MANAGER MEANS ONLY 5 PER CENT TO TEAM: O'DOUL
"Francis J. O'Doul, San Diego manager, generalizes the art of managing, thus:
'Some fans expect miracles of managers like they do of a football coach. There are no trick plays, no short cuts. Everything is standardized. In a certain situation, you do a certain thing. Fundamental baseball is the same, whether it's in the majors or Class D.
'For every tough manager who wins a pennant, I can show you an easy manager who did just as good. I guess I'm an easy manager. There is no fool-proof formula. Unless you have the players, the bat boy could do no worse than a $20,000 manager. An ordinary smart bat boy knows when to bunt, when to pull in the infield, when to fill an open base. High school kids know that.'
By this time O'Doul knew he was talking himself out of the manager's guild.
'Don't get me wrong,' Lefty amended. 'A team needs a manager like Boy Scouts need a scoutmaster. Somebody has to be in charge. What I'm saying is the difference between a winning manager and a losing manager is about 5 per cent- if they both have teams of equal ability.
'The small difference is in guessing right. Guessing when to yank a pitcher. Guessing when to put in the right pinch hitter, and even then it's mostly luck. In the long run, the 5 per cent edge comes from knowing your players, knowing their personal problems, getting next to them so they'll put out for you, and keeping discipline, but not like a cop.'
For all his protestations that baseball strategy is standardized and conventional, O'Doul does admit room for the unexpected. Once in a while he defies conventions by playing baseball backwards, so to speak. More so than any other manager.
'What's the word I'm reaching for?' he appealed. 'Intuition. That's it. Thanks. Intuition means the right hunch, depending on which side of the bed you tumbled out that morning. I win some games on intuition. About 1 per cent of the 5 per cent.'"
-Will Connolly, San Francisco Chronicle (Baseball Digest, February 1953)
Saturday, November 30, 2019
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Johnny Lindell
HIS 119 WINS SPUR LINDELL'S COMEBACK BID
"Johnny Lindell has a lifetime pitching record of 119 victories and 61 defeats.
Few major league pitchers will carry such a record into the 1953 campaign.
Mostly, if hurlers cop two-thirds of their games, they're well above the average.
Lindell reported to the New York Yankees in 1942 as a pitcher, but most of his big league career found him playing the outfield.
Now he's trying to come back in the big show, but not as an outfielder. He's up again as a pitcher with the Pittsburgh Pirates after a lapse of more than ten years.
I caught up with Lindell just before he left for spring training.
'Yes, I think can pitch winning ball in the majors,' said good-looking Johnny, who not only looks good but has the air of a champion if he's only out walking. Standing six-foot-five and weighing well over 200 pounds, Lindell even at 36 is a pretty fine physical specimen.
John's smart, too, and a fine team man. Once when he was being considered for the 'most valuable' award at Hollywood, I asked Manager Fred Haney to compare him with another player under discussion.
'Lindell's worth more on the bench than ----- is on the field.'
'I didn't get a chance to pitch much with the Yankees,' said Lindell, 'because when I went up they had the best pitching staff in baseball.
'Picture me trying to break in against Red Ruffing, Spud Chandler, Marius Russo, Hank Borowy, Atley Donald, Ernie Bonham and Fireman Johnny Murphy! It couldn't be done.
'On top of that I was trying to throw the knuckler and they didn't want me to do that. Said it'd make my arm sore. Shucks, Dutch Leonard threw it a long, long time and never had a sore arm.
'But I'm not kicking ... it was great fun with the Yankees, and it was lucky for me I could hit a bit so they played me in the outfield.'
Hit a bit is right. In the 1947 World Series Lindell batted a cool .500.
Back to that 119-61 pitching record. With the exception of two- one with the Yankees in 1942, all of John's hurling games were in the minor leagues.
So the question before the house is this: Can he win in the majors?
Lindell says he can and so does Haney, who'll manage him at Pittsburgh.
'That knuckler is just as hard to hit in the majors as in the minors,' says Haney. 'Lindell's only problem is getting it over. The major leaguers won't bite at as many bad pitches as the minors.'
Now there's one other question ... Can Lindell win with the Pirates?
When Lindell won 23 and lost but four with Newark in 1941 he was tabbed as the minor league player of the year. Of his four defeats three were 2-1, 1-0 and 2-1, one of these in 12 innings.
Last year with Hollywood, Big Jawn led the Pacific Coast League moundsmen in several departments.
His won and lost record was 24-9. He led in total victories, winning percentage (.727) and complete games (26).
And he was top man in strikeouts (190) and low-hit games, as well as most bases on balls (108).
This latter is important because it indicates that work is needed to gain mastery of the difficult knuckler.
'I'm lucky that Mike Sandlock is going up with me,' said John. 'The right kind of catching is most important to a knuckleball pitcher.'
Lindell worked out a bit every other day during the off-season. His winter league pitching was curtailed on orders from Commissioner Ford Frick.
'It seems that as an ex-major leaguer now headed back to the majors, I came under the rule which prohibits any baseball competition 30 days after the close of the season,' said Lindell.
Having known Big Jawn for a long time I have an idea he'll be fully ready for his second big chance. If only it wasn't with the hapless Pirate crew!"
-Braven Dyer, Los Angeles Times (Baseball Digest, April 1953)
"After eight seasons in the majors as an outfielder, Johnny returned to the majors again in 1953, this time as a pitcher. He broke in with Joplin in 1936 with a 17-8 mark and joined the Yankees after a 23-4 season in 1941 at Newark. The Yanks converted him into an outfielder, [where he remained] until returning to the mound for Hollywood of the Pacific Coast League in 1950."
-1953 Topps No. 230
"Johnny Lindell has a lifetime pitching record of 119 victories and 61 defeats.
Few major league pitchers will carry such a record into the 1953 campaign.
Mostly, if hurlers cop two-thirds of their games, they're well above the average.
Lindell reported to the New York Yankees in 1942 as a pitcher, but most of his big league career found him playing the outfield.
Now he's trying to come back in the big show, but not as an outfielder. He's up again as a pitcher with the Pittsburgh Pirates after a lapse of more than ten years.
