For a Change, Sparky Anderson Takes the Silent Approach

In the wacky and whimsical world of Sparky Anderson, the truth is meant to be bent. Fabrication is a useful managerial tool, same as a stolen base or a suicide squeeze. If a little white-haired lie can somehow make his boys play better baseball, or even give the public a little amusement, well, where’s the harm? It won’t make his nose grow as large as Pinocchio’s, or Cyrano de Bergerac’s, or Steve Martin’s.

The trick, of course, is figuring out when Sparky is sincere. He would hate to become the manager who cried wolf, hate to believe that nobody believes a word he is saying, ever. As far as he is concerned, it is simply part of the game. “I’ll say anything,” he says.

He will tell you, and through you tell the world, that the Detroit Tigers are going to do this, or do that. He will state that he is about to bench an everyday player, just so tomorrow’s headlines will read “X to Be Benched,” whereupon X will come to the ballpark, all steamed, only to find his name on the lineup card as part of the manager’s last-second change of heart. Then, pow, 3 for 4. “That’ll teach that old coot to think of benching me,” X says.

Sparky Anderson uses fibs as motivation and exaggeration as a confidence builder. As a certain military officer told a Congressional panel last week, there are lies and there are lies . Some of them, in Sparky’s eyes, are worth the bother of keeping your fingers crossed. This is the man who once imposed a “48-hour rule,” reserving the right to take back anything he might have said during the previous two days.

There is an undeniable honesty in some of his bull. How many other major league managers admit that half the time they argue with umpires, jaw to jaw, bulging eyes to bulging eyes, they are doing so only because the players and fans expect it? More than once, that toothy old Tiger has been out there asking the umpire what he had for lunch this afternoon.

During that championship season of 1984, Sparky was in rare form. When the Tigers won their season opener and the game after that, the manager wore a blue T-shirt beneath his jersey that advertised the team owner’s pizza company. It bore a slogan, “The Hot Ones,” that seemed appropriate, so superstitious Sparky said he would wear the shirt every day, never washing it, until the Tigers lost. Next thing you knew, their record was 9-0. Poor Sparky, you figured.

Turned out that the shirt was getting a nice, fresh laundering, every single day. Sparky just laughed and said, “Gave you something to write about,” and got away with it, naturally. Came away smelling like lilacs.

It was later that same season, in a light-hearted mood just before the playoffs, that Sparky modeled his dugout stances for those who chose to take note. “This one’s during the season,” he said, looking impassively toward an imaginary diamond. “This one’s when the TV camera’s on me,” he said, crossing his arms and looking intense. “And this one’s during the World Series,” he said, leaning forward and cupping his chin with his hand, as if the bases were full with Johnny Bench at bat.

Where Sparky Anderson is at his best is when he becomes the gypsy fortune teller, predicting the future. There is always some obscure Carl Willis who is about to become the next Rollie Fingers, or a young Cuban singles slapper with the lyrical name of Barbaro Garbey who reminds his manager of a young Roberto Clemente. And who can forget Chris Pittaro, the Cooperstown-bound infielder? Can’t-misses, every one of them. Believe you me, it is torture for Sparky to resist the temptation to sell prospects the way Lee Iacocca sells cars. He would love to equip them all with five-year, 5,000 at-bat guarantees.

Oh, then, the predicament he had this spring. In camp, the Tigers had a whole batch of catchers, all of whom had applied for the position that free agent Lance Parrish had vacated. There was the wild-eyed veteran, Mike Heath, and the religious young Southerner, Dwight Lowry, and the versatile Californian, Brian Harper.

And, there was Matt Nokes.

Nokes was a kid out of San Diego who was 23 years old and had 24 at-bats to show for it. He had come to Detroit in a trade that, at face value, had sent the Tigers’ most promising catcher, Bob Melvin, to the San Francisco Giants, in return for some pitching help, Dave LaPoint and Eric King. Except to his friends back at Patrick Henry High School and to some scouts, Nokes was nobody.

But Sparky Anderson thought he saw something. He saw a hitter who never took a bad swing. He saw a hitter who could make Detroit forgive Lance (Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death) Parrish for defecting to Philadelphia. And, he was eager to shout it to the world.

He waited, though. Didn’t want to put pressure on the kid. So, slowly, and quietly for a change, a Sparky star was born. Wade Boggs came up to the Tiger manager in spring training and pointed to Nokes and said, “That kid can hit.” Don Mattingly did the same thing.

“I told both of them, ‘If you see anything in the kid’s swing that could help him, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.’ But they couldn’t notice nothing wrong,” Sparky said Thursday, on the day Matt Nokes, his rookie catcher, was named to the American League All-Star squad. “The thing about Matthew is, you get a good at-bat out of him every time. Even if he pops up or strikes out, he always gets a good cut. Matthew don’t cheat you with a bad at-bat, ever.”

As reluctant as Sparky was, he couldn’t keep mum about Nokes forever, and even got him in some hot water because of it. One day early in the season, Sparky went out on one of his usual limbs and said: “By August, people are gonna forget we ever had a catcher named Lance Parrish.” Word of mouth got garbled, until a San Diego newspaper attributed that remark to Nokes himself. Nokes never said any such thing.

Not that he lacks confidence, though. In spring training, Nokes vowed that before the season was over, he definitely would be the starting catcher. And, he added, “My goal when I get out of baseball is to be remembered as one of the best catchers ever.” He didn’t say he would be, remember; just that he would like to be.

Making the All-Star team was a step in that direction, and this will be, rather amazingly, the 18th time in the past 23 years that Detroit has been represented by a catcher in that game. “I thought I had a shot to make it, but you never know, being a rookie and all,” Nokes said. “It’s a thrill. I never thought it would happen to me so fast.”

Sparky Anderson, big surprise, is certain this is just the start of something big. He sees the dedication, watching Nokes taking extra batting practice, at 3 o’clock before 7:30 games. He sees the intensity, the way Nokes focuses on the pitcher in the on-deck circle, already envisioning what’s ahead. And, he sees the person Nokes is, and likes what he sees.

“We’re not talking about a baseball player,” Sparky said. “We’re talking about a good human being. I hope he makes tons of money, but even if he don’t, it ain’t gonna change him. I’ll always feel safe with Matthew out there. You see him in the clubhouse, in the hotel lobby, on the plane, and he’s always the same guy. He’s a good, smart, nice person.

“You know what else he is? He’s a job saver. Sometimes he looks at me and I know he’s thinking, ‘What’s wrong with you? Gee, that poor old (guy) looks bad today.’ And I tell him, ‘Don’t you worry about me. You’re a job saver. You save my job every time you go up there and swing.’ If he hadn’t come along, I might be looking for a job right now.”

Right. Sure thing, Sparky. Whatever you say, babe. Uh huh.