ESPN The Magazine
(Archive)
Updated: October 18, 2007
Joe Torre never spent hours poring over statistics or videotape like a lot of young managers do these days. He wasn't a workaholic type who obsessed about getting to work earlier than his peers. He would have a nice lunch, and then he would shave cleanly after games -- wins or losses -- as he prepared for a late dinner at a restaurant.
It has never been his style to simmer in the aftermath of success or failure, after all. In an era when managers seem to put in more hours than first-year lawyers or hospital residents, Torre might've put in the fewest office hours of any manager in the game.
But Torre could delve deeper into the heart of his clubhouse in a 30-second conversation with a player than some managers can in a whole season. He could make the intense Paul O'Neill laugh dolefully at himself, or ask David Cone or Mike Mussina for a suggestion, or stop a slumping youngster at his door with a shout: Hey, kid, how you doing? When Scott Brosius went to him, late in the season in 1999, and told him that he needed to go see his dying father, Torre did not hem or haw or hesitate or fret about violating a century of old-school baseball protocol. Rather, he told Brosius to go home, to be with his dad.
When he removed 45-year-old Roger Clemens in the third inning of Game 3 of the Division Series with a fatherly pat on the cheek, it was not the gesture of a manager commiserating with a star who had had a bad night. It was Torre acknowledging, for Clemens' sake, that he knows that Clemens tried, that he knows that for six seasons, Clemens always tried, always cared. Torre's voice cracked when he spoke late Monday night, but not referring to his own situation -- he seemed resigned to his fate -- but when he mentioned his Yankees' effort and their passion.
He was not above playing favorites, of course, and some players felt the dark glower of his stare. He wasn't a Pollyanna who liked everybody no matter what. He didn't care for David Wells, or Jeff Nelson, and some of his relievers felt he mistreated them with the workload he foisted upon them. He hung out outfielder Chad Curtis publicly during the 1999 World Series, after Curtis refused to talk with NBC reporter Jim Gray, and even after teammates exonerated Curtis and told Torre that the outfielder had done what they all had agreed to do, Torre never set the record straight. On the other hand, Torre vehemently defended Clemens after the bat-throwing incident in the 2000 World Series, in a way that he did not defend Curtis.
But mostly, his players, including Curtis, sensed that he cared deeply about them as people, and was never a fairweather manager who took their slumps as personal affronts, like many managers and coaches tend to do. He treated them like men.
Torre brilliantly managed George Steinbrenner and the New York media in the same way: He recognized the implicit threat that each force represented, and while he understood that neither could be ignored nor bullied, he never surrendered his dignity to either along the way.
Unlike some of those who preceded him as Yankees manager, he would not hide from Steinbrenner in the worst of times, taking the initiative to pick up the phone and call the owner, to be accountable, to commiserate, and above all else, to defuse, as best he could, any growing storm. But he would also hold his ground when necessary, sometimes using a well-honed cutting comment, with just the right amount of sarcasm, to knock Steinbrenner back on his heels a bit, to remind him that he -- Torre -- had played and managed for almost 40 years and that Steinbrenner had not.
Yankees staff members who were in the room for organizational meetings were awed by how adept Torre could be in dealing with Steinbrenner, in making it clear that some of his craziest ideas were horrible, exploiting Steinbrenner's own insecurity about his baseball knowledge, without inciting a confrontation.
He treated reporters as equals and generally did not play favorites. He answered their questions as honestly and respectfully as possible, without openly currying favor -- and in that way, favor was curried naturally.
As a beat reporter who covered the Yankees for four years, I had the same kind of relationship that most of the reporters had with him -- he dealt with me fairly, at arm's length. The joke among the beat reporters was that while Torre certainly knew the names of the individual reporters and would offer a smile and a nod, years would pass before he referred to them by name, if ever.
In the summer of 2000, the year after Torre was diagnosed with and treated for prostate cancer, the Metro desk at my paper, The New York Times, got a tip through the source at the mayor's office that Torre's cancer had returned. After his usual pregame meeting with reporters that day, in Detroit, I pulled Torre aside and asked him if this was true. It was not, and I could see in his face how taken aback he was by the question. Nothing about this ever appeared in the paper, of course.
The next day, he called me into his office alone, and with controlled anger, told me he thought my question was extraordinarily inappropriate, and beneath the tradition and dignity of The New York Times. He was livid, at the paper, at me. And after I left his office, he never mentioned the issue again, and never treated me any differently than he had before -- professionally, courteously, openly, and at arm's length. He was never warm with me, and yet, when my wife bumped into Torre and his wife at an event and introduced herself, he could not have been more gracious and gregarious with her.
Other managers will work harder than Torre, put in more time. His successor might handle the Yankees' pitching staff better than Torre, and moving forward, the team could benefit from statistical analysis in a way that it hasn't over the last 12 years. The lineups and lineup choices might be more informed.