I caught up with Lindell just before he left for spring training.
'Yes, I think can pitch winning ball in the majors,' said good-looking Johnny, who not only looks good but has the air of a champion if he's only out walking. Standing six-foot-five and weighing well over 200 pounds, Lindell even at 36 is a pretty fine physical specimen.
John's smart, too, and a fine team man. Once when he was being considered for the 'most valuable' award at Hollywood, I asked Manager Fred Haney to compare him with another player under discussion.
'Lindell's worth more on the bench than ----- is on the field.'
'I didn't get a chance to pitch much with the Yankees,' said Lindell, 'because when I went up they had the best pitching staff in baseball.
'Picture me trying to break in against Red Ruffing, Spud Chandler, Marius Russo, Hank Borowy, Atley Donald, Ernie Bonham and Fireman Johnny Murphy! It couldn't be done.
'On top of that I was trying to throw the knuckler and they didn't want me to do that. Said it'd make my arm sore. Shucks, Dutch Leonard threw it a long, long time and never had a sore arm.
'But I'm not kicking ... it was great fun with the Yankees, and it was lucky for me I could hit a bit so they played me in the outfield.'
Hit a bit is right. In the 1947 World Series Lindell batted a cool .500.
Back to that 119-61 pitching record. With the exception of two- one with the Yankees in 1942, all of John's hurling games were in the minor leagues.
So the question before the house is this: Can he win in the majors?
Lindell says he can and so does Haney, who'll manage him at Pittsburgh.
'That knuckler is just as hard to hit in the majors as in the minors,' says Haney. 'Lindell's only problem is getting it over. The major leaguers won't bite at as many bad pitches as the minors.'
Now there's one other question ... Can Lindell win with the Pirates?
When Lindell won 23 and lost but four with Newark in 1941 he was tabbed as the minor league player of the year. Of his four defeats three were 2-1, 1-0 and 2-1, one of these in 12 innings.
Last year with Hollywood, Big Jawn led the Pacific Coast League moundsmen in several departments.
His won and lost record was 24-9. He led in total victories, winning percentage (.727) and complete games (26).
And he was top man in strikeouts (190) and low-hit games, as well as most bases on balls (108).
This latter is important because it indicates that work is needed to gain mastery of the difficult knuckler.
'I'm lucky that Mike Sandlock is going up with me,' said John. 'The right kind of catching is most important to a knuckleball pitcher.'
Lindell worked out a bit every other day during the off-season. His winter league pitching was curtailed on orders from Commissioner Ford Frick.
'It seems that as an ex-major leaguer now headed back to the majors, I came under the rule which prohibits any baseball competition 30 days after the close of the season,' said Lindell.
Having known Big Jawn for a long time I have an idea he'll be fully ready for his second big chance. If only it wasn't with the hapless Pirate crew!"
-Braven Dyer, Los Angeles Times (Baseball Digest, April 1953)
"After eight seasons in the majors as an outfielder, Johnny returned to the majors again in 1953, this time as a pitcher. He broke in with Joplin in 1936 with a 17-8 mark and joined the Yankees after a 23-4 season in 1941 at Newark. The Yanks converted him into an outfielder, [where he remained] until returning to the mound for Hollywood of the Pacific Coast League in 1950."
-1953 Topps No. 230
Friday, November 22, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Jerry Priddy
"Gerry Priddy of the Tigers has made a courageous comeback after breaking his leg last year. He was told by doctors last Christmas he would never play ball again but Priddy refused to believe them. 'I decided I had to get that broken leg out of my mind,' Priddy said, 'so the first thing I did when I threw away the crutches was to practice sliding. The first time was the hardest but when I got rid of that mental block, I knew I had the thing licked.'"
-Bob Addie, Washington Times-Herald (Baseball Digest, September 1953)
"Jerry came up to the Yankees from Kansas City in 1941 after four straight seasons of batting over .300 in the minors. He was traded to the Senators in '43, the Browns in '47 and to the Tigers in December of '49.
A great fielder, Jerry topped all second basemen in assists in '46, '50 and '51 and in putouts in '47, '48, '49 and '51. In 1950, he broke a 15-year-old major league record for second basemen by taking part in 150 double plays."
-1953 Topps No. 113
-Bob Addie, Washington Times-Herald (Baseball Digest, September 1953)
"Jerry came up to the Yankees from Kansas City in 1941 after four straight seasons of batting over .300 in the minors. He was traded to the Senators in '43, the Browns in '47 and to the Tigers in December of '49.
A great fielder, Jerry topped all second basemen in assists in '46, '50 and '51 and in putouts in '47, '48, '49 and '51. In 1950, he broke a 15-year-old major league record for second basemen by taking part in 150 double plays."
-1953 Topps No. 113
Thursday, November 21, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Mike McNally
IT WENT INTO EXTRA ROUNDS
"Mike McNally, the Cleveland Indians' farm chief, tells how his wife discovered early in their married life at Wilkes-Barre, Pa., that ball games often last extra innings.
'But she didn't know much about prize fights,' McNally added. 'So this night I went to a boxing show with a few of the boys and didn't get home until 1:30 in the morning. My bride naturally wondered what had happened to me.
''The fight,' I told her, 'lasted 43 rounds. You wouldn't want me to walk out on that kind of battle, would you?''"
-Ed McAuley in the Cleveland News (Baseball Digest, March 1953)
"Mike McNally, the Cleveland Indians' farm chief, tells how his wife discovered early in their married life at Wilkes-Barre, Pa., that ball games often last extra innings.
'But she didn't know much about prize fights,' McNally added. 'So this night I went to a boxing show with a few of the boys and didn't get home until 1:30 in the morning. My bride naturally wondered what had happened to me.
''The fight,' I told her, 'lasted 43 rounds. You wouldn't want me to walk out on that kind of battle, would you?''"
-Ed McAuley in the Cleveland News (Baseball Digest, March 1953)
Saturday, November 16, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Frank Shea
"'Hey, you're getting freckles on your hand, Spec,' said one of the Washington Senators sunning himself next to Spec Shea by the clubhouse after a workout. 'Yeah, funny thing,' Shea replied, 'but that's the only aftermath I have from that burn I got during the war. A few freckles when I stay in the sun too long, but for five days I thought I'd be blind for life.'
