Playboy Interview: Roger Craig

He was a born scrapper and a dead ringer for Lyndon Johnson, and, like L.B.J., he is one crafty gamer. Roger Craig's game is baseball, and he's living proof that the baseball gods didn't break the mold when they created Casey Stengel. When Craig was hired to manage the San Francisco Giants in the waning days of the 1985 baseball season, it was as if Casey's hapless early Mets were reborn. The Giants lost 100 games that year, the first time that ignominious distinction was achieved in the history of the franchise in both New York and San Francisco.

At season's end, Craig let it be known that the disaster would not repeat, that teamwork in the front office and on the field would usher in a new era. "Things will change a lot around here," he announced.

They did.

While the Giants didn't set the world on fire in 1986, they did finish above the .500 mark--they were, at least, winners again. But in 1987, they became real winners, confounding the experts by grabbing the National League Western Division championship, winning 90 games in all.

"Humm Baby," Craig's motto for winners--a chant used to ignite teammates and fans in the years before electronic scoreboards flashed applause signs--became the team theme, and San Francisco fans went wild with it. Humm Baby became the name of the game around San Francisco Bay.

The Giants came within a hairsbreadth of winning the National League pennant, losing a heartbreaker in the seventh game of the play-offs against the St. Louis Cardinals. But Craig had proved what he'd set out to prove about managing the team, a cracker-barrel philosophy that virtually plagiarizes the "Boy Scout Handbook" on attitude: Do your best and be prepared.

"I don't know a smarter baseball man in the game today," says Sparky Anderson, his former boss and the Detroit Tigers' manager, who knows a thing or two about the game. "Nobody works better with his pitchers than Roger. He knows how to inspire."

Adds Tigers Hall of Fame radio announcer Ernie Harwell, "Roger was born to manage, because he's such a great observer of the little things that add up to the big things that win ball games. And his players trust him, because they know he's honest. Lots of managers these days get carried away with wild optimism for public consumption. Roger doesn't get caught up in that hype. He knows what it means to win and to lose."

Craig has certainly seen his share of both. He was born in 1931 and grew up in Durham, North Carolina, one of ten children. He began playing stickball in pickup games before he learned to read and write, thanks to the encouragement of his father, a shoe salesman. He'd developed a smoking fastball by the time he was a teenager and was the star pitcher for his high school team. He was also a fine basketball player (at 6'4", he was tall for the basketball standards of the late Forties), and he landed a basketball scholarship to North Carolina State University. He gave it up after a year's try--"I just had to get back to baseball, go back to the mound and pitch," he says.

A local scout from the Brooklyn Dodgers organization saw him pitch and signed him up. He started out deep in the minor leagues, making steady progress until the Korean War intervened and he was drafted. The only combat he saw was on the baseball field--the brass figured his skills were more useful on the mound than in the trenches.

During his Army stint, Craig severely injured his pitching arm. Recalled to active duty by the Dodgers organization, he learned to pitch with pain, hiding his injury until he was forced to confess to the team doctor. The arm healed gradually but not completely.

In 1955, he was summoned to the "bigs"--the major leagues--and in the first major-league game he ever saw, he pitched for the Dodgers and won. He went on to win a crucial game in that year's world series against Casey Stengel's fabled New York Yankees, the first time the Brooklyn Bums had ever beaten the Bronx Bombers in a series. Craig was also the pitcher who, in 1957, started the Bums' last game in Brooklyn. The Dodgers' owner, Walter O'Malley, had decided to move the team to Los Angeles.

Craig's injured arm continued to plague him after the Dodgers went Hollywood, and he seesawed back and forth between the minors and the majors over the next few years. In the minors, he learned to be more of a finesse pitcher than a hard thrower--his fastball had abandoned him--but he came back for three successful years with the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Still, he was left unprotected in the draft when the National League expanded in 1962. Stengel, cast off by the Yankees and hired to manage the newly formed New York Mets, signed Craig up. And that was how he also started on opening day for the immortally terrible Mets. Craig became a national hard-luck hero that year: the first National League pitcher since 1935 to lose 24 games. Along the way, he also won ten games, making him the winningest pitcher for a team that won all of 40 games that year.

