The Washington times., 1934-04-03
Those Deals of the AS
COchrGne's Sick Abed
Bob GrOUe Is Worried

NEW YORK, April 3.-Hey
there! I have just been doing
a bit of private sleuthing into
the big league training camp
situation from the golden sands
Of Florida to the Golden Gate
Of California, and I have made
a startling disc very.
Has it occurred to any of you
fans that none of that eXpen-
sive ivory that Mr.. C. McGilli-
cuddy, of Philadelphia, peddled
off to those other American
League clubs over the winter
has yet been able to get itself
warm?
Consider:
Mr.. M, with tears in his
eyes, too, sold for a sum said to
be 100000 to the Detroit
Tigers one catcher by the name
Of Gordon Stanley Cochrane,
better known to the trade as
Mickey.
Gordon Stanley Cochrane is,
as you may have heard, a saxo-
phonist Of no mean talent, and
it was whispered at the time,
that Mr.. M. let him go because
he was tired of lying awake
nights listening to Gordon STAN
ley trying to learn to play
Hearts and Flowers"
This was vigorously denied by
mutual friends of both parties,
however, and when Cochrane
was promptly appointed mana
ger of the Tigers all seemed
serene. But where, ask you, is
Catcher Cochrane now?
With or Without
Well, he is in the hospital with
or without appendicitis as the
case may be. But in the hospital
nevertheless and notwithstand-
ing, thus creating at least sus-
picion of doubt that he will be
able to catch for the DetroitS
and which, no doubt, Owner
Navin was confidently banking
on him to catch when he
planked down that hundred G's.
Now an appendix attack,
whether you have one or not,
as nobody appears able to de-
eide in the case of Catcher
Cochrane, is what is called in
the theater an "act of God" and
naturally neither Mr.. NJ, nor
anybody else could foresee one
six months in advance.
For all of which Mr.. M. has
the hundred G'S, whereas it is
Mr.. Navin who has the sick
catcher and manager.
So much for the deal that set
the fans to throwing their hats
in Detroit while poor old Mr..
Mack stood disconsolate in his
hotel room in Chicago with
those tears, coursing unheeded
down his wrinkled, leathery
cheeks. At the same time that
Mr.. M. sadly parted with his
star backstop, he sent his star
pitcher, one Robert Moses Grove,
to the Boston Red Sox.
This time I believe to the
tune of $150,00O but also with
sad music and tears on Mr..
MS part, though possibly the
same tears.
And now may I inquire, if
you are still listening, what
has Robert Moses Grove done to
date this spring?
Sitting In the Sun
But don't bother to look it
up. I'll tell you. I repeat that
I have been conducting an in
vestigation into the whole baf-
fling affair. Thus far this
season, Pitcher Grove, who is
a tobacco chewer and sunshine
sitter by instinct and boyhood
training, has been sitting in
that soothing Florida sun,
chewing and cogitating. So far
he has yet to throw one base
ball at batter, although the
teams are now en- route home
for the opening of the season.
This state of affairs finally
grew so embarrassing to Gen
eral Manager Edward Trow.
bridge Collins, who advised this
expensive investment in rare old
Philadelphia ivory, and Owner
Thomas A. Yawkey, who wrote
the noble-figured check for it,
that they loaded Mr.. Grove
into an automobile and drove
him over to see the surprised
Mr.. Mack.
"Tsch, tsch, tsch," said Mr..
Mack sadly, when he was ap-
praised of what had been hap
pening, "just let me take Rob
ert here into the clubhouse and
examine his arm, and then I
will come right out and tell you
of my findings"
"Gentlemen," he said gravely