I didn’t hear that many ass-chewings. Usually, if I’d hear a manager yelling at a player—or even in a serious discussion—I would get lost. It was none of my business, and I didn’t want anyone to think I was trying to find out what was going on.

There was one exception. When Cal Ripken, Sr., was managing the Baltimore Orioles, he had a heated confrontation with Alan Wiggins that I thought was going to turn real ugly at any moment.

It started during batting practice when Wiggins got into a shoving match with teammate Jim Dwyer at the batting cage. Wiggins returned to the clubhouse and got into an argument with Ripken. They started getting pretty hot, and when that happened, the few players who weren’t already on the field started walking out of the clubhouse. The trainers left. Nobody wanted to get involved. That left a chain-smoking older manager trying to discipline a young, physically fit, angry player. And me. They were jawing pretty good, and it looked as if they were going to come to blows any minute. I didn’t leave. I shouldn’t have been there, but I felt sorry for Cal, so I sat down at one of the tables. If something happened, I was ready to put myself in the middle of it. I didn’t want to get involved, but what if something would have happened? Wiggins was so mad, I thought he’d start swinging at Cal.

Wiggins was baiting him, over and over. Ripken kept a cool head, walking away after making a point, and it never came to blows. After the confrontation, Wiggins was suspended for three games. I give Cal a lot of credit. When a player gets out of control like that, a manager has to be able to let him know that he’s the boss. Cal did that without losing his dignity.

Maybe the reason I stayed in the locker room was the bond that developed between Cal and me over the years. It started when he was still a coach with the Orioles. After a game, when I was in my back room doing the wash, Cal would always come back. He was a heavy smoker and eventually died of lung cancer, but he would sit at my desk, smoke cigarette after cigarette, and drink a beer or two. At first, I thought he came back there because his smoking bothered the other coaches, but we always talked while he was back there. We talked about baseball, the weather, the latest news, or whatever came up, but we had some good, long conversations. I finally realized he came back there because he enjoyed shooting the bull with me.

Cal had the appearance of a stern man who could be a real grouch, but he was just the opposite. He was a nice guy. I think the reason I stayed in the clubhouse that night when he had the confrontation with Wiggins was because I really liked him.

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