He went from loser to winner again when the Mets traded him to the St. Louis Cardinals in 1964, where he helped a come-from-behind team win the National League pennant and the world series. Still, his days as a pitcher were numbered--his arm was simply giving out on him. When he was released by Philadelphia at the end of the 1966 season, Craig decided to move on to the management side of baseball--he had, after all, picked up a few hints about the sport during his playing years.

He again slummed around the minors, this time as a manager and a coach, and then made his big-league comeback as a pitching coach for the San Diego Padres and, later, the Houston Astros. His major-league managerial dream came true in 1978, when he was hired to run the San Diego Padres, the late McDonald's tycoon Ray Kroc's only business outside the world of fast food. Kroc wanted a fast winner, and Craig gave him one. In 1979, however, injuries decimated the Padres and he was fired at the end of the season.

Recovery came quickly. Sparky Anderson had just been fired by the Cincinnati Reds and was snapped up by the Tigers, a moribund team at the time. He called up his old buddy Craig and made him the Detroit pitching coach. Over the next five years, the Tigers did an about-face; in 1984, the team won the world series against--guess who?--the San Diego Padres.

The victory, a sweet one for Craig, earned him the distinction of being the first man in baseball history to put five world-series diamond rings from both leagues on his fingers. And while he was at Detroit, he laid claim to something of even greater historical significance: the fearsome split-fingered fastball. Craig didn't invent it--the Cubs' ace reliever Bruce Sutter had already mastered it--but he found a way to show pitchers how to throw it. The pitch looks like a regular fastball, but if thrown right, it takes a wicked drop when it reaches the plate and is simply unhittable. The Tigers' Jack Morris, the winningest pitcher of the Eighties, credits Craig's teaching with his longevity on the mound. Mike Scott, a formerly mediocre pitcher for the Houston Astros, won the Cy Young Award in 1986 after Craig taught him the pitch. It is unquestionably the hottest pitch in the game today, a baseball institution that has Roger Craig's trademark stitched on the seams.

Craig retired from active coaching after the 1984 Tigers blowout--he still did some scouting, but he'd decided he'd rather ride his horses home on the range at his ranch in the high chaparral of Warner Springs, California, a 40-acre spread near the Mexican border. He was coaxed out of retirement by San Francisco Giants owner Bob Lurie, who offered him another shot at a few more world-series rings.

Craig, who has seen it all, played and managed with and against the best ballplayers of a generation, and 1988 marks his 39th year in professional baseball. Playboy sent free-lance writer Ken Kelley to Craig's Humm Baby Ranch. Kelley's report:

"You follow the sunset and hope for the best when you round the hairpin curves that lead to Roger Craig's lair, a menagerie of horses, dogs, hoot owls, bobcats and one sly fox--Roger Craig, the man himself He greets you with a fine Carolina twang--'How ya doin', pahdnah?'--as he tugs on his mangy ranch hat in front of the log stump that says in loud orange letters, Humm Baby Ranch.

"Over the course of a week, we spent three hours a day ruminating on his baseball know-how, past, present and future. Because of his history, Craig has a unique insight into the game, which, when you can draw him out, he imparts with great passion.

"Some of the best conversation took place when I had to compete with his horses and his hound dogs--he'd kind of talk to all of us at once--didn't really know whom he thought he was talking to, but it didn't matter. He'd lean back, pull on a bottle of brew and just, well, speak his mind in the down-home, good-ol'-boy fashion that's made him a favorite with his fellow players and the guys he has coached and managed. There's nothing phony about this guy, and the more you talk with him, the more you realize it.

"My favorite moment came when he walked me over to a wall of Cyclone fence, where smack-dab in the middle is a shooting target. Not for guns--for arms. It's the prop he has used for years to teach pitchers how to throw the split-fingered fastball, well worn from the warfare it's seen. As we walked away, he turned back and looked at it again. 'Yep,' he said with an understated satisfaction, 'once you get on target, you've made it.' He should know."

