Two for the Money?

In terms of their own natural talent, they were a couple of rinkydinks who seemed far more at home in the backwaters of the Class D Eastern Shore League--where they both began their professional baseball careers. But both men turned themselves into competent major-league players by dint of hustle and dedicated study of every detail of their trade. As of last week the two men had parlayed their baseball know-how into the managerial success stories of the 1960 season. In the National League, onetime Second Baseman Daniel Edward Murtaugh, 42, was manager of the pennant-bound Pittsburgh Pirates (TIME, June 13). In the American League, onetime Catcher Paul Rapier Richards, 51, was manager of the pennant-contending Baltimore Orioles (TIME, June 6)--win, lose or draw the year's most exciting team. Taken together, Murtaugh and Richards show how savvy baseball pros use contrasting techniques to build winning clubs.

"Any Way You Want." When Murtaugh sits on the bench among his Pirates, he is the classic domineering manager. He peers dourly at the diamond from beneath a black hedgerow of eyebrows. His nose is splayed flat, his beard would discourage a blowtorch, a corner of his mouth leaks tobacco juice. But Murtaugh is in fact a gentle ogre who sips milk after a game, claims he never touches the hard stuff, and keeps his hairy hands off the Pirates. Murtaugh realizes full well that overmanaging would cramp the egos--and crimp the play--of the bunch of oddly assorted personalities he has nursed to maturity as ballplayers: Pitcher Vernon Law (19-8), a pious Mormon elder; Third Baseman Don Hoak (.277), a sulphur-mouthed ex-Marine and ex-middleweight boxer; Shortstop Dick Groat, the intense, introspective team captain (now sidelined by a broken left wrist); and Right Fielder Roberto Clemente (.320), a showboating Puerto Rican. "They're all major leaguers," says Murtaugh. "I give 'em plenty of leeway."

Murtaugh lets his starting pitchers try to work themselves out of trouble instead of jerking them at the first long hit, loyally sticks to the same, starting lineup. Says Pirates' General Manager Joe L. Brown, son of the chasm-mouthed comedian: "Dan never pushes the panic button." With little raw power in his lineup, Murtaugh has revived an oldfashioned, single-slapping brand of baseball, leniently lets his players flash the sign for the hit-and-run whenever they see a chance. "Murtaugh lets us use our own judgment," says Hoak, "until it proves to be bad judgment. For instance, this guy Ashburn on the Cubs gives me fits. I play him close to the line and he hits through the hole. I move over and he hits down the line. So I go to Dan and I say 'Hey, Dan, how in hell do I play this guy?' Dan thinks it over and he says, 'He gets 140 or 150 hits a year every year, so play him any way you want.' "

Last week Pittsburgh was plastered with signs reading "Beat 'Em, Bucs," switchboard operators at grimy Forbes Field were greeting callers with "First-place Pirates!" and the solid old baseball town that had waited patiently for a winner since 1927 was running a virulent case of pennant fever. But Murtaugh just kept his Pirates playing percentage baseball, told newsmen to find stirring quotes elsewhere ("I'm no good at answering questions"), and declined to say a single word about the pennant. One frustrated reporter finally asked Murtaugh if he would admit Easter would fall on Sunday next year. "I dunno," said Pittsburgh's Danny Murtaugh, shifting his cud. "There was a fella once who changed the date of Thanksgiving."

"He Won't Give Up." While Murtaugh's Pirates have not a rookie among the regulars, Paul Richards' Baltimore Orioles have plenty--along with a sprinkling of veterans like 38-year-old Outfielder Gene Woodling (.282) and 37-year-old Relief Pitcher Hoyt Wilhelm (10-8). Richards, a lean, bronzed Texan right out of High Noon, leaves the veterans alone (as long as they perform), spends so much time with his kids that he is sometimes accused of overmanaging. "Richards has more patience with his players than any manager around," says Coach Lum Harris, who, as player and coach, has been with Richards for most of 13 years. ''He never raises his voice. He is one of the great teachers in baseball."

To turn Rookie Shortstop Ron Hansen into a power hitter (21 home runs), Richards threw away the book, let him use an unorthodox but comfortable stance with his arms close to his body. Richards' tightly reined patience even solved the apparently hopeless task of teaching Rookie Second Baseman Marve Breeding how to pivot on the double play. "Baseball is repetition," says Richards. "Hundreds of moves all over again. All spring we worked with Breeding, and he couldn't quite make it. Then, ten minutes before an exhibition game in Richmond, he caught on. He got it. The double play." Adds Coach Harris: "I bet Richards showed Breeding what he was doing wrong 500 times. It was the 501st time that Breeding caught on. He won't give up, that Richards."

Richards works by the hour with Pitching Coach Harry ("The Cat") Brecheen to develop the Orioles' strong point: the finest crop of young pitchers in the majors. Instead of collapsing, as expected, under late-season pressure, 22-year-old Chuck ("El Stiletto") Estrada (17-9), 21-year-old Steve Barber (10-6), 21-year-old Jack Fisher (12-9) and 21-year-old Milt Pappas (13-10) are throwing harder and more accurately than ever. When his pitchers have their stuff, Richards confidently lets them throw to the hitter's power; when they do not, he may call pitches from the bench (by flashing the sign to an infielder, who relays it to the catcher, who finally passes it on to the pitcher). "His principle is to have us throw the ball over the plate," says Pappas. "He can't stand walks."

Despite the fact that Richards works so closely with his players, none would ever slap him on the back, and few call him anything but "Mr. Richards." Murtaugh may drop into the locker room for a few hands of bridge or gin with his Pirates, but Richards prefers to remain socially aloof from his Orioles: "It's more fun for the players when I'm not there while they're relaxing." As a firm but fair taskmaster, Richards has earned the solid respect of the Orioles, veteran and rookie alike.

In 1955 When he arrived in Baltimore Richards took one look at his sorry inheritance, began his rebuilding program and declared: "Some day--maybe four or five years from now--Baltimore will have a fine, young team on the field. When that happens, all I ask is that you observe ten seconds of silence in memory of Paul Richards." This season Baltimore has that fine, young team on the field, and Manager Paul Richards not only is still around, but is also granting himself the luxury of reverie: "We may win the pennant. Nobody else has won it yet."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.