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Show : .-. .... t:o ' icmss . . Managing a baseball club is about as much fun as being trouble manager of a telephone eompany, says Hugh 6. Fullerton. The man who can take a ball club no matter what its caliber end get through even ' one season without growing irritable, peevish, sour and the sworn foe of all ball players is won-' won-' der. Last fall' while the New York High-.; High-.; landers were making their terrific effort to pull down the America league pen-rsnt pen-rsnt against almost hopeless odds Clark Griffith and I were kiading about age. liDsllly I remarked "Well, I've still got a few black hairs in my head. ' Grif pushed his hand through his gray locks and remarked, seriously "Run this team a month and they '11 i turn white." Managers develop " as many eranks and peculiarities as the players themselves, them-selves, and more when the team is losing. los-ing. The job has turned the hair of every big league manager white except Anson's, and his was white to start with. Some of them learn in time, es-. es-. peciajly after handling losers for years, I to look upon life philosophically, but many of them get worse the older they grow. Witness Comiskey, who takes a defeat more to heart now than he did fifteen years ago. . ' Managers Against Players. One of the first kinks that develop ' iff the manager is a feeling of anfmos-- anfmos-- it v towards all players. The manager who sympathizes with his men, ana who takes the players' view of the sit-. sit-. uation, is a failure from the start. Griffith, for instance, was one of the wildest highbinders in the' business when he was merely a player. He fought for .the "rights" of players. Many times I have heard him argue hotly that no pitcher should work out of bis turn, and that, if the club is carrying seven pitchers, each should pitch a game a week. For a few weeks sfter Comiskey made him manager Grif held firm to his ideas. Then he began to change, and now the player who gets any sympathy from Grif in his grievances griev-ances is hard to find. Mike Kelly, the grandest player that a "- ' 1 - ' ' ever wore a spike, never got ever .taking .tak-ing the players' view of things, and he perhaps was the worst massger that ever handled a club. When he was managing "The Killers" in Pendleton and misrepresenting Cincinnati in the association he gathered around Jblm the greatest gang of drunks that aver attempted at-tempted to play ball. Besides, King Kel was leader, in the drinking, and usually there was a keg of beer on tap in the clubhouse. The night that the team was sold te Milwaukee, or transferred to that city, Kel and-Jiia gang celebrated. The arrival ar-rival at the station tos a thing long to be remembered. Players came in hacks, afoot,' and being dragged. Just as the train was pulling out Kel threw Ned Crane 's hat out of the window, and Ned walked solemnly out, fell off the car, got his hat and started majestically after the receding train, walking with much dignity. He was corralled by the gang, which also was feeling fairly wen, and Jed uptown, where, in the name of the crowd, Harry Weldon sent the following cheerful telegram to Von der Ahe, who owned the eluo v "Team left for Milwaukee tonight; all drunk, including Bancroft." Loftns Was Too Serious. . Tom Lof tus was one of the best managers man-agers that ever handled a elub, but his sense of humor was his rurnation. He never could get serious enough to take baseball as a life and death affair, and he was apt, in the center of a stem fight, to see something funny. When Tom was running the Columbus Colum-bus club and Comiskey had. Si. Paul there were battles between those team and their managers that were worth going miles to see. Whenever Columbus and St. Paul met Comiskey and Lof tus chose the ends of the benches nearest each other, and while their teams were fighting the managers were fighting even harder. The wordy wars that were waged between them were better than farce comedy, and the yells and jibes of the one who was winning could be heard even into the stands.) They were and are the closest of friends, but either one would have tossed up pennant chances to beat the other. Fritz Pfeffer, as a manager at Louisville, Louis-ville, introdnced innovations which still are talked about among, veterans. Fritz should have cone into the armv instead of baseball. To him the. game meant more than a game. When he was playing he gave his whole heart to it, and he fretted and worried : and grew petulant if things went wrong. At Louisville, where he was sent as a sort of Dreyfus (not meaning to liken Louisville to Devil's Island), Fred introduced military tactics and disci pline. Every morning at practice the entire team was ordered to form in military mil-itary order, march past and. salute the manager. Before the game the team marched on in military order. Instead of promoting discipline, however, the orders almost resulted in rebellion. McOraw Exception to Bole. Odd as it may seem, it is true that the quiet, soft spoken fellows are the ones who succeed best as managers-Johnny managers-Johnny McGraw being the exception that proves the rule. The noisy, "fighting" "fight-ing" managers, no matter how well they understand the game, seldom get along with their men. Hanlon, Seeley, Cantillon, Jimmy Murray, Fielder Jones. Frank. Chance, Connie Mack are all quiet, mild mannered men. Most of them have little to say, but when they say it it counts. ComisXey, who was about as noisy and boisterous as any when he was playing, always Kept his raillery for the foe, and spoke softly and quietly to his men until forced to speak out, and on those occasions he can burn and sting them with words as no other man on earth can do. The man who spurs his players to greater endeavor by personal abuse can manage a team only as long as he is able to demonstrate to tbem that he Is their superior in every line of the business. busi-ness. The moment he shows a weakness either in fielding, throwing, bitting or running, he finds his players more merciless mer-ciless in their criticism than ever he was. There was an-example 61 this a decade de-cade ago in the National league. The manager was one of the best players that ever lived. When he was made manager be was still in his prime. Irritable, Ir-ritable, a hard loser, and possessing a bitter tongue, he showed no mercy. Suddenly Sud-denly his arm went wrong, as a body the players turned upon him, and he was openly abused on the field, and inside in-side of a lew months was erlven out of his job. Bill Bourke Best In World. Bill Bourke, who, I always have contended, con-tended, is the best manager in the world, has his little peculiarities. His great fad is that he has no, right to fine a player. He considers fining them a wrong as much as if he took away their money by force. To maintain discipline He resorts to first principles. When he tells. a roan that he must not drink or get out of condition he does so quietly. If the man persists Bourke makes an engagement engage-ment to meet him back of the clubhouse, club-house, and he gives the plaver his choice between obeying and fighting After he polished off a few fresh players in most approved style he achieved a reputation rep-utation that has made it unnecessary for him to do battle with any others. He never had any hard feelings towards the player he is forced to whip, and the plaver never gives him another chance. This system, however, is recommended recommend-ed only td those of some weight and some little science. |