[A] Craig: So you wanna know about baseball, Mr. Playboy? It's a very simple game, really--all about balls and strikes. Ask me about balls and strikes.

[Q] Playboy: What kind of balls does it take to be a manager?

[A] Craig: [Laughs] That's a bit more complex--we can get into that later, but I'll tell you this: My wife says I'm the worst manager in baseball.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Craig: Because I don't go out and argue enough with the umpires, the guys who call the balls and strikes.

[Q] Playboy: Is she right?

[A] Craig: I don't argue over every little thing the way Earl Weaver did. But when I go out there, the umpires respect me, because they know I'm not just tryin' to show 'em up. Umpires are very sensitive about that. If you go out there three or four times a game, you're gettin' the fans on 'em--they don't like it. They hate grandstanding, when you go out there wavin' your arms all around. I'll never forget one game where I went out fussin' and frettin' over a play and the ump says to me, "Don't wave your hands like that." Next inning, I went out with my hands clasped behind my back, like I was in handcuffs. He cracked up laughin'. He says, "OK, I know you've gotta protect your players, so I'm gonna give you one minute, then get your butt outa here." So we talked about golf.

[Q] Playboy: What does protecting your players mean?

[A] Craig: When, say, you've lost three games in a row and things seem to be goin' all the wrong way, you pick a strategic spot and go out and fuss. It wakes your players up, gets 'em more emotionally and intensely involved in the ball game.

[Q] Playboy: So it's all a charade?

[A] Craig: Look, if I think I'm right about something I'll go out and argue my butt off. I know arguing won't change the decision; but the next time a close play comes up, the umps know they're gonna make damn sure they call it right, because I'm out there watchin' everything they do.

[Q] Playboy: So going after the umpires is a tactical move?

[A] Craig: I don't do it the way Pete Rose, Billy Martin and Sparky Anderson do it--they go out there to intimidate, especially a young umpire, hoping that, next time around, the call will go their way. Sometimes it works, sometimes it boomerangs. You get on an umpire enough, a close call will go against you.

But I'd like this chance to say something very important about umpires: They should be in better shape. A lot of these guys are simply way too overweight. Blimps. A lot of games are lost because some lazy umpires can't cover their turf--they're too out of shape.

[Q] Playboy: That remark won't exactly endear you to the umpires.

[A] Craig: I don't care. It's just true. Ballplayers have to stay in shape; so should they.

[Q] Playboy: When a manager gets thrown out of a game after he disputes an umpire's decision, he's not allowed to be a part of the game anymore. But it's baseball's dirty little secret that you can still manage from the clubhouse, isn't it?

[A] Craig: From anywhere. You can go down into the clubhouse, or the runway, and manage a game from there. The umpires know it, but there's nothin' they can do. And these days, you've got these remote telephones, all those walkie-talkies. If you walk into the clubhouse and you're watching a game, all you gotta do is call down to your replacement manager and say, "Hey, do this, do that."

[Q] Playboy: Which is illegal.

[A] Craig: Technically, yeah.

[Q] Playboy: But common practice?

[A] Craig: Let's just say I've known it to happen on occasion.

[Q] Playboy: A major issue this year has been the enormous increase in the number of balks being called.

[A] Craig: Yeah, we've lost a few games because of it. I know about balks--the first run scored against the New York Mets, I balked the guy home. I think it's more of an American League problem. In the National League, I think the umpires are kinda slackin' off a bit.

[Q] Playboy: Whitey Herzog takes credit for having made the change. He says he complained so much about what he thought were balks in last year's world series----

[A] Craig: I didn't really follow the world series after we didn't make it; but Whitey can say what he wants. I just think the umpires should be consistent: They all should call them or they should go back to normal. It's kinda crazy--you've got one crew of umpires never call a balk, and then another crew who are like eagle scouts. Most times, it's one eagle scout who'll call your ass for a balk. I think so much fuss has been made about balks because American League umpires haven't been following the rules, and it's makin' the umpires more careful. It will also make the pitchers more careful. But everything levels out in this sport, and in the end, after all the steam blows off, it'll still be the same game.

