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Ten Reasons Why the Texas Rangers Will Win the Pennant

If you have any questions, ask Billy Martin.
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Before taking on nefarious connotations, the Italian phrase Cosa Nostra meant simply, “our family.” The tight-knit Sicilian underworld or Mafiosi realized that its success was built on intimidation of the enemy and radical loyalty to “the family.”

Several weeks ago, at the Rangers spring headquarters in Pompano Beach, the Texas Rangers were in the process of destroying the Kansas City Royals 7-2. Royals’ first baseman John Mayberry seemed particularly frustrated when he called out, “Those lucky s.o.b.’s, Martin’s got the umpires scared.” The Ranger manager heard Mayberry. He said nothing, but broke into his first authentic grin in two days.

You are used to seeing the adjectives “fiery” and “peppery” before Martin’s name. However, for those two days at Pompano Beach, beleaguered was the better description. After the Royals’ game, I waited tor Martin. 1 wanted to interview him away from his admirers and away from the ringing telephones, so I hitched a ride with him to the hotel.

“You want to tell me what’s been going on?” I asked.

“What do you want to know? What makes me tick?”

“Kinda. I want to know what decision you’ve been trying to make the last couple of days.”

“It shows that much, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not about a trade. It’s just something within the family. It’s not for the public. We’ll handle it within the family – you know, I mean the Ranger family. It’s nothing wrong with Gretchen [Mrs. Martin] or anything.”

We rode in silence for several minutes. I glanced at Martin. He actually looked handsome. It was the first time I’d seen his reckless features coordinate.

At its best, Billy Martin’s personality is a unique blend of the charming and cocksure. At its worst, the personality becomes a horrifying combination of the abrasive and vengeful. A word or look can alter the personality from the former to the latter. Today, he was reflective.

“Did you hear Mayberry out there today?” he said.

“No,” I lied.

I Billy Martin

“He said we were lucky and said I had the umpires scared. Sounds like shades of the Yankees. That’s what they used to say about us. I’m glad to see them worried about me. They can worry about me while the players put it to them. We’re not going to be denied this year. I tell you we are strong. Real strong.”

Last spring, most baseball experts thought of Billy Martin as an excellent candidate for a straight jacket. Sure, the Rangers did acquire Fergie Jenkins in an off season trade and they bought seasoned performer Cesar Tovar to steady some of the youngsters. But Martin did not speak simply of winning more games. The 1973 Ranger edition finished 48 games below .500; however, when asked if his ’74 team stood any chance to climb near the break-even mark, Martin replied, “Better than that, we’ll be contenders.” When a writer pressed Martin and asked him to reveal just why the Rangers could be expected to go from doormat to Western Division contenders Billy responded, “Me.”

Billy Martin is the godfather. He is number one. The jersey on back says #1, on the back of his t-shirt is the tall numeral “1.” Even the manager’s shower shoes carry the # 1 four times. Billy Martin has no consigliere, no lieutenants, no team captain – only hitmen. “I’m the only leader this team needs,” Billy growls.

To Martin, loyalty is the only important, perhaps the only pertinent, attribute. Always the master psychologist, Martin prefers to leave his acquaintances in his debt. One night as Charlie Pride began an impromptu performance, a veteran pitcher said, “Hey, Skip, how about a coupla more hours [extended curfew]?” Martin graciously complied. Earlier, one of the better known players confided in Martin that he was a “a little short” and needed $50. Martin shoveled him a hundred dollar bill.

One afternoon, Billy was sitting in the hotel bar when someone brought him an article from the Florida Sun Centennial, a newspaper in which former Ranger Elliott Maddox made several blasts at Martin, including the charge that Martin sometimes lies to his players. While Martin and Jim Bibby silently read the article, Pepe Tovar had heard enough to announce, “I guess we heet heem in the head when we play New York, hey, Billy?”

Martin kept reading. Finally he said he would talk to Maddox personally to see if the starting New York centerfielder was correctly quoted. “II he was,” I ventured, “will you have a throw at him?”

“I’ll have to restrain my pitcher from throwing at him,” Martin said. (A week later, when the Rangers played N.Y., Bibby whizzed one right at Maddox’s head. Innings later, alter Dave Nelson was knocked down, the Rangers charged from their dugout to begin a pretty good spring scrape.)

