Sport: Double-Pennant Fever

At the station break, the announcer said: “This is Boston, baseball capital of the country.” In his State Street office, a white-haired broker told his secretary that he would be in conference with his radio until the game was over. Attendance at Braves Field, home of Boston’s National League leaders, passed 1,305,000—breaking all records. Youngsters bivouacked outside Fenway Park all night to be sure of seeing the American League-leading Red Sox. From as far as Lima, Peru, requests for World Series tickets flooded in. Beantown, which has never had a series all its own, was suffering from double-pennant fever last week—and loving it.

Bostonians were not surprised to see the Red Sox leading their league. In Slugger Ted Williams (batting .367) and other stars, the Sox had plenty of obvious talent. Manager Joe McCarthy, though new to the team this year (TIME, Aug. 9), had brought them along beautifully. But what really pleased Boston was the performance of the unglamorous Braves, who have not captured the flag since 1914. What was the secret of the 1948 Braves? Puzzled fans decided it must be the same factor that had put the Sox out in front, only more so —a manager.

Boy Martinet. Manager Billy Southworth had come a long way—up, down and up—since he was a Braves outfielder 27 years ago. He had been a Giant under John McGraw, then one of the swaggering St. Louis Cardinals when they won the 1926 World Series. Three years later, Billy the Kid became manager of the Cards—and promptly got his nickname changed to Billy the Heel. The bristling “boy martinet” forbade his old buddies to drive their own cars, clocked them in at night, was fired in midseason when morale and the Cards hit the skids.

For two years Southworth was out of baseball; but by 1935 he was on his way back via the minor leagues. In 1940, a changed Billy became manager of the Cards for the second time. This time he treated his ballplayers with almost fatherly solicitude (his own son was later killed in a B-29 crash), kept pace with their problems on & off the field. Under Southworth, the Cards won three consecutive pennants, two World Series. In 1945, Billy left St. Louis for a fat offer from the “Three Steamshovels,” as Boston calls the rich contractors who own the Braves. The team jumped from sixth place to fourth, then to third last year. The delighted Steamshovels tore up Billy’s old contract, gave him an even fatter one (his present salary: $50,000).

Bunker Hill. Apart from Southworth, the Braves got most of their early-season drive from pepperpot Second Baseman Eddie Stanky, late of the Dodgers, almost a “playing coach” until he broke his ankle on a slide. It was Stanky who helped Rookie Shortstop Alvin Dark (now batting .331) off to his sensational start. Even without Stanky, Billy’s boys picked up speed. For pitching, Southworth relied on two work horses—tobacco-chewing right-hander Johnny Sain, with two 20-game seasons under his belt, and lefthander Warren Spahn.

On Labor Day, Southworth’s boys met the second-place Brooklyn Dodgers in a battle that Boston historians may some day rank with Bunker Hill. With the help of six hits by Alvin Dark, Spahn won the 14-inning opener, 2-1, and Sain took the nightcap, 4-0. That dropped the Dodgers four games behind (and started them on their subsequent course down the league ladder).

The Braves like their methodical manager. They like the way he memorizes the stances of each batter so that he can figure out what has gone wrong when somebody slumps, and they don’t even mind when he drills them on sandlot fundamentals. The Southworth approach has kept the Braves on an even, unspectacular keel: they have put together no winning streak longer than seven games, no losing streak longer than four. Billy admits that the Braves may not be the best club in the league, but he expects to win—because the boys have the “will to win.” Says Billy: “You just keep preaching, and pretty soon you have them believing in you.”