[Q] Playboy: Speaking of umpires, do you think there will ever be a woman umpire in the major leagues--and should there be?

[A] Craig: You're bringing that up because of--what's her name?

[Q] Playboy: Pamela Postema, who has spent 11 years making her way to the top level of the minors. This year, she was turned down again for a job in the majors.

[A] Craig: Yeah, I've seen her work, and she's not a bad umpire. Will there ever be one? I don't know. But should there be a woman umpire in the majors? My answer is no, and I'll tell you why. The abuse you have to take as an umpire is terrible, and I just don't think women should have to take that kind of abuse.

[Q] Playboy: But why should she be denied a chance because she's a woman?

[A] Craig: I just don't think women should be umpires, period. I have three daughters and I'd hate for any of them to be out there listenin' to all the swearin' and stuff--I'd kill any player who ever called a daughter of mine the names I've been called by umpires and the names I've called them.

[Q] Playboy: But Postema is a professional. She is not one of your daughters--she's out there trying to make a living at what she does best.

[A] Craig: I know, and I don't think she should be denied a shot at the majors because she's a woman. I just don't happen to be in favor of it. I guess I'm old-fashioned.

[Q] Playboy: Taking it one step further--do you think there will ever be a woman player in the major leagues?

[A] Craig: No. There are some great women athletes, but baseball is different from other sports--it's so skilled. I don't think women have the over-all ability it takes to be a great player. I could never envision a woman pitcher throwing a baseball at 95 miles per hour. I don't think it's possible for a woman to hit a ball 450 feet out of the park. You might see a woman who can run fast, catch the ball, all of that, but you're not gonna see the power it takes to compete. That's just the way it is. I'm not puttin' down women by saying that. I love the fact that women exist. I love my wife and I love my daughters; but guys and gals are just different when it comes to baseball.

[Q] Playboy: If you ever found a woman who could do it all, would you sign her up?

[A] Craig: Only if she'd be my roomie [laughs]. I really didn't say that. Don't tell my wife; it's just a joke. I've been married to her for a few decades now, and I mean this: Without her support, I wouldn't even be talkin' with you here now.

[Q] Playboy: Since we're on the subject, how does sex on the road today compare with what went on in your playing days?

[A] Craig: I knew you'd ask me that. There are a lot of answers to that, but let me give you a for instance: Just after I'd signed on to manage the Giants, management decided we'd try out a plan to let the wives or the steady girlfriends of the team members accompany them on some road trips at the Giants' expense. The idea was that everything would be up front, that the guys wouldn't have to be out there chasin' women, that their performance on the field would improve and the team would be better for it, because we were makin' it easy for 'em, they'd be relaxed.

[Q] Playboy: Did it work out?

[A] Craig: No.

[Q] Playboy: Why not?

[A] Craig: The gals wanted to go shopping all the time. And some of the married guys got worried that their wives would find out about their activities on the road. It got to be a real nuisance, so we dropped it.

[Q] Playboy: How did that noble experiment affect the performance of your players?

[A] Craig: Of course, I can't judge their hotel performance, but on the field, the performance didn't improve a whole lot. I think it improved my performance as a manager, though, because I love having my wife with me. I can take her along with me any time she wants to go, and it sure makes up for all the days of the minor-league crap of movin' from town to town with a moment's notice. But do me a favor now and ask me a real baseball question.

[Q] Playboy: All right. What do you think your most memorable legacy to baseball will be?

[A] Craig: Shoot, you had to start with the hard one first. I don't really cross-examine myself that much, but I know there are a lot of things people will remember about me.... I was the last pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers, and I was the first pitcher for the New York Mets in 1962. I lost 18 games in a row under Casey Stengel that year, 16 of 'em by one run. Imagine that. I also became, that year, the first pitcher in modern history to lose 24 games in a season.

[Q] Playboy: That's not peanuts.