So, like any don, Martin has allowed his fierce loyalties to mix with violence. Alter one spring game, Martin had hallway removed his clothes when he looked around the room and commented, “You know, I’ve almost been in lights with two guys in this room [referring to spring coach Jim Pearsall and Dodger official Tom Osortal and now they’re two of my best friends” Last season, the Martin-led Rangers were involved in altercations with lour other American league teams. There seems, however, something calculated about such disturbances. Martin says calculatingly, “The timing of being thrown out of a game is extremely important. You must be making a point for the betterment of the ball club. Like it your players are talking about a certain group of umpires sticking you . . . you’ve got to pick the right time to take a stand.”

When Billy Martin was 13 and growing up in a mixed Berkeley, California neighborhood, he had to walk across the playground to get home. Oh yeah, he could have walked around the playground and the gangs of tough kids that crowded it every day. But as he says, “pretty soon there’d be somebody else around.” So Billy walked across the playground, knowing he would literally have to fight his way through it with his fists.

“After you whipped so many of them, they left you alone,” Billy says whimsically.

“How many did you lose?” I asked.

“None,” Martin replied. “I never lost one in my life.” I should have known.

It paints such a pretty picture, doesn’t it? Lower middle class, skinny kid, fights his way to the world champion New York Yankees after spending four tough years in the minor leagues. Eleven good years of major league baseball later, our hero struggles again to win a minor league managing job in Denver, taking an inefficient club and making it win. In six years as a manager, Billy Martin has never had a loser.

So why is our hero still fighting and still struggling? He likes it better that way, maybe.

Martin didn’t accomplish all these amazing feats atop a white horse while throwing a winning smile. Not everyone connected with baseball saw Billy Martin as managerial timber. One Jim Brewer, who once threw a pitch too close to Martin’s skull, for example, was a dissenter. Martin gleefully beat the living daylights out of Brewer and, as a result, settled out of court lor $22,000.

Front office people have not always been enchanted with Billys winning personality. From Casey Stengel in New York to Calvin Griffith in Minnesota, Martin has consistently shown a disdain for authority. Which is where the one dark cloud on the Rangers’ sunny horizon appears.

Not that Brad Corbett and Berkeley Billy aren’t getting along. Right now, they walk arm in arm, laugh, spend money, and Brad insists that Billy is running the whole operation. To hear Corbett talk, he’s the only self-made millionaire in the world with no ego. Whatever Billy wants – bum, bum, bum – Billy gets.

1 don’t believe it. Martin and Corbett are chumming it up so much, it makes me suspicious. Last year Martin wanted to send box office David Clyde to the minors for a few weeks, so the kid could pitch every four days. Brad said no. This year, while Martin and half the team were playing an exhibition series in Mexico, Brad took the other half of the team and some of the media to dinner. Word has it that Billy was angered at his team being split up over a social function, and told Brad, “Check with me first, next time.”

Billy is a student of Civil War generals. He can jaw with the experts on the strategy at Shiloh or Manassas and especially enjoys talking about Civil War personalities. “McClellan was just a paper man,” he says. Martin thinks the two generals who most closely resemble his own battle thinking were Jeb Stuart and Pierre G.T. Beauregard. These generals were loved by their men, and they had that seemingly necessary brash thirst lor glory. One problem, though; neither general could communicate well with superiors as the war dragged on. 1 should have known.

Which reminds me. Martin and his old professor Casey Stengel did not speak lor five years, “because,” Martin claims, “Casey went from a players’ manager to a front office manager,”

The truth is, the Martin cockiness can be contagious. And some day, Brad and the board may get the idea they can win without Billy Martin. They can’t. Martin does not enter into a situation, he pervades it. The Rangers are now as much his team as if he had recruited and paid every player himself. They are his family.

Perhaps, as Corbett claims, Billy Martin today is much more mature than the Martin of two years ago. Unfortunately, there are enough blemishes on his record (like his slapping the team’s travelling secretary on an airplane last year) to disprove that theory.

