Something about
the Cubs’ Joe Maddon has been bugging me for ages, but I could never put a
finger on it till this week. Here it
is: Maddon could pass for another Bill
Veeck, or his younger brother or at worst first cousin.
Just like
Maddon, the onetime owner of the Indians, Browns and White Sox was a man as decent
as he was insecure. (Non-decent people
in baseball? Start with George
Steinbrenner and Billy Martin, and don’t forget Milton Bradley.) Maddon needs for everyone to know he’s the
smartest guy in the room, Veeck wanted all the world to know how many books he
read, and what kind. Maddon presents
himself as a kid from Hazleton, Pennsylvania, a variation on Veeck’s common-man
persona. But at some point they both
became millionaires putting on an act.
Maddon is
renowned for his antics—the petting zoo; medicine man; themed road trips;
slogans on tee-shirts; and, most recently, a foray into art as motivation. Veeck was renowned for using a midget to
pinch hit; belly dancers; elephants; exploding scoreboard; and disco
demolition. You either love this kind of
stuff, or you don’t; remember it fondly, or don’t. The more I think about Veeck, the more I’m
struck by a thoroughly decent man with a penchant to screw up a good thing.
In his first
go-around as owner of the Sox, Veeck traded away a boatload of young talent
after the 1959 pennant season (Earl Battey, Johnny Callison, Norm Cash, Don
Mincher, John Romano). If the White Sox
teams I grew up with in the 1960s lacked hitting, that was because Veeck traded
it away for older guys (Gene Freese, Minnie Minoso, Roy Sievers). Veeck played for now at the expense of later.
Ill health
forced Veeck to sell the team in 1961 while circumstances allowed him to
reacquire it in 1976. Running the
franchise on a relative shoestring, Veeck again started trading young talent,
the likes of Bucky Dent, Brian Downing and Goose Gossage. Things went better with this round of trades
because Veeck worked in tandem with general manager Roland Hemond, who was a
master at detecting undervalued talent in other organizations. Still, Veeck couldn’t win consistently, and
he sold the team a second after the 1980 season. The White Sox then looked a little like the
Rays when Maddon left following the 2014 season.
Maddon is cut from
the same cloth as Veeck, with this one difference—he knows more about the game
on the field than “Barnum Bill” ever did.
By that, do I mean a lot? Maybe,
maybe not. I guess it depends on how you
think Maddon managed in the 2016 World Series.
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