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"I could feel it breathing as I hustled to bat," he recalls, "or maybe it was smothering from inhaling dandruff." Anyway, Casey walked to the batter's box brandishing five bats as if he were going to knock down the ballpark. The stands booed. Casey stepped to the plate, waited until the pitcher was about to throw, then called time. Elaborately he went through the motions of getting a cinder out of his eye. The Brooklyn stands roared with fury.
Casey caught his cue. He stepped toward the crowd, bowed low to his former fans, and removed his cap with a wide, sweeping gesture. Revived, the sparrow took off and headed toward Canarsie. There was a sudden silence. Seconds later, Ebbets Field rocked with laughter. Casey had given Brooklyn the bird.
Paths of Glory. Briefly, Stengel stayed with Pittsburgh and the Phillies. Then he came to the Giants. He won two games of the 1923 World Series for them with two home runs, but after that he was too old (33) to hang on. He was promptly traded to Boston. Undaunted, he quipped: "The paths of glory lead but to the Braves."
By 1926, Casey had slowed down too much even for the Braves. They made him president and manager of their Worcester, Mass, farm club. When they refused to release him from his contract for a job with the Toledo Mud Hens, Casey, as club president, wrote his own release and moved on. After six years learning his trade as Mud Hen manager, Casey was called back to the Dodgers. His teams were resounding flops. For three straight years, the Dodgers' Daffiness Boys finished in the second division. Next year, Brooklyn paid Casey his salary but told him they could do without his managing. After that, the paths of glory led him once more to the Braves.
Buy Pennsy. If possible, the Braves under Stengel (1938-43) were even worse than the Dodgers. But Casey's managerial genius began to flower. When a long game dragged on into darkness and the umpires refused to end it, Casey suddenly found it necessary to bring in a relief pitcher. He signaled to the bullpen by flashlight. Minutes later the umpires called the game.
When he discovered that his seventh-place players were spending their spare time playing the stock market, Casey called a clubhouse meeting. Looking furtively over his shoulder, he whispered that he Was going to give them a great tip on the market. "Buy Pennsylvania Railroad stock," he hissed. Then he roared into the snapper: "Because they're going to declare a dividend when you bums start getting shipped out of here!"
"We Wouldn't Dare." But it was Casey who was shipped out. In 1944 he was back in the minors, managing Milwaukee to an American Association pennant. In 1946 he moved to Oakland and the Pacific Coast League. Back in New York, meanwhile, the New York Yankees were looking for someone to take over from their aging manager, Joe McCarthy. "I know the man," said George Weiss, then Yankee farm system manager. "Get Casey Stengel."
"That comic?"sneered the Yankee owners. "That funnyman? We wouldn't dare bring him to New York."