As the train chugged along the tracks, Rusty Hall gazed out of the window, lost in his thoughts. The invitation from his former baseball club, the Philadelphia Brewers, had stirred up a mix of emotions within him. It had been only a few months since he retired at the end of the 1907 season. Since the first pitch in 1895, he spent his whole career in Philadelphia. He started in 1,005 games, racked up 1,323 hits, and brought in 678 runs. In the good times, he and Leo McKenzie formed the heart of the lineup. Pitchers feared the Philadelphia lineup, and the destructive duo won the Brewers five Legacy Cups.
Then came 1906. Rusty Hall’s season began slow. The manager’s patience lasted long, but the Brewers sent him to AAA. In that year, he only had a .186 BA in the majors. Eager to return to Boeselager Stadium in 1907, Hall was in a new slump. His batting average slightly improved, but far from representing a solid hitter. Again, he spent the majority of the season in Langhorn.
When the season ended and the club prepared for Danny Edgerton’s retirement ceremony, Hall slipped into the general manager’s office and announced his immediate retirement. It was a difficult step, and neither Pitsch nor Orgeron knew that Hall hesitated for ten minutes before he knocked on the door. The conversation didn’t last long, but the former outfielder felt empty as Hall left the clubhouse. Was it that easy for the management to accept him calling it a career? Seventeen seasons for the Brewers organization, and that’s it?
The Slump
He sold his house and moved back with his family to Tennessee. Although Rusty Hall had substantial savings, the saying that money doesn’t buy happiness was more than true for him. The Brewers gave him the traditional parting gift: beer. Lots of beer. Hall secretly cursed his former club but would stick with Boeselager Pilsner. While he only had too much beer after important victories or championships (or devastating losses – but not in the clubhouse), drinking became his everyday habit. Hall got so drunk he missed the retirement ceremony, including the ceremony for his and Edgerton’s retired numbers.
He kept falling into a hole. Depression sucked the last bit of energy from him. Hall didn’t leave the house, wouldn’t meet his old childhood friends, or travel to Philadelphia when invited to an event. When a reporter approached his doorstep to interview him, he opened the door holding a rifle, and chased him off his front lawn.
On Christmas Day 1907, Rusty Hall ruined the holiday by stumbling into the Christmas tree. His children were shocked when they saw their father pass out among the ornaments. His wife Eleanor had enough and left him. Now he was alone.
Friends and Teammates
His former teammates dragged him out of his current slump. In February 1908, Leo McKenzie wrote a letter to his friend. When there was no reply, he tried it again. Together with Frank Stilgoe, he traveled to La Follette. After a long night of drinking less than two years ago, Hall showed signs of resignation. McKenzie didn’t expect the demotion and his retirement to hit him that hard, but the Christmas tree in the living room, the poor state of his house, and his body told a different story. McKenzie extended his stay and helped get Hall back on his feet.
A lot has happened since then. Hall recovered, burned the Christmas tree, and contacted his friends and former teammates again. He met some for a few drinks, but every morning after, he felt good and remembered everything. Unfortunately, his family was out of reach for him. Even worse, he received a letter by Eleanor that she met a new man. Someone from the Richmond organization. The ultimate embarrassment. Couldn’t she date someone from Brooklyn instead? The house remained empty, and he remained lonely. Although he knew he was responsible, he blamed the Brewers for his demise.
Returning to Philadelphia
Hall received an invitation to come to Philadelphia to attend Opening Day. The Brewers would play the Providence Angels. The envelope also contained a first-class train ticket and a stub for a seat near the third base. He was about to put it back in the envelope and throw it away, but he hesitated.
The train arrived at Germantown Junction. Hall got up, stretched, and grabbed his bag from the overhead luggage rack. Rusty stepped out of the station and looked up at the building, which was still imposing even in the fading light. The station was a grand old structure with a mansard roof and a portico supported by four columns. The building was made of red brick, with large windows filled with stained glass. Rusty smiled as he remembered the times the Brewers used the station to travel to away games. Often, they returned, and there was a small celebration around the station if the away series was successful.
“I’m glad you accepted the invitation, Rusty.” Hall turned around and looked at Leo McKenzie and Martin Pitsch. “Welcome back to Philadelphia, “Pitsch said. “You had a long travel. Leo convinced me you’ll stay at his place, and I will leave you two to it. I see you tomorrow.”
With that, Pitsch turned around and disappeared into the darkness. McKenzie and Hall headed up North on Broad Street and, a few minutes later, turned to one of the smaller streets where McKenzie lived. Both had a drink and talked about how Hall had been since the incident and how the team had changed. Then the two decided it was time to rest. McKenzie would have an important game.
The next day, both walked to Boeselager Stadium. Hall used the players’ entrance just like in the old days. Some employees recognized Hall and greeted him like an old friend. Everyone was happy for him, and for a brief moment, Hall wondered where his gear was. He shook hands with everyone in the locker room and talked with some former close teammates.
Once the players left the locker room to warm up, Hall walked to the dugout, enjoyed the view from there, then moved on to his assigned seat. Pitsch was waiting for him, and they talked about baseball. At the end of the second inning, the Brewers just scored three and now led 4-0, Pitsch pointed out to Winfield Clark, who made his way to the mount. “He’s the future. Our team has to get younger, and we’re making progress.”
“But he’s extremely young. He could still play in Allenton. Putting him up as the rotation’s number-one starter is risky. The pressure could ruin him.”
“I agree. Trust me, it wasn’t easy, but we all decided Winfield would stick in the rotation before the season started.”
Hall and Pitsch paused as they watched Clark win a duel with Providence’s Rufus Burnell after seven pitches.
“I have a job offer for you, Rusty.”
Hall turned his head and looked at the general manager, who still followed the game.
“This year, we will have two first-round picks. We want someone who can inspire them in Allenton. A legend like you, Rusty. We want you to be their manager.”
“I … I don’t know. I never managed be…”
“Nonsense, you know the game like no other. You played more than a thousand games in the LBL. Teach them what you know. That’s all we ask you to do.”
Both men sat there for a while. They watched how Caesar Scott crossed home plate for the Brewers’ sixth run. Rusty didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he was done with the Brewers, but on the other hand, he enjoyed being back in the locker room and the dugout.
“Do you know about…,” Hall stopped. If he talked about his problems now, that chance might be gone.
“Yes, I heard about your problems. Listen, we considered offering you a coaching position after your career. We feel responsible for our current and former players. You escaped that slump, and if you think that managing Allenton will add some stability, please sign the contract after the game.”
After the 8-1 victory over the Angels, Hall followed Pitsch to the owners’ office. The Boeselager brothers and the assistant general manager, Bobby Orgeron, waited for them.
“Welcome back, Rusty. The Brewers missed you.”