(6 of 7)
When Weaver thinks he is right, though, he can still be a terror. In a memorable display of baseball theater, Weaver last month waxed so wroth during a fight with an umpire that he literally tore up the rulebook. Recalls Weaver: "I said, 'If the rulebook doesn't mean anything, then let's just go ahead and tear it up.' And I did. Then I saw there was a chunk I missed, so I picked it up and tore it up too."
But Weaver does not win games fighting with umpires. He wins with his own distinctive style of managing. He does not believe inflexibly in the sacrifice bunt, the hit-and-run or, for that matter, the supposedly hallowed rule that left-handed hitters hit better against right-handed pitchers, and vice versa. He does believe-in The Stats. The Stats, those mysterious denizens of a huge, battered filing cabinet in Weaver's Baltimore office, show every Oriole hitter's performance—lifetime, seasonal and last week—against every American League pitcher. Boston Manager Don Zimmer will start the same man day after day. Not Weaver. He tailors his lineup to the opponent's starting pitcher. "Now take Lee May," Weaver explains. "Here's the most consistent power hitter in the majors over the last decade, but he hits Luis Tiant about two for 21.
No way he's going to be in the lineup against Tiant when I got this little guy who hits his junk for about .420." The result is a wildly varying series of batting orders and, Weaver swears before each game, lineups certain to "hit this bum about four times out often." In the words of Rightfielder Singleton: "We call it going to the books, as in, 'He went to the books on you, and you get a day off.' " One additional advantage: no one languishes on the bench for too long.
Some players resent the constant juggling and insist that they find it difficult to settle into a groove in the field or at the plate while yo-yoing in and out of the lineup. If they don't, Weaver has a simple solution. Says Pitcher Steve Stone: "He just tells you he's the boss.
Most managers don't have to tell you that all the time. It's a classic Napoleonic complex."
Such comments, barbed enough to provoke a fistfight with other managers, roll off Weaver. He and his players yell at each other so much that the dugout sounds like a session of primal scream therapy, but the anger quickly passes.
Frank Robinson, who became the first black to manage in the big leagues (with Cleveland) after his playing career ended, believes this is Weaver's strong point:
"Lord, nobody can chew you like Earl can chew you, and it's plenty tough to take. But the instant it's over, it's forgotten. The man never carries a grudge, and that's where trouble can start. He does the best job of any manager I've ever known at keeping 25 ballplayers relatively happy. He doesn't do it by being their friend; he does it by never, but never, taking anything personally and by making damn sure nobody else does either."