Bucky & Burt

Boss Larry MacPhail, who had wisely kept his nose out of the New York Yankees' locker room all season, rushed in to join the celebration. His Yankees had just clinched the 1947 American League pennant, and were having themselves a time.

Everybody was swapping congratulations. Somebody dropped a dead mouse down somebody's back. Said solemn Joe DiMaggio, veteran of seven World Series: "These celebrations are all alike--but I can stand them." Outside of Joe DiMaggio, the quietest fellow in all the champagne-splashing was the man who did most to win the pennant--Manager Stanley Raymond ("Bucky") Harris.

Across the river, in Brooklyn, the Dodgers hopefully sold out all the reserved seats in Ebbets Field for the World Series, but had to postpone celebrating so long as the St. Louis Cardinals had a slim mathematical chance of tying them. At Ebbets Field, as in Yankee Stadium, the spotlight had to seek out the manager. Baseball's winning managers, 1947 style, were a long way from the loudmouth, whoop & holler style of Leo (The Lip) Durocher.

An Ear for Beefs. Bucky Harris' performance, in his first season as Yankee manager, was a classical study in human relations. At 50, his long string of failures after a smashing initial success (as the "boy manager" of the 1924 Washington Senators) had given Bucky a special understanding of athletes and their failings. He never bawled a player out. His theory: a pat on the back is worth two pep talks. He took a talented but out-of-sorts team, listened to all the complaints, took the players' side in any beef with the front office. Once, when a Yankee pitcher was called on the mat for openly betting on the horses, Bucky piped up with, "So what ... I'd bet too, if I thought a tip was any good." If he had any fault, it was his reluctance to yank pitchers when the going got rough. But his patience worked wonders with Joe Page, a relief pitcher with an inferiority complex who did more than any player--aside from DiMaggio--to bring the Yankees their 14th pennant in 27 years.

An Eye for Retreads. Brooklyn's fatherly Manager Burt Shotton, 62, is a man who had known failures too. A few years ago, hot-tempered fans booed his third-base coaching at Cleveland. He and Bucky had both sunk as low as anyone could in the big leagues: both had suffered as managers of the lowly Philadelphia Phillies. Both had been demoted to the minors and then bounced back. Burt's workaday formula is the same as Bucky's. Says Burt: "When a guy does something wrong, that's no time to get on him. That's the time to build him up."

Burt had reclaimed talent beaten down last year by Leo the Lip's rough & ready handling. He helped Outfielder Gene Hermanski renew his self-confidence, and had him fielding better, hitting 83 percentage points higher than last year. When Pitcher Hank Behrman was sold to Pittsburgh and flopped, Manager Burt was the first to say, "We can use him"-- and made a serviceable retread out of him.

Those who remembered Burt Shotton as a conservative manager were surprised at some of his stratagems this season. He yanked out pitchers as quickly as Durocher ever did, gambled on hitting when "strictly by the book" a bunt was called for. It took a gambler to start a pitcher in the first game of a doubleheader, then use him as relief in the second game. Two Dodger pitchers--Joe Hatten and Ralph Branca--were sent in to try the stunt this season, and both won two games the same afternoon.

The nation's sport pages last week were full of long tables comparing Dodger and Yankee pitching and batting averages. The Yankees came out better--on paper. The oddsmakers made the Yankees a top-heavy 17-10 Series favorite. The Dodgers' uncanny talent for winning the games they shouldn't win is what Brooklyn's Burt Shotton is counting on. Says he: "Mostly, we got to nurse a couple of runs around, one at a time."

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