April 12, 2002
New Face of Red Sox Is Little's
By JACK CURRY
OSTON, April 11 — Thirty-one years ago, Grady Little's father gave him a simple piece of advice about his impending marriage that has defined a long and winding baseball career and, more specifically, the man. Bill Little offered the sound guidance that so many other parents have offered their children when he implored his son never to go to bed angry with his wife, Debi.
The words resonated with Little. They were simple, yet vital. So Little took his late father's advice and incorporated it well beyond his relationship with his wife. Little, the first-year manager of the Boston Red Sox, has applied this lesson in every relationship — new, old, critical or casual — and never lets anyone trudge away mad at him: not a shortstop, a son or even a bank teller.
"Whenever something needs to be said, I say it," Little said. "I don't let things go even one day without trying to communicate and get it better. If you don't do it, there's a good chance you're going to lose. Don't sleep on it overnight because it's only going to get worse."
Now Little has brought his peaceful approach to Fenway Park. He is here because the team's first new owners in 69 years decided that this laid-back baseball lifer who speaks slowly and with a drawl that would turn heads inside a stalled D train is the perfect man to resuscitate the Red Sox. Little managed close to 2,000 minor league games before finally getting an opportunity in the majors. He is 52, with silver hair and a crooked nose, and as he discusses his job, he suddenly sounds 16 and poised to get a driver's license.
"I feel like I'm the luckiest man in the world," Little said this week as the Red Sox prepared for a four-game series against the Yankees, which begins Friday night. "I've been put in a position I've long awaited and I've been put in this position with a good ball club."
Little was put in this elite position because the new owners understood that the franchise they bought for $660 million on Feb. 27 needed serious changes. They fired Dan Duquette, the general manager, one day after the sale. They fired Joe Kerrigan, the pitching coach who replaced Jimy Williams as manager last August, five days later. The Red Sox, never lauded for being friendly to their fans or the news media, had to revamp their personality. Arrogance has tilted toward affability.
That is why the little-known Little was so appealing to them. He had 16 years of experience as a minor league manager, starting in the Baltimore Orioles organization, switching to the Toronto Blue Jays and then to the Atlanta Braves for a decade. Little was named the best minor league manager in the last 20 years by Baseball America because of a 1,054-903 record and titles at every minor league level.
He spent years in towns like Hagerstown and Pulaski and knows the bleary eyes and achy backs that come from those endless bus trips. Little was a bullpen coach with San Diego in 1996, spent three years as a bench coach under Williams with the Red Sox and served in that same role with Cleveland for the last two seasons. Apparently, Little did not make any enemies along these sometimes lonely trails.
Besides his baseball acumen, the folksy Little has excellent communication skills, a self-deprecating style, enough humility to revel in his relative anonymity and confidence, which he usually keeps hidden, except when it is necessary to highlight his résumé. When Little spoke to the Red Sox, the fourth team he had interviewed with for a managerial position, that confidence came through. John Henry, the team's principal owner, smiled as he recalled Little's telling the owners that he was the man, that he had the confidence to get the job and do the job.
The Red Sox are promoting themselves as the friendlier Red Sox. One club official gushed about Little while showing a reporter a much-needed interview room and a new players' lounge. The cramped clubhouse is roomier because two large tables and two rows of lockers were removed. But the biggest change is in the manager's office, a change that Little called just a minor detail that is part of the different feeling in the organization. Sure. As Little knows, there is nothing minor about managing a team that has not won a World Series since 1918.
He is a people person. He apologized when an interview with no prearranged time began, according to him, a few minutes late. He propped his elbows on his thighs, leaned in to look at the questioner and took breaks only to spit tobacco juice into a garbage can. He has playfully told reporters, "If I ever get to talking too fast for you guys, just tell me." Mike Port, the general manager, said he doubted anyone could find someone with a discouraging word about Little.
As a player, Little, a catcher, batted .207 with only two homers in six minor league seasons. He retired after the 1973 season. He was a minor league coach with the Yankees for one year before donning overalls and becoming a cotton farmer in his native Texas for five years. But Little missed baseball and returned as a minor league coach with the Orioles in 1980. He became manager of their rookie-level Appalachian League team later that year.
"And," Little said, condensing 22 years into one sentence, "I've been at it ever since."
Almost everyone here has a delightful story about Little. For Jason Varitek, it was after another exasperating inning of trying to catch Tim Wakefield's knuckleball. "Hey, Tek," Little said, "why don't you try using your glove?" For Rickey Henderson, it is how Little always has a joke handy. "He's got a great sense of humor and he always keeps us loose," Henderson said. Manny Ramirez, who operates most efficiently when he does not have to say or do much off the field, respects Little from their time in Cleveland. The players gave Little a huge ovation and Pedro Martínez hugged him after he was named manager on March 11. "I'm a players' manager," Little said. "What's the definition of that? I'll do everything I can to keep them in the most relaxed atmosphere possible because I think that's when they can be their most productive."
Varitek says Little is always prepared and quite savvy. "He understands players," Varitek said. "He doesn't panic right away. He can read a player."
Henry, whose preference for manager was said to be Felipe Alou, said Little had "a disarming charm, a very quiet charisma." He added, "I think that will make him effective in the clubhouse."
But will Little succeed? The fortunes of the Red Sox hinge more on Martínez's pitching shoulder than on anything Little will do. Martínez was pounded in the season opener, pitched reliably in his second start, and will oppose the Yankees on Saturday. A three-time Cy Young Award winner, Martínez could be the difference between a memorable season or a forgettable one.
Henry, a former minority owner of the Yankees, compared Little to Yankees Manager Joe Torre, a thought that was quickly echoed by Tony Cloninger, the Red Sox pitching coach and former Yankees bullpen coach, and by Willie Banks, a Red Sox pitcher who played for the Yankees in 1997 and 1998. Like Torre, Little is imperturbable.
"Nobody knows Grady Little," Little said. "The places I managed in the minor leagues and worked in the major leagues know Grady Little, but I could walk down Times Square and they're not going to mob me like they do Joe or Zim. That's all right. I want the focus to be on the players. Do they have a chance to beat the Yankees in a given year?"
It is the same question every year here, but with a refreshing twist now.