When I pose the question, “Who comprised the greatest double-play combination in the history of Major League Baseball?” you would likely point to, “Tinker to Evers to Chance,” the shortstop-second-baseman-first-baseman combination for the Chicago Cubs from 1902-1912. Driven by a poem crafted about this Cubs trio in 1910, entitled, “Baseball’s Sad Lexicon,” they have received more publicity than any other double-play combination. But, depending upon to whom you turn for verification, you would surface a variety of answers to that question.
The poem was written from the perspective of a New York Giants fan, who was tired of the Chicago Cubs’ dominance at the time. Let that sink in for a moment, for those of you who, like me, spent your formative years watching the Cubs come, oh, so close, and fail (remember 1969), or (now remember the 1970’s) seemingly become mathematically eliminated from playoff contention by the end of April. The Cubs did win four National League championships in five years, and log two World Series victories back then - a truly dominating performance. And, Tinker to Evers (pronounced, “Ee-vers, not “Ev-vers,” by the way) to Chance delivered a fair amount of double-plays, which (cue the sad trombone sound effect) have a particularly demoralizing effect on fans in the stands, because you’ve got a runner on first base, and there’s no outs, or only one out, so you’re feeling optimistic when the bat hits the ball, and it’s hard-hit, but then the shortstop fields the ball cleanly, and flips it to the second-baseman, who touches second base, and relays the ball to the first-baseman to complete the double-play, and any inkling of hope for the inning is gone, in an instant.
Interestingly, baseball-reference.com does not catalog statistics for most double-plays recorded by the shortstop-second-baseman-first-baseman combination, and it doesn’t even capture the first two in that lineup together. Instead, it reflects the most double-plays recorded by: shortstops (independently); and second-basemen (again, independently); and first-basemen (independently). So, in case you’re wondering, the league-leading shortstop in the double-play standings is, Omar Vizquel, with 1,734 total in his career, followed by Ozzie Smith, and Cal Ripken, Jr. Joe Tinker appears on the list in a tie for 101st.
On the second-baseman front, Bill Mazeroski, who is lionized in Pittsburgh for hitting the bottom-of-the-ninth inning, walk-off homerun in the seventh game of the World Series in 1960, leads the list, at 1,706 total double-plays. He is followed by Nellie Fox, and Willie Randolph. Johnny Evers checks-in at number ninety on this list.
And, finally, as to the first-basemen in this equation, Mickey Vernon leads the list with 2,044 total double-plays, supporting the old axiom that, “all roads lead to first base.” (actually, the well-known phrase is, ‘all roads lead to Rome,’ but first base is an important stop in the lifelong journey that is baseball, no?) Frank Chance lands at a lowly number 215 on this list.
So, I think the moral of this story is to line up the publicists to tout your accomplishments, in order to move to the head of the line, in the minds of the public. Whereas that entailed being memorialized in a poem in the early 1900’s, these days flooding Twitter, Instagram, and Tik-Tok social media feeds would probably do the trick. Also, apparently Joe Tinker and Johnny Evers were not the closest of friends, reportedly feuding with each other, including engaging in on-field fisticuffs prior to a game in 1905, and never speaking to one another for many, many years. Perhaps if they had developed a warmer personal relationship with each other they might have climbed the double-play charts.
Even though vintagedetroit.com ranks Lou Whitaker and Alan Trammell as the most prolific double-play combination of all time, followed by Tinker and Evers, I believe we have to discount that “homer” perspective, inasmuch as those two spent their careers playing together in, you guessed it, Detroit. Mazeroski gets my vote (and, not just because I’m now a Pittsburgher), because two of his shortstop partners rank on the shortstop list: Dick Groat (at No. 14), and Gene Alley (at No. 93). Simple math (i.e. adding together the individual numbers of double-plays completed) reveals that Groat-or-Alley-and-Mazeroski yields a total of 3,652 double-plays, and Trammel-and-Whitaker amounts to only 2,834 double-plays. Yes, I recognize that there is some doubling-up there in my math, but I stand by it. And, I’m ignoring my own “homer” instincts in excluding Don Kessinger and Glenn Beckert of the 1960’s and 1970’s Cubs in my analysis, who total 1,928 double-plays, utilizing this same, flawed math. I know it’s flawed because certainly some of those double-plays substituted light-hitting utility infielder, Paul Popovich for one of those two.
During the course of my extensive research on double-play combinations, I stumbled across the single greatest baseball player name ever: “Bill Wambsganss,” who played for the Cleveland Indians, Boston Red Sox, and the Philadelphia Athletics in the 1910’s and 1920’s. Wambsganss, often referred to as, “Wamby” in newspaper headlines, because, you know, “Wambsganss” just doesn’t look right when you’re setting type, remains the only player to record an unassisted triple play in a World Series game, performing that feat in a 1920 World Series game. “Wambsganss” would not only be a great name for a band, but I think if we decide to get another dog, his name will be, Wambsganss; we’d probably end up calling him “Wamby” though, because, you know, Wambsganss is a difficult name to yell at the park - not as unsettling, perhaps, as yelling, “Hitler,” or “Ted Bundy,” which I believe are also interesting canine name options, but I’m not sure society is ready for that.
As for triple-plays, there have been only fifteen unassisted triple-plays recorded during the 139 years documented on the baseball-reference.com website, including Wamby’s feat. There have been about 700 total triple-plays recorded during that same time-period, an average of roughly five per year. Rarefied air, indeed!
Well, I gotta’ go. “Here, Wamby!”