[A] Craig: Yeah, and I also won ten games for the Mets in 1962, which made me the winningest pitcher on the team. That's why the New York Baseball Writers Association awarded me the Casey Stengel Trophy last year--it's an after-the-fact recognition of an accomplishment that wasn't rewarded at the time. I went on to lose 46 games in my two years with the Mets--that must be some kind of record. I know Casey appreciated me. And I guess I must have been doin' something right, because when the Mets traded me to the Cardinals in 1963, I helped St. Louis win the 1964 pennant and the world series--important games.

[Q] Playboy: You mentioned Stengel. He has been depicted as a splendid clown who somehow managed winning teams despite himself. Is that how you saw him?

[A] Craig: No. The press tried to do that with Yogi Berra, too--I saw Yogi only when I played against him in the world series, but he was one of the craftiest catchers I ever played against. As for Casey, he was just about the smartest baseball man I ever had the chance to play with and against. I think his media meanderings were a part of his own clever way of distracting people from takin' him seriously, and, believe me, he was always very serious about winnin' ball games. He couldn't have been in the game as long as he was if he wasn't so smart.

He remembered so many little things about you that he'd bring out in the oddest moments. I was always so amazed by him-he had total recall. His ramblings were a part of the way he disguised his genius--he loved runnin' everybody around in circles so much, but he didn't miss a thing. He could keep four conversations goin' on at once, but he always knew what was goin' on, behind your back and ahead of your brain.

He was a real formal guy, too--when I worked for him with the Mets, he'd always call me Mr. Craig. He'd come to the mound and say, "Mr. Craig, I think that fellow up at the plate there now needs to step back a little bit, he's kind of crowdin' you, and you should do something appropriate."

[Q] Playboy: Meaning he wanted you to hit the batter with the next pitch?

[A] Craig: It was just a suggestion that you should be aware of what was goin' on. You always got the point. He was givin' the Casey Stengel hint. Brush 'em back a bit.

Now: Ask me about the greatest player I ever played against.

[Q] Playboy: OK. Who was he?

[A] Craig: Willie Mays. He could beat you in so many ways. Tremendous power; he could hit for average, he was a great defensive player, he had a great arm, great base stealer--he could just do everything. He was the leader of the ball club.

[Q] Playboy: It's different today, isn't it? You have big-money guys with only one or two of the skills of a Willie Mays.

[A] Craig: You're right. It's all one-dimensional now. You find a guy who can hit, or a guy who can throw, or a guy who can catch a ball, but not do all of 'em, and they're paid big bucks. You can't even count on a cash register how much a Willie Mays would be worth these days. The same thing with Mickey Mantle. I always admired his power from both sides of the plate--it was just awesome. I didn't get to see him that much, because he was in the American League, but I do remember when I picked him off at second base in the '56 world series. I met up with him after the game and he said to me, "How could you embarrass me in front of those millions of people?" I just laughed and said, "It's my job.

[Q] Playboy: How about the best pitchers you've ever known?

[A] Craig: Sandy Koufax was the best pitcher I ever saw. He threw a little-bitty baseball--we used to call it a ping-pong ball, because it looked so small comin' up to the plate. I also played for the '64 St. Louis Cardinals with Bob Gibson, and he was a tremendous pitcher, a great fielding pitcher. He could hit, he could run and he could throw hard. Again, though, if the guys I played with were in the market today--well, you just can't measure it, moneywise. They'd be worth millions I can't count.

[Q] Playboy: One guy you played with who is worth millions is Bob Uecker. His beer commercials, his TV show and his books all play up his buffoonery as a player. Was he that bad?

[A] Craig: Nope. That's just his showbiz, and I applaud him for it. He had a great arm. He could really call a good ball game. He knew his pitchers. He makes a lot of money by pretending he was bad--and good for him. You know, I've watched his show, Mr. Belvedere, and it's sorta funny; but not as funny as he is in real life. I don't think he'd make a great manager, though.

[Q] Playboy: What does it take to be a great manager?

