-pound Boston Braves pitcher said to his roommate, outfielder Les Mann. They both glanced out the window. It was raining steadily, a cold, gray, wet, and windy morning, not unusual for the first day of May in Boston.1

They went down to the dining room of the Brunswick Hotel, where they shared a room when the team was home, ordered breakfast, and divided the newspaper. Oeschger read the Globe’s account of the Friday game. Braves pitcher Hugh McQuillan had shut out the Brooklyn Dodgers, 3-1. The game had taken just over an hour and a half. “Who’s pitching for the Dodgers today, if we play?” Mann asked.

“It looks like Leon Cadore. Golly,” Oeschger said, “I’d like to get even with him.” Ten days earlier the two had hooked up in an 11- inning duel, Cadore winning it, 1-0. There was no mention of the Boston starting pitcher.

Manager George Stallings liked to wait until just before game time to name his starter.

Oeschger checked the standings. Brooklyn, managed by Wilbert Robinson, was 8-4, in second place. They were fast, had some good hitters led by Zack Wheat, and a top-flight pitching staff. They had won the pennant in 1916 and some experts predicted they would give the favored Giants a run for it in 1920.

The Braves were 4-5. They had gotten great pitching so far, were strong defensively, but weak at the plate. Nobody was hitting over .250. Since their miracle finish and upset sweep of the Philadelphia Athletics in 1914, they had slid into the second division. “Looks like a day off,” Mann said. “What do you want to do?”

“Guess we’ll go to a show.”

They finished a leisurely breakfast at noon and went out on the porch. The rain had stopped. The cold wind had not. Stallings had a rule: All players had to report to the clubhouse even if it was pouring. So Oeschger and Mann went up to their room for sweaters, then walked up Commonwealth Avenue to Braves Field. Oeschger watched the trainer, Jimmy Neery, put a clean bandage on shortstop Rabbit Maranville’s left hand. Maranville had continued to play with a bruised, lacerated hand. He’d had a few shots of whiskey already; it was never too early in the day for the Rabbit to down a few. Then Oeschger had a rubdown.

At 2:30 there was a brief, heavy shower. Then the clouds scudded quickly out to sea. About 3,500 hardy fans had huddled in pockets scattered about the 38,000-seat stands. Just 15 minutes before the 3:00 game time, they decided to play the game. It was just one Saturday afternoon, early-season game, but it would put two sub-.500 pitchers into the record books forever.

George Stallings was very superstitious and given to playing hunches. Bats had to be placed in exact order and kept that way, especially during a rally The drinking cup had to hang just so on the water cooler. Before the game, a Brooklyn player casually walked past the Braves dugout and scattered some peanuts. A few damp pigeons swooped down.

“Get those birds out of here,” Stallings roared. He hated pigeons, and the other teams knew it. He wore out his bench-warmers’ arms throwing pebbles to chase the birds. On the road—there was no Sunday baseball in Boston—he usually pitched Oeschger, a regular churchgoer, on Sundays.

A southern gentleman who had gone to Johns Hopkins intending to be a doctor, he usually wore street clothes in the dugout. Stallings held a meeting to go over the opponents lineup before every game. Today he gave the ball to Joe Oeschger to pitch.

In the visitors clubhouse Wilbert Robinson was entertaining the writers with stories of the good old Baltimore Orioles days. The popular, easygoing Uncle Robbie wasn’t much for pregame meetings.

Both Joe Oeschger and Leon Cadore had been their teams’ most effective hurlers in the early going. Oeschger, a power pitcher, had given up two earned runs in 35 innings. Cadore, a curveball artist, had pitched 35 scoreless innings against the Yankees coming north from spring training. He had shut out Boston in that 11-inning game on April 20, but had lost his last start against the Giants.

The umpires were William McCormick, a second-year man, behind the plate, and Robert F. Hart, a rookie, on the bases. The temperature was 49 when Oeschger threw the first pitch.

They ran off four fast, scoreless innings. In the top of the fifth, Oeschger dug a hole for himself. He walked catcher Ernie Krueger. Cadore then hit a sharp bounder to the mound, a perfect double- play ball. In his rush to get two, Oeschger juggled the ball and had to settle for the out at first. With a two-strike count, Ivy Olson hit a broken-bat blooper over Maranville’s head that scored Krueger.