Authority makes Billy Martin restless. And so does winning. That’s why when he says brashly, “We’re going to win it all,” you can’t help thinking when he does, he will flee to some new challenge as quickly and dramatically as he descended on the Rangers.

In the hotel bar late one night, I was talking to Billy Martin with several camp followers. After a few sentences, one patron said, “Martin’s got you, too. He’s really got you.” The man was right. Martin really does have me. He has all of us. He transmits an irrepressible desire to join him. Be on his team and like him. Just like on that Berkeley playground, you know that Billy Martin can’t be whipped. He can only self-destruct



2 Lenny Randle

No player better typifies the 1974-75 Rangers than jack-of-all-trades Lenny Randle. On paper, Randle had no real business in the big leagues in the first place. Now he has the apparent potential to become one of the leading hitters in baseball.

Last spring, when Randle reported later to camp than most of the hopefuls, Martin publicly questioned his desire to make the team. Now Martin refers to Lenny as “my kind of player.” Randle is an alley fighter who knows no fear. A cocky, spikes-first threat on the basepaths and a hustling thinker in the field, Randle played second, third, and all outfield positions for the Rangers last year. He went on to play in 151 games and dipped below .300 only once during the season.

This campaign, Martin is counting on Randle as his third baseman. Perhaps the best all-around athlete on the team, Lenny epitomizes Martin’s aggressive hit and run style. With 26 stolen bases last year, Randle seems sure to handle the all-important lead off spot this season.

Off the field, you would expect to find Lenny letting the air out of someone’s tires. But he leaves his orneriness on the diamond. Randle is a thoughtful young man of 26. He earned his degree in social sciences from Arizona State and during our interview he quoted Norman Vincent Peale often while philosophizing on baseball. When asked if he thought Billy Martin was schizophrenic, Randle replied, “Are you forgetting they called Mozart crazy?”

3 Willie Davis

A sportswriter friend insists the 1973 Rangers fielded the worst outfield in the 102-year history of baseball. During the off-season, one of the front office’s musts was getting its hands on a strong defensive center fielder to anchor the weak outfield.

Willie Davis, acquired in the off-season for two promising young players, is the man. He is what you might call an established superstar. The first day he arrived in camp, Davis asked clubhouse aide Danny Scott to rent him a Rolls Royce for his five-week Florida stay. Willie finally settled for an Eldorado.

Although 35, Davis’ lowest batting mark the last six years has been .285. In 153 games with Montreal a season ago, Davis stroked a .295 average and stole 25 bases.

Davis must stay healthy and play good defensive ball if the Rangers are to go all the way. His consistent bat and speed on the bases will fit into the Martin style well, giving the Rangers a solid one-two-three hit and run team of Randle, Nelson and Davis. It is possible that amongst the three of them they will steal 100 bases this season, the kind of little-noticed statistic that separates pennant winners from the rest.

Davis came to Texas with a controversial reputation and there was immediate speculation that he and Martin would tangle. However, as Davis says, “Nam Mylothlo Ringe Kyo.” Willie says that a lot. The four words are a common chant of the Honzon Buddhists, of which Willie is a member. He says the chant represents the “rhythm of life.” In the mornings, Willie gets his head together by sitting in a yoga position and repeating the chant from a paper scroll.

The management has pretty much ignored Davis’ eccentricities, knowing his potential value and wanting him happy. In the early days of training camp, he was allowed to work at his own pace. He became something of an event. In the leftfield bullpen, the writers, board members and coaches would listen attentively to Willie philosophizing. From one of those sessions came one of the most flabbergasting comments it has been my privilege to hear uttered by a professional athlete. Davis was rambling about players meeting in the outfield at midnight and chanting or something, and got off somehow on the importance of planning. “I mean,” he said, looking straight at Ranger board chairman Brad Corbett, “take your bleeping pipe company. Without planning your ass is out on the street, am I right?”

I asked Willie if he ever chanted in the on-deck circle. “No,” he said, immediately squatting into the yoga position. “But I might. Hey, that’s a good idea. I wonder what the pitcher would be thinking over there?”

