What did he think made a good manager? He spelled it out for me in 1992. There are four elements to be handled, in his view: the dugout, his own conduct, understanding of his players, and dealing with the media. The dugout part is easy: Everybody knows what to do if you stay alert. The conduct is a given: Either you behave in a way that leads by example, or you don't. It's the understanding of players and the handling of the media that are hardest to achieve. Mastering all four won't guarantee success; but unless you do, your chances of success decrease dramatically.
I got to know him better than most nonhometown managers (as I did Weaver) for two reasons. The obvious one is that he was in so many playoffs, World Series, and All-Star games that I dealt with him a lot. The other was coincidental. In the 1950s, I happened to get particularly friendly with several of the St. Louis Cardinal players. (In those days, they came to New York eight times a year, for four series each with the Giants and Dodgers, and the Giants and Dodgers went there four times each; and when they were in a pennant race, I chased them elsewhere on frontrunning assignments.) In addition, I was getting to St. Louis a lot while covering the basketball Knicks. At any rate, one of those players was Grammas, so when he wound up in Cincinnati, I had an old acquaintanceship going there -- just at the point in my own life when my age was giving me greater rapport with coaches and managers than with the suddenly too-young players.
One of Sparky's characteristics, in those years of the Big Red Machine, was that he had absolutely no hesitation in changing pitchers. He did not have a staff of star starters, nor one dominant game-end reliever (which he calls "the hammer"). He earned the nickname "Captain Hook" -- not unique to him -- for yanking pitchers. What it really showed, of course, was the firmness of his baseball judgments: I want this man to pitch to this hitter this way, now.
The overriding requirement for managing, Anderson felt, was to have no fear -- no fear of what someone might say if the move didn't work, no fear of being fired, no fear of acting on your belief.
It's interesting, therefore, to note how he rated various managers when he wrote in 1990. Let's take just the ones that have chapters in this book.
McGraw is the greatest for numbers, and should be on a "pedestal." His 2,840 victories is the target all managers should aspire to reach.
Mack's 3,776 victories are not the same, because he owned his own club and managed to the age of eighty-eight. It's just not comparable.
Gene Mauch, Walter Alston, and Whitey Herzog were the best he managed against, Anderson said. Mauch was simply brilliant as a strategist and innovater. 'If you had the best club, you had a chance to beat him; if he had the best club, you had no chance; if the clubs were even, he had the advantage ... I managed against him for a long time ... I always had the better teams." Mauch wasn't aloof (a common accusation), he was only intense.
Alston was calm. "He played chess on the field, but he was never fancy ... He rarely gambled ... If my team was better and I made all the right moves, I'd win; if his was, he'd win; but I knew I couldn't wait for a mistake from him. I knew I wouldn't get one. ... He knew exactly what he had and what to do with it."
Dark was the best defensive manager, best able to protect a lead late in the game. "I attack a game in two stages, the first seven innings and then the last six outs ... Dark was the best when it came to the final six ... He was amazing, tough to manage against."
Herzog probably knows the game better than anyone in it now.
"Give Whitey 90 percent and the other guy 100 percent, and Whitey will win all the time. Give him 80 percent, and the other guy wins. But give him 90 and he's a lock."
Martin was tough to go against, because he had no fear. "How in hell can you bluff him into a move he shouldn't make? You can't ... He dared you to try something, dared you to challenge him ... He managed with the best of them."
Tommy Lasorda "has such a sensitive feeling for people. It might look like it's all for show, but the feeling is genuine. He really does love people. And a manager must love his players and show them that he cares ... He also has great showmanship. He's the closest thing we have to Stengel in that respect."
Excerpted and reproduced From The Man In The Dugout, Expanded Edition: Baseball's Top Managers & How They Got That Way by Leonard Koppett, by permission of Temple University Press.
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