The incident occurred two weeks after the Normandy invasion. 'I don't know what happened,' said Frank, the laughing boy of the Senators, 'but I was standing too close to a gasoline drum in the woods when it blew up and the gasoline sprayed all over my hands and head.'
Shea ran around blind, screaming, out of his mind, until a buddy from Chicago grabbed him, shoved Spec in a jeep and headed for a first aid unit. 'I owe a lot to that kid,' Shea said, 'because if he hadn't acted as quickly as he did I'd probably be blind.
'He got help for me in a hurry,' Shea continued. 'They put enough goo on me to grease a fleet of trucks. All I could think of was going blind. I was scared, real scared.'
Five days later, Sgt. Shea could distinguish light. 'I don't know, maybe somebody else has been happier,' Frank said, 'but I think I established a new record for happiness when I knew I was going to see again.'
Shea has a large photograph of himself with 'no hair on my head, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, and my head twice the size it is now. I looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. Man, you guys don't appreciate how handsome I am now.'
That frightening experience didn't teach Frank to keep his distance from gasoline. During the off-season he operates a gas station in his home town, Naugatuck, Conn., making a living from what nearly blinded him."
-Burton Hawkins in the Washington Star (Baseball Digest, May 1953)
"After a 1951 season with the Yankees that wasn't too successful, Frank was sent to Washington, and his work was a bright spot for the Senators. He appeared in 22 games, won 11 and lost 7, and his earned run average was a nice 2.93.
Frank first came to the Yankees in 1947 and had a 14-5 record that year, giving him a .737 winning percentage, best in the league."
-1953 Bowman No. 141
"In 1952, Spec turned in his best season since breaking into the majors in spectacular fashion with the Yankees in 1947. That year he had a league leading [.737 winning percentage] (14-5 record), won two World Series games and gained the victory in the All-Star Game.
Arm trouble plagued Frank after '47. He had a 9-10 record in '48, went to Newark in '49 and Kansas City in '50. In '51 he was 5 and 5 for the Yanks and was traded to the Senators in May of '52."
-1953 Topps No. 164
The incident occurred two weeks after the Normandy invasion. 'I don't know what happened,' said Frank, the laughing boy of the Senators, 'but I was standing too close to a gasoline drum in the woods when it blew up and the gasoline sprayed all over my hands and head.'
Shea ran around blind, screaming, out of his mind, until a buddy from Chicago grabbed him, shoved Spec in a jeep and headed for a first aid unit. 'I owe a lot to that kid,' Shea said, 'because if he hadn't acted as quickly as he did I'd probably be blind.
'He got help for me in a hurry,' Shea continued. 'They put enough goo on me to grease a fleet of trucks. All I could think of was going blind. I was scared, real scared.'
Five days later, Sgt. Shea could distinguish light. 'I don't know, maybe somebody else has been happier,' Frank said, 'but I think I established a new record for happiness when I knew I was going to see again.'
Shea has a large photograph of himself with 'no hair on my head, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, and my head twice the size it is now. I looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. Man, you guys don't appreciate how handsome I am now.'
That frightening experience didn't teach Frank to keep his distance from gasoline. During the off-season he operates a gas station in his home town, Naugatuck, Conn., making a living from what nearly blinded him."
-Burton Hawkins in the Washington Star (Baseball Digest, May 1953)
"After a 1951 season with the Yankees that wasn't too successful, Frank was sent to Washington, and his work was a bright spot for the Senators. He appeared in 22 games, won 11 and lost 7, and his earned run average was a nice 2.93.
Frank first came to the Yankees in 1947 and had a 14-5 record that year, giving him a .737 winning percentage, best in the league."
-1953 Bowman No. 141
"In 1952, Spec turned in his best season since breaking into the majors in spectacular fashion with the Yankees in 1947. That year he had a league leading [.737 winning percentage] (14-5 record), won two World Series games and gained the victory in the All-Star Game.
Arm trouble plagued Frank after '47. He had a 9-10 record in '48, went to Newark in '49 and Kansas City in '50. In '51 he was 5 and 5 for the Yanks and was traded to the Senators in May of '52."
-1953 Topps No. 164
Thursday, November 14, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Dutch Leonard (acquired but traded before playing for Yankees)
"Hubert 'Dutch' Leonard, star pitcher for the champion 1916 Boston Red Sox, who died recently, authored for that team one of the screwiest no-hitters known to man or boy. On August 29, 1916, he started against St. Louis, a club that had beaten him only once in his career, and was knocked out of the game in the first inning, according to Jerry Nason of the Boston Globe. Leonard was enraged when Manager Bill Carrigan refused his request to face the Browns the following day. Carrigan finally relented and started Leonard, who pitched a 4-0 no-hitter on August 30."
-Baseball Digest, January 1953
-Baseball Digest, January 1953
Monday, November 4, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Karl Drews
OPERATION FOR VICTORY
Skull Fracture Turned Drews Into Winner
"After you've been up to the majors and you go down it is never the same. The promise for Karl Drews had been bright in the post-war year of 1946, but now it was 1950 and the tall pitcher from Staten Island had gone from the Yankees to the Browns and then down to Baltimore. He'll always remember what happened that year and what happened on Memorial Day when he tried to complete the last out in the opener of the double-header.
It was a routine play. A ground ball between the pitcher's mound and first base. The Baltimore first baseman came over for the play, but he couldn't reach the grounder. Second Baseman Eddie Pellagrini raced to field the ball and Drews, making a play that pitchers make hundreds of times, sped to first to cover.
Pellagrini's throw was low and off the base. It forced Drews into a stretch and into the baseline. Dutch Mele of Syracuse, who was the runner, crashed into Karl, his pumping knee catching Drew in the left temple.
Karl never made the play. He collapsed, blood gushing from his skull. For 12 hours the bleeding couldn't be stopped and when it was finally halted, a surgeon probed into Karl's fractured skull for three bone splinters which had pierced his brain.
