Mutiny on the Twins
Special from the New York Times
ORLANDO - Billy Martin, the firebrand coach of the Minnesota Twins, was at one end of the dugout, midway through the pennant-winning season of 1965. He was talking quietly to two infielders, explaining the mechanics of the suicide squeeze.
It wasn't often that he spoke quietly because the brash Billy the Kid has a sharp tongue and its sting has been felt by all Twin players, including the pitchers. And Johnny Sain, the pitching coach, had been building up a brooding resentment at any harsh words that were directed at his precious pitchers.
"When you're the runner on third," Billy was explaining, "you don't make a break for home until the pitcher gets rid of the ball. Otherwise, he knocks down the batter or pitches inside and you're out by 10 feet."
"It isn't that simple, Martin," snapped Sain from the other end of the bench.
Billy the Kid reacted as if he'd just been given a hot foot. In his fiery tempered fashion he walked over to Sain.
"It is easy," said the ex-Yankee. "And that's why we always won and you always lost. Any time you have something to say to me, Sain, say it in private and not in front of the players."
Manager Sam Mele never said a word. Sain got mad at Mele for not taking his side of the argument and moved his gear out of his locker in the room where the brain trust was located to one in the room with the players. A feud had been born.
By last season Mele was communicating with Sain only through Hal Naragon, another coach. After awhile Sam began to feel that Naragon had deserted him for Sain. So the manager demanded a showdown with Cal Griffith, owner of the team. Sain and Naragon would have to go. They went.
The news greatly distressed Jim Kaat, the 25-game winner, who felt that he alone had reached such imminence that he could serve as spokesman for the Twin pitching staff. En route home by train that day he wrote an open letter to the Minnesota fans. What's more, he distributed his protest to the newspapers in the Twin Cities. It was the last paragraph, dashed off as an afterthought, which caused most of the commotion.
The dismissal of Sain was characterized as the Great Mistake. And he described it as being comparable to the Green Bay Packers giving the gate to Vince Lombardi. But in his last paragraph he said in effect that if he were the general manager, he'd give Sain a blank contract and then hire the field manager. Naturally this was interpreted as a slap at Mele.
Not at all, hastily explained an embarrassed Kaat. He was speaking of a hypothetical situation where there was no manager. A few weeks later Griff brought in Kaat for a press conference to demonstrate that the mutiny had never even been started and therefore not a seed of dissension remained. But in the course of the discussion, Kaat dropped the offhand remark that he wouldn't mind a take-charge guy as manager if he really took charge. This also had to be construed as another slap at Mele. Sam wasn't present, but he did talk to Twin writers over the phone.
"I'll wait until I talk to Kaat," he said, in his easygoing way. "Plenty went on that Kaat didn't know."
The skipper and the pitching ace eventually kissed and made up. At least they made up. Harmony, it would seem, has returned to the Twins. Most of the disgruntled players were traded away, but not everyone here is convinced that Minnesota strengthened itself by the deals. That's especially true of the one with the California Angels.
Minnesota gave away two of its power hitters, Don Mincher and Jimmie Hall, for Dean Chance, who was a 20-game winner when he was only 23 years old. But success went to his head and he hardly has capitalized on his enormous talent since. Was Chance worth the chance?
"Pitching is the name of the game," said Mele, a master of the cliche, as he spoke yesterday with guarded words. "If I were to say we gave too much for him, I'd be implying that we made a bad deal. I don't think we did."
Sam has replaced Sain as pitching coach with Early Wynn, a tough guy, who never spared himself or his opponents on his way to enter the magic circle of 300-game winners. Wynn believes that pitchers can only gain condition by running their legs off, while Sain never did. So the Twin pitchers hit the road - or at least the outfield grass - with agonizing regularity. They grumble, but they run.
There are no signs of overconfidence as was the case a year ago after the capture of the pennant. Nor are there any signs of mutiny. But there is an uneasy feeling that the changes made have not produced the desired results. Maybe it's the wrong reaction, but it's there nonetheless.
EARLY WYNN, TWINS COACH