Jaunty Stride Into History

Dribbling a ball off his bat while hitting pregame grounders to Shortstop Frank Duffy, he quipped, "Well, at least I know how to pitch to myself."

Even his closest associates are astonished by the ease with which he has stepped into history. Frank Robinson the player was frequently controversial, a grim competitor, a suspected clubhouse lawyer, a superstar who, unlike others of his station, had been traded four times. That Robinson was hardly the jovial man of affairs he seemed to be last week. Can it be that he has grown in office?

"I think I can look at Frank Robinson with an open mind and still say he's fantastic," said Maury Wills , the old Dodger hero who was himself a prime candidate to become the first black manager. This spring he has helped coach Robinson 's base runners and infielders. "Frank has really done his homework. I've seen a lot of baseball camps, but I've never seen one run better than this one. I sat in on his very first meeting as manager. He didn't make any opening statements. Not once did he say anything about black or white. He didn't start off by defending himself, like some guy on stage apologizing for having a sore throat. He just took charge. People know when you're playing a role. Frank just naturally projects a sense of toughness—toughness with fairness. Players appreciate that."

Robinson 's toughness and fairness were challenged early in spring training by Gaylord Perry , the pitcher from North Carolina who, until Robinson 's arrival, had been the team's star and highest-paid player. The two had clashed in the Indians ' clubhouse last season over remarks Perry had made about Robinson 's high salary. Afterward, Perry had said he had no objections to Robinson becoming his new manager. But when Robinson chastised him for not adhering to the training regimen this spring, Perry complained to General Manager Phil Seghi that in the past he had always gotten himself into shape his own way and that if Robinson disapproved of his methods, perhaps it might be better for all parties if Seghi arranged a trade. Instead, Seghi, wary of losing a 21-game winner, called the disputants in for a conciliatory talk.

"There is no problem now," says Seghi optimistically. "It was merely a misunderstanding."

"I can only speak for myself," says Robinson , "but it's over as far as I'm concerned. I am not going to have individuals going their own way in my camp. Gaylord is now doing what everyone else is doing."

"It was something between the two of them," says Duffy, one of the team co-captains. "It didn't cause any dissension. You don't hear guys talking about it. In fact, there is a closeness in this camp that we haven't had in the past. You can feel it. I'm really happy about it."

The evening before the opening exhibition with the Giants , Robinson went to the greyhound races in Tucson with Bob Quinn , the Indians ' scouting and minor league director. The only tension Robinson appeared to be experiencing there was created by the indifferent performances of the dogs upon which he so improvidently wagered.

"All the attention I've been getting is only what I expected," he said between races. "Naturally, I would like more of this attention to go toward the team, but that just won't be happening right now. I hope everyone understands that. My ambition is someday just to be considered the Cleveland manager, period. I've been thinking about managing since 1961, seriously since 1967 when I got hurt and had double vision. I give thanks for the six years I managed in Puerto Rico winter ball. I'm prepared."

The spring weather in Tucson had been, as the natives insist, unseasonably overcast, but on Thursday, March 13, it was brilliant and warm. It was a festive occasion, the opener for both the Indians and the Giants . A Goodyear blimp was overhead. The Sunnyside High School band was in the stands, along with 4,071 spectators. By mayoral proclamation, Robinson was made an honorary citizen of Tucson . City Manager Joel Valdez tossed out the first ball and Gaylord Perry threw the first pitch.