There is something inspiring about a ballpark where those who professionally inhabit one of those big-league shrines can’t wait to start their day within its friendly confines.
Tommy Lasorda, the colorful Dodger manager, enjoyed pitching batting practice for exercise, but he also had a great affinity for holding court, the consummate raconteur. He liked being the center of attention. The more the spotlight was on him the better. He never met a flashbulb he didn’t like.
Pete Rose passionately loved the ballpark. He would talk to anybody who stopped by his office. He enjoyed reminiscing about past games with visitors, friends, media, and ballpark personnel. And maybe a bookie or two (on the phone). His door was always open.
One day, after learning I had a UGA affiliation, Pete asked if there might be any interest in his son Petey. When I asked Bulldog coach Steve Webber, Steve asked about his grades and said that he knew someone in the Cincinnati area who would know. He called a couple of days later and said Petey was not a fan of the classroom. “The only things he likes about school,” Webber said, “are lunch, baseball and recess.”
Bobby Cox never wanted to be the center of attention, but he, too, enjoyed good baseball conversation. He was not colorful. He was not interested in seeing his name in the paper—and, for sure, he preferred that no camera shutters clicked in his presence.
He respected the role of the media, he would give all members of that fraternity the time of day, but he always played it straight with all practitioners of the Fourth Estate. Although he was ejected from games a record 162 times, he always had respect for umpires. “Their job is really tough,” he would say.
At the point when he had been ejected about 160 times, I phrased a question that it was a record of the number of times he had backed up his players. He was eager to point out that he would do anything for the umpiring fraternity, but backing his own players was priority.
At Turner Field, he had a cubby hole near the dugout where media would gather around and interact with him on whatever was topical. He never called attention to himself. He never put other players down, certainly not his own. Yet if you got out of line, he addressed the situation behind the closed doors of his office.
By exercising good judgment and firm discipline, his players respected him to the highest. I have never heard of an incident where a player did not give him high marks in the way he communicated with every member of the team, and all said that he was forever honest and fair.
After announcing his retirement during his 25th year with the Braves in 2009, I found him one home game in his spot near the dugout and suggested that he looked young enough to continue.
“Well,” he said, “I feel great. I just had to make a decision, and the only way I could make it was to go ahead and announce it, be done with it, and move on. I feel that I could manage another 10 years but sometimes you can stay in one spot too long. They’ll give it to somebody else to run and hopefully they will enjoy a run like we’ve had.”
He said “we” quite often in his conversations. He never talked negatively to a player or criticized him to the media even when the player was failing to get his job done. He always gave players rave reviews.
I remember a conversation one afternoon about his early days as a manager. He had made the Yankees’ roster as a journeyman player for a couple of years and realized that he was not likely to go much further when the NY General Manager, Lee MacPhail, offered him a job in the Yankee minor league season as a manager. Bobby thought that was the best direction for him to take.
“When I started out, I wanted to treat every player as if he was going to be a major leaguer,” Cox said. “I remember all the managers took their reports to New York and sat down with McPhail to go over the prospects we had on our minor league club. I had all these cards on our players and after giving him glowing reports on each player, Lee said: ‘Bobby I am sensing a trend here. You’ve got every player here rated as a big league prospect. You know that is not likely.’”
Bobby then explained that he believed that if players worked hard, kept their noses clean, and put the team first, then they had a chance to make it in the majors.
Every conversation I had with him, I came away appreciating his positive thinking and admired him for his honesty, integrity, and low-key style. Everybody who knew him considered him a friend.
Fate did not smile on him after retirement. He suffered a debilitating stroke in 2019 as he experienced health problems in his late years. He will leave an indelible mark on the Atlanta Braves with his remarkable record of 14 consecutive division championships, a record that could stand forever.
It is always refreshing to see a person reach a high plateau in life without succumbing to self-aggrandizement. Bobby Cox was such a man.