So far, the only real problem he has brought the team is his Doberman pinscher. “Willie’s got that dog of his staying in his room,” says Ranger General Manager Danny O’Brien. “The hotel is raising hell because some couple that has been coming down here for like 46 years is ready to move out. We’ve got to take good care of Willie though.” They do. When Willie’s in the field practicing, Ranger owner Brad Corbett often takes care of his dog on the sidelines.



4 Toby Harrah

The old Toby Harrah used to choke way up on his bat and slash singles all over the outfield; when former owner Bob Short used to pronounce his last name “hurrah,” Toby, the singles hitter, just cringed and went along.

The new Toby Harrah hits home runs (21 last year) and the park announcer rolls out the last name just the way Toby likes it. “I got to thinking,” Harrah said. If I’m only going to hit .260 or so, I might as well hit with more power. So now I have confidence in myself as an extra base hitter.”

During the exhibition season, Harrah was continuing to collect most of his hits in the clutch. “I’ve got something for you to check,” he said to me one day, looking at me with pale blue eyes. “Find out the last time a shortstop batting seventh in the lineup drove in 74 runs in a season [his 1974 total].”

Last season was the first in three that Harrah was not hampered by injuries. He believes he can hit at least 20 homers again this season (in the three years pre-ceeding 1974, Harrah belted a total of only 13) and maybe more. “I hit six or seven right on top of the wall last year,” he said, “A lot depends on if I get in a groove. Like one time last year, I hit eight out in 12 days ’

During the spring Harrah looked especially good in the field, moving well to his right and into the hole. He has one of the better arms around, and if his big bat continues, he might win a second all-star berth. More importantly, Harrah’s clutch hitting in the bottom of the lineup will provide the Rangers with extra punch. As someone at camp pointed out, “Hell, most managers are satisified to have a short who fields well, and maybe can run bases. It’s a real windfall to have a guy who can cover the field, and hit the long ball like an outfielder.”



5 Jim Sundberg

Sports trivia question: Which Ranger player is as cleancut as Mike Hargrove and more popular with fans? All-American boy Jim Sundberg, of course.

Sunny Jim is another one of those Rangers who last year defied all logic in a climb to respectability. Fresh from the University of Iowa (not exactly a pro baseball factory), Sundberg played in only 91 minor league games before drawing the attention of Martin in the tough Winter Instructional League.

Sundberg rightly says it is his strong arm and hustle, more than anything else, that has won him fan admiration.

Baseball fans harbor a special place in their hearts lor catchers. Somehow we identify with the struggling, awkwardly-dressed figure, sort of like our strange affection for middle linebackers in loot-ball. “You know,” says Sundberg, “I think fans like the pickoff play almost better than the long ball.”

But when Billy Martin is the manager a catcher must do more than show a good arm. “One of my jobs is to keep the umpire straight,” he says. “If he’s screwing up, I’m supposed to get tough and get his head on straight. You can talk to the umps a lot, just as long as you don’t turn around to lace them or let a good pitch they called a ball just sit in the glove. Umps don’t like to be showed up in front of fans.”

A September batting swoon kept Sundberg from having a super rookie season. “I was batting .275 or .280 in August, then dropped about 30 points,” he said. Sundberg proved to be an adequate, if not excellent, major league hitter. He has a good eye (second only to Jeff Burroughs in team walks) and hits the ball all over the field.

The boyish, aw shucks image might not seem an appropriate ingredient in Martin’s Cosa Nostra, but Sundberg admits he is changing a bit. “I think everybody here is picking up the personality of Billy Martin,” he said. “There is a bit of Martin in all of us, or we don’t stay. Before last year, I’d never been kicked out of a game in my life. Last season I got the thumb twice. “



6 Known Quantities: Hargrove, Burroughs and Tovar

Even though Mike Hargrove was everybody’s Rookie of the Year in 1974, the tag of “known quantity ’ may seem a bit premature. However, Martin and Danny O’Brien seem fully confident. “We’re not worried about Hargrove. He’s been a hitter everywhere and he will have another good year this season ” Pretty strong words about a guy picked 577th in the draft. However, the Perrytown, Texas, native, who collected hall a million Ail-Star write-in votes, not only averaged .323 for the year (second only to Rod Carew), but managed 66 RBI’s in just over 400 bats.

