Room At The Top

MONDAY. Manley Sniffer, general manager of the Oldtown Chokes, today hotly denied that Mugsy Wump is on his way out as the Chokes' field boss. "We do not push the panic button easily," snorted Snifter, emerging from a 2 a.m. meeting with Chokes' Owner B. Odessa (Dry) Wells. "Mugsy has proved his ability to get the most out of veteran players. As of this time he is our man and we are behind him all the way. Speculation to the contrary only serves to put more pressure on the team, which is now making an all-out bid for fifth place."

WEDNESDAY. Mugsy Wump resigned today as pilot of the Oldtown Chokes. General Manager Manley Sniffer said, "Mugsy came to the conclusion after careful consideration that a change might be in everyone's best interest; as we have always been, we were in complete agreement. Mugsy has done a great job with us and we are hoping he will stay on as our director of retired personnel." Sniffer said the Chokes are carefully evaluating the credentials of candidates for Wump's job. "In a stable organization," he said, "you don't rush into these kinds of decisions."

FRIDAY. Humbert (Hap) Hype was tapped today to take over the reins of the Oldtown Chokes. Hype opened the season as the head man of the New City Outrage, but was released after the Outrage fell behind the Chokes in the battle for fifth place. Chokes' G.M. Manley Sniffer suggested that the club had been hoping to land Hype for some time. "Hap has the reputation of being one of the game's finest teachers and tacticians," Sniffer said. "The way the game is played today you have to have a leader like Hap Hype who can relate to the modern athlete. Hap and I have agreed he will be involved in all phases of our operation now and hopefully for many years to come. Stability is the key to success in sports."

This is the most familiar story in professional sport. The shuffling of managers and coaches occurs as regularly and rhythmically as tides ebb and flow or birds migrate. The names and places vary from episode to episode, but the firings are as stylized and predictable as the minuet of mating sandhill cranes.

In every league or conference there is one final winner. Ergo, there are always a lot of losers—and a lot of people fired.

There are exceptions to the cause-and-effect rule. During his four years with the New York. Mets, Casey Stengel lost more games than any manager in major league baseball, but he survived because his job was not to win but to entertain sufficiently so that the New York press and public would forget how bad the Mets were and how good the Yankees were. On rare occasions a manager or coach is fired for what might be called moral turpitude, but most areas of sport have developed considerable tolerance for minor mischief. Finally there are times when winning, if it is done by the wrong man in the wrong way, can bring on a firing. But of all the reasons for being fired, losing is the commonest. It seems that no matter how much character he builds, no matter how much character he has, no matter how deserving his children or attractive his wife, a coach or manager who does much losing will be sacked.

It is not surprising that somebody should get blamed and then fired for defeats. But why the manager or coach? Though losing, like winning, is a cooperative affair, some members of sports organizations are in a better position than others to dissociate themselves from the consequence of losing. For example, nobody can fire an owner. An owner can fire a general manager, but this is usually more bother than it is worth, since the G.M. is usually an anonymous fellow. Furthermore, he is likely to know where the keys, cash receipts and skeletons are kept, which gives him a certain leverage. Players are shifted about but seldom are canned outright. Getting rid of a player who theoretically is of value (since he is on the roster) automatically raises questions about the good sense of the G.M. or owner who acquired him. In sport the conventional thing to do with a losing player is pass him along to another team where hopefully he will be an even bigger loser.

So by a process of elimination the managers and coaches are left. At best they are junior partners when it comes to collecting the players who actually win and lose games. In most cases they do not inspire fierce fan loyalties, nor does their presence sell many tickets. They have little value on the sports flesh market. In consequence they can be quickly given the heave-ho. As Jim Bouton said, "It is easier for the general manager and/or owner to admit that there was only one mistake and fire him [the manager]. Managers cannot fire general managers for providing poor players."

A good example is the case of Hal Blitman, once the coach of the ABA's Miami Floridians. Blitman worked for an owner named Ned Doyle, who in an unguarded moment announced he would spend any amount to bring Miami a winner. In due time Rick Barry and Artis Gilmore, two players of good quality and large Florida reputations, became available. Blitman, who felt Barry and Gilmore might make fine additions to. his team, reminded Doyle of his pledge. Doyle said these two players were not the type he had in mind. They cost too much. Then, to show he still cared about basketball and Miami, he fired Blitman.

A baseball authority who has given some thought to the manager's function as a scapegoat is Bob Scheffing, himself twice a manager (Cubs and Tigers) and once a G.M. (Mets). "Even worse than losing, so far as a club is concerned," says Scheffing, "is giving the impression that nobody cares whether the team loses or not. When things are going bad you have to at least look like you are doing something about it. What the team probably needs is a couple of starting pitchers, a centerfielder who can catch the ball and another hitter, but there is no way to get them. So to prove it is concerned, the management gets a new manager."