Managers have changed over time. Years ago, Gene Mauch, Alvin Dark, and Ken Aspromonte would yell like Earl Weaver. They wouldn’t embarrass their players very often, but they could really chew them out for doing something wrong. I remember one memorable ass-chewing when John McNamara, one of the last of the old-line, no-nonsense managers, was with the Red Sox.

Steve Lyons, one of the memorable characters in the game, was in his second season with the Red Sox when they came to County Stadium for an important series in 1986. Lyons’s nickname was “Psycho.” Why? That became obvious in the first game of the series.

The Red Sox were trailing by two runs, with two out in the ninth and runners on first and second. Wade Boggs, who was hitting over .400 at the time, was at the plate. For some reason, Lyons decided to steal third base. Rick Cerone, the Brewers’ catcher, easily threw him out. End of threat. End of game.

The clubhouse was eerily silent after the game. It’s always quiet when a team loses, but this was like going to a wake. If anybody said anything, it was in a whisper. The postgame meal sat virtually untouched on the tables in the middle of the room. McNamara walked up to me and said he wanted to use my office to have a meeting with Lyons. They went into my office, and McNamara closed the door. “You stupid son of a bitch,” McNamara screamed. “How could you do that?” McNamara told Lyons it was the dumbest thing he had ever seen in all his years in baseball. In the mortuary- quiet clubhouse, the players could hear every word.

After the meeting with McNamara, a miserable Lyons was surrounded by reporters.

“I was running on my own,” he mumbled, hanging his head. “There’s nothing I can say to make it any better.”

McNamara had a lot more to say.

“That’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen,” he told reporters. “There’s no reason for that. He will not be in center field tomorrow night.”

Lyons was traded a few days later. Managers had a lot more control then.

» NEXT