There are those who criticize Martin for not turning the burly Hargrove into a long ball pull hitter, but both Martin and Hargrove seem to prefer Hargrove’s present off field singles and doubles hitting for average.

One reason for that may be that the Rangers seem to have about all the long ball bat they need in last year’s American League MVP, Jeff Burroughs. Burroughs is another one no one seems too worried about, despite his dismal spring at the plate and in right field. After Burroughs went 3 for 23 early in the exhibition season, I asked Danny O’Brien what the problem was. “He’ll be great,” O’Brien replied, “he looked bad in spring last year too.”

Baby-laced Burroughs loves to hit baseballs. A hard working, self-made hitter, he is given to sneaking into the batting cage tor an extra five or six swings. He goes to the cage early and will stay as late as anyone will pitch to him. One afternoon, when the wind was gusting solidly in from left field, Burroughs kept hitting until he knocked one out. “Jesus,” said veteran Jim Fregosi, “No one should be that strong.”

The 24-year-old bachelor Mr. Everything has occasionally been rapped as “immature” by the press. He frequently gripes about Arlington stadium for not being suited to his power hitting (I checked the stats and the fact is, Arlington is a damned good home run park). He also leads the Rangers in water-cooler kicking.

This season may test Burroughs’ questionable maturity and patience. It’s no secret that the Rangers are stronger defensively with him in the designated hitter slot, despite his pouting about not wanting to just swing the bat. Camp gossip was that Martin would move Burroughs to DH this season at least against some pitchers, whether Jeff liked it or not. Either way, if Burroughs comes out of his spring batting slump, the Rangers will have no worries about all-important long ball potency.

Last, but not least, in the “known quantity” category, is Pepe Tovar. “When I took this job,” says Martin, “I told Bob Short the one guy 1 had to have was Tovar.” Not everyone thought Cesar Tovar would be a practical acquisition-certainly he had a lively reputation (like the time he used a police whistle to warn other ball players away from fly balls in the outfield) but many thought the 34-year-old had reached his peak. But Pepe hit .292 last year, an increase of 24 points from the previous season, while playing in 131 games.

Moreover, Tovar is clearly Martin’s kind of ballplayer. Martin claims he is one of the smartest players in the league and a great judge of baseball talent.

Tovar is not known for his love of training. After five days of spring drills had passed, Tovar was still in his home in Caracas. Once he did arrive, 1 spotted him one night hiding down in the bullpen during an exhibition game with the Yankees. Tovar explained: “I no like to play in March. I play in April.”

But neither Martin nor Tovar seems to worry about Tovar’s odd training habits. With good reason. That same night, he came out of hiding in the bullpen and promptly knocked a 390-foot homer.

7 Pitching: Promises and Questions



All during spring training, Billy Martin was insistent that he had more confidence in the front line pitching staff than ever before, and no, he didn’t feel the team needed to make any further deals for a lefthander. “Wright and Hands are the answer,” he said. “Maybe Kekich.”

Beyond the critical need for a successful lefthander in the starting rotation, it is difficult to pin down which starter holds the key for the team this year. Certainly this is the year Jim Bibby must prove he is better than a break-even pitcher. One afternoon before a Grapefruit League game I asked Bibby if he would demonstrate for me his knockdown pitch. “Sure,” he said “Just stand up there and if I aim at you, there’s no way 1 can hit you.”

Bibby has a control problem – he won 19 games last year, but also lost 19; he struck out 149 hitters, but he also walked 113 batters.

With typical confidence, Billy Martin says of his big right hander, “I’m going to make Bibby win 20 games. Just like I did Joe Coleman with Detroit. I’m going to give him the confidence to win 20. Then it’s easy “

Then too, of course, Fergie Jenkins, like Burroughs, must repeat last season’s strong showing if the team is to take it all. Fergie is a laid back guy, the only time he looks like he’s working hard is when he is relaxing – fishing. “Last year, I went fishing one time when I was scheduled to pitch and won,” he said. “I won seven in a row by going fishing every morning and pitching at night.” The sun started down and the winds cooled. “I guess I better protect Mr. Corbett’s investment,” he said, slipping on a warmup jacket.

