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Is it possible to be innocent and guilty at the same time? Iconic filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock had a recurring theme in many of his most famous movies — an innocent man is accused of a terrible crime and then spends the remainder of his screen time trying to prove his innocence. All the while, circumstantial evidence layers around him while the police and the actual guilty party close in. Even the wrongly accused had scar tissue — typically, character blemishes that required varying degrees of salvation. Beating the charge was one thing; a cleared name with a reformed persona quite another. Under such a plot premise, Hitchcock would — cinematically — stuff his leading man into a burlap sack, toss him into a river, observe the inevitable struggle, and then use some spectacular backdrop to highlight his rescue. His naïve identity was as smooth and unmarred as a frozen lake before the first skate. He only needed to have his name cleared, to be found innocent of his crime. He dealt entirely in absolutes and brandished the derived determinations viciously, unconcerned with the resulting damage — collateral or not. Sand refused and reported the incident to his manager, Art Fletcher. The Giants won the game, anyway, 5-1. The victory clinched the National League pennant for the Giants and punched their second straight ticket to the World Series. Meanwhile, the Phillies were fated to complete their seventh straight losing season. Simply put, a really good team had beaten a really bad one, and that should have been that. Landis was a humorless, pompous former federal judge from Chicago, who many believed made rulings from the bench as much to satisfy his own sensibilities as on the actual merits of the case. He had been appointed the first Commissioner of Baseball following the scandalous 1919 World Series, in which several members of the American League champion Chicago White Sox took money from gamblers to lose games. His appointment was designed, in large part, to deal with the public relations mess of the rigged World Series and, by extension, prevent another one from happening. One of his first official acts as commissioner was to ban the tainted White Sox players from baseball for life. To Landis, ignorance slept in the same bed as instigation. Moreover, Landis refused to consider any gradients of accountability — there were only those involved and those who were not. And when he affixed punishment, he used an equally rigid scale — the scarlet letters he handed out were all the same size. Unfortunately, there were no cooler heads around to prevail. When Landis had been appointed commissioner, he had essentially been given tyrannical reign. As part of the deal — made at a time when frightened team owners were desperate for order to be restored in baseball — Landis was made bulletproof. He was a baseball despot. And for a bombastic, self-important curmudgeon like Landis, that elevated status was intoxicating. He drank up the autonomy like a stranded man in the Kalahari who had just been thrown a great, big canteen of glacier water. Before the September 27 game with Philadelphia, New York held a narrow 1 ½ game lead over Brooklyn. As for the consequences — dire as they were at the time — history is peppered with an unending litany of young men in their twenties doing reckless things for validation. On September 27, they were 37 games ahead of Philadelphia in the standings. Paying a player on such a pitiful team to lose to a juggernaut like New York would have been like rewarding a fly for an intentional defeat to the swatter. The 1924 Giants were also the defending National League champs, so they understood the rigors of a championship run. They were abundantly capable of beating the best teams in the league, much less dispatching a leaky rowboat like the Phillies. Also, there was a distinct hierarchy on teams of that time, mostly driven by talent and tenure. Befitting the customary attitude of the day, veteran players regarded their less experienced peers as clear subordinates. And with such a talented roster, the Giants had a clear division of influence in the clubhouse. Older star players had little patience for defiant young teammates. I speak to you and you just shut up. In his 23 rd season with New York, McGraw had already guided the team to three World Series titles and had just captured his tenth National League pennant in 1924. No matter how eager he might have been to gain endorsement in the locker room, he surely must have known that independent and impulsive was entirely the wrong way to do it. Refusal might bring reprisal and alienation, making big league success and acceptance that muc
