Right-handed pitcher Christy
Mathewson was one of the greatest hurlers of all time, starring for the New
York Giants for nearly 16 years in the early part of last century. He is still third
all-time in wins with 373, and perhaps the greatest postseason pitcher who ever
lived, posting a 0.97 ERA and completing 10 of his 11 Fall Classic starts. He
also had two younger brothers who were also quite accomplished as pitchers. Sadly,
neither attained the baseball success of their big brother, and through
separate twists of tragic fate, both died way too young.
If everything had gone according to expectations, Christy
might not have even been the best pitcher among the Mathewson boys. Two of his
younger brothers, Henry (also
known as Hank) and Nicholas, were both stars during their prep careers, and perhaps
only circumstance prevented them from attaining the success of their big
brother.
Christy rose to the major leagues following a stellar career
at Bucknell University. Six years his junior, Henry followed him to the same
alma mater, graduating around 1906. His proud older brother was exuberant,
stating, “He now has as much speed as I had when I broke into the game. He has
control and a splendid assortment of curves. All he wants is experience, and
with that I am sure he will develop into a star.”
Hoping to double down on their Mathewson good fortune, the
Giants signed the college lad to a deal in January, 1906. He had a rather
dubious start to his professional career. Christy came down with a case of
diphtheria so severe it nearly killed him, and Henry knocked out several of
catcher and future Hall-of-Famer Roger Bresnahan’s teeth during warm-ups prior
to a spring training game when he accidentally let go of his bat while taking
practice swings.
Realizing that he was raw, the Giants handled Henry with kid
gloves for much of 1906, having him just practice with the team in New York and
allowing him to occasionally pitch for local independent teams.
Giants’ skipper John McGraw was optimistic but reasonable
when discussing the prospect with the press. “Henry has learned a lot about the
pitching game and by next spring will be ready to make his appearance in fast
society as a promising debutante. I would not say that he is going to be as
great a pitcher as brother Matty, but from the form he has shown us so far, I
feel I am justified in predicting that he will win more games than some of the
twirlers who now are posing as stars.”
Despite the initial announcement that his debut would be
held back until 1907, Henry joined the big club by the end of the 1906 season,
impressing in his first game by tossing a scoreless inning to earn a save. However,
his next game would tarnish his baseball reputation forever and define his
career.
On October 5th, Henry made what would be his lone major
league start, facing Boston Beaneaters the last game of the year. Although the
Giants had won an impressive 96 games, they were eons behind that year’s
National League pennant winner, the Chicago Cubs, who finished with 116
victories and a 20-game cushion. With nothing at stake, fewer than 400 fans
showed up at the Polo Grounds to see the hometown team off for the year. By the
end of the afternoon, most of them probably regretted coming out.
Perhaps wanting to see what the young Mathewson was made of,
McGraw let the young hurler pitch the entire game. It wasn’t pretty, as he gave
up seven runs, largely on the back of the 14 walks he issued (then a major
league record). This was no ordinary squad he was facing either. Boston was ,to
put it quite plainly, putrid. Even with the win, they finished dead last with
an abominable 49-102 record, and also brought up the rear of the league in team
batting average, runs scored and ironically, walks drawn.
For all intents and purposes, that miserable start marked
the beginning of the end for Henry’s career. He pitched one scoreless frame for
the Giants the following year and played in a few minor league games over years
but that was it. McGraw later quipped, “Pitching talent was hardly an inherited
Mathewson characteristic.”
Not surprisingly, Christy later defended his brother against
those who were disappointed with his career. “He was brought up before he was
ready because I got the diphtheria at the start of the ‘06 season. The Giants’
management thought they could sell tickets if there was still a Mathewson
pitching at the Polo Grounds. But they should have waited. It cost them a good
ballplayer. Hank just wasn’t ready.”
By 1917, Henry developed tuberculosis and was living in
Arizona in an attempt to benefit from the dry air. In what proved to be a bad
choice, he went back east to Pennsylvania that summer to visit his parents.
Sadly, he died on July 1st from his health complications, just 30 years old. The
Mathewson brothers combined 373 wins (all by Christy) still rank fifth all-time
among baseball pitcher siblings. If not for one wild day by Henry, who knows
how high that total might have been.
Adding to the speculation of what heights the Mathewsons
might have reached in baseball might is Nicholas. The youngest of the three, he
very well may have been the greatest hurler of them all. He never lost a game
during his high school career with Keystone Academy, and went unscored upon
during his senior season.
During Christmas of Nick’s senior year, the Mathewson
household was visited by Hughie Jennings, the manager of the Detroit Tigers, and
an acquaintance of Christy (who was also on hand for the holidays). The skipper
offered the youngest Mathewson pitcher a $3,000 contract to sign. By all
accounts, the youngster was so gung-ho to start his professional career and
play with the likes of Ty Cobb that he would have signed for less. Despite
Jennings’ promise to keep Nick tied to the bench during his first year while
learning the finer points of the game, his father Gilbert and Christy were
opposed to him giving up his schooling and wouldn’t permit him to ink a
contract.
Christy had always regretted leaving Bucknell early to join
the Giants, later writing, “I would advise a boy who has exceptional ability as
a ballplayer to sign no contracts and to take no money until he has finished
college.” Both he and his father believed baseball would still be there for
Nick once he graduated, but if he went immediately into baseball, he would
never return to his education.
Nick begrudgingly obeyed the will of his family and went off
to college but returned home in January, 1909, complaining of feeling ill and
tired—all seemingly classic signs of depression. On the surface, he was doing
well—pitching for the school’s varsity team as a freshman, and planning on
playing for Nashville of the Southern League later that summer. However, he
felt uneasy and was particularly concerned with falling behind at school. On
January 15th, he told his family he was going out to tend to some horses, and climbed
up to the hay loft of a neighbor’s barn, wrote a brief note and shot himself in
the head with a pistol. He was found by Henry, who carried him home and
summoned a doctor. Unfortunately, it was too late and he died the next morning
in the hospital. He was only 19 years old.
Although Christy achieved baseball immortality, he also
suffered a similarly sad fate as Henry and Nick. After surviving 17 major
league seasons and service overseas during World War I, he succumbed at the age
of 45 from the effects of gas poisoning he had suffered in battle.
The Mathewson brothers were a combination of talent and
tragedy. Baseball has never seen anything like them before and likely never
will again. It’s impossible to predict what may have happened if they managed
to avoid some of the bad breaks that wound up determining their fates but they
will always be a prime example of what might have been.
Statistics via BaseballReference.com
Bibliography:
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