Good Hit, No Field: Some of the Greatest

Good hit, no field player Henry “Zeke” Bonura. Image credits: Find a Grave

If you’re a longtime baseball fan, you’ve probably heard the expression “good field, no hit,” pinned on players whose glove work in the field is exceptional, but their weakness with the bat is equally notable.

For some of them, their defensive skills enabled them to enjoy long careers despite their below-average batting.

There’s a lesser-known group of ballplayers who enjoyed long careers in the major leagues and high minors despite carrying the opposite reputation of good hit, no field.

They were usually big – over six feet tall and 200 pounds, slow, almost clumsy outfielders or first basemen who could hit: prototype designated hitters born fifty years too soon. 

They were also happy to be ballplayers, well aware of their strengths and deficiencies, congenial, fun-loving, and popular with teammates and fans.

Some of them preferred playing in the old Pacific Coast League where the baseball living was easier than the major leagues and they could make just as much money. 

The climate was warmer. The season lasted 175 to 180 games. Travel was leisurely. They played six days in one place and rode the trains on Mondays. Some of the cities were so close they could stay put for two weeks at a time. 

This is the story of a few of them: Smead Jolley, Fats Fothergill, Buzz Arlett and Zeke Bonura.

Smead Jolley

Smead Jolley stood just over 6-foot-3 and weighed about 210. His batting earned him a comfortable living and his fielding and base-running adventures earned him a legendary status among baseball characters.

Jolley’s legendary hitting in the Pacific Coast League – a .367 career BA, twice hitting over .400 – preceded his purchase in 1930 by the Chicago White Sox.

What took so long for him to reach the big leagues was his well-earned fielding reputation. His bat kept him with the White Sox and Red Sox for four years, in which he batted .313. In 1931 he batted .467 as a pinch hitter. His career mark was .385 in that role.

But that’s not what Smead Jolley is most remembered for. Instead, it’s for stories like these.

In 1930 Smead was a rookie with the White Sox. The manager was Donie Bush. Billy Sullivan Jr. was also a rookie.

Billy Sullivan Jr.

Smead Jolley’s locker was next to mine. Bush’s locker is next to mine on the other side. Seems like I’m getting yelled at every day by Bush: “You cost us that game today.” Stuff like that.

One day I’m taking my shoes off and he lit into me and about got me crying and when he finished with me he started in on Smead and that big moose is bending down like me and smiling and winking at me – didn’t bother him.

One time Smead hit a long single and tried to make it into a double and got caught midway and Bush lit into him. “What were you thinking?”

Smead said, “You know, Donie, I was thinking the same thing myself. I got halfway and I said to myself, Smead, what are you doing out here?”

In 1932 Jolley was with the Red Sox. In Boston’s Fenway Park, there was a slight hill in front of the scoreboard in left field. Coaches worked with him, teaching him how to go up the hill and get set to catch a fly ball.

One day he misjudged one and it came down short of the rise. Smead tumbled down the hill going after it. Back in the dugout he complained, “They showed me how to play the ball going up that hill, but nobody showed me how to come down it.”

They tried him as a catcher; that lasted for six games.

Bob “Fats” Fothergill

Fats Fothergill’s initials were RRF. He said, “That stands for Runs Responsible For.” He was referring to his hitting, but it might also refer to his fielding. 

Fothergill was under six feet tall but weighed 230, sometimes more. He lasted 12 years, most of them with Detroit. His career BA of .325 -- with a high of .367 in 1926 – ranks right up there with the likes of Joe DiMaggio. But there the resemblance ended.

Bob “Fats” Fothergill - one of the greatest good hit, no field players. Image credits: Mears Online Auctions

In 12 years his fielding average was .961; DiMaggio’s was 978. DiMaggio, in twice as many games, had almost three times as many putouts. Fothergill’s range was little more than his substantial shadow. The number of fly balls that fell uncaught and went for hits is not recorded.

At least once Fothergill had the same problem with the Fenway Park hill as Smead Jolley. According to Tigers shortstop Billy Rogell, “Fats was chasing a foul ball and there was a slight hill before the fence. He fell down and the ball hit him in the seat of his pants. I went out to retrieve it, but both of us started laughing so hard I couldn’t throw it back into the outfield.”

Russell “Buzz” Arlett

Buzz Arlett was built like a typical slugging but slow-footed outfielder of the old Pacific Coast League: 6’3 and upwards of 230 pounds. Wielding a 44-ounce bat, he tore up the league with Oakland for 13 years before the lowly Philadelphia Phillies overlooked his nonchalant outfielding and bought him in 1931.

Buzz got off to a good start. After six weeks he was leading the league, batting .385 with 11 home runs. The genial slugger became a favorite of the few fans at Baker Bowl – and visiting hitters, who appreciated his minimal range in the outfield. But it didn’t last.

Age and injuries caught up with him. His erratic fielding was more of a liability than his .955 fielding average indicated. Phillies pitchers fumed when catchable fly balls fell around him. 

Arlett finished with a respectable .313 batting average and 18 home runs. But his erratic, sometimes nonchalant fielding, was more of a liability than his .955 fielding average indicated. Phillies pitchers fumed when catchable fly balls fell around him.  One pitcher suggested the club provide a rocking chair for Buzz in the outfield.

After his one season in the big leagues, Buzz Arlett went back to the minors.

Henry “Zeke” Bonura

Zeke Bonura is our good hit no field All-Star first baseman. He was not a relic from the Pacific Coast League, but played for his hometown New Orleans Pelicans. He was six feet tall and weighed about 200. He had good hands: what he reached and what was thrown to him he caught.

He could leap for line drives over his head. But his feet were homebodies, with no interest in moving to his right. He couldn’t cover any ground he wasn’t standing on.

After hitting .329 for New Orleans in 1929, Zeke was invited to spring training with the Cleveland Indians, who considered him good hit, no field and sent him back. When he finally made it to the big leagues with the Chicago White Sox in 1934, he was an immediate fan favorite.

Image credits: Find a Grave

In his first 25 games he hit 10 home runs and drove in 29 runs. For the year he batted .302 with 27 homers and 110 RBIs. He even led AL first basemen with a .996 fielding percentage. (There is no error charged on hits waved at as they passed by on the way to the outfield.)

In seven big league seasons with the White Sox, Senators, New York Giants and Cubs, he hit .307 with 119 home runs and 704 RBIs.

A jovial, easy-going, clean-living bachelor, he was popular with fans and teammates, even second basemen worn out by covering all the real estate between first and second. He picked up the nickname “Bananas” because his father was a banana importer and he drove a banana-yellow car.

One of the Zeke Bonura stories former White Sox teammates enjoyed telling about him involved the aftermath of the time he stole home against the Yankees to win a game in the 15th inning.

Ted Lyons

Bonura pulled a muscle sliding and couldn’t play the next day. So he climbed the thirty-five steps up to the radio booth to watch the game.

The manager, Jimmy Dykes, went into the clubhouse to get a cigar and he heard a familiar voice on the radio saying, “There goes that train to New Orleans and I wish I was on it.”

Dykes sent a note up to the booth: “Listen Bananas, if you don’t get down here and play first base, you’re going to be on that train.”

Read our interview with Ted Lyons for more about the legendary White Sox pitcher.