Opening Day
There wasn’t quite the celebratory air around Opening Day of 1918 that there had been in the past. Back in 1917, America’s entry into the war was still very fresh, and there were those who felt the U.S. would quickly swing the momentum of the war to the Allies and the whole thing would be over quickly. But, by April 1918, it was clear that an easy victory was not in the offing. America was slow to mobilize its army, and in the meantime, the Germans had begun an offensive on the Western front just weeks earlier. The mood was far more sober.
In previewing baseball’s Opening Day, the New York Times wrote, “Peanuts, hot frankfurters and popcorn will no longer have a monopoly, for as side attractions at the ball games, Liberty bonds and Thrift Stamps will also be on sale. … Just what sort of a baseball season this is going to be, under war conditions, is problematical. The war had little effect on the game last season, but as the seriousness of the grim struggle becomes more impressed upon the public during the coming season there may be a lack of interest in baseball.”
The Cubs opened in St. Louis, but that morning, a heavy rain seemed to doom the game at Robison Field. By mid-morning, the weather broke, though not in time to boost afternoon attendance, which was a paltry 8,000 (a crowd of 20,000 was expected). The war dominated the pregame festivities. 
Opening Day in 1917 had as many military features as it did the following year. (Photo courtesy of the Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown.) The Great Lakes military band provided music and a parade, the first ball was thrown out by Col. Hunter of Jefferson Barracks and a Liberty Loan skit was put on, in which Uncle Sam struck out Kaiser Wilhelm on three pitches, each representing a loan.
Fittingly, Grover Cleveland Alexander—told he had been drafted just days before—was to be the day’s starter, and he arrived in St. Louis on the morning of the game, agitated and exhausted. He hopped off a train from Chicago, where he’d been trying to nail down the details of his coming entrainment at Camp Funston. “Alex tried to snatch a nap at the hotel,” the Tribune reported, “but went to the ball park pretty well worn out.” It showed. An error, a triple by Hornsby and a double put the Cubs in a 2-0 hole in the first inning, and they couldn’t recover, suffering a 4-2 loss.
In Boston, the Red Sox had arrived home from spring training to find snow covering the field at Fenway Park—1918 was extremely odd, weather-wise. They were offered a day of training at the Harvard batting cage, where Boston baseball legend Hugh Duffy coached. Duffy had spent 17 years in pro ball, posting a record .440 batting average for Boston’s Beaneaters in 1894. Duffy would later say of Red Sox great Ted Williams, “He’s the greatest hitter it has been my pleasure to look at, and don’t forget, I have been looking at Hugh Duffy in the shaving mirror for many a year.”
Coincidentally, the Red Sox were to open the season against Connie Mack’s Athletics, and featured two ex-A’s in the starting lineup—Stuffy McInnis at third and Amos Strunk in center, with Wally Schang on the bench. One of the big issues for the team was the cleanup hitter, because the Red Sox had acquired some good hitters and the usual cleanup man, Dick Hoblitzell, struggled that spring and was awaiting a call into the army. Manager Ed Barrow, after much consideration, inserted Hoblitzell at cleanup. “But when he said that [Hoblitzell] had just the nerve that a cleanup hitter required, he was not scaling any asparagus at any of the other boys,” Ed Martin of the Globe explained. The other boys were, presumably, relieved to not have any asparagus scaled at them.
Former Cubs star John Evers—taken on a coach/second baseman by the Sox that spring—was in the stands at Fenway on Opening Day, no longer with the team. He had talked and annoyed his way out of a job. In his place, the Red Sox had acquired capable veteran second baseman Dave Shean, a native of Belmont, Mass., from the Reds and brought back well-liked coach Heinie Wagner, who had been fired to make room for Evers. Wagner knew the American League, and could help Barrow with strategy.
On the mound, Babe Ruth got the nod in the opener, and, in front of 10,000 fans, threw a four-hit complete game. Almost foreshadowing the kind of year it was to be for Ruth, he also drove in two runs to help power the 7-1 win. The 1918 season was underway.
