If you’ve got six months, I’ll tell you some Joe Morgan stories.
The Red Sox organization’s longest-serving Triple-A manager was 95 when he died Saturday night, the third-oldest living former major league manager, the seventh-oldest living former major league player.
Morgan managed the Pawtucket Red Sox for 1,259 games and won 601 of them, both organization records. He also won 301 games and two American League East titles in Boston from 1988 through 1991.
He was also my closest friend in professional baseball.
The stories….where to start?
— Morgan was part of one of the most memorable off-the-field moments I’ve ever had involving baseball. It was some time in the 1990s, autumn, and we had played golf in Whitinsville. We drove back to my home and along the way crossed Cottage Street, which was being rebuilt.
Mark Fidrych was doing the work. He had pitched for Morgan in Pawtucket. As we drove past Cottage Street, Fidrych was sitting on the front steps of an apartment house, having a sandwich. We parked the car, Joe walked over, sat down next to The Bird and they talked at length.
Word got around. Pretty soon half of Whitinsville was lining Cottage Street getting autographs and chatting with two of the most significant people in Massachusetts baseball history, and they both stayed until the last fan was gone.
— Joe’s interests went way beyond baseball, and hockey, of which he was a great college player at B.C. He knew everything about mushrooms, a lot about tomatoes, and was a grilled cheese expert. That was his go-to lunch and he knew the variations. A grilled cheese with tomato, for instance, is a Daisy Mae and that’s what he would order.
— He played baseball and hockey at All-American levels. Not so much candlepin bowling, but he loved the game as only a New Englander can. He was a fan of Ralph Semb, who set the single-string record of 245 in 1984. So, two years ago, we took a drive out to Semb’s hometown of Millers Falls and Morgan finally met Semb. I’m not sure if Joe was more excited about meeting Semb, or about the time he met Muhammad Ali.
— The day Joe got fired at the end of the 1991 season I tracked him down to Joe Castiglione’s house in Marshfield. They were extremely close and Morgan retreated there to escape the media hordes. Remember, all the years Joe managed the Red Sox, his phone number was in the book. The Castigliones were kind enough to let me in for an interview. Joe and his wife, Dorothy, were in the living room watching a playoff game while Joe sipped on a Dewar’s and snacked on Jan Castiglione’s homemade brownies.
During the game, a Red Sox player was interviewed and was critical of Morgan. Dorothy Morgan was incensed and asked her husband, “Doesn’t that get you mad?” and he responded, in all sincerity, “You have to remember, that guy has the mind of a 14-year-old.”
— When Joe replaced the beleaguered John McNamara in 1988, he was to be the classic temp hiring. He was told so by team president John Harrington, who termed him “interim.”
Morgan’s response was real-time ESP. He said, “Mr. Harrington, the word ‘interim’ is not in my vocabulary.” The Sox won 12 straight, 19 of 20, and that was Morgan’s Magic.
— More Morgan ESP. We were in Northfield, Mass., looking for the son of F. Sumner Turner, who was also from Walpole and coached football at my high school, Northbridge. This is pre-internet days. We stopped at the post office for directions and Joe noticed that the field behind the post office was surrounded by blue bird boxes. Birds were another of his pastimes and he wanted more information about the boxes.
As we were leaving the building, a woman was arriving. Joe flagged her down and asked, “Hey, do you know anything about these bluebird boxes?” The response was, “Sure. I built them.”
— Nobody knew more about the intricacies of baseball than Morgan. Late in one game he made a pinch-hitting move that seemed to make little sense, but worked out with a home run. Afterwards, he was asked why and said, “I had a hunch.” Later off the record, he added, “The guy who was supposed to bat had seen that pitcher in the minor leagues and he broke his wrist with an inside fastball. That batter was terrified of him.”
— Morgan was without guile and could not tell a lie, no matter what. In 1989 the Red Sox were playing the White Sox in Chicago with righty Shawn Hillegas pitching for the White Sox. The Pale Hose also had a pitcher named Paul Kilgus, a lefty. Morgan had the two pitchers confused and did not platoon his catchers, Rich Gedman and Rick Cerone, as he usually did.
Cerone had a huge day at the plate, anyway, and Boston won. The first thing Morgan did after the game was tell writers that by the time he realized his mistake, the lineup card had already been made out and it looked too good to change.
The next day, White Sox manager Jeff Torborg was told the story and was asked if he would have told writers about the mistake.
“Told you guys?” he said. “I wouldn’t have told my wife.”
One night in Cleveland, Indians reliever Doug Jones threw at catcher Tony Pena’s head. The next day, Roger Clemens retaliated and Morgan admitted he ordered the hit even though he wound up getting fined and suspended.
— He was completely unpretentious. Morgan loved gardening and would bring fresh produce from Walpole to the ballpark to give to writers and friends.
One day in 1988 he did a pre-game radio interview in Baltimore and got a gift certificate to a clothing store downtown. Baseball writer Dan Shaughnessy had done the same thing and when Joe found out that Shaughnessy was headed out to cash in the certificate, Morgan gave him his certificate and asked him to bring him back some boxer shorts.
— Joe was in Milwaukee with the Braves on May 26, 1959 when Pittsburgh’s Harvey Haddix pitched 12 perfect innings before eventually losing in the 13th. There was a horde of writers in the Braves’ clubhouse after the game and Morgan noticed that one gentleman, dressed in jacket and tie, was merely watching, not writing anything down.
Curious, Morgan walked over and introduced himself and asked what paper the man wrote for. He answered, “Oh, I’m not a sportswriter. My name is Vince Lombardi and I’m the new coach of the Green Bay Packers.”
— Morgan created his own baseball terms. A fastball was Powder River. A curve was Uncle Charlie or Lord Charles. An overmatched hitter, “Couldn’t hit him with 40 bats.” His sign for the suicide squeeze was to yell, “So how’s your old tomatoes?”
— Joe loved having visitors, either before or after games, and he had a wide circle of fond friends in and out of baseball. During one memorable homestand, his very good friend Ted Williams was in the manager’s office after a game. The next game he hosted a rival from the old Blackstone Valley League days, Jack Ratcliffe. The third visit was from two farmers from Wrentham who gave him manure for his tomatoes.
— Morgan never left Walpole and could not understand why anyone would leave his or her hometown for any reason. During a spring training game in Plant City, Fla., then home of the Reds, a fan asked for an autographed ball. As he was signing, Joe asked the fan where he lived. The answer was, originally from Cambridge, but now in Florida.
While still signing, Morgan said, “Sir, you have ruined my day. I have friends and relatives in Cambridge and none of them would ever THINK of moving.”
— Joe would make personal appearances, speak at men’s clubs and Little League banquets and never ask for money, just a meal if possible. He would get checks in the mail after an event and send them back and never charged for an autograph.
— He visited Polar Park at least a couple of times. The last visit had him sitting in Dr. Charles Steinberg’s box next to Jim Tracy, WooSox manager Chad Tracy’s father. It turned out to be a little more Morgan ESP. Both he and Jim Tracy had taken over faltering teams in mid-season and taken them to the playoffs.
It looks like Chad Tracy is about to join that group.
When I began covering the Red Sox in 1987 I used to carry around one of those Bible-sized baseball encyclopedias. They were heavy, cumbersome. It did not take long to realize I didn’t need the book. Morgan was an even better reference.
I was fortunate to get to know him well, inside and outside of baseball, warts and all. Except there were no warts.