[A] Craig: It's something you really can't describe. Gene Mauch, who managed so many teams and never went to the world series, was a really great manager. When I played for him, I'd sit right next to him. He'd say, "What the hell are you doin' here? Get down to the bull pen." I'd just tell him, "I want to be here till you need me." What I was really doin' was listenin' and watchin' his face, his brains. I learned a lot from him.

[Q] Playboy: Billy Martin was fired for the fifth time as the Yankees' manager. How does your managing style differ from his?

[A] Craig: A long time ago, I thought Billy was a great manager. Now I don't think so. My style is different in that I don't take such an explosive approach as he does with his players. When I have somethin' to say to my players, I do it man to man, in the clubhouse--not in public, knockin' 'em in the press. And I don't go out to bars to beat up a marshmallow salesman or punch out a guy who calls me a bad name.

Look, managing is the toughest job in baseball, but it's also the funnest if you let it be. I've never had more fun than I have now as manager of the San Francisco Giants. This is a team that three years ago lost 100 games, the first time in the franchise's history, dating back to the New York Giants. And last year we won the National League Western Division championship. That's real fun--winning is real fun. Being the manager, being the guy in charge, being the one who's gonna get the blame or the fame--it's real excitement to me. The Giants made money last year for the first time in years, and the team's advance ticket sales reached the 1,300,000 mark this year--a milestone for this franchise. I'm lucky this time around.

[Q] Playboy: You weren't so lucky last time around, when you managed for Ray Kroc, the second owner of the San Diego Padres. In your first year with the Padres, you gave the team its first winning season. Injuries soured things a lot the next year and you were fired.

[A] Craig: That wasn't Mr. Kroc. It was his son-in-law, Ballard Smith, who, by the way, no longer works there. Yeah, I felt I was treated unjustly, but, hell, that's what this game is all about. I don't go around carryin' grudges, because grudges don't put money in the bank. Baseball is a game of chances, and you know that from the start, if that's the way you're gonna make your living. And look what happened after I got fired: Sparky Anderson called me up and begged--maybe that's the wrong word--asked me to be his pitching coach.

[Q] Playboy: You were more than just Sparky's pitching coach; you were his roommate in Detroit. What was that like?

[A] Craig: You know, it's interesting that you ask that, because I read your Playboy Interview with him where he said, after he lost a game, he'd sit and stare at a wall, thinkin' he'd never win another game. I had to continually pull him out of it--"Hey, Spark, it's just another game, you'll win again, we'll win again." That was a real task, the part of the job you don't get paid for.

[Q] Playboy: How did you talk him out of those dark moods?

[A] Craig: Don't tell him this: I told him that if he thought that way, of course we'd lose every ball game--forever. But, see, Sparky is so intense that he has to hear it over and over again. He'll always be troubled by any kind of loss, no matter what.

[Q] Playboy: You never feel the same fears?

[A] Craig: Not the way Sparky does. I figure that if you go out and inspire your players to do their best--that's the best you can do. If you lose, you lose. But my players know I want to win, and I judge accordingly.

[Q] Playboy: Meaning?

[A] Craig: I like fighters. Some guys come into spring training just lookin' for a job on a wing and a prayer but show sheer determination--I like that. Guys who do wind sprints when they don't have to, guys who just are out there every day to prove they're up to the job. See, that's what this sport is all about--the underdog can become the top dog if he works hard enough. And if hard work don't pay off, as a regular player, then a guy can still win a spot on the team, because he has to be what they call utility. I'll tell you this, utility is quite important in this game.

[Q] Playboy: Why?

[A] Craig: Because keeping the "extras" around always makes a difference. Having a good bench is a crucial part of baseball, one that's often ignored by the fans and the sportswriters.

[Q] Playboy: The right pinch hitter at the right moment?

