One thing had always puzzled me about the history of baseball: future Hall-of-Famer Connie Mack’s demolition of the Philadelphia Athletics after the 1914 World Series loss to the Boston “Miracle” Braves in four games (thus a sweep). He had such a great team; why on earth? It is usually presented as a mystery (and it certainly mystified me for years), and perhaps a sudden burst of spite after his team collective wet the bed against a weaker but hungrier opponent.

One of my favorite aspects of history is when reading the take of someone who puts events into suitable context. This, combined with a general decline in critical thinking, makes such work even more important. Take anything completely out of context, and it can be spun to mislead–whether by accident or design. This is why Freedman’s book moved me to write.

The book covers the rise of Mack’s Athletics to five fine seasons: four pennants and two World Series wins. That’s no joke. The team had the best infield of its day, numerous Hall of Famers, and mostly good (often great) pitching. And after the 1914 season, Mack sold, released, or otherwise got rid of almost the whole team. Who the hell does this, and why?

I’m sure that this is all well recognized by deeper baseball historians than myself, but for me it was a revelation. Several factors played in; as usual with history, the truth is messier than a simplistic notion but is much more entertaining. What was happening:

• Spite. Yes, there was some of that. Mack felt many of his players were complacent, and flirting with the rival Federal League and its bankrolls felt to him like betrayal. He had considered most of his players like sons, as would be his way for the rest of his career, so much so that when the outgoing Bobo Newsom showed up in Philly to play for Mack in the 1940s, he greeted him with “Hiya, Connie!” Six young and grim A’s confronted Newsom in short order. “We call him Mr. Mack, see?” To a degree, yes, hurt feelings were a part of the process. They were not the only part.
• Federal League. The Feds began recognized play in 1914, and plenty of players jumped at the big money. This seems to happen when rival leagues form, and Mack wasn’t a big spender on salaries. His two best pitchers, Albert Bender and Eddie Plank, seemed near the end of the line. How much of his team would jump? Mack didn’t plan to wait around and find out. This was perhaps the greatest logical reason to do before he was done to.
• War. WWI had already broken out in Europe, a major distraction that wouldn’t involve the United States for three years but was likely to be disruptive. As it was; future Hall of Famers Christy Mathewson and Grover Cleveland Alexander were physically and psychologically impaired by the war for the rest of their lives–in the case of Mathewson, a short one. The uncertainty of the times had to play a role.
• Confidence. Mack stayed in baseball for so long that he is often remembered as an ancient and not very successful manager in the 1940s and early 1950s, still waving players into position with a scorecard. He was much younger in the 1910s, and had built a winner. He felt, with good cause, that he could do so again. And he did, though it took longer than he’d expected.
• Shibe Park. What would become a storied big league ballpark didn’t have as much seating as would have been ideal, which (in combination with fickle fandom and surprisingly weak attendance) meant that Mack couldn’t outbid the Feds. Whatever else one says about Mack, he was neither stupid nor innumerate. Rather than lose bidding wars, he declined to fight them.

I find Freedman’s reasoning thoughtful and persuasive. Mack evidently looked at the overall situation, decided that it was either act or be acted upon, and made some tough decisions. The result was the 1915 Athletics, with a 43-109 finish as one of the lousiest teams in baseball history. The Mackmen didn’t win another pennant until 1929. They hit .237 (awful) and only one pitcher won in double digits, Weldon Wyckoff–while losing 22.

What might have happened had Mack stood pat? The 1915 team would have been better (then again, it could hardly have been worse). It is reasonable to think that enough of the old guard would have stayed and performed well that they could have brought the team out of the cellar, if not into the pennant race. It would have held up the youth movement, but not disastrously so. And while the Federal League fell apart after the 1915 season, Mack had no way of anticipating that in late 1914.

History must remember that the people of the times did not generally have foreknowledge. They could guess, predict, conjecture, analyze, and sometimes do a fair job of figuring out what was coming down from third base. In 1986, few people knew that the Soviet Union’s days as a going concern would end within five years. It’s easy to second-guess, but more difficult to see the world through the eyes of the day. I believe that this is key to understanding Mack’s personnel divestiture. He was the guy in charge, he read the tea leaves, felt his feelings, and did what he thought would lead to a rebuilt winner. Which he would, but without a single player from the 1915 season and only one of his former stalwarts from the dynasty: the unforgettable Eddie Collins, playing a bit part at 42 and mostly a coach.

Now it makes more sense to me.