Chester the Molester

If you’re some pervert, reading this post because of its title, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. (Although if you know me well, then you’ll know there’s a decent chance you won’t be disappointed at all…) The Chester in question is Chester Hajduk, baseball hero (of sorts) and the namesake of this blog. And it’s time to tell his story.

Chester Hajduk was born a poor black man…no, that’s someone else. Actually, Chester (or Chet, as he was known) was born a (poor? rich? median?) white man, on July 21, 1918, in Chicago. Much that is known of him (at least through my half-assed internet research) is sketchy at best, and oftentimes contradictory, but I’ve done my best to piece his life together (well, at least the relevant parts).

In the late 1930s, Chet was playing semi-pro ball and living on a $1.50/day meal allowance. “When I played, we played for the love of the game,” he recalls. Chet smiles when he hears modern players complain about playing a day game after a night game; in contrast, he tells of times when he – a player – would drive the team bus all night after leaving Madison, Wisconsin to arrive in Evansville, Indiana just in time to eat breakfast and play a double-header. “It certainly wasn't glamorous by today's standards, but it was in many ways wonderful,” says Hajduk. “We loved the game and would have done anything to play baseball.”

As a 21-year-old in 1940 he signed with the White Sox and was sent to the Class D Lubbock Hubbers way down in cowboy country. “When someone asked me if I wanted to play baseball for a living, I jumped at it,” says Chet. “I would have done it for three meals a day.” The league was a hitter’s paradise – the average batting average was .294, and the average runs per game per team was 7.09 in 1940 – and Chet flourished, hitting .329 with 25 homers and 140 RBI.

Catching the attention of scouts, Chet was brought up to the big league club, making his debut with the Sox on April 16, 1941. Exactly one year earlier, on April 16, 1940, the Sox were the victims of the only Opening Day no-hitter in MLB history, getting blanked in 47-degree weather by a dominant Bob Feller embarking on the best season of his Hall of Fame career. In 1941, however, the Sox had won their opener over the Indians, 4-3 at Cleveland Stadium, with Bill Dietrich outdueling Feller (quite a feat in those days). The second game was played at the Indians’ other home field (yep, they had two), League Park II, and this time the Sox got shutout yet again. This time Happy Milnar was the culprit, leading the Indians to a 6-0 victory on the anniversary of the no-hitter.

Our hero Chet made his Major League debut in that game, going 0-for-1. He apparently also managed to break his arm during the game while playing first base. The ’41 Sox went on to have a perfectly mediocre season, with a record of 77-77; Hajduk was sent down to Waterloo of the Three-I League to recover, and never played in the Majors again.

Chet played with the Sox during spring training in 1942, and then joined the Navy, where he served for four years during World War II. He played for the famous Great Lakes Navy Team in ’42, which was managed by Hall of Famer Mickey Cochrane, contained such greats as Johnny Mize, Schoolboy Rowe, Gene Woodling, and Virgil “Fire” Trucks, and which won 33 consecutive games at one point during the war. Hajduk played well, making the all-service all-star team and getting to play in an exhibition game against the American League All-Star team, which won the privilege by beating the National League in the regular All-Star game. That American League team included Hall of Famers Ted Williams, Joe DiMaggio, Lou Boudreau, Bill Dickey, Bobby Doerr, Hal Newhouser, Phil Rizutto, and Red Ruffing. The exhibition was played in front of a raucous, patriotic crowed of 63,000. Recalling the event in a recent interview, Hajduk remarked, “It was one of my greatest thrills in baseball.”

There was no MLB All-Star game in 1945. In an effort to save the fuel and money involved in travel, eight local “inter-league” exhibition games were played, with all revenue going to the American Red Cross and war relief efforts. (For example, the Sox and Cubs played at Comiskey.) However, Hajduk claims to have played on another all-service all-star team that season, taking part in a seven-game All-Star event in Hawaii along with Ted Williams, Bill Dickey, and Johnny Mize. There are no records of any such event. Further adding to the confusion is Hajduk’s timeline: “Remember, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor about a year before, so we went to Hawaii without knowing whether we'd ever return. I was scared but was eager to help our country.” Last I checked, by 1945 four whole years had elapsed since Pearl Harbor. A year earlier, in 1944, the various armed forces teams did play a star-studded ten-game series in Hawaii, so maybe that’s what Chet was talking about (maybe).

But the confusion didn’t end with the war. After being discharged from the Navy, Hajduk attended spring training with the Sox. But with such an influx of players, the going was difficult. “Everyone was trying out there that year, including all of the big-time stars,” says Chet. “There were so many returning players that there were six people at each position. It was very tough to make any team.”

And he didn’t. Hajduk was shipped off to the Texas Double A League, where he claims he made the all-star team, batting cleanup between future Hall of Famer Duke Snider and future AL MVP Al Rosen. The only problem with that claim? Both Snider and Rosen only played one year each in the Texas League – 1946 and 1947, respectively. The Duke played the ‘46 season for the Forth Worth Cats before being called up and sticking with the Dodgers. And Rosen mashed to the tune of .349/.437/.619 for Oklahoma City in ‘47, and was rightly named player of the year. But they were never in the league at the same time. So the only team that Hajduk played on with Snider and Rosen was the magical one in his mind, with unicorn umpires and baseballs made of rainbow sparkles.

Chet played for the Sacramento Solons of the Pacific Coast League in 1948, where he claims he was once again an all-star. But records show that Hajduk batted .250 that year while playing in only two games. I wonder, did the all-star manager that lived in his cerebral cortex bat him third that year, or clean-up?

Need more evidence? Check out this website, which claims to show Hajduk’s complete major league statistics. Somehow, this site shows him playing a grand total of 943 major league games from 1944 to 1950, even though there’s no evidence at all to support it. It even shows him leading the league in a few categories: games in 1947, and strikeouts in '44, '45, and '47. Chester is now almost 88-years-old, so either he's an internet-savvy senior who's craftier than I'm giving him credit for, or he has an adoring grandchild who likes making stuff up.

Anyhow, the case of Chester Hajduk has two sides to it. On the one hand, he was a Chicago boy who just wanted to play baseball (for the hometown Sox, no less), and went through hell and high water to make it to the majors. He only played in one game, and fate struck him down. But at least he made it. I can empathize with his dream; I would give just about anything to be a member of the White Sox, if only for one day, and to get that cup of coffee.

(In case you’ve never heard it, the expression “cup of coffee” is baseball lingo that refers to someone who only had a brief fling with fame or success, commonly referring to someone who only played one game in the majors. “He had a cup of coffee once” used to be a common expression. For a full [or nearly full] listing of such players, check out the amazing and encyclopedic Baseball-Reference.)

On the other hand, our buddy Chet is either a fame-seeking liar, or completely senile. In the end, it’s possible that Chester was a molester after all; he had his nonconsensual way with that most elusive and brittle of all ladies, Truth.

“I don't have any regrets,” says Hajduk, still a resident of Illinois. “I'm sorry I had to lose four years during my prime to the war. But, I was proud to serve and assist our country in wartime. When I came out I was 27-years old without much major league experience and my age was against me. I don't complain though; I had a chance to play baseball with and against some of the greatest ever.”

Maybe.