The Hidden Ball Trick
Steve Braccini has been an avid baseball fan since the New York Giants moved to San Francisco, near his home, in 1958.
He read The Sporting News, studied the history, the old-time players and their records, their superstitions, their strategies.
Over the years he saw countless games in various ballparks, witnessing just about everything that could happen in a ball game.
Two things he had never seen were a no-hitter and the much rarer successful execution of the hidden ball trick. That was about to change – almost.
Coors Field September 19, 2013
On September 19, 2013, Steve was at Coors Field in Denver for a five o’clock game between the St. Louis Cardinals and Colorado Rockies. The Rockies were last in their division, playing out the schedule. The Cardinals were leading their division, headed for the World Series.
Steve was sitting along the first base line halfway between home plate and the Rockies dugout, about eight rows up from the field, his scorebook and pencil in hand. He had a great view of the action at first base.
Veteran right-hander Roy Oswalt, making the last start of his 13-year career, was on the mound for the Rockies. He began by walking lead-off batter Matt Carpenter. Next batter, Jon Jay, lined to center fielder Corey Dickerson. Matt Holliday hit a fly ball to Dickerson for the second out.
Before each pitch, Rockies first baseman Todd Helton noticed that the baserunner took a few steps off first. He knew that Carpenter, a slow-footed 6-foot-3, 200-pound third baseman, was no threat to steal a base. After the second out, he indicated to Oswalt to throw over to first. Helton then faked a return throw to Oswalt but hid the ball in his mitt.
During the few seconds this took, Steve Braccini was bent over his scorebook writing an F8 next to Holliday’s name. Suddenly he heard the crowd roar. He looked up to see what was happening, but all he saw was a replay on the scoreboard of Helton tagging Carpenter a foot off first base.
The hidden ball trick had happened right in front of him, but he still had never seen one. As if to rub it in, the scoreboard operator showed the play at least a half dozen times during the game, which went 15 innings.
Origins of the Trick
The hidden ball trick was invented in the early days of baseball, when strategies were being developed and brains were more valuable than brawn. When it worked, it caused more embarrassment to a baserunner than tripping over his shoelaces and falling on his face while running the bases..
It didn’t happen often; if it was overdone, baserunners would be more on their guard. Instead, third basemen saved it for a close game with an eager baserunner itching to score a crucial run.
Perhaps the record holder for this unrecorded stat is White Sox third baseman Willie Kamm (1923-35).
Willie Kamm
I only did it two or three times a year, but that was more than anybody else. It probably happened more than 30 times during my career.
I didn’t hide the ball in my glove. I’d go over to the pitcher and talk to him. tell him not to get on the rubber or it would be a balk, and I’d quickly sweep the ball under my armpit and walk back to third twirling the glove in my hands. The pitcher would stall around a little and I’d watch the runner until he took a few steps off the base, then I’d tag him.
One time I pulled it and George Moriarty was the umpire. He said to me, “If I was the manager of a team, and that happened to one of my baserunners, I’d fine the coach $500.”
Well, a couple years later George was managing Detroit and coaching at third. One day I saw a chance and pulled it on one of his players. When the umpire called the runner out, I turned to George and said, “Who are you going to fine the $500 this time?”
Tony Cuccinello
Tony Cuccinello was probably the best trickster in the National League 1930-1943. One of the most popular players among other players at that time was Ernie Lombardi, a large, slow-running, good-natured catcher who was often the butt of practical jokes by other players.
There was a close play at second and I missed him sliding in. The pitcher was standing nearby. While Ernie’s getting up, I told the pitcher to stay off the rubber. I hid the ball in my glove.
The pitcher went toward the mound. Picked up the resin bag and looked in at the catcher like he’s looking for the sign, and Ernie walked off the bag. When I had enough room I ran over to him and showed him the ball. Oh, he was mad. He said to me, “You tag me and I’ll punch you right in the nose.”
I never tagged him. He just walked back to the dugout.
Lou Boudreau
Near the end of his career, Cuccinello was traded to the Chicago White Sox. The night before the White Sox opened the 1945 season in Cleveland, Indians player-manager Lou Boudreau was the speaker at a father-and-son baseball dinner. Somebody asked him a question about the hidden ball trick.
“That’s obsolete,” he said. “They don’t do that anymore.”
The next morning Cuccinello read the story in the newspaper. So I’m obsolete, he thought. He saw it as a challenge – if he got the opportunity.
And he did.
On Opening Day, Tony’s playing third base. The White Sox led, 2-0, in the bottom of the sixth. Boudreau hit a double. The next batter hit a fly ball to left field. Boudreau tagged up and raced to third, sliding in ahead of the tag.
Tony argued with the umpire, Cal Hubbard, while the Sox pitcher, Thornton Lee, stood nearby. While he’s jabbering with Hubbard, Tony told Lee, “I’m going to keep the ball.”
Lee went back near the mound. Tony stood pounding his fist into his glove like it’s empty. Boudreau took a few steps off the base. Tony dove for him. Boudreau dove back. The ump yelled, “He’s out – if you got the ball.”
Tony had the ball, and the satisfaction of feeling that he and the hidden ball trick were not obsolete, not yet. Today it is pulled more often in high school and college games, but as Todd Helton demonstrated, it still is not obsolete in the big leagues.