He was Denton True Young — Dent to his friends — until he was 23 years old. Until that year, Young was a farmer in his hometown of Gilmore, Ohio. He liked baseball and was quite good at it; he pitched now and again for a semi-pro team nearby for a dollar an appearance. But he never thought of baseball as a profession until that year, 1890, when he began to think about settling down and getting married.
That’s when the ballclub in Canton, 45 miles or so away, offered him the princely sum of $60 a month to pitch.
That’s when the ballclub in Canton, 45 miles or so away, offered him the princely sum of $60 a month to pitch.
“Mr. Young is a tall, very well put together and athletic young man of sundry summers,” The Cleveland Leader and Herald wrote. “He pitches the ball, not hardly that either, rather he sends lessons in geometry up to the batter with a request for solution. Mr. Young seems to know almost as much about curves as an engineer on a railroad in West Virginia.”
That last part suggests that Young was already more than just a fireballer, that he already had a complete arsenal of pitches. There is some dispute about this. Christy Mathewson, for instance, said that Young was a pure fastball pitcher in the first half of his career and didn’t really develop his curveball until the second half. Young himself suggested the same, saying that a pitcher should learn control first before worrying about curveballs.
But that first quote from the Leader and Herald was a perfect assessment of what would become a 22-year career. There, surely, has never been a more adaptable pitcher than Cy Young. Just look:
In 1892, he won 36 games with a National League-leading 1.93 ERA.
The next year, the league moved pitchers back from 50 feet to 60 feet, 6 inches and a rubber slab replace the pitcher’s box.
In 1893, he won 33 games and led the league in Fielding Independent Pitching (which works only with strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed).
The next year, foul bunts were classified as strikes.
From 1894 to 1900, he went 181-112 with a 138 ERA+ and he led the league at various times in wins, strikeouts, shutouts, complete games, WHIP and FIP. He and Kid Nichols were the two best pitchers in the game over that stretch of time.
In 1901, the upstart American League declared itself a major-league challenger to the National League.
Young jumped to the AL and led the league in wins in 1901 and 1902. He won the pitcher triple crown in 1901 with 33 wins, a 1.62 ERA and 158 strikeouts.
In 1903, foul balls were classified as strikes in the American League.
Young again led the league in wins in 1903 along with complete games, shutouts and innings pitched.
In 1904, the mound was lowered.
Young had a career-high 10 shutouts in 1904, and led the league with an 0.937 WHIP. He threw the first perfect game in American League history.
In 1908, pitchers were no longer allowed to muddy up a new baseball.
That year, Young won 20 games for the 16th and final time in his career. His ERA was 1.26. He also threw a no-hitter that year.
Think about how much the game changed over those years.
That last part suggests that Young was already more than just a fireballer, that he already had a complete arsenal of pitches. There is some dispute about this. Christy Mathewson, for instance, said that Young was a pure fastball pitcher in the first half of his career and didn’t really develop his curveball until the second half. Young himself suggested the same, saying that a pitcher should learn control first before worrying about curveballs.
But that first quote from the Leader and Herald was a perfect assessment of what would become a 22-year career. There, surely, has never been a more adaptable pitcher than Cy Young. Just look:
In 1892, he won 36 games with a National League-leading 1.93 ERA.
The next year, the league moved pitchers back from 50 feet to 60 feet, 6 inches and a rubber slab replace the pitcher’s box.
In 1893, he won 33 games and led the league in Fielding Independent Pitching (which works only with strikeouts, walks and home runs allowed).
The next year, foul bunts were classified as strikes.
From 1894 to 1900, he went 181-112 with a 138 ERA+ and he led the league at various times in wins, strikeouts, shutouts, complete games, WHIP and FIP. He and Kid Nichols were the two best pitchers in the game over that stretch of time.
In 1901, the upstart American League declared itself a major-league challenger to the National League.
Young jumped to the AL and led the league in wins in 1901 and 1902. He won the pitcher triple crown in 1901 with 33 wins, a 1.62 ERA and 158 strikeouts.
In 1903, foul balls were classified as strikes in the American League.
Young again led the league in wins in 1903 along with complete games, shutouts and innings pitched.
In 1904, the mound was lowered.
Young had a career-high 10 shutouts in 1904, and led the league with an 0.937 WHIP. He threw the first perfect game in American League history.
In 1908, pitchers were no longer allowed to muddy up a new baseball.
That year, Young won 20 games for the 16th and final time in his career. His ERA was 1.26. He also threw a no-hitter that year.
Think about how much the game changed over those years.
But there is something else funny about Young’s 511 victories.
He always insisted that he had really won 512.
And when I say insisted, I mean it — he wouldn’t stop talking about it. In virtually every interview he gave in the last years of his life, he griped about an official scorer cheating him out of a win in 1898. He would apparently go and on about it, citing various sources, breaking down all the details of how the win was lost and so on.
It got to the point where some reporters would simply credit him with 512 victories because he was so sensitive about it.
That seems odd, doesn’t it? What, in the end, is the difference between 511 and 512?
He always insisted that he had really won 512.
And when I say insisted, I mean it — he wouldn’t stop talking about it. In virtually every interview he gave in the last years of his life, he griped about an official scorer cheating him out of a win in 1898. He would apparently go and on about it, citing various sources, breaking down all the details of how the win was lost and so on.
It got to the point where some reporters would simply credit him with 512 victories because he was so sensitive about it.
That seems odd, doesn’t it? What, in the end, is the difference between 511 and 512?
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