MLB Baseball

Waxahachie’s baseball field is filled with 100 years of memories

Richards Park in Waxahachie is more than 100 years old and has seen its share of famous baseball players come through the gates, including Ty Cobb. It’s where the Waxahachie high school baseball team plays today. An historical marker stands at the front gate.
Richards Park in Waxahachie is more than 100 years old and has seen its share of famous baseball players come through the gates, including Ty Cobb. It’s where the Waxahachie high school baseball team plays today. An historical marker stands at the front gate. jlmarshall@star-telegram.com

Tucked in the historic district of Waxahachie is little-known sacred ground of America’s pastime, a baseball field which, by its perseverance, is evidence to many of the existence of the oft-spoke baseball gods.

Or perhaps — more likely — the persistence of the spirit of Ty Cobb that rubbed off 100 years ago.

Earlier this year, baseball and history enthusiasts celebrated the 100th birthday of Paul Richards Park, which like, well, name any resident of Hollywood, has had some face changes over the 10 decades since opening as Jungle Park, built as the spring training home to the Detroit Tigers and the cocksure Georgia Peach from 1916-18.

It was here that the Cincinnati Reds trained for their 1919 world championship season that became engulfed in the Black Sox scandal. And, it was here that the disgraced White Sox came for camp in 1921.

If only second base could talk.

“This is like home,” said Phil Turner, who succeeded his father as the groundskeeper and who played at Waxahachie High School in the late 1960s before a career in college at TCU under Frank Windegger. “There’s so much history to it.

“We have a pretty good tradition down here.”

A baseball town in football country. That alone makes the place unique. Richards Park, a pitching wedge from the city cemetery that long preceded it to the west and homes dating to the 1850s to the north, today is home to Waxahachie High’s baseball teams, but there is more to its story.

The town’s baseball idol is Paul Richards, born, raised and buried in Waxahachie, the town’s 1945 World Series hero of the Detroit Tigers who went onto a post-playing career as a manager and front-office executive. In 1946, Richards returned home to rebuild the famed park where his minor league Buffalo Bison trained from 1947-49, Waxahachie’s last taste of high-level baseball.

His intervention, which included fundraisers with Dizzy and Daffy Dean, saved the field for the generations that continue to enjoy it. Its appearance today is far different from the original, but the soul remains.

Richards’ baseball roots were planted in this town long ago. He and his Waxahachie High teammates won 65 consecutive games and three state baseball championships from 1922-25 at Jungle Park. But not that Jungle Park. The park had suffered damage from a flood and went into disrepair, according to Shannon Simpson of the Ellis County Museum.

With the park in poor condition, the city was unable to attract a professional team for spring training in 1923. It was that year that the Chamber of Commerce and school district tore the stadium down and rebuilt it lock, stock and barrel … that is, with everything the crews tore down. It was the same park in a different location. It remained there until the early 1930s, when it returned to its current location, though with a different look.

“Paul Richards’ heyday of 65 consecutive wins took place at the high school campus,” said Billy R. Hancock, 85, a retired history teacher at Waxahachie High School and Navarro Junior College, and author of three books about history in Ellis County. He also published a booklet on the stadium.

“That’s when Paul Richards became Paul Richards.”

Baseball, and just about everything else not of necessity, disappeared from Waxahachie during the Great Depression and WWII, Hancock said. The field was seldom used and was overgrown with mostly weeds when Hancock and his school buddies discovered an interest in baseball in the early 1940s.

“In the late 1930s, the Woodmen of the World played down there,” said Hancock, who added that it was during this time the field took on the name Woodmen Park. “High school teams didn’t.

“Richards Field was all grown up [with weeds], and we boys wanted to play baseball. This was 1944 or ’45. We went down there with Mother’s lawn mower and I broke her mower. There wasn’t a field there.”

Though they certainly knew one was there. The stories were the stuff of legend.

A look through the archives found a visit the Fort Worth Cats made to Waxahachie to play the future world champions, the Reds, in 1919. A Cats rally fell short in a 5-4 loss.

The locals were no doubt rooting for the “hometown” Reds. They certainly were in the World Series against Shoeless Joe Jackson and the White Sox.

After winning Game 1 of the best-of-nine series, the Dallas Morning News reported:

“Baseball enthusiasts of the spring training camp of the Cincinnati Reds staged a demonstration here this afternoon in celebration of the Redlegs’ victory. Headed by a band, fans in autos paraded the principal streets of the city.

“The Chamber of Commerce sent manager Pat Moran a cable.

“Waxahachie bands are parading the streets giving out gobs of melody in celebration of the victory. Hurrah for the Reds! Treat ’em rough!”

The party after the Reds’ Game 8 must have been a wingdinger, though no recounting survives.

“I had always heard of Ty Cobb and the Tigers coming to Waxahachie,” Hancock said before recalling the story of Buddy Vincent. “They called him ‘Little Ty’ because Cobb gave him a glove. From then on he was known as Little Ty.

“That’s the story anyway.”

For a time in 1916, the Star-Telegram noted that Detroit manager Hughie Jennings didn’t even know the whereabouts of “Temperamental Tyrus,” who was told he could come to spring training when the spirit moved him. Hancock said there were stories in that day that he might have been in Fort Worth, but there is nothing that documents a visit.

Cobb eventually showed for spring training in 1916 and again during the Tigers’ final two years in Waxahachie, though he “kept a low profile,” Hancock said.

The story about the gift of glove defies the legend of the Georgia Peach, who was more known for giving grief.

He was an exemplar for winning at all costs, and his competitive streak emerged while in camp at Waxahachie. The Tigers traveled to Gardner Park in Dallas for a scheduled three-game exhibition series with the Giants.

Ninety-nine years before Rougned Odor became a legend himself, Cobb was involved in something similar in Dallas.

Baseball is a red-blooded sport for red-blooded men. It’s no pink tea, and mollycoddles had better stay out. It’s a struggle for supremacy, survival of the fittest.

Ty Cobb

At first base, Cobb took off to steal second and slid into the bag with both feet high, spiking Buck Herzog, causing a long gash just above the second baseman’s left knee, the Morning News reported. “The two began fighting instantly with Cobb on top of Herzog and players from both clubs rushing to the scene.”

It was the police that finally restored order, “a squad” hiking “across the diamond and separated the combatants.”

Cobb was ejected. Managers John McGraw of New York and Jennings “passed a few hot words before the game proceeded.”

It didn’t end there. The teams were staying in the same hotel and the two players confronted one another again at dinner. According to the Morning News:

“Ty Cobb and Buck Herzog, who staged a fight during the game between the New York Giants and Detroit Tigers at Gardner Park yesterday afternoon, renewed hostilities in a room of a local hotel last night. Herzog received a cut over his eye before the two were separated.”

The next morning in the hotel lobby, McGraw confronted Cobb, who said in his autobiography that the feisty manager “became so vituperative that I had to restrain myself from repeating the performance of Room 404.”

Crowds that day in Dallas packed Gardner Park hoping to see more of the same. But there was no Cobb, who left camp not to return rather than face who-knows-what kind of retribution.

In his autobiography, Cobb said that after leaving he received a telegram from “Little Napoleon McGraw and his boys,” stating “It’s safe to rejoin your club now. We’ve left.”

“That was the one way the Giants could have the last word,” Cobb wrote. “By mail.”

This story was originally published July 15, 2016 at 3:53 PM with the headline "Waxahachie’s baseball field is filled with 100 years of memories."

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