Fugazy Nears Purchase of Brooklyn Club as Robins Sweep Braves

Content from the NY Daily News - Thursday June 24, 1926

• FUGAZY TO BUY INTO BROOKLYN CLUB
  • Much Turmoil
  • Robbie Stays
• NINTH INNING RALLIES WIN TWO GAMES FOR DODGERS
• Rain Saves Giants; Two Games Today
• MILLER HUGGINS WRATHFUL AFTER YANKEES SHOWING
• Mr. Ruth Helps Fill Space
• ADVERTISEMENTS

FUGAZY TO BUY INTO BROOKLYN CLUB

PROMOTER DICKERING FOR EBBETS HOLDINGS

Only Few Technicalities Hold Up Deal.

By WILL MURPHY

The tangled affairs of the Brooklyn Robins are likely to be soon straightened out.

Humbert J. Fugazy, sportsman, boxing promoter, banker and a Brooklynite, will shortly become half-owner of the club by purchasing the 50 per cent. interest now held by the heirs of Charles Ebbets. Fugazy admitted yesterday that the deal was very near conclusion, and was enthusiastic over the prospect of entering major league baseball.

The high reputation of Jack Fugazy in the sporting world and the fact that the impending deal is satisfactory to the McKeever interests, who own the other half of the club, all makes the future look brighter for the Brooklyn ball club.

Much Turmoil

Difficulties between the two sets of owners have existed ever since the deaths of Charles Ebbets and Ed McKeever in the spring of 1925. The naming of Wilbert Robinson, one of the most popular figures in baseball, as president did not completely solve the problem of running a baseball outfit under two last wills and testaments. All this has not helped the Robins to build themselves into a winning team.

Fugazy was not ready to discuss his plans, but he said nothing in money or effort would be spared to give Brooklyn fans a winner under the new regime, and added that he was in entire accord with Steve McKeever, vice president of the club and representative of the McKeever half of the ownership. Fugazy and McKeever have been associated before, the fight promoter holding the boxing rights at Ebbets Field since last season.

Robbie Stays

When asked "How about Robbie?"—the same question that will occur to thousands of loyal Brooklyn fans—Fugazy indicated his high regard for the manager who brought two pennants to Brooklyn.

The amount of money to be involved in the deal was not made known, but the Ebbets holdings in the Brooklyn club were appraised at $833,000 when the schedules for the estate were filed last April. It is assumed that Fugazy will pay close to that sum.

NINTH INNING RALLIES WIN TWO GAMES FOR DODGERS

Robins Beat Braves Twice, 3 to 1 and 6 to 4.

By CHARLES HOERTER.

Boston, Mass., June 23.—Staging ninth inning rallies in each game, the Dodgers romped off with a double header at the expense of the Boston Braves here today. The scores were 3 to 1 and 6 to 4.

Thanks to the efforts of Dave Bancroft's men, the Dodgers have won four straight games and have a fairly secure position in the first division.

For a time it appeared that the Dodgers were about to drop the second contest. Time and again they got men on bases only to fall down when a hit meant a score.

After they had tied the score in the eighth inning they made two runs on two hits in the last frame, thanks to the wildness of a trio of Boston hurlers. Although Milt Stock (identified in the article as Marriott) and Jimmy Butler made hits in that frame, enough walks were granted to force two batters over the plate.

The first game was a real old-fashioned pitching duel between Messrs. Jess Petty and young Larry Benton. The Boston youngster had a slight edge over his ancient opponent for eight innings, but the Dodgers staged a sensational rally in the ninth and ruined Benton's exhibition.

Then in the ninth the good ol' Zack Wheat started with a single. Clyde Cox's sacrifice advanced the runner. Benny Hargreaves walked and Mickey O'Neil (Jacobson) ran for him. Stock's single tied the score, Butler walked, filling the bases.

Jack Fournier, who is on the injured list, hobbled up to the plate on crutches, batting for Petty. The Frenchman might just as well have sat on the bench, for he popped out. Young Jerry Standaert then met the ball square on the nose and drove it through Bancroft, scoring O'Neil and Stock. Bancroft was given an error on the play, but it could have been called either way.

Tomorrow is an open date for the Robins and on Friday they meet the New York Giants at Ebbets Field.