[A] Craig:Not just pinch-hitting--on the field, too, when you have to substitute. Look, baseball is a job, and it's a hard job. You're on the road half of the season, always trying to adjust to a ball park you didn't grow up in. You've got jet lag, you just got injured when you tried to slide into second base, you're blue because your stroke isn't right if you're a hitter, and you're blue because your arm swing isn't right if you're a pitcher. And you always have to remember that, above all else, you've gotta have your defensive strengths together, because defense is half of the game. You've gotta wake up in the morning, every morning, and accomplish the feat you're being paid to accomplish, every day, and even if you're hurting bad.

[Q] Playboy: Most fans would give that an "Awww, too bad." The average salary for a baseball player is $412,454, and there are now 77 millionaires in the sport. With that kind of money, how hard can the work be?

[A] Craig: It's hard work, period. When I started out, it was a lot tougher and the pay was nothin'--we can get into that later. But what remains the same is that you've still gotta get up and perform every day and nobody else can do what you do--that's the way I make my players think.

[Q] Playboy: How?

[A] Craig: I tell my pitchers, "Hey, I saw Don Larsen pitch a perfect game in the fuckin' world series in 1956--against the Brooklyn Dodgers. Don wasn't a spectacular pitcher, but he did do that, and I saw it." I tell 'em, "You can do it, too, if you think about it right." I tell 'em that before the game and every time I go out to the mound to calm'em down. Even if I have to yank'em--"Next time, you can do it," I say. "There's no reason on earth you can't do what you're supposed to do--get everybody out--so just do it." I remind 'em that every batter who comes up--the best of 'em connect for .300, and that means you beat them a lot more than they beat you. Seventy percent of the time, you'll get an out.

[Q] Playboy: So what do you tell your batters? The pitcher's pitching a perfect game and you'll never get another hit?

[A] Craig: Of course not--I'm not crazy. I tell 'em just because this guy is pitching a good game, a batting average of .300 ain't bad, and so what if you don't hit every pitch? You'll hit one of' em and we'll win the game because of you--you did it.

[Q] Playboy: Is that you being clever?

[A] Craig: Shoot, I don't know clever from nothin'--I just know how to get my players to perform, and I'm not lying to them, because I just think that this game is a magic one. There's a basic magic to the game that captures something in everybody's heart.

[Q] Playboy: Which is?

[A] Craig: A magical sense that, hey, you go out there, nobody knows what's gonna happen. Every pitch, every play, every error will change the course of the game, but you're all in it together and there's no time clock. That works against you some ways. In every other team sport, there's a time clock. In baseball, it just goes on until ... it's over. Hell, I've been in games where it went to extra innings you couldn't count on a cash register.

It's such a different sport from the rest of 'em. For one thing, every park is different--different outfields, different infields, different measuring for what a home run is. It's like a wonderful crap shoot, because everything changes every day, depending on where you are, when you're there.

[Q] Playboy: What do you say to people who don't agree with you--critics who call baseball a boring game?

[A] Craig:Let 'em be critics and let 'em be bored. I don't think the fans agree--last year, baseball's attendance was the best ever. Once you get bit by the baseball bug, you're bit forever. I know I was. Sportswriters can criticize all they want to, but they're not athletes. Being a good athlete means working when you're hurt. Hurt and work--a lot of media people don't understand that concept. When they're hurt and don't show up for work, nobody writes about them, nobody speculates in print about why they didn't show up at the typewriter that day.

I don't want to sound bitter--I get along with most writers, because it's part of my job. It just seems strange to me, sometimes, when guys get on your case because somewhere down deep they know they could never do what you've done. And sure it hurts to be ripped apart in print. But lots of things in life hurt--life's the big ball game.

Ask me another baseball question. A real one--back to balls and strikes.

[Q] Playboy: OK. Why do baseball players tug on their crotch so much?

[A] Craig: Simple: The crotch cup hurts if it's not right. You don't see that kind of tugging in basketball, for instance, because they're all runnin' around and nobody's gonna nail you where it hurts with something as big as a basketball. Baseball is different--a wild pitch can cost you not just your professional life but your life, period. How far did you get in the sport?

[Q] Playboy: Little league.