When the inning ended, Oeschger stalked off the mound muttering to himself for his clumsiness. As if to make up for his misplay, he led off the bottom of the fifth with a long double, but was left stranded at second.

Outfielder Wally Cruise, first up in the bottom of the sixth, lined a triple off the scoreboard in left. Walt Holke then blooped a Texas Leaguer back of shortstop. Zack Wheat raced in and speared it off his shoe tops just beyond the infield dirt. Cruise, thinking it might drop in, was halfway to home plate. The third baseman had gone out after the ball, so there was nobody on third to take a throw from Wheat, and Cruise made it back safely. Tony Boeckel followed with a single to center, scoring Cruise with the tying run.

Maranville laced a double to right center. Wally Hood chased it down and threw home as Boeckel rounded third. Cadore cut off the throw and relayed it to the plate in time to nip Boeckel. The Brooklyn catcher, Krueger, was spiked on the play. Rowdy Elhott replaced him.

Joe Oeschger went out for the seventh inning even more angry with himself. But for his poor fielding in the fifth, he would have a 1-0 lead now, and the way he was going he was confident that would have been enough. He bore down and retired the side on three pitches.

Cadore had been hit hard, but was saved by several fielding gems. In the eighth, Mann led off with a single. Cruise sacrificed him to second. Holke lined one back through the box; instinctively down and threw him out. Twice more he stopped line drives that would have scored a run. Wheat and Nets were pulling off impossible catches.

The Braves, too, were on their toes. Catcher Mickey O’Neil picked off two runners at first base. Boston looked like they would win it in the ninth. Maranville led off with a base hit to left. Lloyd Christenbury pinch-hit for O’Neil and bunted down the first base line. Cadore fielded it, but the throw hit the runner in the back as he stepped on first. Oeschger sacrificed them to second and third. Ray Powell walked. With the bases full and one out, the Brooklyn infield played in. Charlie Pick hit a sharp hopper toward right. Second baseman Ivy Olson stabbed it, swiped at Powell coming down from first, and threw to first for the double play Powell had gone out of the baseline to avoid the tag and was called out.

So they went to the 10th, the 11th, the 12th, the 13th, the 14th. Three up, three down for the Dodgers, little more for the Braves. Hank Gowdy, one of the heroes of the 1914 world champions, replaced O’Neil behind the plate in the 15th. He had trouble holding on to Oeschger’s pitches, boxing the ball, dropping it more often than catching it. Gowdy went to the mound. “What the hell are you throwing?” he asked.

“Just a fastball.”

“God almighty, it’s breaking one way one time and somewhere else the next time.”

“Well,” Oeschger replied, “I don’t know which way it’s going to move, either.”

It began to drizzle in the 11th. Wind blew in from center field. It was getting colder. Necks, backs, and arms were chilled by the cold and dampness. Muscles tightened. Between innings, players on both benches put on heavy sweaters.

The Braves threatened in the 15th. Cruise walked. Holke hit a little dribbler toward third. Johnston’s throw to second was too late. Two on, nobody out. Boeckel put down a bunt, but the ball stopped dead on the soggy third base line. Elliott picked it up and forced Cruise at third. Maranville hit a comebacker to Cadore, and Holke was forced at third. Gowdy flied out.

Oeschger led off the 16th determined to win his own game. He hit a shot that looked like it might clear the left-field scoreboard. Wheat, using the fence for a springboard, leaped up and caught it. Oeschger kicked at the dirt near second base as he headed back to die dugout.

As they took the field for the 17th, Rabbit Maranville, never silent at shortstop, chirped, “Just one more inning, Joe. We’ll get a run for you. Hold on.”

Oeschger was beginning to tire. Still, he thought, if Stallings asks if I want to come out, my answer will be an emphatic no. Stallings never asked. “Hold them one more inning, Joe,” was all he said. “We’ll get them.”

The Dodgers came close to winning it in the 17th. Zack Wheat opened with a single to right. Hood sacrifced him to second. First baseman Ed Konetchy grounded sharply to Maranville, who couldn’t handle it. Base hit. First and third, one out. Chuck Ward bounced one to Maranville, who threw to third hoping to catch Wheat off the base. But Zack was wary and scrambled back ahead of me throw. Bases loaded, one out.

