10 Bizarre Superstitions of 19th-Century Baseball Players

Why Early Baseball Players Were So Superstitious

Baseball naturally encourages ritual. Even an excellent batter fails to record a hit in most at-bats, while a perfectly struck ball can fly directly into a fielder’s glove. During the 19th century, uncertainty was even greater. Gloves were uncommon or lightly padded, playing surfaces were uneven, baseballs changed during games, and medical treatment often consisted of optimism followed by questionable ointment.

Players therefore searched for patterns. When a particular meal preceded a victory, the meal became lucky. When a strange encounter preceded a loss, the person involved could become a “hoodoo,” an old baseball term for a supposed source of misfortune. Coincidence was promoted to strategy with impressive speed.

The Strangest Superstitions in Early Baseball History

1. The Baltimore Orioles Drank Hot Turkey Gravy

The powerful Baltimore Orioles of the 1890s were remembered for aggressive play, clever tactics, exceptional hitting, and a willingness to explore the outer limits of sportsmanship. Baseball lore also credits the 1894 club with an unusual pre-practice ritual: drinking glasses of hot turkey gravy.

The Orioles captured the National League pennant that season, which apparently made the gravy look less like leftover dinner runoff and more like liquid destiny. There is no evidence that turkey fat improves bat speed, although it might encourage a player to finish batting practice quickly and locate a chair.

The story demonstrates how team superstitions can become self-reinforcing. Once a club wins while following a ritual, nobody wants to be the reckless individual who replaces the lucky gravy with coffee and accidentally destroys the pennant race.

2. Billy Earle Was Feared for His “Evil Eye”

Catcher Billy Earle was a talented, well-traveled player who openly practiced mesmerism, the 19th-century forerunner of hypnotism. He reportedly entertained teammates by placing them under suggestion, but his interest in altered states did not make him the most relaxing roommate in professional baseball.

Earle also walked in his sleep. One roommate reportedly requested new accommodations after Earle moved around violently at night and swung a bat at an imaginary creature. Newspapers and fellow players gradually transformed his eccentric behavior into something supernatural. He became known as a possible hoodoo whose stare could influence people, umpires, and perhaps the general direction of civilization.

Some teammates reportedly believed Earle possessed an “evil eye.” In an era when clubhouses were already packed with lucky charms and bad omens, being branded a human jinx could damage a career. Earle continued playing in various leagues, but his major-league opportunities were limited despite periods of strong hitting.

3. Cap Anson Would Not Speak to His Starting Pitcher

Cap Anson, one of the most prominent figures in early professional baseball, reportedly refused to speak to his starting pitcher before a game. The silence was not necessarily anger or tactical secrecy. It was treated as a protective ritual.

The idea may have been to avoid disturbing the pitcher’s concentration or transferring bad luck through ordinary conversation. Whatever the reasoning, the arrangement must have made pregame communication awkward. A pitcher needing to discuss signs, weather, or an urgently missing shoe apparently had to consult someone else.

Anson’s historical importance must also be considered alongside his documented racism and his role in reinforcing baseball’s developing color barrier. His superstitions are curious, but they should not distract from the far more serious consequences of his discriminatory conduct.

4. Pete Browning Believed Bats Contained a Limited Number of Hits

Louisville star Pete Browning enjoyed one of baseball’s most intimate relationships with lumber. He named bats, spoke to them, and reportedly believed each one arrived with a fixed number of hits stored inside it.

Once a bat had released its assigned collection of singles, doubles, and booming drives, Browning retired it. A prolonged slump was therefore not necessarily the batter’s fault. The bat had simply exhausted its inventory and needed to leave the workforce.

Browning sometimes named his bats after biblical figures, giving his equipment more personality than several entire front offices. His fame also became connected with the origin story of the Louisville Slugger. According to company legend, a young woodworker produced a custom bat for Browning after the player broke a favorite model. Details of that familiar story remain debated, but Browning’s fondness for specially made bats is firmly embedded in baseball history.

5. “Pebbly Jack” Glasscock Filled His Pocket with Stones

Shortstop Jack Glasscock earned the nickname “Pebbly Jack” because he carefully inspected the dirt around his position and removed small stones. He sometimes placed the offending pebbles in his pocket before play began.

This habit is frequently categorized as a superstition, but it was also excellent field maintenance. Glasscock played when most fielders worked barehanded and groundskeeping standards varied dramatically. A pebble could redirect a ground ball toward a player’s face, which is a memorable way to learn about surface preparation.