Rain Saves Giants; Two Games Today

Fans who visited the Polo Grounds yesterday saw two games rained out for the price of one. The Phillies had not finished their first turn at bat against the New York Giants in the opening game when the daily downpour occurred.

It was a lifesaver for the Giants. Virgil Barnes started his first game since May 13 and allowed five runs without getting two out. Cliff Harper hit a homer and Doc Huber tripled, both with two men on.

Another attempt at a doubleheader by the same clubs today.

MILLER HUGGINS WRATHFUL AFTER YANKEES SHOWING

By MARSHALL HUNT.

Washington, D. C., June 23.—The Yankees spent the day carefully evading their manager, Miller Huggins, holder of the eastern low, middle and high budgeon records since mid-afternoon yesterday.

Even a day of rest did not allay the wrath of Huggins, kindled by the Yanks in the first game with the Washington Senators; wrath which was not assuaged by victory in the second game, or realization the New York Yankees are leading the parade by a mile.

Too often this season have the Yanks taken victory for granted and have lost games by fragile margins.

The Yanks will leave tonight for Boston, where they will begin a series tomorrow with the Boston Red Sox.

So that's that.

Mr. Ruth Helps Fill Space

By PAUL GALLICO

Stand off in one corner of the universe and look dispassionately at the sport world, and you will find that the thing looks very different this summer as compared to last year. Time is working its inevitable changes. Things are not the same. Champions are wabbling. The old established order is becoming upset. Names and faces are changing. Old ones dim. New ones take on lustre. What is it, Angus, are we growing old? Nay, nay, m'lord. 'Tis but the world edging slowly by on its voyage into eternity.

They all pass with the possible exception of one, who like this Whatsisname, the giant that Hercules wrestled and who gained new strength every time his limbs touched the ground.

As you sit on your distant star and look at the weary world, who do you see plying his old trade again, but Babe Ruth? There is something about our native soil that seems to cleanse George Herman Ruth every time he comes in contact with it. Cast him down into the slime. Count him out. Pinion his shoulders to the dirt and he arises each time with new wisdom and new strength and plays better baseball.

Hercules eventually overcame this Whosis by holding him aloft and strangling him. Civilization may do the same for Ruth. Avast, you character builders. Belay, you venders of moral character. Ruth must make his little pilgrimages into the depths. He must touch soil now and then. For as certainly as you uplift him until his feet no longer can mingle with our earthly clay, just as certainly will God snatch him aloft to join the golden chorus, too fine an angel to be wasted down below.

When Ruth finally shuffles off this whizzing globe, I hope for his sake that he will have been on one of his wayward periods and that a convention loving guardian at the outer gate refuses him admission to the conventional heaven. No league in hell will be able to afford his salary and so Ruth will have to become a planet by himself, get himself an orbit and go 'round and 'round through eternity, much as he has gone on this plane, rather a lonely figure.

While he would be too polite to say so, the Babe would be supremely bored with heaven as it is sketched out by some of those who try to tempt us within the pearly gates. His supreme pleasure is hitting a pitched ball over the plate before thirty thousand people in which one or two solid sections should be comprised of small boys from a local orphanage or parish school. No one has ever indicated that there is an angel in Paradise that could get a ball over the plate, much less enough to get up two scrub nines.

To begin with, there would be trouble right at the start. Who would there be there with sufficient strength and persuasive powers to get Ruth to relinquish the phonograph that he always carries with him in favor of a harp. The sheen and sparkle and glitter of the celestial instrument might catch the Ruthian eye for a moment, but as soon as he discovered that it wouldn't operate itself, his verdict would be—"no trade." And Ruth, sitting on a golden stool, nibbling on a cloud, sipping ambrosia, playing his phonograph, somehow doesn't

make the right picture. And, anyhow, the Babe would soon tire of the heavenly fare and demand beer and chewing tobacco.

Too, unless a certain brand of automobile has established an agency in heaven with instructions to ask the angel who owns one, Ruth would find the place too dull and slow, unless the wings furnished him afforded him faster locomotion than the earth-made machines, and I take the liberty of doubting that. Angels generally are too stately to speed, and anyway, the Babe isn't built on the streamline. The fact that there would be no traffic cops there would be enough of a boon to make up for the other deficiencies.

ADVERTISEMENTS