by Bruce Nash
MARY “THE HORSE LADY” OTT
St. Louis, NL, AL · 1926–1955
With a raucous, scornful hee-hawing laugh, Mary “The Horse Lady” Ott tormented umpires and opposing players at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis for nearly 30 years.
Nicknamed for her shrill, sarcastic whinny, Mary sat behind the home-team dugout at both Cardinals and Browns games. From her box seat, the squat 180-pound Horse Lady had the lung power to make afternoons miserable for players by jangling their nerves and rattling their concentration. With subtle nuances, her loud neighing would convey derision, disdain, or disrespect toward her target. Her loud voice was kept well lubricated by a constant supply of beer.
“I like scientific rooting—something that helps the home boys win and makes the other guys sore,” she once told a reporter. “I figure if I really work on them, I can knock a lot of them pitchers out of the box in three innings.”
Mary first attracted attention in 1926 when she harassed plate umpire Bill Klem with her insulting braying. The veteran arbiter threatened to have her bodily removed from the park, but she just laughed at him.
“There was never anybody like Mary,” recalled Bob Burns, retired reporter for the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, who saw—and, more accurately, heard—her at hundreds of games. “She had a voice that you can’t describe. Everybody in the stadium could hear her hee-hawing.
“She didn’t have specific cheers, or words or yells. She just had this awful screeching laugh. She had a whole repertoire of them. If an opposing player struck out or made an error, she gave a sarcastic, insulting, braying laugh that carried like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”
The Horse Lady drove Philadelphia Athletics Hall of Famer Al Simmons crazy. One time when he struck out, Mary cut loose with one of her special whinnies. Simmons just smiled. When he struck out a second time, Mary really unloaded on him. This time, he stomped back to the dugout. The third time up, Mary bellowed her horse laugh while he was in the batter’s box. “You could see Al shaking from all the way up in the press box,” Burns recalled. “He struck out again and this time he blew up. He thought about going into the stands after her, but some teammates pulled him back. [Manager] Connie Mack had to take him out of the game because he was so shook up.”
In the late 1930s, Mary loved to harass Philadelphia Phillies outfielder Morrie Arnovich. During a doubleheader she hounded him with her ridiculing laugh. Late in the nightcap, she blasted Arnovich just as he was getting ready to swing. “He must have jumped 5 feet out of the box,” Burns recalled. “Then he got into a big argument with the umpire. Morrie waved his bat and pointed over at Mary’s box, wanting the umpire to shut her up. The umpire refused. Morrie was so frustrated that he started pounding the ground with his bat.”
Mary disliked catchers, especially Shanty Hogan, who played mostly for the Braves and Giants in a career that spanned from 1925 to 1937. “He tried to get back at her by imitating her laugh,” said Burns. “But he couldn’t come close to equaling it.”
The Horse Lady wasn’t content to annoy opposing players on the field. She liked to ambush them after the game at the clubhouse door, offering up her sarcastic laugh as they left the stadium.
“Nobody ever knew exactly who she was or where she came from,” said Burns. “There was one story that she was really the madame of one of the city’s better houses of ill repute. Another story said that she was the widow of a wealthy plumber. She always loved baseball, but when her husband was alive, he wouldn’t let her go to the games. So when he died, she used his money to buy season tickets every year.”
And she brayed and neighed at game after game while players prayed and prayed she’d just shut up.
JEFFREY MAIER
New York, AL · October 9, 1996
All 12-year-old Jeffrey Maier wanted was a baseball. But in his effort to get one, he turned a potential flyout into a crucial home run that helped the New York Yankees to a controversial come-from-behind playoff victory.
In the first game of the 1996 American League Championship Series, the Baltimore Orioles were leading New York 4–3 in the bottom of the eighth inning at Yankee Stadium. With one out and nobody on base, Derek Jeter hit a deep fly ball that sent O’s right fielder Tony Tarasco to the wall. Jeffrey, a Yankees fan who was at the game as a birthday present, reached over the fence separating the stands from the field 9 feet below and tried to glove the ball, but instead deflected it into the crowd.
