Destiny's Whipping Boys

Only such a man could keep his aplomb in the face of the maddening consistency with which last year's plodding Senators won 31 games on the road and 31 at home. "If you can't play for him," Frank Howard said in a grammatical variation of another baseball standard, "you can't play for nobody."

His nonpareil nice-guyness led many to doubt Hodges could be a manager. How could a man who never yelled at an umpire chew out a player? "I don't use the name of God," Hodges said, "and I don't use the obscenities. I don't say I've never used them, but it's not my regular vocabulary. No, it's not a religious thing. I had early parochial training and I went to a Catholic college, but nothing special. Anyway, the fact that I am not capable of using language like that doesn't mean I can't express myself. I believe I make my points." The players believe so, too. "He's the sweetest guy in the world," one of them said, "but he's a tough son of a bitch."

Hodges has done most of his chewing out privately, but a few players who didn't get the message have been read off before the troops, Marine Corps style. "I don't like to embarrass a man," Hodges said, "because I know how it feels. I was in one of my characteristic slumps in Brooklyn and decided skipping batting practice might help. When I showed up late Harold Parrott [then Dodger business manager] said Dressen was looking for me. Harold said I should tell him I went to late Mass, but Charley knew there were early Masses. The next day he called a meeting and gave it to me. Now, I was wrong, but Charley got carried away and said a lot of things that were out of line. He even mentioned my family, and he shouldn't have done that.

"I took it because I was wrong. If I'd asked permission he'd have said O.K., so I was stupid. And I took it because all the other guys were there. It wouldn't be right to put a manager down in front of the club."

Why did Hodges become a manager? "I needed a job. I couldn't play anymore. Sure, I have the bowling alley in Brooklyn, but that's not making money yet. I did make good money in baseball, but not real good."

Hodges could have made the real good money by having the real big season instead of spreading his 370 home runs so evenly. In 1952 and 1953, for example, he hit 32 and 31 home runs. Had he hit 51 the first year and 12 the second, the fiscal structure of baseball being what it is, he'd have been ahead.

"Yes," he agreed. "I admit I made the mistake of being too consistent."

So, unhappily, have the new Senators: ninth, tenth, tenth, ninth. Only the Mets have done worse. And people come to see them play.