Jenkins is more than an investment. He was practically the franchise last year, winning 25 with a 2.83 ERA. “Fergie is the most overpowering pitcher I have ever seen,” says Burroughs. “Not in terms of power, but more in terms of precision. Hell, he could have won 32 last year.”

Clyde Wright, Bill Hands, Steve Hargan and Jackie Brown round out the experienced hands on board. Wright is due a comeback, since he lost 39 in the past two years. He’s going back to throwing three pitches, adding the screwball to the curve and fastball. Another product of relentless Martin confidence, Wright says, “I only know two things. If you give up more than three runs then you get yourself wet some place in the shower. And what I’m trying to do is not make Billy out as a liar. He’s believed in me.”

Says Martin, “I wouldn’t be surprised to see Wright win 20.”

Hargan and Brown were the only two Ranger throwers other than Jenkins to beat .500 last year. Both looked good all spring, especially Hargan with his well-controlled forkball. However, each has had consistency problems in the past – together they spent a combined total of 17 years in the minors – and it remains to be seen if they’ll deliver.

Hargan and Brown must light off challenges from an impressive duo of young throwers – Mike Bacsik and Tommy Boggs, both of whom displayed first class potential in Pompano this spring and could well be in Arlington Stadium opening day.

Steve Foucault, last year’s entire Ranger bullpen, says he’s thinking about negotiating an hourly wage clause in his next contract. After several unimpressive spring appearances, Foucault blamed his poor start on his physical condition. He said he felt too good. “I’m a sinker ball pitcher you know. II I pitch every other day, it takes something out of my arm and the sinker starts to move more.”

Hard working relievers have a way of following a good season with a mediocre one, but Foucault says he’s not worried. “I usually don’t pitch too well in the spring,” he said. “These hitters get to see enough of me in the regular season. 1 always try to change my style and change the way I pitch to mix ’em up.”

Lending Foucault a badly needed hand this year will be 25-year-old Jeff Terpko, who should see plenty of short inning action. Terpko began last season in AA ball, moving to Spokane at midyear where he logged a 4-0 record and a 1.69 ERA.

One glaring weakness that plagued the Rangers last year, and may bother them this year, was the absence of a good longer reliever. Hands, Hargan, Brown will surely see some part-time bullpen work this season, as the youngsters may. Two veteran relievers could provide the answer; if they don’t, they’ll be sold (their salaries are too high to spend any more time in the minors). Relief pitchers are to baseball what placekickers are to football. They are a little bit flaky.

Mike Kekich and Bob “Wolfman” Johnson roomed together in a Pompano condominium. They were known as the “two crazies ’

Johnson, for instance, talks to hitters. That doesn’t sound too unusual until he explains just how he talks to them. “In my windup,” he says, “I give it the old double pump and tell the guy, All right, you s.o.b., here comes a fastball high and outside and let’s see what you can do with it.’ “

There is not much bed check in baseball, so when 1 visited Johnson and Kekich at their apartment, 1 was prepared for anything. There were Mike Kekich and Wolfman getting ready for bed at 10:30 p.m. “Did you expect me to be hanging naked from the chandeliers or something?” Kekich asked. I said yes, something like that.

“Look,” he said. “We want to make this team. We’ve been home here every night. Martin took me and forgot all the politics [the noted New York wifeswapping incident]. We know what we gotta do.” Alas, Wolfman was released just before press time. But 22-year old Jim Umbarger, along with Kekich, may round out the bullpen at last.



8 Fans and Super Fans

Some athletes claim they play with the same intensity at all times; most of the Rangers, however, agree with this Toby Harrah statement: “A big enthusiastic crowd makes all kinds of dilference. Pressure and fans bring out the best in this ball club.”

There are a few oldtime fans, who have been coming out to Arlington Stadium since the days of the first minor league club there. And there are some true baseball aficionados who have moved to the metroplex from the northern cities. However, until last year, you could see the Scoreboard light up a homer and hear a pretty little thing yell “we got a touchdown.” Still, baseball is, at the minimum, on a social comeback, especially here. It ranks second only to tennis now as the “in” sport. At the chic cocktail parties around town, it is becoming quite simply dull and plebeian to talk professional football. Speculate on how many bases Willie Davis can swipe this year, however, and you are right in fashion.

