Spring training memories:
Al Lopez, when he was managing the White Sox, often mentioned that the aspect of the job he disliked the most was telling a young player he was being sent back to the minors. Lopez told of the day, many years earlier, when he was sent down. He had never forgotten that when he got the bad news, Gary Schumacher, a veteran sportswriter, took him aside and said, ”Don`t worry, kid, you`ll be back.”
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Rich McKinney, a rookie infielder with the White Sox, had gone 4-for-4 against the Red Sox in an exhibition at Winter Haven, Fla. McKinney was ecstatic. But what he didn`t know was that during the game the late Ed Short, then the White Sox general manager, had come to the press box with the announcement that McKinney was being returned to the minors.
The sportswriters assigned to the club went to interview McKinney. Tears came into his eyes when he was told of the announcement. I put my arm around his shoulder and said, ”Don`t worry, kid, you`ll be back.”
He did make it back, but not for long.
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It was a Saturday morning and I was having a late breakfast in Miami with two other sportswriters: the late Warren Brown and John Carmichael. The White Sox were scheduled to play a night game against Baltimore. We had a free afternoon and decided to go to Hialeah Race Course.
Nellie Fox and Sammy Esposito were at an adjacent table. Hearing of our plans, Fox asked if I would place a bet for him–$6 on the nose on Jay Fox, part of an entry in the sixth race. It was a sentimental bet. His full name was Jacob Nelson Fox.
I was having a good day and may have been ahead by $15 or $20. When the feature came up, Shirley Povich of the Washington Post, who had already given me two or three winners, recommended Yorky, a Calumet horse with Steve Brooks up. I bet the bundle on Yorky. Brooks booted Yorky home but they interfered with another horse in the stretch. Yorky was disqualified.
As I was going over my program on the bus ride back to the hotel, I asked Carmichael who had won as a result of the disqualification.
”The Jay Fox entry,” he said.
I had forgotten to make the bet for Fox. The entry paid $44. I told Carmichael what had happened, that I had only $5 or $10. He lent me enough to cover.
By the time I arrived at the ballpark, Fox was aware his horse had won. As I entered the clubhouse, all of the players cheered. I went over to Fox and handed him his winnings, $132. This was 25 years ago. In those days, it was a lot of money.
Fox thanked me and said, ”I should have bet $10.”
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Leo Durocher had just taken over as the manager of the Cubs and the late John Holland, then the Cubs` general manager, had a special dinner for him to introduce him to the four Chicago baseball writers assigned to the club.
Durocher put on his best face. For more than an hour, he told one story after another about Hollywood, most of them about Frank Sinatra, his good friend and buddy, etc.
Ed Prell of The Tribune, a no-nonsense reporter who never wrote a poor story, banged his fist on the table and shouted: ”Damn it, Leo! I don`t want to hear about Sinatra. I`m here to talk about the Cubs.”
Durocher never mentioned Sinatra again, not when Prell was around.
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The next spring, Prell and I were with the White Sox. As usual, Prell was angry, this time with Eddie Stanky, the Sox manager. For several days, Prell had been asking the same question. Stanky repeatedly hedged, never offering a straight answer.
The third or fourth day, Stanky had a headache and was lying on a trainer`s table in a dark room. Prell burst into the clubhouse and asked for Stanky.
”He`s in there asleep,” said trainer Ed Froelich.
Prell jerked the door open. Sure enough, Stanky was snoozing, with a towel over his face. Prell pulled the towel away and said: ”Eddie, I want an answer to my question. Right now.”
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Al Spangler, a journeyman outfielder who had been given his release by the California Angels, signed a minor-league contract with the Cubs on the condition that he would be given a chance to make the club in spring training in Arizona.
As the Cactus League season began, Spangler was getting anxious because Durocher wasn`t playing him. Spangler expressed his anger almost every day.
”If he`d only give me one at-bat, I could get a hit and some other club would pick me up,” Spangler said.
The third week of March, the Cubs made their first squad cut. Spangler, who hadn`t made a single appearance, was on the list.
Fuming, he told me what a no-good Durocher was, etc. I sympathized with him. Durocher had never given him a chance. Spangler wanted me to air his complaint. It was the kind of story he could regret. I told him to sleep on it. If he didn`t change his mind, I`d be glad to go ahead.
The next day, while he was packing his gear for the short trip to nearby Jack Rabbit Field in Mesa, headquarters for the Cub farmhands, Spangler admitted he had had second thoughts. We shook hands and he thanked me for my support.
A week or so later, Durocher accused me of being a ”sharpshooter.”
I asked him to explain, and he told me that Spangler, when he was leaving camp, had come into his office and thanked him for everything.
I couldn`t believe it.
”Yeah, that`s what he said,” Durocher barked. ”And he told me you wanted to knock me in the paper but he talked you out of it. That Spanky Spangler`s a good guy. I`m going to bring him back as soon as I can.”
Spangler was recalled in late May and delivered a game-winning hit in his first game with the Cubs. I never did get around to asking spunky Spanky if he hit a curve or a fastball.