Skull Fracture Turned Drews Into Winner
"After you've been up to the majors and you go down it is never the same. The promise for Karl Drews had been bright in the post-war year of 1946, but now it was 1950 and the tall pitcher from Staten Island had gone from the Yankees to the Browns and then down to Baltimore. He'll always remember what happened that year and what happened on Memorial Day when he tried to complete the last out in the opener of the double-header.
It was a routine play. A ground ball between the pitcher's mound and first base. The Baltimore first baseman came over for the play, but he couldn't reach the grounder. Second Baseman Eddie Pellagrini raced to field the ball and Drews, making a play that pitchers make hundreds of times, sped to first to cover.
Pellagrini's throw was low and off the base. It forced Drews into a stretch and into the baseline. Dutch Mele of Syracuse, who was the runner, crashed into Karl, his pumping knee catching Drew in the left temple.
Karl never made the play. He collapsed, blood gushing from his skull. For 12 hours the bleeding couldn't be stopped and when it was finally halted, a surgeon probed into Karl's fractured skull for three bone splinters which had pierced his brain.
They found the bone fragments and removed them. In their place they put a three-by-three silver plate. They laugh about it on the Phillies bench now. It's a running gag that when Drews goes to bat he doesn't need the protection of a batting helmet, at least not on the left side of his head.
It's no longer a gag, though, about Drews' ability to pitch winning baseball and when you talk to Karl about it he traces it all back to the operation. It not only saved his life, it changed his outlook and made him what he was unable to be before.
'I lay in that hospital and wondered what was going to happen to me,' Karl said. 'I figured the accident would finish me as a pitcher and frankly I didn't care much one way or the other. I wasn't going anywhere or getting any younger. All the time I'd been in the Yankee chain I was a strange kind of guy. I worried about a heart murmur I was supposed to have. I couldn't get the ball over the plate. I was losing my taste for the game.
'Then a funny thing happened after the accident. I developed some sort of personality change. I became eager to pitch and eager to win. I became a different kind of guy off the field and a different one on it.'
By late August Karl was well enough to pitch again. Before the season was done he won six in a row. The pitcher who couldn't get the ball over the plate when he was with the Yankees and couldn't throw well enough to stay with the Browns almost miraculously became possessed of control. The Browns broke their working with Baltimore and the Phils decided to take a chance.
'When I came back to pitch,' Karl said, 'I found I couldn't hurry myself. I used to be the kind of pitcher who would throw to the plate as soon as the catcher got the ball back to me. Because of the operation, I couldn't do it; I had to save my strength. Everything I did I had to do slower. Even talking. My speech was affected an awful lot, my appetite was different. I seemed to like different things. When I pitched before was wild I'd just keep throwing faster and faster and getting wilder and wilder. Now I took my time. The ball started going where I wanted it to go. It got to be so much fun I even stopped worrying about my heart.'
When Drews became a starter with the Phils last year, few considered him of any special importance on the pitching staff. Behind Robin Roberts and Curt Simmons it would have next to impossible for him to attract too much attention. Yet even in the shadow of the Phils' great pitching duo, Drews' success managed to stand out. The season's statistics show how he really rates a place among Manager Steve O'Neill's three certain starters.
Karl's record last season was only 14-15. It is deceiving. Among his victories were five shutouts, three over the Dodgers, whom he beat four times. Among Drews' 15 defeats last year were eight in which he lost by one run.
'I'll tell you something about my pitching,' said O'Neill. I've got the three best starting pitchers in the league and I'll put Drews right up there behind Roberts and Simmons. Those two boys, of course, remind me of Lefty Grove and George Earnshaw, and Stan Coveleski and George Uhle for a two-man punch, but put that Karl in there and I've got a better big three than the Yankees have with Reynolds, Raschi and Lopat.'
I asked Steve how he accounted for Drews, a pitcher the Yankees once refused to have pitch against them in batting practice, now coming up with a 2.71 ERA.
'Control,' the pleasant Philadelphia manager said. 'He just found it somehow. He never had it before, but he's sure got it now.'"
-Milton Gross, condensed from New York Post (Baseball Digest, May 1953)
"Karl has been in baseball since 1939, and he had his best major league season last year with the Phillies. He appeared in 33 complete games, pitching in 15 complete games. He won 14 games and lost 15. However, his earned run average of 2.71, always the true test of a pitcher's effectiveness, was the seventh-lowest in the league.
He first hit the majors with the Yankees briefly at the start of the 1946 season."
-1953 Bowman No. 113
"Karl had his best big league season in 1952. He won twice as many games as he ever won before in the majors and his earned run average was topped by only six other pitchers in the National League.
Karl has been with 13 different clubs since the Yankees signed him for their Butler team in 1939. The Yanks brought him up after he posted a 19-9 record for Newark in '45. After winning 17 games for Baltimore in '51, he joined the Phillies."
-1953 Topps No. 59
Friday, November 1, 2019
1953 Yankee of the Past: Sherm Lollar
IT'S GENERAL SHERMAN OF THE WHITE SOX
Lollar's Orders Spark Slabbers
"Something made the White Sox go-go-go this year and in the words of Sherman Lollar it was 'spirit.' Mr. Webster's dictionary defines 'spirit' (among many other meanings) as 'liveliness, energy, vivacity, ardor, enthusiasm, courage.' Mr. Lollar, who did most of the White Sox catching after the first few weeks of the campaign, says, 'The team has a bunch of extra competitors, guys like Fox, Fain, Minoso and Rivera.' With seeming modesty, Mr. Lollar omits a name from this list- his own.
Sherm Lollar, it happens, wears a rather glum expression most of the time; and it isn't his fault- he was born with that kind of face. Unlike Fox, Fain, Minoso and Rivera he doesn't run like an enraged gazelle; in fact, he is rather slow afoot. Working as he does behind the plate he has few opportunities to cavort on-field like his speedier teammates. Which accounts for his being largely overlooked as a key factor in the spurt of the South Side Chicagoans.
Despite the fact that the Sox lineup was mostly comprised of castoffs from the other seven American League teams, Paul Richards' aggregation won 39 games and lost only 15 between June 13 and August 7. Against the New Yorkers they had performed an even more extraordinary feat, winning nine straight at Yankee Stadium.
