Now here is a fella I've wanted to do a card for for a long time. Sig was 6' - 2" of a whole lot of bad news. Hailing from the rough Polish tenements of Camden, N.J. he starred for his local Polish-American Citizens Club before escaping town to join the U.S. Marines in 1928. He quickly made a name for himself on the barracks baseball team in Hawaii and when he was released in 1931 he joined the semi-pro Honolulu Braves. Sig was such a popular player that when a scout suggested he could make the big leagues, the locals all chipped in to buy him a steamship ticket back to the mainland. He tried out for San Francisco of the Pacific Coast League and made the team. From the beginning of his professional career he was pegged as a constant brawler and big league boozer. He was traded from team to team because of his lousy personality and somehow made it all the way to the Browns in 1936 where he promptly had a falling out with manager Rogers Hornsby and was sent back down to the minors. Sig drank and fought his way out of the lowest level of ball and found himself a drifter in the southwest pitching on factory teams and town clubs in between hanging wall paper.In 1941 he came into the spotlight when he pitched in the Denver Post Tournament which was a sort of world series of semi-pro teams. Representing the Bona Allen Shoe Company, Sig's team placed second. A few years later the majors were in dire need of ballplayers and someone dug up ol' Sig, still pitching away in the dusty southwest. Joining the St. Louis Browns again he was an instrumental part in their pennant winning season. But Jakucki's old habits never faded and fuelled with a major league-sized paycheck he found plenty of trouble. One of my favorite stories about him was when he was drinking at the bar of the New Yorker Hotel in Manhattan. Some greaseball low-level mafia punk was shooting off his mouth trying to impress some woman on the next stool. One thing led to another and the hood pulls his pistol on Jakucki who proceeds to snatch the piece from the tough-guy and beat him into hamburger meat right in the bar. Sig sits back down and finishes his drink before taking off to find a quieter place to finish the evening.
Another time he's at a wrestling match with teammate Euel Moore and seeing as the match was on the boring side, the two ballplayers invade the ring and start going at it themselves. The referee tries to break it up and Sig knocks him out cold and as the crowd goes nuts the two original wrestlers try to take on the big Polack whereupon they too are totally flattened by Jakucki. All hell breaks loose and when the dust clears Moore and Jakucki spent the night in the local jail.
Sig was tapped to pitch the pennant-clinching game and his teammates begged him to lay off the sauce for the night before the game. Pledging his total sobriety not to drink that evening, none-the-less players were detailed outside his room to make sure he didn't sneak out but sure enough ol' Sig kept his word to the letter. But no one said anything about the morning of the game and Jakucki had a few belts to keep himself strait and pitched a masterful game against the Yankees giving the lowly Browns their only pennant. Jakucki followed up his triumphant 1944 season with a disappointing '45. He just couldn't manage his drinking and everyday responsibility of playing on a big league team and he was released unconditionally when he turned up at the train station for a road trip with just a bag of scotch bottles. Sig wound up back in the southwest where he led a marginal transient existence dying in 1979 after years of poor health.
One-armed outfielder Pete Gray was on the Browns in 1945 and it is an interaction with Jakucki that I'll let be the last word on Sig. Although he could do almost anything despite his having one arm, Gray needed a teammate to tie his shoes for him before every game. One day no one is left in the locker room but Jakucki and Pete asks him to give him a hand. Jakucki glares at him and says "tie your own shoe, you one-armed son-of-a-bitch!"