A new kind of fan began developing toward the end of last season. He is known as the fanatic.

If anybody in Grand Prairie has been looking for Larry Benefield, he’s been in Pompano Beach. Larry, 18, is one of those fanatical fans, so when he began to start feeling down on his luck in late February, he took the money he saved working afternoons at the Dairy Queen, rode a bus, then hitchhiked to Ranger training headquarters.

Quickly, Larry was dubbed the Midnight Cowboy (from the line in the song, “Going where the weather suits my clothes”) and stayed close to the bar, which stayed close to many other Texans. Midnight had no money and once casually mentioned to Ranger first base coach Jackie Moore that he had spent the previous night in a junked car. Always the gracious host, Moore offered to allow Midnight his car backseat for sleeping accommodations.

At precisely four o’clock one morning, 1 started to drain the last bit of gin from my last glass of the evening. “Gosh,” Midnight sighed, “that Mr. Moore sure is something letting me sleep in his car like that. ’Course it was a little uncomfortable with my legs cramped like that . . .”

I told Midnight there was a spare bed in my room he could use for the night. “Go out to Jackie’s car and get your clothes,” I said.

“Oh, no sir,” Midnight replied, “I wouldn’t ever leave my clothes in Mr. Moore’s car. I buried them under some rocks about half a mile from here.” (I thought to myself, if this wasn’t the best imitation of Gomer Pyle I’ve ever seen . . .) I told Midnight that his clothes probably weren’t safe under those rocks and that he should probably move them.

Sometime the next morning, Midnight came to me pretty excited about something. “Hey, Tom” (though I’m eight years his elder, Larry no longer referred to me as Mr. Stephenson), “you’ve got to see my new hidin’ place for my clothes. Come on.” Just about 500 yards from the ocean, Midnight pointed straight up in the air to his entire wardrobe supported by palm tree limbs

What happened the next few days went something like this: 1) Martin’s 11-year-old son Billy Joe heard Midnight was broke and started to slip him a few bills. 2) Mrs. Martin bought Midnight a steak dinner. 3) A man at the bar gave Midnight 10 unrequested dollars. 4) Eileen, the manager of the patio bar, insisted she see Midnight eat 30 complimentary crawfish 5) Brad Corbett, hearing about Larry, and in a jocular, wine-filled mood, asked, “What’s my name?” Midnight answered correctly. “And,” said Brad producing a C note, “you just won a hundred dollars.” 6) The hotel manager finds Midnight’s clothes in the palm tree. 7) Billy Martin tells Midnight to show up the next day at the practice field to start work.

Charlie Pride is another fanatical Ranger fan and a little flaky himself.

It is not an easy task to interview Willie Davis. Pride and Willie Davis are something alike and I met them the same day. My head swirled for two days and only vaguely do I remember spending an hour in the predawn mist in the parking lot philosophizing with Pride on “whether you do right by telling your woman you done her wrong.”

Give Charlie Pride a few drinks and let him talk baseball, then watch his eyes become very scary. “Charlie,” I interrupted, “this is quite a time you’re having down here working out a great fantasy like this.”

The eyes went from oblong to round, to oblong again, “Fantasy? I can hit. You know about that long ball I hit off Palmer last year.”

“It was a single.”

“But one of those solid, long singles. I can hit. You know I played some minor league ball.” Then Charlie started laughing. “No, I don’t pick cotton anymore,” he said. “But . . . oooh, I would like to have made the big leagues.” Rumor has it that last spring, Charlie and the Rangers got along so well that Pride started missing engagements.

9 Front Office: Corbett and Clan

The Ranger press guide says that Brad Corbett “parlayed” a small business loan to eventually become president and chief executive officer of Robintech. “I didn’t parlay anything, ” said Corbett. between swings of a baseball bat, “I busted my ass to get it.”

There was Brad Corbett, Ranger chairman of the board and the real owner influence, swinging a baseball bat, pausing every few minutes to huddle with one of his executives over the buying of another plant. Tomorrow, Corbett expects to own that plant. The junior executive is shooting me and another writer furtive glances, the glances say he doesn’t enjoy being the middle man in this huge deal and can’t Mr. Corbett leave the baseball park long enough to even come to the phone?

