SITT - Lefty O'Doul

LEFTY O'DOUL

By Robert Nishihara

The day Ichiro Suzuki stepped onto a major league ballfield, Lefty O'Doul must have smiled. Suzuki's debut with the Seattle Mariners in 2001 marked one of the highest evolutionary points of a movement put into place by O'Doul himself so many years ago. But even beyond his connection with Japan and Japanese baseball, Lefty O'Doul's grand baseball adventure included so many other interesting stops.

Indeed, O'Doul was a baseball nomad. Have bat, will travel (and he'd hit .320 at the drop of a hat). But he was a nomad in the best sense of the word. He traveled constantly, but his travels had meaning. He wasn't simply wandering aimlessly through the baseball wilderness, oblivious to destination, dismissive of current surroundings. No, Francis Joseph O'Doul knew exactly where he was, where he was going, and where he had been. And in each of those places, O'Doul made his presence count.

His long baseball journey began in San Francisco in 1897. His birth in the wild, rollicking city that was San Francisco in the late 19th century secured the single constant point of connectivity that he carried throughout his life. Though he was always on the move, "The City by the Bay" would always draw him back, and it would draw him back for some of the most important chapters of a fascinating life.

However, O'Doul would begin his major league baseball life in New York. The Yankees signed him as a pitcher, and he made his major league debut in 1919. His pitching appearances for the Yanks were sporadic and when he did get the rare chance to pitch in a game his performance from the mound was uneven. After three seasons in Gotham, he was dispatched, having pitched a grand total of 24 2/3 innings with a 3.65 ERA for the Yankees.

In 1923, he resurfaced in the big leagues. This time, he pitched for the Boston Red Sox, and things went miserably. In 53 innings of work, he gave up 69 hits and issued 31 walks en route to a 5.43 ERA. At the age of 26, his arm was in tatters and his baseball future was in serious doubt. So, he packed up his bags and went home.

But since home was San Francisco, baseball was still just outside his doorstep. The Pacific Coast League (PCL) had a strong following. In turn, the league attracted competent, confident ballplayers. Though not of major league caliber, the quality of play in the PCL was strong. And major league teams kept their eyes open to the PCL, occasionally dispatching scouts to pluck talent from the league. So, the PCL's San Francisco franchise, the Seals, seemed an ideal place for O'Doul to figure out a way to get back to the majors.

With baseball still obviously in his blood but with his pitching arm ruined, Lefty O'Doul went about the business of reinventing himself as a baseball player. Unlike Babe Ruth who was a superb major league pitcher that just happened to discover his prowess for hitting while he was still pitching in the big leagues, O'Doul was a dead-armed pitcher who had no choice but to learn how to hit if wanted to stay in the game. The more logical comparison is to "Smokey" Joe Wood who resumed his baseball career as an outfielder after his pitching arm went south on him. However, Wood never excelled as a hitter. He was proficient enough to play five seasons as a mostly part-time outfielder for the Cleveland Indians and compiled a career .283 batting average with 23 homers, but greatness eluded him in the batter's box.

The same cannot be said of Lefty O'Doul.

After polishing his skills as a hitter in the PCL, the then 31-year old O'Doul traded in his San Francisco Seals jersey for a return ticket to the major leagues and New York City in 1928. This time, O'Doul was signed by John McGraw's New York Giants. He seemed to make the transition from pitcher to hitter seamlessly. His average rose well above .300 and he finished the season at .319 with 8 homers, striking out just 8 times in 354 at-bats.

But playing defense in the expansive outfield at the Polo Grounds proved difficult. O'Doul's glovework was not particularly impressive, and, despite his affinity for hitting, he was traded from the Giants to the Philadelphia Phillies that off season.

In 1929, hitters ruled the National League, and the Phillies were a big part of that, as the team rang up an impressive .309 team batting average. And Lefty O'Doul, in just his second season as a position player and his first season as a full-time outfielder, was spectacular at the plate that season. His finished the year with an astonishing .398 batting average, 254 hits (still a National League record that O'Doul shares with Bill Terry), 32 homers, 122 RBI, and only 19 strikeouts in 638 at-bats. O'Doul was rewarded for his efforts by finishing second to Rogers Hornsby in the MVP voting. As a team, however, the Phillies did not fare as well, finishing 5th, 27.5 games behind the 1st place Chicago Cubs. In large part, the Phils' pitching let them down, finishing last in the NL in ERA with a gaudy mark of 6.13.

Of course, the following year, 1930, all hell broke loose in National League parks. The LEAGUE batting average that season was .303. And the Philadelphia Phillies were even ahead of that pace, sending baseballs careening around Baker Bowl to the tune of a .315 team batting average. However, the team's pitching was again beyond dreadful, and, despite the gaudy team batting average, the Phillies finished the season 52-102, 40 games out of the money.

But O'Doul was again brilliant at the plate. He followed his near-MVP performance the prior season by hitting .383 with 22 homers and 97 RBI in 1930. And for the second season in a row he finished with a slugging average over .600. The sore-armed pitcher had clearly turned himself into a pretty good hitter.

But defense was still a problem. Despite the fact that O'Doul was one of the better hitters in either league, his play in the field was still lacking. And, at the age of 33, his range in the outfield was not going to improve. So, despite the fact that he'd put together two spectacular offensive seasons for the Phillies, Philadelphia traded O'Doul to Brooklyn.

But he could still hit. Lord, could the man still hit a baseball.

In 1931, O'Doul hit .336, but his run production sagged to 7 homers and 75 RBI. Almost as if to silence the whispers that his big numbers in 1929 and 1930 were more a product of Baker Bowl, the Phillies' cozy, home ballpark, than the man holding the bat, O'Doul cranked out another prolific season in 1932. The 35-year old outfielder hit .368 with 21 homers in front of the Flatbush faithful. The effort netted him his second NL batting title (his first came in 1929 with his high-water mark of .398).