Rowdy Elliott was up. The catcher hit back to the mound. This time Oeschger fielded it cleanly and threw home to force Wheat. Gowdy’s throw to first was over Elliott’s head and to the right of the base. Hoike dove to his left and knocked the ball down as Elliott crossed the bag. Konetchy rounded third and bolted for home. The left-handed first baseman Hoike threw home while going down to the ground. The throw was on the first base side of the plate. Gowdy reached out and caught it and lunged through the air across home plate, the ball in his bare hand, into the spikes of Konetchy sliding in. Koney bumped the ball with his shin, but Gowdy held on and the threat was over. It was the last one for the Robins.

Ordinarily fans like to see plenty of hitting and scoring. This day they were getting more than their money’s worth of pitching and fielding thrills. Despite the damp chill, nobody left the park. After the 18th inning they cheered each pitcher as he left the mound or came up to bat.

In the Brooklyn dugout, veteran pitcher Rube Marquard, who had pitched plenty of long games himself, said to Cadore’s roommate, utility infielder Ray Schmandt, “I hope Leon won’t be affected by this strain. I hate to see him stay in this long.”

“Caddy is pure grit,” Schmandt said. “He’ll win out.”

Uncle Robbie didn’t have the heart to take him out. And Cadore wouldn’t have come out if he had been asked. Cadore had been hit hard and often, and had at least one runner on base in each of the first nine innings. But now he was aided by the enclosing twilight and the soiled, discolored ball that remained in play.

Oeschger had allowed nine hits, all singles. He was tired, but he had been more fatigued in some nine-inning games when he had to pitch out of a lot of pinches. This was an easy outing. He seemed to grow stronger as the game went on. He figured he had the advantage in the deepening dusk and did not want the game to be called. He was a fastball pitcher, Cadore a curver. The hitters would have more trouble seeing his stuff. He saved his strength by bearing down only when he had to, which wasn’t often. The Dodgers went out in order more often than not. After the 17th Oeschger pitched a nine-inning no-hitter, giving up a walk in the 22nd.

Neither pitcher was looking for strikeouts, which take a lot of pitches. And their control was good. Oeschger wound up walking three, striking out four. Cadore walked five, struck out eight. They wasted little time or motion, routinely taking only three or four warm-up pitches at the start of an inning. Every inning might be the last, would probably be the last, they thought.

The feeling grew on both benches that it would be a shame for either pitcher to lose such a game. Even the home plate umpire, McCormick, later admitted that after the 22nd inning he hoped the game would end in a tie.

The fielders never flagged. Holke took away extra base hits by snaring foul-line-hugging smashes in the 21st and 24th.

At the start of the 26th, somebody in the Braves dugout wondered how long Oeschger could pitch. “He could pitch 126 innings without running any risk,” said Dick Rudolph, the pitching hero of the 1914 sweep of the A’s. “He’s in great shape.”

In the last of the 26th, with two men out, Holke beat out a bunt but Boeckel flied out. It was 6:50 by the clock atop the scoreboard as the Dodgers came off the field. Umpire McCormick took off his mask, stepped in front of home plate and looked up at the sky. It still looked light enough to play, but for how long7 Another whole inning?

Cadore watched the umpire out of the corner of his eye as he walked toward the dugout. Ivy Olson ran toward the umpire, one finger high in the air. “One more. One more.” His shrill voice carried all the way to the press box above the grandstand. Olson wanted to be able to say he had played the equivalent of three nine-inning games in one afternoon.

Both pitchers were willing and able to go one more inning. But McCormick said no. The game was over. The fans booed. The other players had had enough. Zack Wheat said, “I carried up enough lumber to the plate to build a house today.” Charlie Pick’s batting average had suffered the most; he went 0 for 11.

The darkness descended quickly at that point. Up in the press box there were no electric lights. The writers knew they were in for hours of work. In addition to the Boston writers, only Eddie Murphy of the New York Sun and Tommy Rice of the Brooklyn Eagle covered the game. As the innings had rolled by and other New York newspapers heard about it, the two writers were deluged with requests for special reports and stories. Somebody went out and bought a couple dozen candles. The official scorer, the writers, and the Western Union telegraphers worked into the night by candlelight. James C. O’Leary typed out his lead for the Boston Globe:

It was one of the greatest games ever played, but 0n account of the threatening weather only about 4,000 turned out. They stayed til the end. And saw the most wonderful pitching stunt ever performed, and some classy playing and thrilling situations. It was a battle of giants until both were exhausted practically, but neither gave a sign of letting up. There was glory enough for both and it would have been a pity for either one to have been declared the loser.

