Money Makes The Player Go

It never seems to occur to my ballplayers that I also have a boss to negotiate my own salary with, and if I did as well with him as they do with me I'd be financially set for life. But money doesn't mean a whole lot to me, so long as the family's getting three square meals a day, and in my own salary discussions I play it pretty much down the line. I don't use some of the tricks that I could. Like last year I got a terrific offer to become general manager of another ball club and I turned it down, and everybody around the office heard about the offer through the grapevine. So one of the other front-office guys says to me, "What did Mr. O'Malley say when you told him about it?"

I said, "I didn't tell Mr. O'Malley about it."

He said, "Well, you must be nuts! Aren't you going to discuss it with him?"

I said, "There's no reason to discuss it with him. If I went in there and told him I'd turned down another job, it would look like a broad hint for more money, wouldn't it? It would look like I'm coming in there and saying, 'Gee, what a good boy I am!' I don't play like that, and Walter knows it."

Anyway, I was sure Walter had heard about the offer, and I knew he would take care of me in the money department. One day Walter and I sat down and discussed the club's budget for 1967, and when we got everything straight he said to me: "Oh, by the way, Buzzie, about your own salary. I want you to give yourself a raise, and make it a nice one. You've got it coming. Give yourself whatever you think is right."

I figured if I did nothing he would call the auditors and tell them to give me a good raise. That was my strategy. He figured I would put myself down for a modest raise; that was his strategy. I put myself down for no raise and, much to my surprise, that was what I got. So much for my skill at negotiating salaries!