The two-time MVP (one in each league) and veteran manager was born Aug. 31, 1942.
Robinson was the first big-league manager I ever met. I was doing research for a book on what was then supposed to have been the last season of the Montreal Expos. I drove up for the week of the final homestand. It was kind of strange since my family hails from Montreal and heretofore I always had a place to stay. But death and relocation diminished the family to the point where I had to seek residence in a hotel.
But I digress. I came to Montreal to get the flavor of the fans, media, and Expos personnel (Omar Minaya, then the team’s GM, swiped some popcorn from me during a visit to the press box). It was, to say the least, pretty depressing.
Looking for a few good men.
Frank Robinson holding court. Yawn.
Robinson held court — that’s the only way to put it — with the handful of media on hand for each game. He gave the appearance of being a tired man. As an outsider, I wondered how the reporters could ask him the same questions, day after day, and how he could answer the same questions, day after day. “How’s so-and-so’s arm today?” “What did you tell so-and-so after he made that bad throw in the seventh?” The big deal for the final few games Robinson’s decision to put Vladamir Guerrero at the top of the order to get him a few more at-bats in his quest for the 40-40 club (he missed it by one homer). The media treated Robinson with fear and deference, for his wrath, when annoyed, could be mighty. Even at his advanced age, he was not too feeble to “announce his presence with authority” (see Bull Durham) by grabbing the collar of a recalcitrant pitcher.
So that's where Max Patkin got to...
The Expos were not doing well and the fans were staying away in droves (save for a few hardy souls). You’d never know they were faced with the possibility of losing the ball club for good.
But it was still a cool experience. As an “irregular” journalist, I was looked at as a curiosity. Why, the newspaper, radio, and TV folks wanted to know, would anyone want to do a book on this? That attitude said it all. These folks didn’t deserve a team.
Still, it had been part of my family tradition, dating back to old Parc Jarry, a long walk from my aunt’s apartment in Outremont, and it was if I was losing a family member.
It’s so comforting to know that they’re doing sooo much better now that they’ve moved to Washington.
is available on Amazon.com,
Comments on this entry are closed.