Something is inspiring about a ballpark where those who professionally inhabit one of those big-league shrines can’t wait to start their day within its friendly confines.
Tommy Lasorda, the colorful Dodgers manager, enjoyed pitching batting practice for exercise, but he also had a great affinity for being the center of attention. The more the spotlight was on him, the better.
Pete Rose passionately loved the ballpark. He would talk to anybody who stopped by his office and enjoyed reminiscing about past games with visitors, friends, media, and ballpark personnel — and maybe a bookie or two (on the phone). His door was always open.
Bobby Cox never wanted to be the center of attention, but he also enjoyed good baseball conversation. He was not colorful, and he was not interested in seeing his name in the paper — and he certainly preferred that no camera shutters clicked in his presence.
Cox respected the media's role, giving all members of that fraternity the time of day. And though he was ejected a record 162 times from games, he also had great respect for umpires. “Their job is really tough,” he would say.
At the point when he had been ejected about 160 times, I asked if it was a record for the number of times he had backed up his players. Cox was quick to point out that while he would do anything for his players, backing them up took priority over everything else.
At Turner Field, Cox had a cubbyhole near the dugout where media would gather and interact with him on whatever was topical. He never called attention to himself, never put other players down, and certainly not his own. Yet if you got out of line, he addressed the situation behind the closed doors of his office.
By exercising good judgment and firm discipline, he earned his players' deep respect. I never heard of an incident in which a player did not give Cox high marks for the way he communicated with every member of the team, and all said he was always honest and fair.
After announcing his retirement in 2009 during his 25th year with the Braves, I found him at one home game in his spot near the dugout and suggested he looked young enough to continue.
“Well,” Cox said, “I feel great. I just had to make a decision, and the only way I could make it was to go ahead and announce it, be done with it, and move on. I feel that I could manage another 10 years, but sometimes you can stay in one spot too long. They’ll give it to somebody else to run, and hopefully they will enjoy a run as we’ve had.”
He said “we” quite often in his conversations. He never talked negatively to a player or criticized him to the media, even when the player was failing to get his job done. Cox always gave his players rave reviews.
I remember another conversation we had one afternoon about his early days as a manager. Cox had made the Yankees’ roster as a journeyman player for a couple of years and realized he was not likely to go much further when New York Yankees general manager Lee MacPhail offered him a job in the Yankees’ minor league system as a manager. Bobby thought that was the best direction for him to take.