William “Dutch” Fehring’s One Big-League At-Bat

How many baseball fans dream about having one chance to swing a bat in a big league game? For William “Dutch” Fehring, that dream came true.

It was, in fact, his first time at bat at any professional level. But he didn’t know at the time that his first game in the major leagues would be his last.

The 93-year-old longtime college coach had retired after 22 years at Stanford when he relived that experience in the living room of his small brick home in Menlo Park, California, in 2004. -- Norman L. Macht

Dutch Fehring’s Early Life

I was born on May 31, 1913, in Columbus, Indiana, a town of about 10,000, forty miles south of Indianapolis. In high school, I played football, basketball and baseball, and was a catcher on the town team.

I went to Purdue in 1930 and played all three sports. In June 1934, between my finals and graduation, I had about a week off. So I went to Chicago to visit a roommate, Jack Brady.

He took me to the South Shore Country Club for dinner one night, and who was there but Al Simmons of the White Sox.

Simmons invited me to work out with them. Harry Grabiner, the Sox general manager, lived near my friend, whose older brother was dating Grabiner’s daughter.

Brady took me over to see Grabiner, who okayed my working out.

The team was away on a long eastern trip. Somebody threw me BP, had me catch pop fouls.  Grabiner signed me and gave me a $750 bonus and $500 a month, which was good money in the Depression.

I went back to Purdue for commencement and returned to Chicago. Luke Appling, the Sox shortstop, had been left home to be treated for a bad ankle.

He and I took the train to Washington to join the team. Luke was a very personable travelling companion. We got in early in the morning and went to the Wardman Park Hotel.

There was a group of players sitting on the verandah. The manager, Jimmy Dykes was talking about playing golf at a certain course and he was betting somebody that he could break 100 using just a putter.

I don’t remember ever formally meeting Dykes. Al Simmons made me feel welcome and introduced me to a few people. Luke Appling did, too.

The one person who went out of his way to welcome me was a coach, Muddy Ruel. He was one of the few on that team who had a college degree. 

From Washington, we went to Philadelphia, Boston and New York. On the train, Simmons studied the stats.

He would say, “I think a hitter should do better than one hit out of three. That’s considered a good hitter, but a good hitter should be able to go two for five.”

My duties were catching BP, warming up pitchers in the bullpen, and spelling Zeke Bonura at first base when he didn’t want any more infield practice.

We’re in Yankee Stadium in New York on June 25 and I was in the bullpen warming up Slim Kinzy, a TCU graduate who was my roommate.

Kinzy had left the pen to start the last of the seventh when the phone rang. Burleigh Grimes answered the phone.

William “Dutch” Fehring (Columbus North Alumni website)

He heard a voice say “Perry?” Burleigh says, “Perry? Nobody here named Perry,” and hung up. Phone rang again. It was Dykes calling for Fehring. I knew then I was going to go into the game.

The dugout looked about twenty miles away from the bullpen. I didn’t know whether to go the short way across the field or under the stands.

I decided to take the short way and started to run and I got the feeling everybody was looking at me, so I slowed down a little.

Finally I got there, and Muddy Ruel helped me on with the shin guards. He said, “Now don’t be nervous. You’ll do okay.” So I go in. [The Yankees led, 10-2.]

First man up is Earle Combs. He hits his first home run of the year.  With one out, Ben Chapman comes up. [Chapman had gone to Purdue briefly on a football scholarship.] 

My line coach at Purdue, Red Mackey, had told me, “When you see Ben tell him I said hello.”

Ben stepped in the box and I said, “Ben, I got news from a friend of yours, Red Mackey.” He said, “How is old Red?”  I said, “He’s fine.”

Ben hits a single. At the time he’s leading the league in stolen bases. I thought: well I hope he tries to steal. I’ll throw him out.

Gehrig at the Plate

Next batter, Lou Gehrig, hit a foul ball up and back almost in the stands. I remember getting my knees up against the stands so I’d have a measure of whether it was in the stands or not.

I never saw a ball do so many flip-flops as that ball did. It was a real high one and the wind took it and I saw it coming down on my left about six feet and I made a dive for it and didn’t get it.

I should have caught it but I didn’t. The next pitch Gehrig hits over the right field wall and he’s halfway to second base and the umpire called him back. Foul ball.

Lou said some nasty things to the ump, like, “Here I am, going for a record, and you’re taking food right off my table, you blind so-and-so.”

I lost a little respect for Gehrig at the time. I knew it was foul. I think Gehrig did, too. 

Gehrig then hits a ball to the deepest part of center field. The center fielder goes back and picks up the ball and relays it to Al Simmons, who relays it to the shortstop. I can see Gehrig coming around third base.

I know he’s going to try for a home run. He was 6-4 and weighed about 220. I was 6-1 and weighed 195. I knew he was going to upset me, especially if I got the ball.

I’ve got my left foot down that baseline, my right foot in front of the plate.  I’m waiting for the ball. The shortstop threw a strike right to me and we had Lou out by at least six to eight feet.

He didn’t even slide. He knew he was out and wasn’t going to take a chance on getting hurt.  I thought sure he’d blow his top then. But he didn’t. Never said a word. 

We’re behind, 13-2, when I come up to bat with nobody on base in the top of the ninth. I picked up one of Al Simmons’s bats – they had a thicker handle than most – and he later gave me hell for it.

Bill Dickey is catching for New York, Johnny Broaca pitching. Dickey says to me, “Is this the first time up in the big leagues, son?” I thought: he’s trying to break my concentration.

He says, “Right down the pipe. Here comes a fastball right down the pipe.” I took it for strike one. 

Dickey said, “I’m not kidding you. He’s gonna come right down the pipe, same thing.”

Now I thought for sure it’s going to be a curve this time. So I took strike two.

Bill says, “You think I’m kidding you. I’m not. I want to see you swing and hit that ball.” Even the umpire said, “He’s not kidding you, son.”

So here it comes, a fastball right down the pipe. I swung and fouled it back. Both of them said, “Good swing. That’s what you’re up there for.”

Bill said, “Same thing,” and it was, a fastball, a foot high and a foot outside and I swung and missed it a foot. That was my only time at bat in the big leagues and I struck out.

The next day Bill Dickey came over to the White Sox bench and said, “Where’s Dutch?” I went over to him. He said, “You thought I was kidding you, didn’t you.”

I said, “Yeah, I really did.”

He said, “I’d have loved to see you hit that ball right out of the park.” He was a class guy to do that.

That was my only appearance in a major league game, my first professional game ever. I had been told when I signed that I would be with the White Sox for the balance of the year.

But I didn’t have it in writing. When we got back to Chicago, Dykes came to me when I was getting ready to suit up and go out and catch BP.

He said, “We lost 17 out of 22 on this trip and they’re after me now to make some changes. Since you’re the youngest and the last to sign, I’m going to have to let you go.

I’d like you to know you’re welcome to go to spring training with us next spring.”

I went home. A man from Dallas was looking for players, so I went. There were only four of us northerners on the team.

In BP the first day I got hold of one and hit it out of the park.  And then I didn’t get to see another good pitch. I wasn’t going to swing at bad pitches and the boys waiting to hit behind me got on me.

“Come on, rookie, get out of there, let somebody else take their cuts.” I look back now and they were still fighting the Civil War.

They sent me to Longview, Texas, Class D. I didn’t have money for a hotel room so I slept under the grandstand with another player. Hung my clothes on nails.

I played in a couple games down there and that was the end of my professional baseball career.

Featured image credits: Ebay