“I didn’t mean to do anything bad,” said Jeffrey at the time. “I’m just a 12-year-old kid trying to catch a ball.”
Right field umpire Rich Garcia immediately signaled a home run, which tied the game at 4–4. Tarasco and Baltimore manager Davey Johnson protested vehemently, claiming the kid in the black T-shirt, pointing to Jeffrey, had interfered with a catchable ball and, thus, Jeter should have been called out for spectator interference. Garcia stuck to his ruling and tossed Johnson for arguing too fiercely. The Yankees won in the 11th inning on a Bernie Williams walk-off homer.
The Orioles had played the game under protest, but their appeal was denied by American League president Gene Budig, who said judgment calls, which this one was, can’t be protested.
For a kid from Old Tappan, New Jersey, who was just trying to catch a ball, Jeffrey gave a boost to his team.
Propelled by the tainted victory, the Yankees won the ALCS in five games and went on to beat the Atlanta Braves in six games in the World Series to claim their first championship since 1978.
The Orioles, convinced they lost because of Jeffrey’s interference, were furious. Tarasco claimed he would have made the catch if it hadn’t been for Jeffrey. Replays clearly showed that the boy had indeed interfered.
Even Garcia admitted that it was fan interference after seeing the replay. But by then it was too late.
“I’ve seen it a hundred times on replay,” the umpire told Referee magazine in 2001. “I’ve seen it a hundred times in my dreams. I’m waiting for the ball to hit his glove or go over the wall or do whatever and, all of a sudden, [Tarasco] jumped up and there’s no ball anywhere. I never saw the kid reach out and [deflect] the ball. My first instinct was that the ball had to be above his glove and it had to be above the fence, so it had to be a home run. There was no doubt in my mind.”
As a result of the play, Yankees owner George Steinbrenner had a railing installed on the top of the right field wall to prevent fans from reaching over it.
Maier, the Yankees’ 10th manAssociated Press
That did little to mollify Orioles fans who began wearing T-shirts that read, “Beat the Yanks, Beat the Umps, Spank the Kids.”
Meanwhile, in New York, Jeffrey had his 15 minutes of fame. The New York Daily News arranged for Jeffrey and his family to sit behind the Yankees dugout for Game 2 in exchange for photos and a story about his experience. He appeared on national talk shows, including Good Morning America, Regis & Kathie Lee, and The Late Show with David Letterman. He was even awarded the key to New York City by Mayor Rudy Giuliani.
Ever since, Jeffrey has been asked to tell how he helped the Yankees win the pennant.
“Being 12, I had never seen a ball hit that high before,” he told the Washington Post in 2006. “But I was able to get to the spot. I had a pretty good idea of where it was going. It’s what every kid wants to do at a ballgame—catch a ball. It was my ballplayer instincts. I saw a ball in the air, and I was going to go get it.”
Hard-core Baltimore fans have never forgotten Jeffrey, said Tony Pente, who operates the fan website, orioleshangout.com. “I hate to say it,” he said in the Post article, “but for some people, there’s almost a hatred of him—to this day.”
BAT GRABBER
New York, AL · September 22, 1927
Babe Ruth had an easier time hitting his 56th home run of the 1927 season than he did circling the bases because of
an over-eager fan.
In a thrilling game against the Detroit Tigers at Yankee Stadium, Ruth stepped to the plate in the bottom of the ninth inning. New York was trailing 7–6 but had the tying run on first and no outs.
In the seats behind first, a freckle-faced youngster in knickers pleaded at the top of his lungs for the Babe to get a hit. Ruth, who had gone hitless in four previous plate appearances, couldn’t help but hear the kid, who had been imploring him to do something all afternoon.
With the stage set, the tension high, and the youngster on tenterhooks, Ruth belted a booming drive that chipped a piece out of a seat six rows from the top of the right field bleachers for a dramatic game-winning two-run homer.
Ruth, who decided to carry his bat with him, went into his famous home run trot. Meanwhile, the ecstatic young fan leaped out of his seat, cut across the diamond, and caught up with the slugger near third.
