Sport: The Brat

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Designed to Annoy. Because he is the Gashouse type, because he gives and asks no quarter, because he has been involved in countless loud-mouthed hassles, Eddie Stanky has probably been on the receiving end of more Bronx cheers, boos and jeers than any major-league player since Ty Cobb. His legs are scarred from knee to heel from high-flying spikes. He has also left his mark on many a rival second baseman and shortstop. He is a past master at breaking up a potential double play by hurtling his stocky (5 ft. 8 in., 165 Ib.) frame into a pell-mell slide and dumping the would-be thrower into the dust.

When he cannot win according to the rules, Stanky furiously figures out new ways to irritate the opposition. Once, to distract batters, he began wigwagging and semaphoring at the plate from his second base position. This particular device brought on a free-for-all brawl and got him kicked out of the game. It also brought forth a special ruling from National League President (now Baseball Commissioner) Ford Frick: "Umpires have been instructed to eject any player who engages in antics . . . designed or intended to annoy or disturb opposing batsmen."

Quit is a word that Stanky does not understand. When Cincinnati's Ewell Blackwell, pitching against the Dodgers, was on the verge (one out in the ninth) of his second consecutive no-hit game, it was Stanky's single, in what was plainly a lost cause, that spoiled Blackwell's bid. In last year's World Series, running down toward second on a hit & run play that backfired, slow-moving Stanky was thrown out by a clear 15 feet. Yankee Shortstop Phil Rizzuto confidently waited to tag Stanky out. But Stanky went into a desperate, dust-raising slide. Instead of aiming at the base, he aimed at Rizzuto and neatly kicked the ball out of the startled shortstop's hand. The ball trickled out into centerfield, and before the Yankees could recover, Stanky had picked himself up and scampered on to third base. The Giants' Manager Leo Durocher called it the key play of the game. It kept a Giant rally alive, and the Giants won. Strictly speaking, the kick was not quite cricket, but to Eddie Stanky it was baseball.

The boos and jeers that Stanky gets are merely a challenge to make the fans eat their words. Usually they do. The hatred turns to grudging admiration for the scrappy, sandy-haired little man, who, by his own admission, "got further with less talent", than anyone else in the game. Admiration, in turn, grows into downright affection. After one fist-flying misunderstanding during a minor-league game, Stanky found himself stuck with a $100 fine. The fans took up a collection to pay the fine, and collected so efficiently that Stanky pocketed a profit.

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