How determined are you to get paid?

For one baseball player over a century ago, the answer is "extremely."

Howdy! It’s Joey, back with more Fun Fact Friyay. They say baseball is a grueling season, but this one might have been the wackiest of all.

Photo by Joey Kyber on Unsplash

Rupert Mills spent a season playing for a team that didn’t exist so he could still get paid.

The World Series starts today, and we’ve got a riveting matchup in store between the Los Angeles Dodgers and New York Yankees. The two most popular teams in the league—it’s the MLB’s dream! Whoever ends up on top will put a nice exclamation point on a successful season.

However, the loser—as well as all the MLB teams who did not make the World Series—will return next season. The same can’t be said of the Newark Peppers.

My first time in Newark was just about a month ago when I flew out of the airport to return home from an East Coast trip. I saw none of the city, but the airport was lovely.

In 1915, the Newark Peppers were a team in baseball’s Federal League. The previous season, the team had won the championship, though they were called the Indianapolis Hoosiers (no relation to the basketball team).

On that roster was Rupert Mills, a baseball player who had graduated a year earlier from Notre Dame with a law degree. Ol’ Rupe (his real nickname) was better than you and me at baseball but pretty pedestrian among other pros. For my statheads, he hit .201 with 16 RBIs in 134 at-bats across 41 games, knocking out five doubles and a triple while stealing six stolen bases.

The Peppers had signed Mills to a two-year contract worth $3,000 annually, or close to $94,000 in today’s money. After his first season, the Federal League folded entirely. Since the league ceased to exist, the players on the roster either retired to other careers or tried to find work on another team. Except for Mills.

Newark Poppers president Pat Powers offered a $500 buyout to send Mills to a minor league team. And, as many people say on the popular Howie Mandel-hosted show, Mills returned with a brusk “NO DEAL.”

Powers, in a shrewd strategic move, said Mills could still receive his annual salary for the forfeited season if he showed up to the ballpark every day, in uniform, despite the fact no games were actually happening.

Mills called his bluff. Each day, he would arrive at the ballpark at 10 am, get in a workout, perhaps enjoy a quick lunch, and then return to the park from 2 to 6 pm for the “game” that consisted of Rupert Mills and nobody else.

Our charming protagonist Rupe leaned into his quest. When reporters learned about what he was doing, he offered some colorful quotes for extra flavor. My two favorites:

“If I don’t lead the league in everything but errors it won’t be my fault.”

“The other day I wrenched my ankle while sliding and I had to put myself in to run for me. I have a dickens of a time trying to pull a double steal. Everything else is a set-up.”

After two months, Powers relented and bought out the remainder of the contract. Mills received the full $3,000 and then joined a minor league team in Harrisburg, PA.

He ended up in Denver for the 1917 season, leading the Western League in doubles, assists, and fielding percentage.

His baseball career more or less fizzled out because of World War I, when he went to France as a lieutenant in the U.S. military.

Upon his return, Mills advanced his political career, putting his negotiation tactics to work many more times. He became a state senator and the undersheriff of Essex County.

It’s unclear how much money he made in either of those roles, though I’m sure he still offered plenty of delightful quotes.