Could it be that he is not a gentleman?

From a report of an exhibition game between the Cleveland and the Cincinnati clubs played April 15, 1882, commenting on Cleveland pitcher George Washington Bradley:

Did you ever see a great, overgrown, uncouth, ungainly, semi-idiotic country lout pitch onto a small boy scarcely to his knee, especially when he knew there was nobody in hailing distance to prevent him? Such was the case yesterday of Bradley, the pitcher of the Clevelands, who disgraces the name of the Father of our country by having it in front of his own. It is just such plug uglies, such bullies, such overbearing, ignorant whelps as Bradley, who never knew the difference between decency and blackguardism, and who is no more fit to be on a ball field in the presence of a crowd than a bowery bum at a Murray Hill German, that renders the national game so objectionable to the genteel lovers of fine sport. He seemed especially anxious to distinguish himself as a loafer, and he succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations. In fact, he was the truest type of that eyesore to all ranks of humanity that has aired himself in Cincinnati in years. Perfectly aware that the umpire had no power to interfere or fine him, he strove in every mean and contemptible way to take advantage of this fact. He delayed the game in mere boyish trifles, acted like a ten year old lad who cries and snarls every time another one gets a little the start of him. He argued with the umpire, and otherwise made himself obnoxious. The height of his ruffianism occurred in the seventh inning, when he deliberately threw himself in front of Fulmer, and prevented him from scoring a home run. Then he strutted back, as proud of the achievement as a big bully would be after doing some similar act. It was equal to just such a dime novel rough as he is. It was the only thing that occurred to mar the attractiveness of the game, and it was a pity that he could not have been arrested as a tramp, and removed to this proper apartments.  Source: Cincinnati Gazette April 17, 1881, quoting the Cincinnati Enquirer