How was it done? In his soft Arkansas speech, Sherm Lollar credits Paul Richards with masterly generalship. 'He gives a team confidence,' says Sherm. 'He makes the right moves at the right times. He knows exactly when to remove pitchers or stick in a pinch hitter or runner. During spring training he spent days on fundamentals, which is why you seldom see us make silly mistakes.
'Pitchers report to Paul from some other club and he works with them himself. He helps them smooth out their motion if there's a hitch in it. If a pitcher like Connie Johnson, who came up from the minors and pitched a shutout against Washington in his first time out, lacks control, Paul immediately starts to help him by giving him extra drill in finding the plate.
'Paul's always trying to find a new pitch for his staff. If a guy's got a good curve, he tries to find a way of making it break sharper. He shows him how to get a better spin. If he can throw hard, he asks him to work on his fast ball so it'll ride better.
'As for mistakes, Paul doesn't get sore at a player who pulls a boner. At the next clubhouse meeting he analyses a play, shows the player what he did wrong and what he should have done. It all adds up to the feeling that we're getting better and better day by day.'
This is all very true and explains why Chicago plays interesting and winning ball, far beyond the individual capabilities of the players. But Paul Richards sits on the bench when the game begins and the nine men on the diamond have the responsibility of putting his lessons into practice. And it is then that Sherm Lollar plays his role, that of the Sox' secret weapon.
For Sherm, in his quiet way, acts as the translator of Paul's ideas, especially in respect to pitching. It is no mere happenstance that Billy Pierce, Virgil Trucks, Harry Dorish and Bob Keegan boasted earned run averages of 2.80 or less in August; or that three others, Mike Fornieles, Joe Dobson and Sandy Consuegra, were hoving around the 3.50 mark. Pierce and Trucks, of course, are stars of the first water, but others were pitching well above their lifetime averages.
The trick is done in special meetings of Sox batterymen prior to the opening of each series. Richards begins such meetings with a few words on enemy batters such as Billy Goodman, Phil Rizzuto and Bobby Avila, whose versatility at bat adds to the problems of infielders, especially on bunts and topped hits to the infield.
Then Paul turns the meeting over to Sherm, and the young man from Fayetteville, Arkansas, proceeds to act like a walking encyclopedia of batters' strengths and weaknesses.
'Whatever I know about batters is from observation,' he says. 'I don't keep book, don't take notes. I just have the habit of watching batters, noticing the kind of pitches they go for and the kind they can't reach.'
It was Sherm, for example, who baffled the powerful central batting force of the Yankees by analyzing the weaknesses of Mickey Mantle, Hank Bauer, Gene Woodling and Yogi Berra. It's no secret that Mantle can be pitched to or that Bauer does not like a sidearm curve from a right-hander; that Woodling usually taps to the wrong side of the diamond on a low pitch over the plate or that Yogi can't do much with a low outside curve. But Sherm also knows what they can hit and has the knack of communicating his knowledge to his teammates, including the Sox second-string catchers, Bob Wilson and Bud Sheely. The result is that Sox battery meetings are lectures, with Sherm the professor, the pupils dutifully respectful. Few are their corrections. Most of the interruptions are in the form of questions. And the result speaks for itself in terms of earned run averages.
'You can analyze batters in many ways,' he says. 'The kind that swing for the fences usually pull and have blind spots where they can't meet the ball. The toughest hitters are those with the power to the opposite field on outside pitches, and the spray hitter like George Kell will go after everything- in his case the pitcher has to keep the ball moving from place to place so as to cross him up.
'I've been catching all my life. I started catching in corner lots in Fayetteville when I was no more than six. I guess I always knew there's more to catching than sticking out your mitt and waiting for the pitcher to plunk the ball into it.'
Sherm was born 29 years ago in Fayetteville, which is in Ozark county of northwestern Arkansas, not far from the Oklahoma border. 'And not hillbilly country, either,' he says. 'It's been modern in every respect, as long as I can remember. The only other big leaguer from our area is Preacher Roe, who hails from the northeastern part of the state.'
Arkansas is considered a southern state, which requires a bit of explaining about Sherm's first name. 'The 36-30 line which separates Missouri from Arkansas divided the North from the South in Civil War days,' he says. 'There were folks from both camps in that section, and my great-grandfather fought on the Union side in the war, and General Sherman was a hero to him, which is how the Sherman name got into the family.
'We Lollars are Irish, though there aren't many families by that name. We'd been farming in Washington county, but my father came into Fayetteville and opened a grocery store.
'I was wild about baseball from my kid days, played on any old team I could find. Of course, Fayetteville is a long way from the big cities and there wasn't much chance of my catching on in organized ball. I caddied on the links for golfers at country clubs, went to high school and spent a year and a half at the State Teachers College at Pittsburg, Kansas, which probably accounts for the fact that I can talk so well at meetings.
'Meantime, I was catching a lot of baseballs. I joined an American Legion team, I played in a tournament at Pittsburg. Like almost every other kid my age I made no plans then, for the United States had gotten into the war and I was waiting for my draft number to come up. It did, and I was rejected. And that changed the picture completely.'
Not far from Fayettevills is an area where the four states of Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma almost meet. Just across the Oklahoma border is a town that has become famous in baseball circles as the birthplace of Mickey Mantle- Commerce. 'I took a job working underground in the very same zinc mine at Picher where Mickey's father worked,' says Sherm. 'It was in 1943 and Barney Barnett ran a ball club at Picher, ten miles away. Naturally enough, I got on the club and the breaks came my way.
'One day, a pitcher, Sam Weist, told me he'd had an offer from Baltimore. There was a shortage of ball players because of the war and the minor league teams were signing any likely-looking boy. 'Why don't you ask Baltimore to give a tryout?' he asked me. I did, and there I was in organized ball, without much effort.
'By 1944 there were so few ball players around the Commerce-Picher section that Barney Barnett decided to organize a kid's team. One of the boys who reported to him was Mickey Mantle, which explains how Mickey got such good experience at an early age.'
