First-Division Tigers

The way the baseball brains had it handicapped, the dash for the American League pennant did not shape up as much of a race. There were the Indians and the Yankees, front runners as usual. Maybe the White Sox could stand the pace. The rest of the league? Also rans.

Last week half the league was up there fighting for the lead. In fifth place, the Boston Red Sox were only 2 1/2 games off the pace; the Yankees and the Indians were tied, half a game back of the second-place White Sox, and only a game behind the league-leading Detroit Tigers. The Tigers, at least, have an easy explanation for their early success. Their pitchers are working with midsummer smoothness, and their gangling, crew-cut kid of a right fielder is knocking the sweat out of the ball almost every time he steps to the plate. Albert William Kaline, 20, only two years away from the playing fields of Baltimore's Southern High School, had just run up a 14-game hitting streak.

Tools of Ignorance. There was never any doubt that Al Kaline would be a ball player. His grandfather was a bush-league catcher on the Eastern Shore; his old man and his uncles also wore the "tools of ignorance." They tried to turn Al into a pitcher. But in high school his speed afoot and his incredible batting eye earned him a slot where he belonged: in the outfield. Summers he played American Legion ball. His batting average wavered between .824 and .609. When the Tigers signed him in the summer of 1953, no one questioned their decision to pay him a $35,000 bonus.

As a rookie Al came to bat 28 times, hit a commendable .250. Even such rival sluggers as the Red Sox's Ted Williams spotted his promise and helped him polish up his stickwork. "Ted showed me how to bend my back a little and go down after a low pitch," Al remembers now. "Then he told me something else which I think helped me even more. He told me how to keep in condition during the off season, by swinging heavy bats and keeping a rubber ball in my pocket to exercise my grip."

No Tabby Cats. So all year round Al kept hands in his pockets and his mind on the game. The next season he kept his eye on the ball. He raised his average to .276; between hits he burned up the base paths. This year it seems that he can do no wrong. By week's end the Tigers had racked up a seven-game winning streak. Kaline, who finally finished a game without getting a hit, was batting .429. Fans booed lustily when an intentional walk kept him from keeping his record going.

Sooner or later the winning streak would run out too. Al Kaline & Co. would have to pause for their second wind. But the Tigers had shown that they were no second-division tabby cats.

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