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Friday, November 11, 2005
Cox most deserving of managerial honor
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He could manage them old. He could manage them young. And as if to prove it, check the Braves of 2005: He had a first baseman who was 47 years old and a catcher who was 21, and others of various ages in between. That’s Robert Joe Cox (his baptismal name). He came along the dusty backroads of baseball, served time in such places as Salem, Oregon; Great Falls, Montana; Panama City, Salt Lake City and Tacoma before he got his first taste of the nectar, life in the big leagues. He was the Yankees’ third baseman in 1968, but lost the job the next season. Someone once asked him about a long home run he hit in Washington, and Bobby said: “I don’t remember that, but I hit so few of them I should remember them all.”
Actually, he hit nine long ones in his two years as a Yankee. He had come up in the Dodgers system, but what most of us overlook is that he was once a Braves farmhand, traded into the farm system in 1966. He put in a season at Richmond, like many of the kids who come along on the way to Turner Field these days. There was no place for him in Atlanta. Clete Boyer, the flawless fielder, was here ahead of him. Cox’s knees began betraying him when he was 30 years old and his days as a player were done. There was something about him that caught the eye of Lee MacPhail, who ran the Yankees, and suggested that he turn to managing. Which he did, on the Yankees farm at Ft. Lauderdale, first stop on the road that led him to his fourth Manager of the Year Award this week, one at Toronto and three with the Braves. None was more righteously earned than this one, not that this should have come as a surprise. If you’ve seen the movie titled “The Misfits,” you might have applied it to the players on hand at spring training. Cox began with a patchwork outfield, Brian Jordan, a reclamation project on one side of Andruw Jones, and Raul Mondesi, out of desperation, on the other. John Schuerholz had had brilliant luck picking up Gary Sheffield, then J.D. Drew for the outfield, but it was written of Mondesi that this time Schuerholz might be pressing his luck. He was.
Jordan was injured, Mondesi flopped and there was no place to turn but the farm. None of those raid-the-bank-of-prospects to trade for some veteran running thin on the tread. They’d taken that turn earlier, sacrificing Jose Capellan, a brilliant investment, for Dan Kolb, the bearded closer, who had had one good season. Mike Hampton was an expensive casualty most of the season, John Thomson missed a couple of months, and Kevin Gryboski, Tom Martin and Gabe White were job applicants who fired and fell back. Schuerholz put in calls to Richmond and Mississippi, summoning kids still too young to be out late at night, and Cox managed on. It was a glorious season, and few of us will ever forget the excitement generated by Jeff Francoeur, Brian McCann, Kelly Johnson, Macay McBride and Wilson Betemit. I’m sorry that Joey Devine can’t be included, but it was uncanny that the last pitch of the season should have been delivered by this kid four months out of college. Well, face it, you can’t push every button, ring every bell and toot every whistle and create a symphony.
Cox fitted pieces together, gave the kids their opportunity, and they produced. It was beautiful to behold, a tribute his mastery dealing with players and maintaining order in the clubhouse. That has always been a trait of a Bobby Cox team. He respects his players to the point that no criticism of his ever surfaces. What he says to them, and of them stays there, unless the terms are glowing. None of us has any idea just how much longer Bobby Cox will manage on. All one can say is, heaven pity the fellow who follows him. Which reminds me of a story oft-repeated that developed at Cox’s firing after the 1981 season. Ted Turner was the chief then, and someone asked him, “Just what are you looking for in your next manager?”
Turner looked at Cox, who had the moxie to show up for his own firing, and said, “Somebody like Bobby Cox.” He meant it, and later hired him to be his general manager, but that was long ago.
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