The Lollar story is typical of the youngster who has to fight his way against indifference and 'the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.' Sherm arrived in Baltimore in September 1943, when the Orioles still had a chance to win a place in the playoffs. 'I managed to get into 12 games and did about as well as you could expect- I batted .118. And the Orioles dropped out of the first division and playoffs, so there was nothing to do but go home again.
'The following year I was first-string catcher and by 1945 either I'd improved a lot or the pitching was poor, for I hit .364, winning the batting title, leading the league in putouts and assists.
'The Cleveland Indians had a working agreement with Baltimore and by 1946 I was in the big leagues, so to speak. I didn't get much chance to catch, Jim Hegan doing most of the work. And the Indians were having a poor season.
'Then came what looked like another good break- I'd spent part of 1946 in Baltimore but finished the season with the Indians. And they shipped me that fall to the Yankees in the deal which put Gene Bearden on the Indian staff. That meant not what I thought, a chance to play on the Yanks, but another season in the International League, this time with Newark.
'Well, you never can tell about baseball. Just before the September 1 deadline, the Yankees brought me up to the Stadium so that I could be eligible for the World Series. The chances were 100-to-1 that I would get into the Series, but, as it happened, there I was. And when the third game began, I started behind the plate.
'I was jittery- who wouldn't be? But I managed to get two hits, including a double, in that game; and another double in the only time I went to bat in the sixth game. My average was .750- 3 for 4.
'That was enough to convince Bucky Harris, I suppose, that I was worth keeping on the roster for 1948. Again I was second string, this time to Yogi Berra and it looked as if that would be my dish for a while. But when 1949 began I was on the Browns.'
Sherm was part and parcel of the famous- or infamous, depending on how you look at it- $100,000 deal which brought Fred Sanford to the Yankees. Sanford has vanished into the minors and the other chattels in that deal, Red Embree, Dick Starr and Ray Partee, have also drifted off the big league scene. Sherm remained, through the closing days of Zack Taylor's managership of the St. Louisians and into the Bill Veeck era. Midgets, beauty contests and countless players rotated around Sportsman's Park but Sherm stayed on.
'I welcomed the chance to catch regularly on the Browns,' he says. 'I was 23 years old, I didn't think of the future or of my security. And it didn't matter that I was one of a handful of players who stuck around waiting for the team to get going. I studied by job and watched how star catchers worked and learned all I could about opposing batters.
'The biggest kick I got on the Browns was catching Satchell Paige. Old Satch was quicker then than now. I'd give him a sign. He'd take it, then stand around and often change his mind before he threw the ball. He's living proof that the more you use your head the better you'll play.
'And while in St. Louis I became convinced that I'd stay in the majors quite a while myself. I'd met Connie Metard in Cleveland. She knew nothing about baseball- it was at a social affair that I first encountered her. We started talking about getting married, but in 1949 we decided to stop talking. Meantime, she'd moved to Chicago and it was there that we married. We have two kids, Sherman III, whom we call Pete; and baby Kevin.'
By 1951 the resourceful Frank Lane, general manager of the White Sox, had decided that Sherm would solve his catching problem if only Bill Veeck would let him go. It took a lot of palavering- the deal which made Sherm a member of the Go-Go Boys on November 27, 1951, involved no less than seven players. One of these was Jim Rivera, who was subsequently re-traded from the Browns to the Sox.
It was Sherm's first real chance to display his merits as top receiver for a contender. He quickly fell into the Richards pattern. 'This is a team,' he says, 'which is afraid of no one. We play our best ball against the Yankees, Indians and Red Sox. We're not afraid of the Yankees because we know they're human like ourselves, and can be beaten by any team which gives them as good as it takes.
'And speaking of thrills- mine have occurred in games against the Yanks. This year a two-run homer against Johnny Sain beat the Yanks and gave me a wallop. In that game I picked Rizzuto off second, threw out three runners, and my home run in the ninth salted the game away. And it was my third hit of the day.
'As for hitting, well, a catcher sometimes has so much on his mind he doesn't pay attention to his batting form. My best year with the Browns was .280 in 1950; and last year with the White Sox I only hit .240.
'But during the winter I worked hard with a loaded 52-ounce bat to build my shoulder muscles. Then I sat down and figured why so many of my drives were being caught. In St. Louis I'd been strictly a pull hitter because the left-field wall is only 351 feet away. Comiskey Park swings out to nearly 425 feet in left center- and I decided to change my style at the plate and go for hits to right.
'As a result I've been around .300 all year and hope to wind up the season with an average well above .280, my best big league mark. And I've even tried my hand at bunting- I know how difficult it is for a pitcher to outguess a batter who has more than one trick up his sleeve.'
All of which adds up to a sound explanation of Sherm Lollar's advance into the front ranks of major league catchers. He is one more example of Paul Richards' magic, a much-traded player rising rapidly to stardom after earthbound years with other clubs."
-Charles Dexter, Baseball Digest, October 1953
"Sherman appeared in 132 games for the White Sox during the 1952 season and his batting average was .240. His hits included 15 doubles and 13 homers.
Sherman formerly was on the roster of the Cleveland Indians, New York Yankees and the St. Louis Browns. He began in 1943 with Baltimore. He came to the Sox in November 1951."
-1953 Bowman No. 157
"Sherm played two seasons with the Yankees and three with the Browns before joining the White Sox for the 1952 season. He broke in with Baltimore and hitting .364 for the Orioles in '45, he was given a trial with the Indians in '46. Sherm didn't get into many games for the Yankees in '48 and was traded to the Browns where he got a chance to catch regularly. He hit .280 for them in 1950 and .252 in 1951."
-1953 Topps No. 53
Lollar's Orders Spark Slabbers
"Something made the White Sox go-go-go this year and in the words of Sherman Lollar it was 'spirit.' Mr. Webster's dictionary defines 'spirit' (among many other meanings) as 'liveliness, energy, vivacity, ardor, enthusiasm, courage.' Mr. Lollar, who did most of the White Sox catching after the first few weeks of the campaign, says, 'The team has a bunch of extra competitors, guys like Fox, Fain, Minoso and Rivera.' With seeming modesty, Mr. Lollar omits a name from this list- his own.
