Fighting with your boss is usually a losing proposition, no
matter who is on the right side. Nobody learned this harder than former
right-handed pitcher Dave
Davenport, who literally saw his professional career come to an end after a
skirmish with his manager with the St. Louis Browns in 1919.
At 6’6” and 220 pounds, Davenport was positively massive in
size for the era. A native of Louisiana, he had three brothers who also played
professional ball, including younger brother Claude
who pitched two innings for the 1920 New York Giants.
Davenport came into his professional career after being discovered
after throwing five no-hitters for a semi-pro team out of Runge, Texas. After
winning 15 games for the San Antonio Bronchos in the Texas League in 1913 he was
sold for $4,000 and made his major league debut with the Cincinnati Reds the
following year. He won two games and saved two others (in 10 appearances)
during his rookie campaign with the Reds but jumped to the St. Louis Terriers
of the Federal League midyear with teammate Armando
Marsans after their demands for a raise was quickly dismissed by manager Buck Herzog.
The Cincinnati
Times-Star was less than flattering in their farewell to the pair, writing,
“The prospect of being on a winning team seems to have meant nothing to Marsans
and Davenport. Offered a few additional dollars, they were off, apparently
without a thought for the team or the Cincinnati fans, who had backed them up
so loyally. The fans have plenty of sporting spirit. They have a right to
expect at least a little of it from the players.”
The big righty truly broke out with the Terriers in 1915,
winning 22 games with a 2.20 ERA in a league-leading 55 games. He also led the
league with 46 starts, 30 complete games, 10 shutouts, 229 strikeouts and 392.2
innings. Just 25, he became a scorching hot commodity over night, which was
good because he lost his job with St. Louis.
Since the Federal League folded up shop after the 1915
season, Davenport jumped to the Browns in 1916. He led the American League in
pitching appearances that year with 59. While he was a solid hurler (mostly as
a starter) over the next four seasons, he never approached the level of success
he had attained.
A major reason for the pitcher not becoming a full-fledged
star was likely his trouble staying away from the bottle. A notorious hard
drinker, his frequent dalliances with nightlife curbed his immense talent and
brought him an unflattering reputation. He was not seen as a partier as much as
a man who had his problems and kept largely to himself. H.R. Hoefer of Baseball Magazine called
him “a man of few words, and between moody, taciturn, and glum most people
would call him a casual acquaintance.”
In 1919, Davenport was wallowing through his worst season as
a professional. A 2-11 record and 3.94 ERA in 24 games (16 starts) had him on
the verge of losing his job anyways. Skipping his September 2nd
start without explanation led to his immediate suspension for the rest of the
season without pay. He subsequently confronted and got into a physical
confrontation with two team officials, even reportedly pulling a knife on the
two men. He never pitched in another big league game again.
Davenport finished up with a major league record of 73-83
with a 2.93 ERA in six seasons; on the sidelines at the young age of 29. He was
unofficially blacklisted, with many holding a very negative impression of him.
“The attitudinous [sic] Dave has the temperament that is supposed to go with a
star without being a stellar performer, wrote
the Washington Post’s J.V. Fitzgerald
in 1920, the year after the banishment.
Unbelievably, Davenport's fight with his Browns’ manager may
not even be the strangest way he was released from a team. In 1921, he was
pitching for the Ogden Gunners in the Northern Utah League when he was fired
for being too good. At 7-0 with 112 strikeouts in 63 innings in seven
starts (all complete games). He was told “They (opposing teams) were defeated
before they went onto the playing field.”
Davenport continued playing on the semi-pro circuit into the
late 1920s. He became the property of the New York Yankees in 1921 but never
made it anywhere with them besides on paper. Married to his wife Lillian, he
passed away in El Dorado, Arkansas in 1954 at the age of 64 following a lengthy
illness. One of baseball’s tragic tales, yet largely a victim of his own doing,
he was once one of the most promising young players in the game but quickly
receded to the shadows of anonymity because of his own bad behavior.
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