As told by Davy Jones to Lawrence Ritter in The Glory of Their Times:
I played with Germany Schaefer on the Chicago Cubs in 1902, and again on the Detroit Tigers later on. What a man! What stunts he could pull! I used to laugh at that guy till I cried. Far and away the funniest man I ever saw. He beat Charlie Chaplin any day in the week.
One day when I was on the Tigers – I think it was 1906, my first year with Detroit – we were in Chicago, playing the White Sox. Red Donahue was pitching for us and Doc White, that great little left-hander, was pitching for the White Sox. We were behind, 2-1, going into the ninth inning. Then in the ninth we got a man on first base with two out, and the next man up was Donahue, who was easily one of the worst hitters in the league. So Bill Armour, who was managing Detroit then, looked up and down the bench and spotted Germany Schaefer sitting there – talking, as usual, to whoever would listen.
“How would you like to go up there and pinch-hit?” Bill asked him.
“Sure,” he says, “I’d love to. I always could hit Doc White.”
Meanwhile, Red Donahue is already getting all set in the batter’s box. Red was an awful hitter, but there was nothing in the whole world he loved more than digging in at that plate and taking his cuts.
“Hey, Red,” yells Schaefer, “the manager wants me to hit for you.”
“What?” Red roars. “Who the hell are you to hit for me?” And he slams his bat down and comes back and sits way down at the end of the bench, with his arms folded across his chest. Madder than a wet hen.
Well, Schaefer walked out there and just as he was about to step into the batter’s box he stopped, took off his cap, and faced the grandstand.
“Ladies and gentleman,” he announced, “you are now looking at Herman Schaefer, better known as Herman the Great, acknowledged by one and all to be the greatest pinch hitter in the world. I am now going to hit the ball into the left field bleachers. Thank you.”
Then he turned around and stepped into the batter’s box. Of course, everybody’s giving him the old raspberry, because he never hit over two or three home runs in his life. But by golly, on the second ball Doc White pitched he did just exactly what he said he would: he hit it right smack into the left-field bleachers.
Boy oh boy, you should have seen him. He stood at the plate until the ball cleared the fence, and then he jumped straight up in the air, tore down to first base as fast as his legs would carry him, and proceeded to slide headfirst into the bag. After that he jumped up, yelled “Schaefer leads at the Quarter!” and started for second.
He slid into second – yelled “Schaefer leads at the Half!” – and continued the same way into third and then home. After he slid into home he stood up and announced: “Schaefer wins by a nose!” Then he brushed himself off, took off his cap, and walked over to the grandstand again.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I thank you for your kind attention.”
Back on the bench everybody was laughing so hard they were falling all over themselves. Everybody except Red Donahue. He’s still sitting there at the end of the bench with his arms folded, like a stone image, without the slightest expression of any kind on his face.
The next day we went back to Detroit to play against Cleveland, and Bill Armour promptly put Germany right into the lineup, at second base. And, of course, everybody at the game had read about what Schaefer had done the day before. So in the first inning, when Schaefer comes up to bat for the first time, the crowd naturally gives him a terrific ovation. “Hurray, Schaefer!” And the stands are buzz, buzz, buzzing about what he’d done the day before.
Unfortunately, the Cleveland pitcher that day was Addie Joss, who Schaefer couldn’t hit with a paddle. A corking good pitcher. Three swings, and Schaefer strikes out. Never came close to the ball.
The second time at bat it’s still “Hurray, Schaefer!” but not quite as loud as the first time. Well, he strikes out again, just as badly as before. Third time up, no commotion at all. Silence. This time he popped up.
The fourth time it’s Schaefer’s turn to bat it’s the ninth inning, I’m on first, and we’re two runs behind. And as he approaches the plate for the last time that day the crowd starts to make just as much noise as they did the first time. Only this time they’re all yelling, “Take him out. Take the bum out!”
Ha! That’s baseball. A hero one day and a bum the next. But always lots of laughs.
