Is Connie Kidding?

Since 1931, when Cornelius McGillicuddy had his last pennant-winning wonder boys, the Philadelphia Athletics had been a consistent team: the most weak-kneed in the American League. The man the baseball writers once considered a genius came to be regarded as a quaint old character content with teams so cheap that they made a profit even when they finished in the cellar.

When the 1948 season began, Connie Mack had his usual collection of bargain-basement ballplayers. Last week, to every body's surprise, the A's were leading the league and going like crazy. Even Mr. Mack seemed a little taken aback.

At 85, he looked healthily pink. As usual, his tie was knotted at half mast on his high, stiff collar. Ramrod straight, he stood 6 ft. 1 in. and shook hands with a lumberjack's grip. Being in the upper division again after all these years looked like fun.

The Dives. The A's were on a ten-game winning streak (their longest since 1931) when they hustled out to play the powerhouse Yankees. Said one of Connie's coaches: "Lord knows what they'll do in a crucial series like this. They've never played in one before--never been important enough." The Yankees abruptly stopped their streak, 3-0. But next day, playing the Yanks again in a doubleheader, the A's bounced back. Outfielder Elmer Valo dived halfway into right-field stands like a circus acrobat to make a sensational catch. He did it again two innings later, robbing the Yankees of a sure home run--and lay unconscious for several minutes, with the ball locked in his glove, while the crowd cheered.

Mr. Mack had been both canny and lucky in picking his rookies and hand-me-downs. Almost half his team were castoffs from other clubs, picked up on waivers. Some experts thought that the old man had gone off his rocker when he ranked his current infield higher than his fabulous $100,000 (1911-14) four (Stuffy Mclnnis, Jack Barry, Home Run Baker, Eddie Collins). Said Oldtimer Collins: "Connie is kidding . . . pepping up his club to make it believe in itself."

His 1948 infield, especially Eddie Joost (a shortstop who wears glasses) is inspired. But the team as a whole is slow afoot and short on power hitters.

The Breaks. The one thing about the A's that everybody admits is good is its young, hard-throwing pitching staff. The star is trigger-tempered Phil Marchildon, a muscleman from a Canadian lead mine, who throws a fast ball that shimmies and shakes. The box-office draw is big (6 ft. 42 in.) Lou Brissie, war hero with a game leg (TIME, May 3). Connie's other starters: baby-faced Carl Scheib, 21, solemn Joe Coleman, 25, and two others temporarily on the bench./-

Even Mr. Mack admits that his team has had some breaks: "The pitching against us has not been so good. We have gotten more bases on balls than we had a right to expect." He was finding winning so much fun that he had spurned an offer of $100,000 for Pitcher Marchildon. And people might find it hard to believe, but Mr. Mack was actually trying to buy an outfielder for $50,000 cash.

This week, the wiseacres were sitting back waiting for the A's expected collapse.

/- Dick Fowler (bursitis) and Bill McCahan (still shoulder).

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