Number 1 Book Review: Billy Martin Reveals Much About Baseball, His Character in Near Tell-All Book

[Matt Braun]

And prepare for some fights. 

Image courtesy of Dick Raphael-USA TODAY Sports

Everybody who's never worked for George (Steinbrenner) liked him. It's the people who work for him that can't stand him. 

Thirty-four years after his death, the life of Billy Martin remains fascinating. In a sea of baseball men—the kind of tactical red-asses who could only live in baseball circles—Martin stands above everyone. He was tough, fought his players, but ultimately won. Martin won with the Twins, the Tigers, the Rangers, the Yankees, and A's. He never managed a team more than five seasons in a row (technically speaking), but it didn't matter; he won. He was also an *******, the likes of which will go down in legend. 

Number 1, written in 1980 with the help of author Peter Golenbock, reveals plenty of stories about Martin and his time in baseball. He describes his youth, how his mother raised him not to take crap from anyone, all the way up until he accepted the Oakland managerial position. Along the way, he details his physical and verbal fights with everyone he felt disrespected him. The book is 366 pages long.

The juiciest parts for the common fan come when Martin describes his battles with George Steinbrenner and Reggie Jackson. "I never should have agreed to manage the Yankees when I did in 1975," he starts the book with. Unlike his other battles, these were matches of temper and temperament, with the meddling Steinbrenner and the dramatic Jackson distracting Martin from his lone goal: winning. There's not much new here—Steinbrenner criticized every minute detail of the team; Jackson marched to his own unique rhythm—but the conflicts are fascinating, and reading Martin's side helps illuminate why they occurred so often. 

The part Twins fans will be most interested in starts in chapter 6. Martin's playing career had ended following the 1961 season, but owner Calvin Griffith liked Martin enough to bring him back as a scout. Martin accepted, beginning an eight-year stint in the organization. 

His scouting career didn't amount to much—he doesn't even spend a page talking about it—as his desire for Griffith to sign a Scottsdale phenom named Jim Palmer was the only story worth mentioning to him. Griffith balked, and Palmer signed with the Orioles—the team that would vex the Twins in years to come.

1965 is when his career took off. It was perfect timing; Martin was promoted to 3rd base coach, and the Twins won the pennant thanks in part to, in Martin's view, more aggressive baserunning. Here we see one of his baseball pillars: the bases. Martin was obsessed with baserunning. During spring training, he got his players "thrown out at home deliberately just so they'd be more aggressive," it appeared to pay off as the team doubled their stolen base total from the previous year from 46 to 92 with only eleven extra outs. 

That year was the team's zenith, though, and, following three years of missing the playoffs, Griffith selected a new man to manage his ballclub: Billy Martin. 

The team won 97 games, played the Orioles in the newly-formed ALCS, and Martin was fired immediately following the season. Typically, this would be shocking - but not in the life of Martin. A fight with pitcher Dave Boswell—which Martin defends as him staving off a "bigger guy"—resulted in the pitcher earning a bloody face. It was a he-said, she-said situation only Martin, Boswell, and maybe Bob Allison know the truth about, but the fight stained Martin's reputation and likely helped lead to his firing.

If you asked Martin, the man behind his ousting was Howard Fox. Fox was the team's traveling secretary and one of Griffith's right-hand men. Following an entanglement in which Fox threw Martin's hotel key at his face, the two exchanged fists and walked away with a mutual disdain for each other*. 

One of his overarching character traits is that Martin believes everyone is out to get him; this is one of the running themes of the book. It's never his fault. Someone else started something, or someone is conspiring against him, and not once does Martin ask himself why his higher-ups often don't like him very much. A few times—like in Texas when an ownership change upset the balance of power—Martin's gripes are legitimate and fair. Still, everywhere else, he seems eager to stomp on the political process involved in his power structures, only to find the pushback dumbfounding. You'd think he would self-reflect, but that wasn't Martin's way. 

