When he first met Ruth on a sparkling Michigan day in the spring of 1915, Ty Cobb reigned as the unconquerable king of baseball. He was the game’s premier warrior, fiercest competitor, smartest hitter, most ingenious player, strongest drawing card, highest-paid performer, and brightest base-path terror and an inspiration to boys throughout the nation. He also was the owner of one finely shaped head, the beauty of which could not be easily appreciated, one admirer would lament, because of “the way he wears his cap on the ball field – down over his eyes.”

Cobb was twenty-eight and beginning his eleventh season, once again the defending batting champion of the American League. The year prior, he had won his eighth straight title, though limited by a thumb injury sustained in a fight with an unrepentant butcher’s assistant. The scuffle had occurred after Cobb stormed into a Detroit meat shop, demanding an apology on behalf of his wife, who claimed the store had sold her spoiled fish. Cobb’s explosive temper set off a number of such unfortunate encounters, but it didn’t keep baseball observers from trumpeting his talents.

“Cobb has no superior,” said Walter Johnson, the much-loved pitcher. Baseball Magazine agreed. ... (read more)