Routine Moments in Baseball History: Ray Katt Was Not a Very Good Hitter

Welcome back to Routine Moments in Baseball History, a running weekday feature that looks back at plays that have been ignored by the history books because history books only talk about things that are important or interesting. Today's installment is "Ray Katt Was Not a Very Good Hitter."

Ray Katt had one of those great old ballplayer names, didn't he? A couple of staccato syllables that together sound like a dog barking—you can yell "Ray Katt!" in anger or bellow "Kaaaaaaaatt" if you want to celebrate his achievements. "Now batting for the New York Giants at Crosley Field, Ray Katt!" is a sentence that just drips with history. It's strange to think that the team, the ballpark, and the player are all gone—the Giants to San Francisco, Crosley Field into the Cincinatti earth, Ray Katt to wherever it is baseball players with great names go when they die.

On August 6, 1955, the Giants lost to the Redlegs 13-4 in Cincinnati. Ray Katt was the starting catcher—it was the only season of his eight in the majors when he was a full-time starter—and he went 1 for 4 with an infield single. That was his problem, really, the hitting. He was smart and tough and kind and understood the game—all qualities that would serve him well later when he was a college coach—but he just couldn't connect with the ball. When he brought all the force his lanky 6'2" frame could muster on the ball he had some power and could drive it out of the park, but his bat didn't make that kind of contact often. That day was just another lousy one: weak fly out to centerfield, a slow roller to short that he barely beat out for a single, a routine grounder to third, another fly ball to left. He might have called a decent game behind the plate, all things considered—the issue was starter Ruben Gomez couldn't get out of the second inning, and when Hoyt Wilhelm came in his knuckleball wasn't breaking well enough to get anyone out.

All in all, it was just a lousy, forgettable day, though it wasn't as bad as the time Katt was catching Wilhelm and had four passed balls in one inning, a major league record that still stands. That's the life of a backup catcher—play 417 games, spend hours and hours in the dugout and clubhouse and catching a knuckleballer, for fuck's sake, and all that's left behind is a .232 batting average, a record no one wants, and that name.

This has been Routine Moments in Baseball History. Follow Harry Cheadle on Twitter.