His beef continues with personnel decisions. Every player not acquired by his front offices was the difference between life and death; "We would have won the pennant," he said about missing out on Deron Johnson in 1973, who had a good—not great—season with the Oakland A's. "Jim Merritt should have started the third game" of the 1965 World Series, which cost them the championship. There are numerous examples of Martin's tumultuous relationships, and the reader must accept that Martin's world is simple, with villains and heroes, where right and wrong are crystal clear to him. 

He was a brilliant baseball mind, but his claims speak to supernatural baseball clairvoyance. He knew that Jim Palmer would be something when he scouted him for the Twins, and he knew that Jim Sundberg and Mike Hargrove would become phenomenal players before either hit the majors. There is an endless citation of players Martin knew would be good. Seldom does he mention being wrong. Admittedly a standard characteristic of an autobiography, but Martin's specific recollections appear extra self-serving, considering his exit from the Yankees and the constant need to rehabilitate his public image. 

Number 1 is a revealing peek behind the curtains into a character-full era of baseball. Reggie Jackson and George Steinbrenner are the primary targets, but Martin ensures that almost everyone he comes across earns a shot. At times, his strategic insights harken back to a nostalgic period where grit could make a good ballplayer, and hitters took pride in their bunting. Still, Martin's inability to accept blame for his actions becomes eye-rolling and dull. 

There could be a universe where Billy Martin becomes the next Casey Stengel or guides the Twins through their wandering, mediocre '70s seasons. He had the ability. But that would have required compromise. Martin would have needed to play the game and navigate the political waters of ownership and front officeship. That was not Martin's style. Maybe he missed out on glory, but he did things his way, unflinchingly his practice—and that's why we still remember him.

*Fox and Martin also battled on a flight earlier in the day. The story is too long to add to this review, but Sam Gazdziak covers it a few paragraphs into his biography of Fox here.

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[CRF]

The thing about Martin's "character"...is that he WAS a character! I wasn't in Mn when he was with the Twins, but I lived in the NY/NJ area the whole time he and Steinbrenner did their dance with the Yankees. What a nut-house! It was the craziest thing imaginable. Every day was a different circus ring. The Bronx Zoo it was! 

[Karbo]

The guy knew how to win. I remember being upset when the Twins fired him, though not at all surprised. Didn't follow him much after that, but dreaded playing against his teams. He got the most out of his players, and his teams were usually fun to watch.

[mikelink45]

His relationship with Reggie Jackson is the low point in his career as a savant punk manager.  In Oakland he ruined a good pitching staff.  You didn't even get to the classic marshmallow salesman fight.  Martin was full of demons and an extraordinary drive. 

[jmlease1]

Billy Martin was a drunk and a lunatic, but might be the greatest turnaround artist in baseball history. How many teams immediately became winners when he took over managing? No wonder teams kept giving him chances. And it's no wonder he got fired all the time and couldn't last anywhere either.

A fascinating character and monumental pain in the ass. a gifted manager and arguably one of the most self-destructive people in baseball history.

[Daniel Blegen]

Allison was in the alley with Boswell trying to calm him down, Boswell kicked him in the balls, Martin intervened and punched out Boswell. This is from Addison's lips at Southtown bowl many years ago.     Martin was having an affair (to put it mildly) with Howard Fox's wife. Fox face did not fare well. This was fairly common knowledge around town at the time.  I believe Don Riley may have obliquely referred to it in one of his columns. Confirmed to me by a Frat brother's mother, who was BFF with Mrs. Fox.

[Mike h]

I read many years ago that Griffith had summoned Martin to his office but Martin blew him off.  That was the final straw that got him fired.

Not mentioned is the public reaction to his firing. The response was huge and passionate. So many people said they would never attend another Twins game.  This must have fed Martin's ego and validated (to him) that he would always be in demand no matter what he did. (Amateur psychology there.) 

In the end, his biggest mistake was disrespecting the man who signed his paycheck.