Cadore had pitched to 95 batters, an average of fewer than four an inning. Oeschger faced 90. Cadore had 13 assists, a one-game record for a pitcher. Oeschger had 11. Oeschger had set a record for consecutive scoreless innings in one game: 21. Cadore had 20.

Boston first baseman Walter Holke had 32 putouts and one assist. Only three Dodgers had reached third: Krueger, who scored, and Wheat and Konetchy, who were erased in the double play in the 17th.

They didn’t count pitches in those days. Cadore later estimated that he had thrown close to 300. Oeschger guessed about 250. Game time was 3 hours and 50 minutes.

That evening Joe Oeschger and Les Mann went to a restaurant they frequented. Nothing posh, just a neighborhood place with good food. It was later than usual for them, and the staff had heard about the game. The waitresses brought out a special cake they had made for the occasion. The Robins had to hurry back to Brooklyn for a Sunday game against the Phillies. They were due back in Boston to play on Monday. Cadore stayed in the hotel with Ray Schmandt, Sherry Smith, and Rube Marquard.

On Sunday morning both pitchers received a telegram from National League president John A. Heydler. He congratulated them and said he was particularly gratified because the pitching was done under the new rules: This was the first year the spitball, emery ball, shine ball, and other trick pitches were banned.

The Sunday Boston papers filled their front pages with big headlines, photos, and box scores of the game. It was the talk of the city, and the baseball world.

It has been written that, when the Dodgers returned on Monday, Cadore was still in bed, since Saturday night. But in fact he had kept pretty much to his hotel until Sunday afternoon, when he and his teammates went downtown to dinner, then to a picture show.

“I was a bit tired,” Cadore later admitted in a classic understatement, “and naturally my arm stiffened. I couldn’t raise it to comb my hair for three days. After seven days of rest I was back taking my regular turn. I never had a sore arm before or after the game. I suppose the nervous energy of trying to win had given me the strength and kept me going.”

When Oeschger awoke Sunday morning, he was lame all over. His arm ached no more than his other limbs. His leg and back muscles had worked as hard as the arm ligaments. There was a little more soreness than usual around his elbow. Oeschger stayed in the Brunswick Hotel all day. He knew the cold, damp winds would do more injury to his body than twice the innings he had worked Saturday.

There was much speculation at the time as to what effect the long game would have on the two pitchers. Rube Marquard said, “I’ve been lucky. I’ve been in a lot of overtime games without being much affected. But the physical and mental makeup of pitchers is not all the same. I pitched a 21-inning game against Babe Adams in 1914 . . . . It didn’t bother me. Three days later I shut out the Reds. But Adams was out of the big leagues the next year. He went to the American Association where he got his arm back, then came back with the Pirates and pitched until he was 43.

“It would be good judgment,” concluded Marquard, “to have both men sit on the bench for at least 10 days. They should work out a bit but not get into a game before then.” Cadore felt he never had the same stuff again. He finished that year with a 15-14 record, then won 13, 8, and 4. At 33, he was finished.

It has also been written that Oeschger, too, was never the same. But the immediate aftermath doesn’t support that. “The 20-inning game with Brooklyn last year may have hurt my arm,” he said the next day, “because I was not in the best of condition. I had passed the winter in the east and had not been able to enjoy hunting and fishing and working on my dad’s ranch in California. … But I’m in good condition this spring and do not expect any ill effects from yesterday’s game.”

Oeschger won 15 games that year, and had his best season in 1921, winning 20 and losing 14 with a second-division team. He pitched 299 innings each year. He fell off to 6-21 and 5-15 the next two years, was traded to the Giants, then the Phillies, and ended his career with a 1-2 record in—of all places—Brooklyn.

Both pitchers were remembered for that one afternoon’s work for the rest of their lives. Ironically, but for his own fielding error, Joe Oeschger would have gone home happy with a nine-inning 1-0 win and never been heard of again when his playing days were over. But for the next 66 years he continued to receive requests for autographs and interviews from all over the world. He had a box score of the game printed and signed them and mailed them out.

Cadore experienced his fame in unusual ways. “I’m in a San Francisco bar one day in 1931,” he recalled, “and the guy next to me is chewing the fat with his pal about extra inning ball games.

” ‘Yeah,’ says the guy. ‘Once a bum in Brooklyn pitched 26 innings. Cuddle or Coodoo or something like that.’