Flailing away with both hands, the deliriously happy boy, who was about 10 years old, pounded the Babe on the back—and then tried to swipe his bat. But Ruth wasn’t about to let go of his cherished piece of lumber. Instead, he gripped the bat handle tighter and continued toward home plate. However, the kid wouldn’t give up his hold on the bat either, creating one of the most bizarre scenes ever witnessed on a home run trot. Ruth had to lug the little boy across home plate.
As the New York Times reported the next day, “The youngster was like the tail of a flying comet, holding onto the bat for dear life and being dragged into the dugout by the Babe.”
STADIUM RAIDERS
Washington, AL · September 30, 1971
The Washington Senators were just one out away from winning their final game in the nation’s capital. The franchise was packing up and moving to Texas to begin play the following year as the Rangers.
There was a collective lump in the throats of the Senators as they were about to give their fans a going-away gift to remember—a victory. Instead, the fans gave the Senators something to remember—a forfeit.
For Washington’s farewell home game, the 14,460 fans on hand came out to Robert F. Kennedy Stadium not so much to cheer their team against the New York Yankees as to express their contempt for owner Bob Short. Chants of “We want Short! We want Short!” throughout the game kept the crowd in a frenzy. Adding to the electric atmosphere, the Senators stormed back from a 5–1 deficit to vault into a 7–5 lead entering the ninth inning.
Washington pitcher Joe Grzenda got the first two Yankees out. With victory all but secured, the fans weren’t ready to say good-bye to baseball without making a statement. As Grzenda prepared to pitch to Horace Clarke, thousands of boisterous fans spontaneously swarmed onto the field. Police were powerless to stop the crowd from swiping the bases and home plate and ripping up the turf. Fans began dancing on the bullpen roofs, which nearly collapsed under their weight. People attacked the scoreboard, pulling down letters and even the lightbulbs for souvenirs.
Within minutes, the game, the ballpark, and the Senators’ franchise were in shambles. The umpires then ordered the contest forfeited to the Yankees. Instead of a triumphant 7–5 finale, the Washington Senators lost 9–0 in their final game ever, all thanks to their fans.
PILOT ERROR
For the Most Outlandish Managerial Actions of All Time, The Baseball Hall of Shame™ Inducts:
BILLY MARTIN
Manager · New York, AL · September 20, 1985
New York Yankees skipper Billy Martin scratched his nose at the worst possible moment and helped trigger an opponent’s rally that cost his team the game during a tight pennant race.
Martin put his nose out of joint in a rare mental lapse when he forgot that when your sign for a pitchout is rubbing your schnozz, you need to resist the urge to scratch it.
In the bottom of the seventh inning of a 2–2 game against the host Baltimore Orioles, the O’s had two outs with runner Alan Wiggins on first and Lee Lacy at the plate. Before the first pitch to Lacy, Yankees catcher Butch Wynegar glanced over at the New York dugout. At that exact moment, Martin had an itch on his nose and rubbed it. Naturally, Wynegar assumed the manager had ordered a pitchout. So the catcher called for one, and pitcher Rich Bordi complied, much to Martin’s surprise. Wiggins wasn’t running and Lacy drew ball one.
After the count went to 2-and-0, Wynegar saw Martin scratch his nose again. Assuming that his skipper had stolen the Orioles’ signs, Wynegar ordered another pitchout, which Bordi threw for ball three. Wiggins wasn’t running. Now way behind in the count, Bordi eventually walked Lacy. The next two batters drove in run-scoring singles, and the Yankees went on to lose 4–2. It was New York’s eighth straight loss and halted their last-ditch drive to catch the eventual division winners, the Toronto Blue Jays.
After the game, Martin, who had seen just about everything else go wrong in the previous week, admitted he should have known better. “At first, I couldn’t believe it when I saw the pitchouts,” he said. “I couldn’t understand why Butch called for them. Then I realized what I had done.”
