Gashouse Revisited

A man can stand only so much. Robert D. Lee, 29, a relief pitcher with the Cincinnati Reds, learned his limit last month in a game against the St. Louis Cardinals. For five innings he sat in the bullpen and watched with rising ire as the Cards coasted along with a 7-0 lead against his team. Frustration finally got the best of Lee: bellowing like a wounded water buffalo, he charged straight out of the bullpen and attacked St. Louis Pitcher Bob Gibson on the mound. It took all of two seconds for Gibson's teammates to reach the scene -- and it took 20 cops ten minutes to break up the battle that ensued. The best that could be said for Lee's ges ture was that it was quixotic. The Cardinals won the game 7-3. They also won the fight -- one bloody face, one bruised jaw and one chipped tooth to none.

Shades of the Gashouse Gang! Not half a dozen of the 1967 Cardinals were yet born when the famous old Redbird team was terrorizing the National League in the mid-1950s -- but the family resemblance is unmistakable. There is Lou Brock dashing madly for second and sliding in safely with his 36th sto len base of the season. Curt Flood running full tilt into the centerfield wall to spear a liner that otherwise would have been a sure extra-base hit. Roger Maris crossing up the pulled-back enemy infield with a perfectly placed drag bunt. Orlando Cepeda explaining his .339 batting average and 19 home runs:

"I just tell myself I'm gonna hit those cats -- and boom, boom, boom." And finally there is Stan Musial, 46, the Cards' rookie general manager, calling his players together after a lost game and warning: "If you guys don't get squared away -- well, I just grabbed a bat and it felt pretty good."

Relax, Stan. At the rate the Cardinals have been losing lately--hardly ever--Stan the Man (lifetime batting average: .331) can relax and enjoy his retirement. Last week, with Brock and Maris contributing two hits apiece, the red-hot Redbirds scored their tenth victory in twelve games, blanking Cincinnati 5-0 and stretching their National League lead over the second-place Chicago Cubs to seven games.

"Bounce back, bounce back," says First Baseman Cepeda. "That's the name of the game." The Cardinals' game, he means: the Cards have spent the last two seasons in the second division, and experts figured them for no better than fifth this year. Who could have figured that Cepeda, traded away by the San Francisco Giants after he batted .176 in 1965, would currently be No. 1 candidate for Most Valuable Player in the National League? Or that Leftfielder Brock, a castoff from the Chicago Cubs, would be riding an eleven-game hitting streak? Or that Rightfielder Maris, who was considered all washed up by the New York Yankees after he hit .239 in 1965 and .233 in 1966, would be batting .289 and personally have won a dozen games with timely base hits? Or that Catcher Tim McCarver's batting average (.318) would be up almost 50 points over 1966? Or that Second Baseman Julian Javier would already have driven in more runs (43) and hit more homers (11) than he did all last year?

No Fuss, Red. With six regulars batting over .280, the Cards are a pitcher's nightmare. In 106 games, only 17 rival hurlers have lasted nine innings against them--and three of those lost. The potent hitting also helps to cancel out a couple of Cardinal weaknesses. The No. 1 team in the National League ranks No. 2 in committing errors afield. Nor is their pitching much to rave about. No St. Louis starter has yet

Won more than ten games, and the problems are complicated further now, because Bob Gibson has a broken right leg that will keep him out of action at least until September.

"We know we've got a chance for the pennant, but we're not making any fuss over it," says Manager Albert ("Red") Schoendienst, 44, longtime star second baseman and Stan Musial's roommate for 13 years while both were playing for the Cardinals. But then, Schoendienst never does make a fuss. And his permissive approach to managing is the perfect prescription for the Cards--especially for such key men as Cepeda and Maris, both of whom came to the team tagged as sulkers and malingerers. No longer. Explains Maris: "I like it here. The pressure's off. In New York you got it if you didn't hit; and even if you did hit, it was always the wrong kind of hit. Here all anybody asks is that you go out and do your job the very best you can."

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