” ‘You’re nuts, ‘ says his pal. ‘Nobody could pitch that long.’

“I nudged the guy sitting next to me. ‘You mean Cadore?’ I said.

” ‘Yeah, that was the bum. Cadore.’

“I took out my lifetime pass and let him look at it. ‘I’m Cadore. I pitched that game.’ He almost toppled off his stool.”

When Cadore was in the hospital in 1958, the doctor told him they couldn’t locate a vein. “A man your age,” the doctor said, “should have a vein sticking right out, especially in that right arm that pitched those 26 innings.” “Doc,” said Cadore, grinning, “I pitched that game with my head.”2

 

Notes

1. All quotations and references to Oeschger’s actions and thoughts are from interviews by the author with Oeschger at his home in California in the early 1980s. Other details are from contemporary Boston newspapers.

2. Newspaper accounts at the time of Cadore’ s death, March 16, 1958.

 

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The AL’s Longest Games

There must be something in the air or the beans or the brown bread in Boston: In addition to the 26-inning NL game of May I, 1920—major league baseball’s longest—the first two record-length games in American League history that were completed in one afternoon also took place in Boston. As was true of the 26-inning job, every starting pitcher in those games went the route. And both games involved the Philadelphia Athletics.

On the afternoon of July 4, 1905, Rube Waddell started against Cy Young. At 38, Young had already won over 400 games. Boston touched up Waddell for two quick runs in tl1e first. The A’s tied it in the sixth when Bris Lord singled and Harry Davis hit one of his league-leading eight home runs. At the end of nine it was still 2-2.

When fatigue set in, it was tl1e Boston infield, not Young, who succumbed. Danny Murphy led off for the A’s in the top of the 20th and hit a grounder to Jimmy Collins at third. Collins booted it. Young, who had not walked a batter, then threw his most erratic pitch of the day, a one-strike fastball that hit Jack Knight on the hand. Monte Cross ran for him. First and second, no outs. Ossee Schreckengost popped a bunt toward second.

Second baseman Hobe Ferris hesitated, uncertain whether to stay on the bag and let Cy Young take it or go after it. When Young made no move for it, Ferris made a belated attempt. It fell at his feet. Bases loaded.

Rube Waddell hit a grounder. The throw went to third, forcing Cross, as Murphy scored. Danny Hoffman then singled in the second run. The A’s won, 4-2. Game time: 3:31.

A’s catcher Ossee Schreckengost caught all 29 innings that day, still a major league record. Three days later both pitchers were in the box again in Philadelphia. Cy Young pitched for another six years, Rube Waddell another five.

*****

Of the three record games played in Boston, the 24-inning battle on Saturday, September 1, 1906, was by far the most exciting. Although no baserunners crossed home plate from the seventh to the 24th, there were 31 hits—including two doubles and six triples hit into the overflow crowd of 18,000, eight walks, a hit batter, and seven stolen bases. Both pitchers spent the day working out of jams. Spectacular fielding plays helped to stave off defeat for both teams.

Twenty-four-year-old righthander Joe Harris started for Boston against Jack Coombs, a June graduate of Colby College. The A’s took a 1-0 lead in the third. With one out, Coombs hit a swinging bunt down the third-base line. Harris fell trying to pick it up. Coombs stole second, went to third on an infield out, and scored on a single by Topsy Hartsel.

Boston tied it in the sixth. Fred Parent tripled into the crowd and scored on Chick Stahl’s single.

From then on the tension built and broke with the regularity of ocean waves breaking on a beach. Every inning seemed to bring one or both teams to the brink of defeat. It was getting dark as Harris began the top of the 24th by striking out Coombs. Hartsel singled and stole second. Lord struck out for the second out. Schreckengost singled over second and Hartsel scored. Joe Harris suddenly ran out of steam. Seybold and Murphy tripled into the outfield crowd for two more runs.

Coombs had no trouble retiring the weary Pilgrims in their last at-bats. Altogether he struck out 18; Harris fanned 14 and walked two. Time of game: 4:47.

In 1910 and 1911 Jack Coombs won 59 games and pitched almost 700 innings. Illness, not arm injury, ultimately curtailed his career.

Joe Harris couldn’t win before that game and couldn’t win after it. He was 2-21 for the year and 0-7 in 1907.

— Norman Macht