But, in 1931, another important event took place in Lefty O'Doul's life. With Lou Gehrig, Al Simmons, and 10 other major league players in tow, O'Doul made his first visit to Japan. To wit, the All-Star Tour of 1931 marked the first of several visits to the Far East for O'Doul. (Appropriately, the ships that set sail for Japan with O'Doul and his major leagues mates on board left the mainland from San Francisco.) In 1932, O'Doul's trek to the Far East included bringing the light-hitting but intellectually brilliant back-up catcher for the Washington Senators, Moe Berg. In that winter of 1932, O'Doul, Chicago White Sox star hurler Ted Lyons, and Berg spend their time touring six of Japan's major universities to spread the gospel of baseball. And it was knowledge that the Japanese were hungry to accept.

As O'Doul's playing career began to fade (he hit .284 in 1933 in a split season with the Dodgers and the New York Giants), his efforts to solidify a post-playing career in the game intensified. In 1934, O'Doul played his final season in the major leagues and hit .316 with a .525 slugging percentage. It was a fitting curtain call for one of the most unlikely star hitters to ever step into a major league batter's box. His career batting average was an astounding .349.

Following that 1934 season, O'Doul was part of the biggest US baseball delegations to ever travel to Japan. Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Jimmie Foxx were the headliners but O'Doul was the lead ambassador. His relationship with the country and its people had grown steadily since his initial visit in 1931. (As an aside, it was later disclosed that Moe Berg performed some covert reconnaissance during that 1934 trip that may have been used for military purposes during World War II.) Because of the success of the 1934 trip, O'Doul has been frequently credited with playing a major role in the establishment of professional baseball in Japan. And he was certainly responsible for promoting the game internationally in a way that had not yet been seen nor had been nearly as successful.

But he also needed a job when he returned to America. So, his lifelong tether pulled him back again. San Francisco's native son returned home and took the helm of his former PCL team, the San Francisco Seals. The quintessential baseball-playing hometown kid rightfully took the reins of the hometown team. And his time in the dugout at Seals Stadium made one of baseball's great chance meetings possible. Manager O'Doul was put in charge of a lanky, awkward but supremely gifted shortstop named Joseph Paul DiMaggio. The young shortstop had a miserable time in the field but at the plate he was unstoppable.

Under O'Doul's tutelage, young DiMaggio thrived. In fact, he was so good, so early that he attracted the attention of O'Doul's first major league club, the New York Yankees. The two San Franciscans, the aging O'Doul who had worked tirelessly to become a major league hitter and the young DiMaggio who may have been naturally blessed with as many baseball skills as have ever been lavished upon a single player, seemed an unlikely duo to share many commonalties. However, with his signing by the Yankees, O'Doul and DiMaggio instantly shared the bond of Yankee pinstripes, and each remained a San Francisco native at heart.

O'Doul's involvement in the PCL also enabled a second chance meeting with enormous baseball ramifications. Another gawky young hitter with California roots was making the rounds through the PCL about the same time Joe DiMaggio was learning the game under O'Doul. The young hitter's name was Ted Williams, and O'Doul's advice to young player was simple. He told the infinitely gifted Williams not to let anyone change his swing. And it was a swing that would prompt many to consider Williams the greatest hitter who ever lived. Years later, Williams remained grateful for O'Doul's advice and considered him to be one of the best hitters in the game's history.

O'Doul continued both his involvement with the PCL and cultivating baseball in Japan. However, in December of 1941, that all changed. Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor and America's entry into World War II reshuffled priorities and changed life for everyone involved in these sweeping world-altering events. Personally, O'Doul was devastated by Japan's attack on America. And as the cruelties and hardships of war changed so much for so many, baseball endured as a part of our national fabric. And, perhaps, it was this sense of baseball's meaning to those who love the game that rang true for O'Doul.

Because, once the war ended, it was O'Doul who volunteered to return to Japan to try to rebuild the bridge of baseball in Japan that he had started so many years before. With General Douglas McArthur's approval, O'Doul once again served as America's baseball ambassador to the Far East. And, ultimately, O'Doul's dream of a competitive professional baseball league in Japan became a reality.

Back home, O'Doul opened a restaurant and bar appropriately named "Lefty O'Doul's". It is still there. My Aunt who is a big Giants' fan would take me there as a kid after Giants games. The freshly carved roast beef sandwiches were a big treat, as were the crunchy sourdough rolls they were served on after being generously dipped in piping hot au jus. There was also a big barrel full of whole dill pickles, and patrons were welcomed to pull them fresh from the barrel. All the while, Lefty benevolently watched over us from the myriad of pictures documenting his unique life that covered the walls. Baseball, great food, and San Francisco - even his restaurant couldn't resist the influence of its namesake.

But Lefty O'Doul was like that. His was a presence that drew people together, and people couldn't help but be changed by the time spent around him. His tombstone in a small cemetery in Colma (just south of San Francisco) is a simple but apt description of the man who lived his life at full speed and gave as much (or more) to the game of baseball than it returned to him. The stone simply reads: "He was here at a good time and while he was here he had a good time."

That a similar tribute in the quiet, revered halls of Cooperstown has not been paid to the man is a shame. After all, San Francisco's favorite son, America's greatest baseball ambassador to Japan, the self-taught career .349 hitter, and mentor to Joe DiMaggio and Ted Williams surely did enough in his baseball life to merit such an honor.

Biographical References:

Online - baseballlibrary.com
baseballguru.com
sfgate.com
wikipedia.org

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