Sherm Lollar, it happens, wears a rather glum expression most of the time; and it isn't his fault- he was born with that kind of face. Unlike Fox, Fain, Minoso and Rivera he doesn't run like an enraged gazelle; in fact, he is rather slow afoot. Working as he does behind the plate he has few opportunities to cavort on-field like his speedier teammates. Which accounts for his being largely overlooked as a key factor in the spurt of the South Side Chicagoans.
Despite the fact that the Sox lineup was mostly comprised of castoffs from the other seven American League teams, Paul Richards' aggregation won 39 games and lost only 15 between June 13 and August 7. Against the New Yorkers they had performed an even more extraordinary feat, winning nine straight at Yankee Stadium.
How was it done? In his soft Arkansas speech, Sherm Lollar credits Paul Richards with masterly generalship. 'He gives a team confidence,' says Sherm. 'He makes the right moves at the right times. He knows exactly when to remove pitchers or stick in a pinch hitter or runner. During spring training he spent days on fundamentals, which is why you seldom see us make silly mistakes.
'Pitchers report to Paul from some other club and he works with them himself. He helps them smooth out their motion if there's a hitch in it. If a pitcher like Connie Johnson, who came up from the minors and pitched a shutout against Washington in his first time out, lacks control, Paul immediately starts to help him by giving him extra drill in finding the plate.
'Paul's always trying to find a new pitch for his staff. If a guy's got a good curve, he tries to find a way of making it break sharper. He shows him how to get a better spin. If he can throw hard, he asks him to work on his fast ball so it'll ride better.
'As for mistakes, Paul doesn't get sore at a player who pulls a boner. At the next clubhouse meeting he analyses a play, shows the player what he did wrong and what he should have done. It all adds up to the feeling that we're getting better and better day by day.'
This is all very true and explains why Chicago plays interesting and winning ball, far beyond the individual capabilities of the players. But Paul Richards sits on the bench when the game begins and the nine men on the diamond have the responsibility of putting his lessons into practice. And it is then that Sherm Lollar plays his role, that of the Sox' secret weapon.
For Sherm, in his quiet way, acts as the translator of Paul's ideas, especially in respect to pitching. It is no mere happenstance that Billy Pierce, Virgil Trucks, Harry Dorish and Bob Keegan boasted earned run averages of 2.80 or less in August; or that three others, Mike Fornieles, Joe Dobson and Sandy Consuegra, were hoving around the 3.50 mark. Pierce and Trucks, of course, are stars of the first water, but others were pitching well above their lifetime averages.
The trick is done in special meetings of Sox batterymen prior to the opening of each series. Richards begins such meetings with a few words on enemy batters such as Billy Goodman, Phil Rizzuto and Bobby Avila, whose versatility at bat adds to the problems of infielders, especially on bunts and topped hits to the infield.
Then Paul turns the meeting over to Sherm, and the young man from Fayetteville, Arkansas, proceeds to act like a walking encyclopedia of batters' strengths and weaknesses.
'Whatever I know about batters is from observation,' he says. 'I don't keep book, don't take notes. I just have the habit of watching batters, noticing the kind of pitches they go for and the kind they can't reach.'
It was Sherm, for example, who baffled the powerful central batting force of the Yankees by analyzing the weaknesses of Mickey Mantle, Hank Bauer, Gene Woodling and Yogi Berra. It's no secret that Mantle can be pitched to or that Bauer does not like a sidearm curve from a right-hander; that Woodling usually taps to the wrong side of the diamond on a low pitch over the plate or that Yogi can't do much with a low outside curve. But Sherm also knows what they can hit and has the knack of communicating his knowledge to his teammates, including the Sox second-string catchers, Bob Wilson and Bud Sheely. The result is that Sox battery meetings are lectures, with Sherm the professor, the pupils dutifully respectful. Few are their corrections. Most of the interruptions are in the form of questions. And the result speaks for itself in terms of earned run averages.
'You can analyze batters in many ways,' he says. 'The kind that swing for the fences usually pull and have blind spots where they can't meet the ball. The toughest hitters are those with the power to the opposite field on outside pitches, and the spray hitter like George Kell will go after everything- in his case the pitcher has to keep the ball moving from place to place so as to cross him up.
'I've been catching all my life. I started catching in corner lots in Fayetteville when I was no more than six. I guess I always knew there's more to catching than sticking out your mitt and waiting for the pitcher to plunk the ball into it.'
Sherm was born 29 years ago in Fayetteville, which is in Ozark county of northwestern Arkansas, not far from the Oklahoma border. 'And not hillbilly country, either,' he says. 'It's been modern in every respect, as long as I can remember. The only other big leaguer from our area is Preacher Roe, who hails from the northeastern part of the state.'
Arkansas is considered a southern state, which requires a bit of explaining about Sherm's first name. 'The 36-30 line which separates Missouri from Arkansas divided the North from the South in Civil War days,' he says. 'There were folks from both camps in that section, and my great-grandfather fought on the Union side in the war, and General Sherman was a hero to him, which is how the Sherman name got into the family.
'We Lollars are Irish, though there aren't many families by that name. We'd been farming in Washington county, but my father came into Fayetteville and opened a grocery store.
'I was wild about baseball from my kid days, played on any old team I could find. Of course, Fayetteville is a long way from the big cities and there wasn't much chance of my catching on in organized ball. I caddied on the links for golfers at country clubs, went to high school and spent a year and a half at the State Teachers College at Pittsburg, Kansas, which probably accounts for the fact that I can talk so well at meetings.
'Meantime, I was catching a lot of baseballs. I joined an American Legion team, I played in a tournament at Pittsburg. Like almost every other kid my age I made no plans then, for the United States had gotten into the war and I was waiting for my draft number to come up. It did, and I was rejected. And that changed the picture completely.'
Not far from Fayettevills is an area where the four states of Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma almost meet. Just across the Oklahoma border is a town that has become famous in baseball circles as the birthplace of Mickey Mantle- Commerce. 'I took a job working underground in the very same zinc mine at Picher where Mickey's father worked,' says Sherm. 'It was in 1943 and Barney Barnett ran a ball club at Picher, ten miles away. Naturally enough, I got on the club and the breaks came my way.
