Player Profile: Nap Lajoie

Ancient slugger's story proves the more things change, the more they stay the same

By Eric Enders
Published in the MLB 2001 All-Star Game Program (July 2001)

The story you are about to read is a tale of greedy owners, outrageously rich contracts, and players with no loyalty to their teams. Sound familiar? Maybe so, but it’s nothing new – it is the story of Nap Lajoie, the turn-of-the century slugger who batted a record .426 in one season and sparked the fiercest legal battle in baseball history.

Napoleon Lajoie (pronunced lazh-way) was born in the industrial town of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, the son of French Canadian immigrants. By age 10 he had dropped out of school and was working in a textile mill. He eventually quit the mill to work as a cab driver, guiding a team of horses around Woonsocket delivering goods and passengers. He devoted weekends to his favorite pastime, playing catcher on a semipro baseball team. In 1896 he was discovered by a nearby minor league team, and a few months later found himself in the middle of the Philadelphia Phillies’ batting order.

Lajoie quickly became one of the best hitters in the National League. His stance appeared lazy and nonchalant, but he was able to whip his bat through the strike zone with extraordinary quickness. He batted over .325 in each of his first 11 seasons, leading his league in hits four times, RBI three times, and slugging percentage four times. Other teams tried to pitch around Lajoie so much that he eventually mastered the art of throwing his bat at a pitch to thwart intentional walks. One of the most versatile players in history, he played four positions regularly during his pro career – catcher, first base, second base, and center field – and filled in at the other four when needed. He eventually found a permanent home at second base, where one sportswriter described him as “graceful as an antelope.” At 6’1” and 195 pounds, Lajoie was unusually large for a second baseman, but he was also a tremendous athlete – so physically fit that he received offers from carnival promoters to serve as a model of the human physique.

A quiet, shy man, Lajoie somehow still managed to become involved in most of the baseball controversies of his day. He could also let his temper get the best of him: Once he missed over a month when he tried to punch teammate Elmer Flick. Flick ducked and Lajoie hit a wall instead, breaking his hand. That sort of aggressiveness appealed to the new American League, and in 1901, when the upstart circuit was trying to establish itself as a legitimate major league by raiding the N.L. of its best players, Lajoie was one of the first they pursued. He was already making the N.L. maximum of $2,400 per year, plus another $200 under the table. But when Connie Mack offered him a reported $4,000 salary to jump to the new Philadelphia Athletics, Lajoie accepted. (Because he was skeptical that the new league would stay in business, he required Mack to deposit the entire amount in his bank account first.) The Phillies were hit especially hard by the A.L. raids, losing five other stars in addition to Lajoie. Left in shambles, the team filed lawsuit against its former players, seeking an injunction to prevent them from playing in the American League.

While the two leagues battled it out in court during 1901, Lajoie quietly went about his business, putting together one of the greatest seasons in baseball history. He batted .426, still the modern major league record. He led the A.L. in home runs and RBI, and the majors in runs, hits, doubles, slugging, and on-base percentage. But on Opening Day 1902, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court finally handed down its decision: Lajoie had to return to the National League because the reserve clause in his contract bound him to the Phillies for life. But since the court only had jurisdiction over the state of Pennsylvania, A.L. president Ban Johnson found a way around the decision: He simply took Lajoie away from the Athletics and gave him to the Cleveland Blues. Because Lajoie was a fugitive in Pennsylvania, he didn’t accompany the Blues on any of their road trips to Philadelphia. Sheriff’s deputies routinely met the team train at the station to search for Lajoie. They never found him, and he would always re-join the team on its next stop. The Phillies, meanwhile, only ended up shooting themselves in the foot with all their legal wrangling. With Lajoie and several other stars unable to make road trips to Philadelphia, the Athletics beat up on their opponents, posting a 56-17 home record and drawing four times as many fans as the beleaguered Phils.

In 1903, after the two leagues agreed to peacefully coexist, Lajoie was again allowed to play in Pennsylvania. That same year, Cleveland became the only franchise in major league history to name itself after an active player, adopting the nickname “Naps.” The Phillies, meanwhile, went on to another century of futility. At least they learned something, though: When your star player asks for a raise, give it to him.

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