Spittin’ Images

A recent look through a Today in Baseball History database revealed this tidbit for December 17:

The AL votes to allow pitchers who used the spitball in 1920 to continue using it as long as they are in the league. The NL will do the same. There will be 17 holdover spitballers in all.

Ah yes, a reminder of a bygone chapter in baseball history when pitchers could spit on a baseball with impunity and unleash a pitch with such a ferocious break that it was eventually banned from the game altogether.

To me, the outlaw status of the pitch only enhances its romance, conjuring up images of a turn-of-the-century hurler moistening his fingers as a mustachioed sheriff lurks nearby with his Winchester rifle and seedy bandits glance up from their saloon card game to get a glimpse of the action.

Or maybe I’m getting carried away. Anyway, we’re in the middle of the long, cold season without baseball, so as we wait for the next free-agent splash, let’s take a brief look at the intriguing story of the wettest, wildest pitch in baseball history.

There are a number of origin stories; one man sometimes credited with inventing the spitball was Bobby Mathews, whose roots go back to the beginnings of professional baseball with the National Association in the early 1870s. Despite measuring just 5 feet, 5 inches and about 140 pounds, Mathews effectively used a curveball and some form of what was not yet termed a spitter to rack up 297 career wins.

There apparently was a difference between the wet ones Mathews and his peers delivered and what emerged in the 20th century. Earlier versions were thrown by applying modest amounts of saliva to the fingers, as opposed to the more excessive doses that eventually took precedence. Furthermore, the 19th century practitioners treated this pitch as just one of many weapons at their disposal, with none depending on it as the bread and butter of their arsenals.

The next step in the spitter’s evolution came when Minor League outfielder George Hildebrand, who later became an umpire, began experimenting with the wetted “drop ball” grip taught to him by pitcher Frank Corridon in the early 1900s. Hildebrand found he could generate an enormous break on a thrown ball by loading it up with even more saliva, and Corridon, in turn, took this newer, wetter pitch with him to the National League in 1904, ringing up a combined 2.64 ERA for the Phillies and Cubs.

Hildebrand also taught the spitter to a struggling minor leaguer named Elmer Stricklett, who rode the pitch to a brief big league run with the White Sox and Brooklyn Superbas. Additionally, Stricklett was said to have relayed the spitball’s secrets to two key figures: Jack Chesbro and Ed Walsh.

Casual historians will certainly recognize those names. “Happy Jack” Chesbro won a still-standing American League record 41 games in 1904, although he wasn’t feeling so happy after allegedly throwing a wild pitch with the wet one to cost the Highlanders a shot at the pennant that year. “Big Ed” Walsh deployed the spitball to even greater success, winning 40 games once, at least 24 on three other occasions, and finishing his career with an MLB-record 1.82 ERA. Both pitchers are in the Hall of Fame.

With the overwhelming success enjoyed by Chesbro and Walsh, the spitball became the fashionable offering for a generation of hurlers in the first decade of the 20th century. While individual techniques varied, spitballers all depended on a steady dose of saliva – generated by chewing tobacco or other substances like slippery elm bark – which was then applied to the index and middle fingers or directly on the ball where those fingers were placed. A pitched ball essentially squirted off the two fingers, coming off the dry thumb last, creating a tumbling action somewhat akin to the modern split-finger.

At its best, in the grip of Chesbro, Walsh and a few others, the pitch was nearly unhittable. Furthermore, these early masters shrewdly realized that they could play mind games with batters by continuously reaching for their mouths regardless of whether they planned to send a wet one to the plate.

Unsurprisingly, given the slippery nature of the pitch, it was difficult to control and as such was something of a hazard for the men standing in the batter’s box. Another major problem to its detractors was the unsanitary conditions fostered by a saliva-coated baseball, which was then handled by the catcher or another fielder. Some people even believed that throwing the pitch was bad for the arm, pointing to the meteoric but short careers of Chesbro and Walsh as evidence.

There were a few factors that resulted in the spitball’s banishment from the sport, one of which was the proliferation of other doctored pitches like the shine ball and emery ball which were disguised by a pitcher pretending he was loading the ball with saliva. With Babe Ruth showing the game’s overlords how much excitement the home run could generate, the owners enacted a rule change in early 1920 that outlawed these trick offerings, declaring the upcoming season the last in which a pitcher could legally throw a spitball.

Ironically, the 1920 World Series featured some of the game’s most prominent spitballers, with future Hall of Famer Stan Coveleski putting on a clinic by permitting just two runs over his three complete-game victories for Cleveland. The owners subsequently amended the rules, allowing 17 pitchers who relied extensively on the pitch to continue doing so for the remainder of their careers. Along with Coveleski, the list included fellow Hall of Famer Red Faber, Clarence Mitchell, Bill Doak, Dick Rudolph, Phil Douglas, Jack Quinn, Dana Fillingim, Ray Fisher, Marv Goodwin, Doc Ayers, Ray Caldwell, Dutch Leonard, Allan Russell, Urban Shocker and Allen Sothoron. Burleigh Grimes, who also pitched in the 1920 Series and led all pitchers for the decade with 190 wins, was the last of the legal spitballers when his own Hall of Fame career reached its conclusion in 1934.

Of course, the end of the legal spitball hardly meant the pitch disappeared from the game altogether. Preacher Roe famously wrote of how he revived his career with the spitball in a 1955 feature for Sports Illustrated. Gaylord Perry later one-upped him with his 1974 autobiography Me and the Spitter, although the Hall of Famer technically depended more on a “greaseball” doctored by Vaseline or K-Y Jelly.

Nowadays, the proliferation of TV cameras throughout Major League ballparks renders it all but impossible for a pitcher to attempt a spitter without getting caught. And given the 95-plus mph heaters and nasty breaking balls that regularly feature at the sport’s highest level, it seems that most pitchers are doing just fine without this ancient pitch in their arsenal.

That said, there’s something to be said for the ability to manipulate a ball to such extremes that its mastery sends the best hitters in the world slinking back to the dugout, proverbial tail between their legs, after utterly flailing at strike three.

So at a time of year where we toast to auld acquaintances, let’s enjoy a tall wet one for the outlawed spitter. Gone from the game, but certainly not forgotten.

Thanks to Baseball Reference and its extraordinary research database, Stathead, for help in assembling this piece.