Thank you very much

Posted: Fri October 17, 1997

We asked Robert W. Creamer, a longtime Sports Illustrated baseball writer and editor, for his favorite behind-the-scenes World Series moment. He pointed to this item from the October 11, 1954 issue of SI. The Cleveland Indians won 111 games that season, but somehow managed to drop four straight to the New York Giants in the Series. Bob was there.

In their dressing room in Cleveland's Municipal Stadium after the final game, the New York Giants were mildly ecstatic. Not quite so ecstatic, perhaps, as the photographers endeavored to make them, but in reasonably good cheer. It was a happy time, people laughing, shouting, cheering, congratulating one another.

A few hundred feet to the south, in another part of the forest, Al Lopez, manager of the Cleveland Indians, sat quietly behind his desk in the small, bare, white room that serves as his office. A dozen or so reporters filed into the room and stood awkwardly around the desk. Those who knew Lopez well shook hands with him and murmured, "Sorry, Al," or, "Too bad, Al," or, "Tough, Al. I'm sorry." Lopez, his face heavy with weariness and defeat, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, answered, "Thank you, Dick. Thanks. Thank you. Thank you, Lou."

It was very quiet. No one seemed to know what to say. Someone asked him about the turning point of the Series. Lopez shrugged his shoulders.

Other questions were put, quiet questions, gentle questions. Lopez answered them, though he didn't seem to want to. He was very patient, very quiet, very tired, but very patient.

Did he think the Giants were that much better than the Indians, he was asked.

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"That's hard to say," he answered. "They played like hell and we played the worst we did all season. Excuse me," he said. He stood up and came around the desk. Ford Frick, the Commissioner of Baseball, had come into the office.

"Not much I can say, Al," Frick said. "I know you did your best. You were beginning to come in that last game, but I guess it was too late then."

Lopez nodded.

"I guess it was," he said.

"Well, good luck, Al," Frick said.

"Thank you," Lopez said. They shook hands and Frick left. Lopez sat down again and looked around patiently for more questions. A photographer came in and knelt by the front of the desk. He focused his camera, set his exposure and then he spoke quietly, to Lopez, sitting behind the desk.

"Al," he said, "would you lean your head on your hand?"

Lopez leaned his head on his hand. Then he straightened up.

"That's too uncomfortable," he said. He grinned. "If you want a sad picture you shouldn't have any trouble. Not if I look like I feel." He grinned broadly and looked around at the others in the room. One or two smiled back, briefly. The photographer waited until Lopez' grin subsided and the wistful sadness returned.

Lopez answered a few more questions in the same quiet voice. Then he excused himself again and rose and came around the desk to speak to someone standing outside in the hall.

The reporters, almost on signal, filed out after him and went past him into the players' dressing room. One reporter went past Lopez, stopped and came back to him.

"Al," he said. "I'm awfully sorry you lost the Series."

They shook hands.

"Thank you," Lopez said. "Thank you very much."

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