Word: weaverization
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...Earl Weaver, the bow his last at a major league ballpark, at least for now. After 15 wildly successful seasons, he was stepping down from the Orioles' helm. Hesitatingly, uncharacteristically, Weaver was basking in one final warm moment of adulation, before watching his name drift off to the Street and Smith's yearbook of history, with all the other Bobby Thompsons, Monte Irvins, and Red Schoendists of baseball lore. It was at once a touching and thrilling moment--for even the most hardbitten of Yankee or Brewer fans. And for the Oriole fan, it almost was like watching a slice...
Statistics simply don't do justice for Weaver. Yes, his Orioles consistently copped between 90 and 100 victories a year. Yes, they won one World Series, four American League pennants, and several more divisonal titles. And yes, his courageous Birds came back this season from a late seven and one-half game deficit to nearly knock off the high-flying Brewers...
...bare numbers can't scratch the surface of the peculiar personality that made Weaver such a Baltimore--and national--institution. It's not that the Orioles won big, but that they won in such an emotionally satisfying way. Whether by the sterling defensive play, the properly executed cut-off throw, or the sublime curve on the outside corner, the Orioles nearly flawlessly performed the basic fundamentals that so flustered their competitors. They were a thinking-man's team in a thinking-man's game...
What's more, Weaver's Orioles were never a rich man's club, dependent like New York on the free-spending ways of some corporate owner to nab a couple of headline grabbers. They built from the ground up, extensively using their farm system. The Orioles had stars, but they were first and foremost a team. Weaver always had use for every one of his players, down to their lowliest substitute, producing one cohesive, interlocking unit, rather than a sprawling anarchy of 25 disparate individuals...
...course, there were also the temper tantrums at the poor, misbeggoten umpire who happened to cross Weaver. It didn't matter whether the plucky Bird was right or wrong on a call; he would argue just for the sake of arguing. All to relieve the pressure that often weighed heavily on his players. A good, fullblown outburst was usually a sure signal of an impending Oriole streak...