But while many managers can crunch numbers and know the game, it remains to be seen whether anyone can usher the Yankees through the gantlet of crises the way that Torre has. The organization naturally veers toward chaos, because of the insatiable owner and media and fan base, and Torre mostly steered around all that, turning and deflecting.
I always will believe that during the 1996-2001 dynasty, Mariano Rivera was the only uniformed member of the organization more important to the Yankees' success than Torre. They could not have won so much without him, and it remains to be seen if any Yankee manager can ever be as successful or as adept as Joe Torre.
Torre 'couldn't agree to' proposed contract
By Buster Olney
ESPN The Magazine
(Archive)
Updated: October 18, 2007
As the Yankees' organizational meetings broke up Wednesday afternoon and general manager Brian Cashman prepared to fly back to New York, his cell phone rang. It was Joe Torre calling, to ask whether it would helpful, as his future with the Yankees was decided, for him to fly to Tampa and meet with the Steinbrenners face to face.
The Steinbrenners agreed. Torre had been told by Cashman over the last 72 hours what the forthcoming offer might be, but as Torre and Cashman flew to Tampa Thursday morning, Cashman asked the manager if he would accept. "Honestly, I don't know," Torre said.
George Steinbrenner was in the room when Torre sat down with Hank and Hal Steinbrenner, Cashman and team president Randy Levine. It was Hal Steinbrenner who spelled out the offer to Torre -- a one-year base of $5 million, with $1 million bonuses based on how far the Yankees advanced in the playoffs. The Steinbrenners explained their rationale for cutting his base salary 29 percent -- the team hadn't met the organization's goal of winning the World Series for seven seasons.
Torre was rewarded for past successes when he negotiated a new deal a few years ago, and in the proposed contract, his salary -- still the highest for any manager -- would come down for recent playoff failures.
Torre responded, in his measured tone, "Listen, I hear what you're saying, but that's something I couldn't agree to."
The Steinbrenners said that Torre would always be part of the family, and Torre and the Steinbrenners stood up. There were handshakes, and no tears, and after 12 years as Yankees manager, Torre walked away.
Torre survived a dozen seasons under Steinbrenner
By Buster Olney
ESPN The Magazine
(Archive)
Updated: October 18, 2007
Joe Torre was not George Steinbrenner's first choice to take over as manager of the Yankees in 1996. In fact, Torre initially was rejected as a candidate for general manager and manager, but Steinbrenner changed his mind, much to the dismay of columnists. "Clueless Joe," one headline blared infamously.
But with Torre came success not seen by the Yankees since the days of Mantle, DiMaggio and Ruth. The Yankees won the World Series in 1996, and again in 1998 -- when the team accumulated a record 125 victories including the postseason -- and in 1999 and 2000. The Yankees' championship dynasty ended in Arizona in 2001, on Luis Gonzalez's bloop single over the head of Derek Jeter, but Torre survived 12 seasons as Yankees manager, the same number of seasons that Miller Huggins and Casey Stengel managed the team.
But Stengel, Joe McCarthy and Huggins didn't work for Steinbrenner, the demanding Boss whom Torre adeptly handled for more than a decade. Rather than hide from Steinbrenner, like some previous Yankees managers, Torre would reach out to the owner, calm him, talk about horse racing. After the Yankees lost the first two games of the 1996 World Series, Torre told Steinbrenner not to worry, the Yankees would come back -- and they did.
Torre had a similar effect on his players, his tranquil demeanor serving to quell his players' anxieties in the maelstrom of New York. He became a father figure to the likes of Paul O'Neill, and to Jeter, who long referred to him as "Mr. Torre." Darryl Strawberry once cried on the steps of City Hall as he thanked his manager.
When the Yankees players were told, in March 1999, that Torre had been diagnosed with prostate cancer, some of them wept. In time, the personal trauma that Torre experienced during his time as Yankees' manager -- the death of his brother Rocco, the heart transplant of his brother Frank, the revelation that he had grown up in a home of domestic violence, his cancer -- would reinforce Torre's standing as a beloved and respected figure.
Newsweek published poll results from this question -- which sports figure would best be able to lead the country -- and Torre finished second, behind Michael Jordan.
He became so popular, by 2001, that Steinbrenner began to feel as if he couldn't fire Torre, because of the public backlash that might result. But now, for seven straight seasons, the Yankees have failed to reach the goal of the sky-high Steinbrenner Doctrine -- anything short of a championship is considered failure - despite spending about $1.3 billion in salary, revenue sharing and luxury tax. And now it seems Torre is out, at age 67.
He had 2,342 hits, nine All-Star appearances and an MVP Award as a player, and is the eighth-winningest manager of all time. With the Yankees, Torre managed baseball's only dynasty since the advent of free agency in 1976. He is destined to be inducted into baseball's Hall of Fame.
Buster Olney is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. He updates his Insider blog each morning on ESPN.com.
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