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Despite the personal triumph in Buffalo, it was a very trying season for Richardson. Signed by Cincinnati and given the field captaincy of the defending champion, Cappy was taking over a team just a hair more talented than his last club. “When you win, players ask for more money,” owner Max Von Schriber was found of saying, “it is a fine edge between winning enough to sell out—and not often enough to have to pay top dollar.” As long as Tory Claessens and Rodney Stollings were finishing at the back of the pack, they could stay Kings. The deal was mutual beneficial: Von Schriber had the biggest draw in base ball, and Richardson could extend his appeal and earning opportunities over a larger stretch.

Early in the year, before Brooklyn started their runaway, Richardson did not think a second title was out of reach. He was having a typical Frank Richardson season, hitting for high average and power. But the rest of the line up was not producing. An exhibition game was quickly arranged with Ohio State University players still in Columbus that summer. On a play at third, a freak accident occurred; the young player came in high and spiked Cappy. The wound was deep, but no major veins or arteries were nicked—still there was a lot of blood. A reporter dutifully noted “strong men fainted and wept as women.” When he returned to the line up, he was not the same player.
Weakened by infection, the great star of the diamond hit well under .200 during the hottest months. The power was gone as fever and heat sapped his strength and the average hovered around .240 for the season. “Without Cappy to worry about,” Edwin Huber said, “there was nothing to fear.” Still Richardson would not sit down, “I can not, in good conscience not play while there is still a chance for us to win the pennant, honor will not allow it.”

To compound matters, Richardson’s personal life was in ruins as well. His new bride was not adjusting to life in the Midwest and felt ignored by Cappy obsessive attention to his team. “I’ve not the constitution to be a ballplayer’s wife,” Eloise Richardson wrote her mother that summer. Unable to convince her sick husband to stop playing, she left for New York.

When Cincinnati was finally eliminate, Richardson finally sat down. His once thoroughbred legs had turned to swollen trunks from the infection. Because of that determination, the press forgave him for his all around worst season since the first year of the Empire. The Kings finished in 5th, but only 2 games under .500.

Max Von Schriber was happy; he did not have to offer Cappy a raise.