“No,” says Corbett to his executive. “This is the way to negotiate with these people. It gives him time to think and gives me more time to think than I can in some room. We’re doing it right ” Corbett has been doing enough things right to rise swiftly in the business world and to raise Robintech sales to $100,000 million annually with four overseas plants.

Though top Ranger executive, Corbett refuses to take any salary or draw any expenses. Early in spring training, Corbett would arrive at the park with his entourage of super rich. They would watch Brad in his semibusiness clothes, chasing fly balls in the outfield or playing catch with Willie Davis. While watching Corbett run down fungos, one writer said, “Well, it’s [the ball team] Brad’s toy and he’s going to play with it.”

Corbett is a frustrated ballplayer, whose meager talents took him as lor as Fargo, North Dakota, in the minor leagues. From the beginning of local ownership (two days before the season opened last year) Corbett has tried to play down his heavy role in the scheme of ownership. It has never washed. He is fond of saying the owners are “truly a metroplex group,” and likes to list the names of these people from Dallas, Fort Worth and Arlington on the Ranger board. Insiders say the board makeup is for cosmetic reasons only. “Corbett carries the only stick, ’ one source insists.

Corbett only halfway denies this, saying, “I’m the guy who deals directly with Billy. I’m not one of those owners who meddle directly with the team, like some [owners] who even try to. make up lineup cards ” The junior executive is back to relate, “They can’t give you a guarantee or an option to renew.” Corbett nods his head, swings the bat and swoops his neck forward to hear the next question, which went something like this:

“You say you like to run the ballclub the way you run your business, but that isn’t really practical is it? For instance, historically, owners and managers experience short-lived relationships. And historically, Billy Martin and anyone in authority soon are on the outs. Do you think about that’”

“Some,” Corbett said. “I’ve thought about it some. But don’t forget there’s also the Walter Alstons and Red Schoen-diensts [managers with much longevity], I think of baseball as something you must play a year at a time. If Billy and I have ideas that are different . . . we try to keep them within the family I think the Billy Martin today is different from the Billy of two years ago. He realizes now there are such things as budgets and cost; that we [owners] are not in the game strictly for an artistic success.”

It has been rumored that Corbett would not make one baseball move without checking with heart specialist and former Yankee star, Dr. Bobby Brown. “That’s absolutely true,” Corbett said. “This is a great game of opinions. The more educated opinions I get on a deal, the more likely I am to come up with a better guess “

When Dr. Brown returned to his practice, the Rangers went into their own backyard to select popular Danny O’Brien as general manager. One Ranger player, formerly with the Houston organization, said, “Danny O’Brien and the Texas front office are the best in baseball as far as being fair “



10 Ranger Bench

Almost certainly, Billy Martin will break camp with 10 pitchers and two catchers. This leaves him with a choice of keeping eight infielders, six outfielders, or making a trade. Either way, “We’re going to have one helluva AAA ballclub,” Martin says. Unfamiliar names in Texas like Cubbage, Smalley. Cruz, Jones and Robson are very familiar to pitchers, who must lace a formidable Spokane lineup. One of the above-mentioned players may go to another club as part of a deal, but probably only one. The rest will stay in AAA, though they could probably play big league ball in some other organization. “I don’t want to help other ballclubs,” Martin explains.

Even without the minor league stars, Texas displays possibly the best hitting depth in the American league. Depending on who is pitching, the Rangers could have sitting in the dugout: Jim Fregosi, Jim Spencer, Mike Hargrove, Leo Cardenas, Tom Grieve, Joe Lovitto, or Cesar Tovar. Only Lovitto, much improved this spring, hit less than .255 last year.

Most probably, Hargrove (DH or first)and Tovar (left field) will be playing,leaving Fregosi and Spencer as likelypinchhitters, Fregosi was responsiblefor nine game-winning hits last yearand hustles at all times in the field. WithSpencer at first base, the Rangers arestrongest defensively. One scout sighedthat, Spencer reminds me of Don Mincher,good glove, good footwork and a steadybat. 1 wish we had him.”

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