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What Durocher lacks as a manager is supplied by his wily and pious boss, Branch Rickey, known as The Brain. It is Rickey who assembles the circus, Ringmaster Durocher who snaps the whip. Boss Rickey has a great gift for spotting young talent, signing them up hastily, and training them wisely. In four years he has made Brooklyn's farm system baseball's biggest, outspreading the famed St. Louis Cardinals' system, which he built. The tree that Rickey is growing in Brooklyn (see chart) has 25 branches. This year 450 of its finest fruits were processed in Rickey's new training school at Pensacola.
According to Rickey's "plan" (regarded with some cynicism in Brooklyn, where every loser chants "Wait till next year, we'll moider 'em"), the postwar Dodgers were not expected to win their first pennant until 1948. The Dodgers were a disorganized team last year, full of old men and greenhorns, but with them Durocher almost upset the plan. The Dodgers were in first place on the Fourth of July, by which time, according to an old but questionable tradition, pennant races are decided. (Durocher Dodgers, better at the start than in the stretch, have been first on the Fourth five years out of eight.) They stayed on top, and lost to a better team, the Cardinals, only after a postseason playoff. To do it, Durocher used no less than four first basemen, four second basemen, eight third basemen, nine outfielders, four catchers, and an endless parade of pitchers. It was a remarkable performance, but by Durocher's own standards he was no hero in Flatbush; he lost the championship.
Man of Tactics. Leo seldom appears on the ball field until just before the umpire calls, "Play ball!" He holds court until game time in his office or his private box at Ebbets Field, usually cluttered with his Broadway and Hollywood cronies (including Danny Kaye, Jack Benny, and a blonde or two).
As a tactician (once the game has started), Durocher is unsurpassed; as a yearlong strategist, says Rickey, "he ain't." Durocher has an instinct for knowing just what his players can do in any situation. He yanks pitchers quicker than any other manager, and the results usually bear out his judgment. Pete Reiser stole home so often on Durocher's orders (seven times in 1946) that rival pitchers got the jitters every time he reached third base. Brooklyn scored more runs last season on squeeze bunts than any other club. Says Leo: "I play hunches . . . maybe other managers are afraid to take chances."
With Leo dashing on & off the field, it usually takes the Dodgers longer than any other club to play a nine-inning game. The Dodgers seem to thrive on continuous hubbub; their rivals don't. Explains Leo: "When I'm out on that field I like nobody but the guy who's got Dodger written on his chest. Now afterwards, sure, I'll take one of the other team out and buy them dinner, but during the game I hate them."