Eddie Collins: A Baseball Biography
by Rick Huhn
Baseball's Invisible Man
Finalist, Larry Ritter Book Award--SABR
In what is sure to be the definitive book on Eddie Collinss life and long
career, author Rick Huhn covers the Hall of Fame players experiences
from childhood through his days at Columbia University, his tenure with the
great Athletics clubs of 1906-1914, the highs and lows of a championship
and scandal with the White Sox, and his return to the As during their final
run at greatness. By the time his 25-year playing career had ended, he
was a pivotal performer on five all-time great clubs, dominating his position
like no one before (or since), and earning a reputation for intelligent,
selfless play that followed him to Cooperstown.

Also covered in detail is his tenure with the Boston Red Sox, a team he
served variously as part owner, vice-president and general manager until
1951, when after 45 years in major league baseball a stroke ended his
career and, weeks later, his life.
Personal Review: Eddie Collins: A Baseball Biography by Rick
Huhn
When I finished reading Rick Huhn's excellent and comprehensive
biography of Eddie Collins, one of the top secondbasemen and batsmen
(.333) of all time, I was left with one burning question. Why has it taken so
long for this story to be told?
That the tale is worth telling is obvious. Eddie Collins was an
educated man with baseball braininess to boot -- not the first, but a
standout in his era. His ML playing career spanned over two decades, and
his seasons climaxed six times with a World Series. He was one of the
game's top base-stealers, and simply a shoo-in for Cooperstown, when
that honor came along.
Collins also had great supporting casts: he was a member of the
$100,000 Infield, the first Mack Dynasty in Philadelphia, the White Sox
dynasty of the late teens and 1920. He lingered in the game long enough
to be part of Mack's Second Dynasty, too. So why is he not the subject of
the small library of biographies that he seems to deserve?
Huhn's book represents the answer. First, Eddie's baseball story
spans a quarter of a century, just on the MLB diamonds, and to set the
stage, you need to look at his days of college ball. But there's more, he
was not just a player, but a manager, coach, scout (without that title), and
then General Manager with yet another team, the Boston Red Sox,
sandwiched between Tom Yawkey and Joe Cronin, and a force in more
World Series in the Ted Williams era. In other words, this guy may not
have covered as much territory in the field as a Mazeroski or Morgan, but
he covered over four decades of baseball history, from 1906 until his death
in 1951.
That's just part of the answer. Telling his story requires an
understanding of various baseball eras, as well as the events and
economics that shaped each -- both World Wars, the Depression, the
dramatic transition from Deadball Era to Lively. While many biographies fit
into one or two periods, Collins runs the gamut. And along the way, there
is a stumbling block.
And that is "the Black Sox scandal" -- an event in which Eddie
Collins and each member of the 1919 Chicago White Sox, like it or not,
played a role. It would be easy to simply declare Collins a member of the
"Clean Sox" and distance him from the fixed World Series, but to his credit,
Huhn tackles this complicated and mysterious (even today) occurrence

head on. Not only that, but he looks even closer at the shady business in
1917, and during the seasons of 1919 and 1920, a treat for readers who
know that The Big Fix of October 1919 was hardly "baseball's single sin"
(in Voigt's phrase).
This book leaves so many impressions, it is hard to recall them all.
First there is the relationship with Connie Mack and the A's -- Mack being
one of the few figures to cast a shadow in the game, that is longer than
Collins'. Under Mack, Collins bloomed into an All Star worth the small
fortune he was paid each season -- $15,000, when other stars earned a
third of that, or less. I do not believe his next team's magnate, Charles
Comiskey, was an exceptional Scrooge; I think Commy continued those
high wages year after year because Collins was always more than a player
-- he was a leader, a steadying influence, always a coach and teacher, and
a "company man" -- always learning, preparing for a role in management.
Huhn's book is chock full of Eddie's own words -- he was also a
writer, and apparently never employed a ghost -- and these words are
almost "other-worldly" compared to the language common among
ballplayers then and now. They reflect his college education, and a kind of
gentle refinement; they are often peaceful and thoughtful, and the reader
feels as if he is sitting beside a fireplace while Eddie puffs on a pipe after a
day of hunting. They are a treat.
So is the balanced tone of the book. It is never hero-worship, or too-
harsh criticism. Huhn himself is thoughtful and reflective, as if in the time
he has spent with Collins, something has rubbed off. Eddie Collins was the
quintessential Quiet Man, before, during and after the Babe Ruth comet
blazed across the game. He was a ballplayer first and foremost, letting his
bat and glove and spikes do most of the talking. Perhaps this is another
reason his biography appears so late.
Huhn asks great questions all along the way (317 pages, plus end
notes worth reading). How to assess the silence of the Sox who knew the
Fix was in, but said nothing to the press? For insiders like Collins and Ray
Schalk, it was more than suspicion, and the public silence of their manager
Gleason and owner Comiskey in the year that followed the tainted Series
comes in for examination, too. There is another kind of silence, too, when
Collins is GM in Boston. We know now that the Red Sox had a look at
Jackie Robinson before he signed with Brooklyn, and Huhn cannot resist
observing that Eddie Collins' life might have been crowned with the
heroism that surrounded Branch Rickey. But it wasn't, and the BoSox
would not sign their first black player until long after Collins passed away.
It is tempting to use both silences to underline Collins as a
bureaucrat, one who refused to make waves that might upset the boat he
wanted to steer someday, or the sport that prides itself on unchanging
tradition. But Huhn does not do that -- he gives readers the context, the
bigger picture, looks at the options, and reports the facts. Collins probably

had no leverage to move the stone of the cover-up of the Fix in 1919 and
1920. And he probably was no racist in the 1940s. It was not that simple,
and longer, deeper looks are needed. Huhn takes those looks.
If they make a movie of the life of Eddie Collins, it just might need
that old title, It's a Wonderful Life. Like the character Jimmy Stewart played
in the Christmas favorite, Eddie's life touched and influenced many others
-- take it away and there would be a huge hole in baseball history.
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