Eddie Plank: Fiddler on the Mound

Image credits: Mears Online Auctions

It’s a good thing there was no pitch clock in the early 1900s, or Eddie Plank might have had to find another occupation. The 6-foot lefthander drove both fans and sluggers to distraction while he fidgeted and fussed on the mound.

It was all part of his game plan, with which he won 326 games in 17 years from 1901 to 1917. His 69 shutouts remain the record for a lefthander.

In four World Series he was 2-5 despite a 1.32 ERA, having lost two of Christy Mathewson’s three shutouts by scores of 3-0 and 1-0, in the 1905 World Series.

The Rookie

Eddie Plank was an unusual rookie when Connie Mack signed him in 1901. He was a 25-year-old farmer in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, and had been pitching for Gettysburg College – which he never attended –, for several years with scant notice by any professional teams.

His coach was Frank Foreman, a former National League pitcher whose brother had played for Connie Mack when Mack managed the Pittsburgh Pirates in the 1890s. Foreman had helped Plank develop his peculiar “slant ball” delivery. Either Foreman or someone else in Gettysburg tipped off Mack about Plank. Mack invited him for a tryout with the newborn Philadelphia Athletics.

With nobody on base, his windup was like a windmill. He circled his arm four times while shifting his feet and inching his right foot forward, Years later umpire John Sheridan claimed, “Plank got away with an illegal five-step windup for seventeen years.’

Fiddler on the Mound

With a runner on first, he rarely threw over there. That wasn’t a good use of his pitching arm. He might stare at the runner, then go back to the resin bag, adjust his cap, stare at the runner again until he leaned back toward first, then suddenly throw a pitch. But to keep hitters off-balance, sometimes he’d pitch without delay.

A’s second baseman Eddie Collins described Plank’s routine on the mound.

Plank’s favorite situation was two men on and a slugger up. The better the hitter, the better Eddie liked it. For if a man had a reputation to uphold, the fans would egg him on, and he would be aching to hit. Plank would fuss and fuddle with the ball, with his shoes, and then try to talk with the umpire.

Then he’d dish up something the batter couldn’t reach with two bats, would follow that with an equally wild pitch inside. Probably the next would be a twister the batter could reach, but could not straighten out. A couple of fouls, and he would wink knowingly at me.

Then he would attempt to pick off the baserunners. Then, suddenly, Plank would turn his attention to the fretting batter again, who would in all probability, pop up in disgust.

That wasn’t all that left-hand batters had to deal with. When he threw a pitch, Plank’s right foot didn’t point toward the plate. It went toward the first-base line and he threw across his body. To the batter, it looked like the ball was coming from first base.

“Plank’s favorite situation was two men on and a slugger up.” Image credits: i685 Photobucket

All his pre-pitch folderol took time. Games started at 3 or 3:15. Fans arriving at the ballpark groaned when they saw that Plank was going to pitch. They knew that Eddie never finished a game in under two hours and they’d be late for supper.

Was he hittable? Sure, but you had to hit him to beat him. In almost 4,500 innings pitched, he averaged 2 walks per 9 innings and a 2.35 ERA.

Off the field, Plank was a quiet, sober, affable fellow, popular with his teammates except when he threw batting practice, which to him was a time to perfect his pitches, not cater to the hitters.

In 1915 the Federal League, seeking to establish a third major league, followed the tactics the American League had used in 1901 by enticing players with big salaries to jump to the Feds.

Connie Mack knew that Chief Bender and Plank were ready to jump and released them. Plank signed with the Feds’ St. Louis club for a year, then ended his career with the St. Louis Browns in 1917.

Eddie Plank’s last game was a classic. On August 16, 1917, in Washington, the 41-year-old lefty and Walter Johnson, both pitching for second-division teams, sweated through 10 scoreless innings before the Senators eked out a run in the bottom of the 11th. Both pitchers had given up five hits. Plank was no longer sending fans home late for supper; the game took only 1:46.

A week later, plagued by stomach problems, Eddie Plank retired. He went back to the farm and conducted tours of the battlefield in Gettysburg. At the age of 50 he suffered a fatal stroke.