welcomed by veterans like Cy Young and Lou Criger when he first joined the Sox, many other veterans treated the rookie with the traditional disdain and probably found him easy to mock—compared to his eastern teammates, Speaker, although nominally a college man, lacked sophistication and spoke with a pronounced Texas drawl that his older teammates found hilarious.
Wood had it even tougher. It was widely known that Wood had begun his professional career playing for a barnstorming "Bloomer Girls" team, a club of mostly men in drag, which made the slender, finely featured pitcher an easy target of barbs and teasing. He was thin-skinned and quick to anger and did not shrug off such slights easily. He had, wrote one reporter delicately, only a "
fairly
cool head."
In fact, when Wood arrived in Boston in July 1908 after beginning the season with Kansas City in the American Association, his reputation for arrogance nearly matched his reputation on the mound. He knew he was good, and before he had ever won a game in the big leagues he was acting as if he had already won a hundred. He reacted to the hazing and ribbing of veteran players with defiance. "Too much boosting," wrote one reporter, "has had a bad effect on the youngster." Much of his attitude was an act that masked his insecurity, but it made him a target of club veterans, some of whom were already jealous of his talent on the field and his popularity among the young ladies who sat in the stands. Just a glance from the boyish Wood was enough to make a local maiden swoon.
Although Wood was bright and would later serve as baseball coach at Yale University, as a young man he was hardly an Ivy Leaguer. His father was an attorney with a marked sense of adventure, a man who had dragged his family all over the country and who had even taken a turn as an Alaskan prospector. Wood, who had grown up primarily in western Kansas and Colorado, was himself very much a man of the Wild West. He refused to take crap from anyone and already had his own ideas about the world. He was suspicious of easterners in general, had little regard for Catholics—unless they were female—and, like many white men of his time, got a kick out of treating African Americans poorly. Even among players of the era, many of whom shared the same ideals, Wood stood out for his cruelty. Veteran sportswriter Hugh Fullerton observed that Wood "talked out of the corner of his mouth and used language that would have made a steeple horse jockey blush.... He challenged all opponents and dilated upon their pedigrees."
Wood didn't endear himself to his older teammates by his work on the field either. In both 1909 and 1910 he'd missed part of the season because of injury. His absence in 1909 had been self-induced: he hurt his foot wrestling with Speaker during spring training and missed half the year. As he sat out day after day his older teammates concluded that he was soft, and late in the 1910 season there were rumors that John I. Taylor considered Wood a malcontent and was thinking about trading him away. He may have been thinking that again during spring training in 1911 as the team worked itself into shape in Redondo Beach, California, and Wood hurt himself once more—this time while fooling around on the slide at the pool in the Redondo bathhouse. Wood had talent to burn and threw hard, but he was wild. Over his first few seasons he often pitched just well enough to lose, then blamed others for his defeat, and he often complained of a sore arm. Entering the 1911 season, he was at a crossroads in his career—he had yet to back up his tough talk on the pitcher's mound. He was getting a reputation as a player with a hundred-thousand-dollar arm but only a ten-cent head.
Speaker shared Wood's attitudes and personality, but had an easier time fitting in. At age twenty-two, in 1910, he had hit .340. His stellar play was impossible to deny, and even among the KCs he rapidly earned a kind of grudging respect and was
Wood had it even tougher. It was widely known that Wood had begun his professional career playing for a barnstorming "Bloomer Girls" team, a club of mostly men in drag, which made the slender, finely featured pitcher an easy target of barbs and teasing. He was thin-skinned and quick to anger and did not shrug off such slights easily. He had, wrote one reporter delicately, only a "
fairly
cool head."
In fact, when Wood arrived in Boston in July 1908 after beginning the season with Kansas City in the American Association, his reputation for arrogance nearly matched his reputation on the mound. He knew he was good, and before he had ever won a game in the big leagues he was acting as if he had already won a hundred. He reacted to the hazing and ribbing of veteran players with defiance. "Too much boosting," wrote one reporter, "has had a bad effect on the youngster." Much of his attitude was an act that masked his insecurity, but it made him a target of club veterans, some of whom were already jealous of his talent on the field and his popularity among the young ladies who sat in the stands. Just a glance from the boyish Wood was enough to make a local maiden swoon.
Although Wood was bright and would later serve as baseball coach at Yale University, as a young man he was hardly an Ivy Leaguer. His father was an attorney with a marked sense of adventure, a man who had dragged his family all over the country and who had even taken a turn as an Alaskan prospector. Wood, who had grown up primarily in western Kansas and Colorado, was himself very much a man of the Wild West. He refused to take crap from anyone and already had his own ideas about the world. He was suspicious of easterners in general, had little regard for Catholics—unless they were female—and, like many white men of his time, got a kick out of treating African Americans poorly. Even among players of the era, many of whom shared the same ideals, Wood stood out for his cruelty. Veteran sportswriter Hugh Fullerton observed that Wood "talked out of the corner of his mouth and used language that would have made a steeple horse jockey blush.... He challenged all opponents and dilated upon their pedigrees."
Wood didn't endear himself to his older teammates by his work on the field either. In both 1909 and 1910 he'd missed part of the season because of injury. His absence in 1909 had been self-induced: he hurt his foot wrestling with Speaker during spring training and missed half the year. As he sat out day after day his older teammates concluded that he was soft, and late in the 1910 season there were rumors that John I. Taylor considered Wood a malcontent and was thinking about trading him away. He may have been thinking that again during spring training in 1911 as the team worked itself into shape in Redondo Beach, California, and Wood hurt himself once more—this time while fooling around on the slide at the pool in the Redondo bathhouse. Wood had talent to burn and threw hard, but he was wild. Over his first few seasons he often pitched just well enough to lose, then blamed others for his defeat, and he often complained of a sore arm. Entering the 1911 season, he was at a crossroads in his career—he had yet to back up his tough talk on the pitcher's mound. He was getting a reputation as a player with a hundred-thousand-dollar arm but only a ten-cent head.
Speaker shared Wood's attitudes and personality, but had an easier time fitting in. At age twenty-two, in 1910, he had hit .340. His stellar play was impossible to deny, and even among the KCs he rapidly earned a kind of grudging respect and was
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