[SelzShoes]

From the Philadelphia Almanac
"While the hue and cry from Brooklyn over their three pronged cabal drowned out any other discussion on the Great American Game late last championship season, there were whisperings among the more dedicated to the sport in our own environs concerning the same topic. While it is assumed the leadership of Alton Emch, now captaining the fledgling Indianapolises, turned the Brooklyns into a champion, those in the know feel another reason contributed to the Atlantics championship: the gambler’s influence on our own club.

"Needing a victory over the lowly Buffalos to assure our first title in the Empire, the Philadelphias allowed a vastly inferior club to overcome them. In the play-off with Brooklyn, the decision to go with Jackman puzzled many long time cranks, his pitiful performance in such a important contest, along with field captain Panell‘s refusal to bring a substitute into the box until it was too late, did not sit well with those who treasure ‘inside’ baseball.

"But fret not followers of ball; the Quakers have imported the greatest man to ever tread afield: Frank Richardson. Any player who values the gambler’s coin more than victory can expect a sound whipping at the hands of this most American of men. Sickness and longing for the East contributed to a down year; but like business since the panic, a rebound is very likely. A single game was the difference between a title and anonymity, Richardson will earn that game and more on his own."

After a horrible season personally and professionally, Frank Richardson moved back east to the runner up Philadelphia Quakers. Richardson, while a fan favorite, was becoming just as well known for his combative nature on and off the field. In Cincinnati, it was a fight with King owner Von Schreiber over the Avenue Grounds that lead to his release. “The park was built in such a way it was almost impossible to pick up all but the slowest deliveries,” Richardson would write in his memoirs. “Some say my infection made for my junior numbers, but the park was just as responsible as that buckeye kid’s slide.”

Von Schreiber insisted there was nothing amiss in the park, pointing to Rodney Stolling’s impressive 1876 season, but Richardson would hear none of it. Faced with a battle with Richardson, still the top draw in the game, or rebuilding his park to meet the star’s specification, Von Schreiber decided to release the player. “Richardson did not justify his salary, and took the coward’s way by blaming the park. It is well known the field has no effect on performance, only the drive in the man.” Outraged, the Royal Council, the unofficial-official booster club of the Kings since the barnstorming days, announced they would “refuse to attend any games until the club dedicated themselves to winning,” and encouraged all “lovers of the game” to do the same. Von Schreiber, seeing a fortune slipping away, tried to resign the star, but he was too late. Faced with a shrinking fan base, Von Schreiber announced if the Kings did not win the title in 1878, he would sell the team, since, “all the common crank is interested in is winning, not crack base ball.”