DICK WILLIAMS
Manager
OZZIE VIRGIL
Acting Manager
JACK KROL
Acting-Acting Manager
San Diego, NL · August 12, 1984
During a beanball war that masqueraded as a baseball game, the San Diego Padres needed four managers. That’s because the manager, the acting manager, and the acting-acting manager were all ejected. Fortunately, the acting-acting-acting manager kept his cool.
The game got off on a bad note when, on the very first pitch, Atlanta Braves hurler Pascual Perez drilled San Diego’s leadoff hitter Alan Wiggins with a fastball. The ticked-off batter jawed with Perez all the way to first base.
Coach Ozzie Virgil replaced Williams, and Greg Booker relieved Whitson. But Virgil and Booker were sent to the showers in the sixth inning after Booker threw at Perez’s head, triggering a bench-clearing brawl.
Coach Jack Krol took Virgil’s place in the dugout while reliever Greg Harris went to the mound. Meanwhile, Perez was still pitching and doing a damn good job of dodging beanballs.
But in the eighth inning, San Diego hurler Craig Lefferts finally nailed Perez on the elbow with a pitch—prompting another free-for-all between the teams and getting Krol and Lefferts booted out of the game.
The Padres were now piloted by Coach Harry Dunlop, their fourth manager of the game. But the beanball war went on.
Braves manager Joe Torre wisely brought in reliever Donnie Moore to pitch the ninth, but unwisely ordered him to plunk leadoff batter Graig Nettles, which Moore did. That ignited the third brawl of the game. When the dust was settling, Rippley tossed Torre and Moore. Torre’s ejection meant a record total of six managers were used by both teams in the shameful game won by the Braves 5–3.
Said umpire crew chief John McSherry, “I would think it was one of the stranger days I’ve ever seen, if not the strangest.”
WILBERT ROBINSON
Manager · Brooklyn, NL · 1925
Wilbert Robinson was a charter member of the Bonehead Club of Ebbets Field, which he founded at the beginning of the 1925 season.
As manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers (then known as the Robins), Robinson came up with the idea as a way to cut down on the mental and physical blunders that were trademarks of the team back then. The rules were simple. Every time a player pulled a boner, he put $10 in the pot and gained automatic membership in the Bonehead Club. The manager figured that given a typical Brooklyn season, by the end of the year they would have more money in the pot than they would get from the winner’s share of the World Series take—assuming they made it that far (which they didn’t).
Robinson, charter member of the Bonehead ClubNational Baseball
Hall of Fame Library
The club didn’t last long—only one game. Robi
nson called the whole thing off after he handed the umpires the wrong lineup card at the start of the game and had to ante up the first 10 bucks.
LOU BOUDREAU
Manager · Cleveland, AL · 1942
Lou Boudreau had a cold. Lou Boudreau blew his nose—and the game along with it.
During his first year as the Cleveland Indians player-manager, Boudreau came down with a terrible cold, so he took himself out of the lineup. Although he didn’t feel well enough to play his regular position at shortstop, he could still manage and flash signs from the dugout to his third base coach, Ski “Spinach” Melillo. One of Boudreau’s signals, putting a towel to his face, meant a double steal.
But Boudreau promptly forgot it. Late in a tie game, the Indians had two of the team’s slowest runners on first and second base with two outs.
After a sneezing jag, Boudreau unthinkingly reached for a towel to blow his runny nose. The next thing the young 25-year-old manager knew, both runners lumbered toward third and second respectively. The only people in the stadium more stunned than Boudreau were the opposing infielders, who never expected to be handed such a gift. The lead runner was easily thrown out at third, ending the Indians’ scoring threat.
After the inning, Boudreau barked at Melillo for putting on such a stupid play “with those truck horses on base.”
Melillo calmly explained that it was Boudreau who gave the signal—and it was Boudreau who blew it.
Years later Boudreau recalled, “After the game, which we lost, [team owner] Bill Veeck asked me to explain my strategy and I ’fessed up. Bill told me, ‘Next time you have to blow your nose, go into the runway out of sight.’”
