Word: ott
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...even got along with umpires-until arguing with umpires became part of his managerial business. Umpire Bill Klem once called a doubtful third strike on him, and added: "You can't hit 'em without swinging at 'em, you Mississippi runt." Ott replied: "That kind of hurts me. . . . Everyone ought to know I come from Louisiana." In his 20 years with the Giants (one more than any other National Leaguer has spent with one club), his easy manner and boyish smile have been almost as effective...
...last week, the smile that helped make Ott everybody's ballplayer was being strained to the limit. After racing to the longest lead of any big league team in a quarter century (25 wins against seven defeats), his Giants fell flat on their faces. They lost 21 out of 29 games (including a doubleheader with the hopeless Phillies), crashed from first to fifth place in eight days. The astounding Brooklyn Dodgers, who had once been doped as pitiful or worse, had taken a three-and-a-half-game lead-with the Cardinals, Pirates, Giants, Cubs and Braves...
Stunts & Speed. He had no flashy crowd-catching tricks. Terry once tried to sell him on the stunt idea. "But what shall I do?" asked Ott. "Anything," said Terry, "do anything. Get drunk . . . disappear ... lie down and roll over when you catch a ball . . . slide home when you hit one out of the park." Replied Ott: "Aw, gee, Bill. I couldn't do that. I'd look silly...
Lacking one important asset of a top-grade outfielder-speed-Ott made up for this deficit by learning to get the jump on a fly ball the split-second it leaves the bat. He is the master of three outfielding arts: 1) on a long fly ball over his head, he takes one look, turns his back and digs for the spot where the ball will drop; 2) he has patiently acquired the knack of picking caroms off the tricky right-field wall at the Polo Grounds; 3) his buggy-whip arm has enabled him to set a league record...
...Ott squares away to a pitch as though he were going to beat a rug. Crowding the plate with feet apart, he rears up his front leg (not unlike a dog leaning into a hydrant), pulls back his bat, then steps forward and swings. Whenever he faces a high-kicking pitcher, the game looks as leggy as ballet...