Unlike many baseball rituals, Glasscock’s routine had an obvious practical benefit. Removing stones reduced the chance of a bad hop. He may have looked obsessive, but he was effectively serving as an unpaid groundskeeper while preparing to field line drives without a modern glove.

6. Jack Burdock Blamed a Cross-Eyed Woman for a Loss

In 1879, second baseman Jack Burdock reportedly spotted a cross-eyed woman looking from a window while his Boston club traveled to play Cincinnati. After Boston lost, Burdock blamed the encounter, claiming that the woman had placed a hex on the team.

The belief was part of a broader collection of cruel superstitions that treated physical differences as omens. Such ideas were not unique to baseball, but the sport enthusiastically absorbed whatever folklore happened to be passing through town.

Period coverage of the incident also described Boston players recruiting an African American child as a supposed good-luck charm. That episode illustrates the dehumanizing side of early mascot culture: vulnerable children and marginalized people could be treated as objects whose imagined powers mattered more than their dignity.

7. Bad Bill Eagan Refused to Walk Directly to Second Base

Infielder Bill Eagan was known as “Bad Bill,” a nickname earned through a combination of temper, misbehavior, and the apparent belief that hotel windows were appropriate exits for empty bottles. He was also intensely superstitious about the journey from the bench to second base.

Eagan refused to travel directly to his defensive position. Depending on the location of the bench, he first moved along either the first-base or third-base line and then crossed the infield to second. Spectators unfamiliar with the routine reportedly found it highly entertaining.

No clear explanation survives for why a direct route was dangerous. Perhaps Eagan once walked straight to second before a terrible game and permanently convicted the shortest path of treason. Whatever its origin, he continued taking the scenic route, proving that even professional athletes can turn a simple walk into a supernatural traffic pattern.

8. Bud Fowler Swung at the First Suitable PitchNo Matter Where It Went

Bud Fowler was a pioneering Black professional player whose long career included appearances with numerous clubs during an era of increasing racial exclusion. A newspaper account from 1889 also attributed an unusual batting superstition to him.

Fowler supposedly believed he should swing at the first ball that came over the plate. The definition of “over the plate” appears to have been extremely generous. Reports claimed he might swing even when the pitch was very high or bounced near home.

The ritual sounds strategically questionable, but its origin is unclear. It may have functioned as a confidence-building commitment: choose the first acceptable pitch and attack without hesitation. It may also have been exaggerated by a sportswriter seeking colorful material. Fowler’s true historical importance lies in his skill, resilience, entrepreneurship, and determination to remain in professional baseball despite racismnot in one odd newspaper anecdote.

9. Teams Used Children, Monkeys, Dogs, and Other Mascots as Lucky Charms

Modern mascots fire T-shirts into crowds and dance on dugouts. Nineteenth-century mascots were expected to alter fate.

Buck Ewing and other players became associated with human and animal good-luck charms. Young boys appeared with major clubs and were sometimes photographed beside famous players. Teams also adopted dogs, monkeys, turtles, and various novelty objects, hoping the correct mascot would produce victories.

A ring-tailed monkey reportedly served as a talisman during Ewing’s years in Cincinnati, while an earlier New York team used young human mascots. Some were street children recruited because players considered them lucky. Although surviving photographs are fascinating, the practice reflected a troubling social hierarchy in which childrenespecially poor children and children from minority communitieswere displayed as charms rather than treated as equal participants.

The mascots were also blamed when luck expired. A creature celebrated during a winning streak could quickly become a hoodoo after several losses. Baseball loyalty, it seems, occasionally had the lifespan of a three-game series.

10. Bill Gleason Feared a Redheaded Boy Carrying the Bat Bag

Before an important St. Louis game, infielder Bill Gleason reportedly turned pale when he saw a redheaded boy carrying the team’s bat bag. Gleason believed the combination promised severe bad luck.

The fear was oddly specific. A redheaded spectator might have been tolerable. A boy near the equipment might have escaped suspicion. Put the red hair, the child, and the bat bag together, however, and Gleason apparently saw the Victorian equivalent of an emergency warning siren.

St. Louis lost the game, naturally giving the superstition fresh credibility. Nobody calculated the influence of pitching, defense, or the opposing lineup when a perfectly convenient redheaded explanation was already available.

What These Early Baseball Rituals Reveal

The strangest early baseball rituals were attempts to manage uncertainty. A player could prepare carefully, strike the ball hard, and still make an out. Creating a lucky sequence offered psychological comfort when skill could not guarantee a result.

