In 1975, Leo Durocher wrote an as-told-to autobiography called Nice Guys Finish Last. I read every word of it, but I got to tell you, it's not a good book. It's a piece of self-justifying pro-Durocher propaganda. It's argumentative, hyperbolic, unreliable. Durocher was an irascible man: he got into fights with sportswriters, players, umpires, owners, coaches, wives -- everyone he encountered. In every single case, he was absolutely blameless and they were absolutely wrong. The gambling that got him suspended for a year? -- why, it never happened.
Durocher doesn't give it the emphasis it deserves, but he had, by accident, a place in the story. Durocher was manager of the Dodgers when Branch Rickey hired Jackie Robinson. It was a watershed moment, a supremely important step in the civil rights movement, and the beginning of a major transformation of not just baseball, or sports, but of the nation and the world.
Durocher played his part, and he's proud of it, but I can't help feeling that he missed his moment. His vision was so narrow, so constricted, so unaware. I suppose he should be commended for doing the right thing, but as far as I can tell, he did it for trivial reasons and did not have a glimmer of understanding of either oppression and injustice on the one hand, or equality and freedom on the other.
When some Dodgers proposed to petition Rickey not to sign Robinson, Durocher called a team meeting. Here's what he says that he said to them:
"I hear some of you fellows don't want to play with Robinson and that you have a petition drawn up that you are going to sign. Well boys, you know what you can do with that petition. You can wipe your ass with it. Mr. Rickey is on his way down here and all you have to do is tell him about it. I'm sure he'll be happy to make other arrangements for you. I hear Dixie Walker is going to send Mr. Rickey a letter asking to be traded. Just hand him the letter, Dixie, and your'e gone. Gone. If this fellow is good enough to play on this ball club -- and from what I've seen and heard, he is -- he is going to play on this ball club and he is going to play for me. I'm the manager of this ball club and I'm interested in one thing. Winning. I'll play an elephant if he can do the job, and to make room for him I'll send my own brother home. So make up your mind to it. This fellow is a real great ballplayer. He's going to win pennants for us. He's going to put money in your pockets and money in mine. And here's something else to think about when you put your head back on the pillow. From everything I hear, he's only the first. Only the first, boys. There's many more coming right behind him and they have the talent and they're gonna come to play. These fellows are hungry. They're good athletes and there's nowhere else they can make this kind of money. They're going to come, boys, and they're going to come scratching and diving. Unless you fellows look out and wake up, they're going to run you right out of the ball park. So I don't want to see your petition and I don't want to hear anything more about it. The meeting is over. Go back to bed."
To me, his speech, though apparently effective, is trivial -- an opportunity wasted. He opposed the petition for three reasons: one, it defied authority (his and Rickey's); two, Robinson is going to help us win and therefore make us money, and three, there are "others" on the way, who also want to make money, so get out of the way.
The idea that Jack Roosevelt Robinson and others of his hue should be allowed to participate out of simple fairness and equity did not occur to him. Slavery, racism, segregation, justice, equal opportunity -- not part of his thinking. Durocher's awareness of his place in history -- zero. What a disappointment!
What can one expect from someone who cheated his way into the 1951 World Series? His illegal sign stealing was every bit as bad as what the Houston Astros were caught doing. Durocher, unfortunately, was not caught, and reserve catcher Sal Yvars spilled the beans much too late.
Durocher appears in a story poem about the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1945, and one couplet in that poem has stayed with me:
It galled Durocher worse than fools
That someone else would break the rules.
Posted by: Don Z. Block | August 28, 2020 at 07:15 AM