The Orioles survived the speeches and went on to a banquet at the Hotel Rennert, at Saratoga and Liberty streets. Ugly on the outside and charming within, the Rennert was Baltimore's finest hotel. Three hundred fanatics filled the airy, elegant dining room, to fete the champions by indulging in the Rennert's oysters -- famed worldwide -- along with duck and crab croquettes and champagne.

The ballplayers, at the center table, looked less than comfortable: They had donned evening dress, which many of them had borrowed. Captain Robbie rose from his seat and raised his empty champagne flute into the air. "Glasses up," he ordered, looking around at his men -- "and now glasses down!"

Mindful of the Temple Cup Series ahead, he placed his glass upside down on the table. His teammates did the same, and the crowd hailed them.

As the bottles of champagne passed from table to table, too many of the ballplayers cast a longing glance.

The two messengers reverently carried a tin copy of the Temple Cup onto the floor of the low, domed Corn and Flour Exchange. The real Temple Cup, made of silver on an onyx base, was on display in New York. Still, the grain merchants stopped their trading for a moment and cheered. The overdecorated trophy had a fluted spout and ornately wrought handles and the embossed figure of a ballplayer ready to throw. William Temple, the urbane owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates, had donated the cup for a seven-game postseason series between the pennant winners and the runners-up. The idea had come to him after Pittsburgh had finished second in 'ninety-three.

The series was to start at Union Park two days after the Orioles returned. But by then they were in no shape to play, as the players soon failed to heed Robbie's injunction at the Rennert dinner. Invitations poured in from admirers; few were turned down. The ballplayers Were wined and dined to exhaustion. "If I could only get five minutes' rest," one of the more popular Orioles was heard to complain.

Spirits, the liquid sort, was not what had thrown the series into doubt, however. It was money -- how to divide the receipts. William Temple understood what motivated men. He had allotted 65 percent of the ticket receipts (after expenses) to the winning team and 35 percent to the losers -- all of it for the ballplayers, he pointed out, and none for the owners.

To the Orioles, such proportions would not do. Temple had once been quoted -- or misquoted -- in a Pittsburgh newspaper saying that the pennant winners, not the series winners, would get 65 percent. The Orioles had spent six arduous months capturing the pennant. Why should they get so little if they lost four games? They insisted on at least an even split. Fifty-fifty was fine with the Giants: Ned Hanlon and Johnny Ward shook hands on it.

William Temple refused. He feared that a series with no incentive would prove a farce. The money must be divided as he wanted, he warned, or "Baltimore has forfeited the right to play for the cup." The ballplayers murmured about making private arangements, pairing up to split the money evenly.

When the teams took the field, nobody knew if it was for the opening of the Temple Cup Series or for an exhibition game. That was part of the reason barely ten thousand cranks showed up -- that and the ominous clouds and the decision by Baltimore's management to double the ticket prices.

John McGraw was the last holdout. Five minutes before the game was to start, Robbie and a half-dozen Orioles surrounded him fifteen feet behind the pitching rubber. The Giants' quietly spectacular third baseman, George Davis, had approached him at the Eutaw House that morning with a private offer of a fifty-fifty split. Keeler and Kelley and Gleason had agreed to the same arrangement, but Mac still refused. He broke away from the huddle and crossed to third base. As a lucrative series was on the brink of becoming a single exhibition, Robbie shot him a look of disgust that no one who saw it would ever forget.

They coaxed Mac back and just as the gong was sounding he gave in. He called George Davis over.

"That agreement goes, George," McGraw said.

"It does."

Mac invited Joe Kelley in from left field as a witness. Dirty Jack Doyle, the Giants' first baseman, came over and offered Kel the same deal. Kel said he had already paired up with Amos Rusie but would get Willie Keeler to go in with Doyle, which he did.

Robbie strode to the grandstand. "We play the series," he announced.

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