Rituals may also help athletes focus. Cleaning the infield, selecting a favorite bat, following a fixed route, or repeating a pregame action creates familiarity. The supernatural explanation may be unsupported, but the routine itself can reduce anxiety and organize attention.

At the same time, historical superstition was not always harmless. The treatment of disabled people, racial minorities, women, and impoverished children as good or bad omens reflected genuine prejudice. The funniest stories deserve context so that nostalgia does not polish away the people who were demeaned.

A Game-Day Experience Inspired by 19th-Century Baseball Superstitions

Preparing for the Most Irrational Ballgame in Town

Imagine trying to follow these old baseball beliefs for one afternoon. Your first responsibility is breakfast, where ordinary nutrition is rejected in favor of hot turkey gravy. The drink is salty, heavy, and deeply confusing before noon. You remind yourself that pennants require sacrifice. Your stomach files an immediate protest.

Next, you choose a bat. You cannot simply inspect its weight and grain. You must introduce yourself, determine its personality, and assign it a respectable biblical name. “Good morning, Jeremiah,” you say while other players slowly move away. You ask how many hits remain inside. Jeremiah declines to comment.

The Journey to the Ballpark

Travel becomes an obstacle course. You must avoid suspicious animals, unusual pedestrians, funeral processions, redheaded bat carriers, and anyone who might cross directly in front of you. Meeting a clergyman could be considered unlucky. Carrying an unopened umbrella may also tempt fate. Taking inexpensive public transportation is discouraged by some old hoodoo rules, leaving you to arrive on foot, exhausted but spiritually undefeated.

At the entrance, a teammate with an intense stare offers to hypnotize you. You politely refuse while maintaining minimal eye contact. Another player has filled his pockets with coins, keys, stones, and a knife believed to attract luck. He now runs like a cabinet full of loose silverware.

Taking the Field

When your team moves onto the diamond, the second baseman refuses to walk directly to his position. He circles a base line and crosses the infield at a ceremonial angle. The shortstop searches for pebbles with the concentration of an archaeologist. This is the only ritual that immediately improves working conditions, so everyone helps.

A dog enters foul territory. Half the team cheers because it may be lucky. The other half panics because a dog on the field can be a hoodoo. The manager solves the disagreement by declaring that the dog is lucky while facing east but unlucky while facing the dugout. The dog ignores this ruling and begins investigating a sandwich.

Your pitcher starts warming up. Following Cap Anson’s reported practice, nobody speaks to him. Unfortunately, the catcher needs to discuss signs. Communication is reduced to gestures, eyebrow movements, and one complicated diagram drawn in dust. The pitcher misinterprets the diagram as a request for a curveball and possibly a small house.

Entering the Batter’s Box

At the plate, you decide to honor Bud Fowler’s reported first-pitch ritual. The opening delivery sails above your shoulders. You swing anyway, rotate with tremendous confidence, and nearly unscrew yourself from the ground. The umpire looks concerned. Jeremiah the bat remains emotionally unavailable.

On the next trip, you make solid contact. The ball rockets toward center field but lands directly in a glove. This is precisely why baseball produces superstition: a poor swing can become a hit, while a perfect swing can become an out. Rational preparation suddenly feels less emotionally satisfying than blaming the redheaded boy near the bat rack.

By the final inning, every coincidence has become evidence. The gravy caused the early lead. The dog caused the error. Moving a lucky coin caused the opponent’s rally. Your team loses by one run, but nobody questions the strategy. Instead, the group agrees that the true mistake was allowing Jeremiah to use up his final hit during batting practice.

The experience demonstrates the enduring appeal of baseball magic. Players know rituals cannot control every bounce, yet the rituals create stories, reduce tension, and make an unpredictable game feel briefly negotiable. The methods have changed since the 1800s, but the instinct remains familiar. Somewhere, before a modern game, a player is eating the same meal, wearing the same socks, or stepping over the same lineand absolutely refusing to test what happens otherwise.

Conclusion

The bizarre superstitions of 19th-century baseball players ranged from practical habits disguised as magic to beliefs that were funny, elaborate, or deeply unfair. Pete Browning gave his bats personalities. Jack Glasscock personally removed bad hops from the infield. Bill Eagan turned walking to second base into a sightseeing tour. Entire teams searched for luck in food, coins, animals, children, and chance encounters.

These stories remind us that early baseball was not merely a rougher version of the modern sport. It was a distinctive culture shaped by Victorian folklore, uncertain working conditions, newspaper exaggeration, fierce competition, and the eternal athlete’s desire to bargain with luck. Statistics may explain more of the game today, but even the finest data model has yet to persuade every player to wash his lucky socks.

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