'One day, a pitcher, Sam Weist, told me he'd had an offer from Baltimore. There was a shortage of ball players because of the war and the minor league teams were signing any likely-looking boy. 'Why don't you ask Baltimore to give a tryout?' he asked me. I did, and there I was in organized ball, without much effort.
'By 1944 there were so few ball players around the Commerce-Picher section that Barney Barnett decided to organize a kid's team. One of the boys who reported to him was Mickey Mantle, which explains how Mickey got such good experience at an early age.'
The Lollar story is typical of the youngster who has to fight his way against indifference and 'the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.' Sherm arrived in Baltimore in September 1943, when the Orioles still had a chance to win a place in the playoffs. 'I managed to get into 12 games and did about as well as you could expect- I batted .118. And the Orioles dropped out of the first division and playoffs, so there was nothing to do but go home again.
'The following year I was first-string catcher and by 1945 either I'd improved a lot or the pitching was poor, for I hit .364, winning the batting title, leading the league in putouts and assists.
'The Cleveland Indians had a working agreement with Baltimore and by 1946 I was in the big leagues, so to speak. I didn't get much chance to catch, Jim Hegan doing most of the work. And the Indians were having a poor season.
'Then came what looked like another good break- I'd spent part of 1946 in Baltimore but finished the season with the Indians. And they shipped me that fall to the Yankees in the deal which put Gene Bearden on the Indian staff. That meant not what I thought, a chance to play on the Yanks, but another season in the International League, this time with Newark.
'Well, you never can tell about baseball. Just before the September 1 deadline, the Yankees brought me up to the Stadium so that I could be eligible for the World Series. The chances were 100-to-1 that I would get into the Series, but, as it happened, there I was. And when the third game began, I started behind the plate.
'I was jittery- who wouldn't be? But I managed to get two hits, including a double, in that game; and another double in the only time I went to bat in the sixth game. My average was .750- 3 for 4.
'That was enough to convince Bucky Harris, I suppose, that I was worth keeping on the roster for 1948. Again I was second string, this time to Yogi Berra and it looked as if that would be my dish for a while. But when 1949 began I was on the Browns.'
Sherm was part and parcel of the famous- or infamous, depending on how you look at it- $100,000 deal which brought Fred Sanford to the Yankees. Sanford has vanished into the minors and the other chattels in that deal, Red Embree, Dick Starr and Ray Partee, have also drifted off the big league scene. Sherm remained, through the closing days of Zack Taylor's managership of the St. Louisians and into the Bill Veeck era. Midgets, beauty contests and countless players rotated around Sportsman's Park but Sherm stayed on.
'I welcomed the chance to catch regularly on the Browns,' he says. 'I was 23 years old, I didn't think of the future or of my security. And it didn't matter that I was one of a handful of players who stuck around waiting for the team to get going. I studied by job and watched how star catchers worked and learned all I could about opposing batters.
'The biggest kick I got on the Browns was catching Satchell Paige. Old Satch was quicker then than now. I'd give him a sign. He'd take it, then stand around and often change his mind before he threw the ball. He's living proof that the more you use your head the better you'll play.
'And while in St. Louis I became convinced that I'd stay in the majors quite a while myself. I'd met Connie Metard in Cleveland. She knew nothing about baseball- it was at a social affair that I first encountered her. We started talking about getting married, but in 1949 we decided to stop talking. Meantime, she'd moved to Chicago and it was there that we married. We have two kids, Sherman III, whom we call Pete; and baby Kevin.'
By 1951 the resourceful Frank Lane, general manager of the White Sox, had decided that Sherm would solve his catching problem if only Bill Veeck would let him go. It took a lot of palavering- the deal which made Sherm a member of the Go-Go Boys on November 27, 1951, involved no less than seven players. One of these was Jim Rivera, who was subsequently re-traded from the Browns to the Sox.
It was Sherm's first real chance to display his merits as top receiver for a contender. He quickly fell into the Richards pattern. 'This is a team,' he says, 'which is afraid of no one. We play our best ball against the Yankees, Indians and Red Sox. We're not afraid of the Yankees because we know they're human like ourselves, and can be beaten by any team which gives them as good as it takes.
'And speaking of thrills- mine have occurred in games against the Yanks. This year a two-run homer against Johnny Sain beat the Yanks and gave me a wallop. In that game I picked Rizzuto off second, threw out three runners, and my home run in the ninth salted the game away. And it was my third hit of the day.
'As for hitting, well, a catcher sometimes has so much on his mind he doesn't pay attention to his batting form. My best year with the Browns was .280 in 1950; and last year with the White Sox I only hit .240.
'But during the winter I worked hard with a loaded 52-ounce bat to build my shoulder muscles. Then I sat down and figured why so many of my drives were being caught. In St. Louis I'd been strictly a pull hitter because the left-field wall is only 351 feet away. Comiskey Park swings out to nearly 425 feet in left center- and I decided to change my style at the plate and go for hits to right.
'As a result I've been around .300 all year and hope to wind up the season with an average well above .280, my best big league mark. And I've even tried my hand at bunting- I know how difficult it is for a pitcher to outguess a batter who has more than one trick up his sleeve.'
All of which adds up to a sound explanation of Sherm Lollar's advance into the front ranks of major league catchers. He is one more example of Paul Richards' magic, a much-traded player rising rapidly to stardom after earthbound years with other clubs."
-Charles Dexter, Baseball Digest, October 1953
"Sherman appeared in 132 games for the White Sox during the 1952 season and his batting average was .240. His hits included 15 doubles and 13 homers.
Sherman formerly was on the roster of the Cleveland Indians, New York Yankees and the St. Louis Browns. He began in 1943 with Baltimore. He came to the Sox in November 1951."
-1953 Bowman No. 157
"Sherm played two seasons with the Yankees and three with the Browns before joining the White Sox for the 1952 season. He broke in with Baltimore and hitting .364 for the Orioles in '45, he was given a trial with the Indians in '46. Sherm didn't get into many games for the Yankees in '48 and was traded to the Browns where he got a chance to catch regularly. He hit .280 for them in 1950 and .252 in 1951."
-1953 Topps No. 53
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