[A] Craig: Yeah, well, just try to imagine big league, standin' up there at the plate with a very hard ball comin' at you at 90 miles an hour. You're protecting your balls, literally, because you have to keep yourself loose, all over--the cups and the jockstrap are not very comfortable, but you gotta do it. And after a while, it just becomes a habit--it's a tight jockstrap on a tight cup and you're trying to stay alive. I used to adjust my cup back when baseball was first broadcast on television, and one of the cameramen came up to me and said, "We can't keep the camera on you, because you're always fixin' with your jock." I just told him, "Hey, I can't help it--I have to pitch and you're just filmin' me, and I do it without even thinkin' about it."

[Q] Playboy: And he said?

[A] Craig: Nothing. He got the point. I get letters all the time from people askin' me, "Hey, how come you spit so much?"

[Q] Playboy: And you say?

[A] Craig: That it's part of the game. You play out there, you're gonna spit. I don't chew tobacco like a lotta guys do, but I do chew gum--I get letters asking me why I do that, for Chrissakes. You just can't manage or play a ball game without somebody gettin' on your ass for some ridiculous reason.

And I'll tell you another thing that distracts me from my performance as a manager, if you want to hear about it----

[Q] Playboy: We're all ears.

[A] Craig:This.

[Q] Playboy: This what?

[A] Craig: This thing of answering questions all of the time for the press. I'm not talking about you--you're sorta OK--but the sports-beat press who ask you before a game the same question and the same question and the same question over and over and over again. "You gonna go out there and win today, Roger?" Of course my answer is yes. And after you've lost--"Why did you lose; are you gonna go out and win tomorrow?" What am I suppose to say--no? The questions you've just answered yesterday, ones you're answering now, the same ones you'll be answering tomorrow. I know it's part of the media's job, but....

[Q] Playboy: And, of course, if you weren't a winner, you'd just be a question on a sports-quiz show.

[A] Craig: [Laughs] I know that, and I'm not really complaining. It's just that nobody ever seems to ask a question that really means something about your life.

[Q] Playboy: All right, what is the question you've never been asked that you'd like to answer?

[A] Craig: Humm. Good question.

[Q] Playboy: And a good answer?

[A] Craig: [Pauses] Nobody ever asks me about my father--he was such an inspiration to me. He was the most optimistic person I ever met in my life, a guy who just believed that he could do anything he set out to do. I remember when I was a kid, maybe eight or nine years old, and he'd ask me to clean up our garage. I cleaned it. He came home from work with his suit and tie on--he was a shoe salesman and always dressed up nice and neat--and he asked, "Did you clean the garage?" I said, "Sure I did." He says, "Let's go look at it." He took a look around and he said, "Sit down over there in the corner for a minute." He took off his coat, rolled his sleeves up, took his tie off--I thought he was gonna give me a whippin'. I thought I'd done an all-right job, but he didn't. I asked, "What did I do bad, Dad?" He said, "Just sit over there and watch me." And he started workin'. I said, 'Lemme help you." He said, "No, just sit down there, because I wanna show you somethin'." He worked about an hour cleaning' that garage, and he had it spotless. When he was done, he told me, "I did this so you can remember this all your life: It doesn't matter how much time it takes--if you're gonna do somethin', you do it right, no matter what. Do it the best way you know how."

I never forgot that. Even today, no matter if it's carryin' wood for my fireplace on my ranch or tryin' to teach my pitchers how to pitch and my batters how to bat, I always think about that. If I'm gonna spend the time to do it, I might as well do it right. That's the way I go about my life and that's the way I manage.

[Q] Playboy: Did your father live to see your success?

[A] Craig: He died when I was in the Army--he never saw me play in the major leagues, and that's one of the biggest regrets of my life. But when I was playin' baseball in high school, he'd stay up for me every night, upstairs, waitin' for me to come in. If I came in late, I could never sneak by him, because he'd be there waitin'--"Rog, how'd I do today?" I'd tell him all about the game, and then he'd go to sleep. But he waited for me every night. He would ride the bus every day to work--it was two or three miles to his job--and a lotta times I'd ask him for a bus token. Often it was his last one, something I discovered when I'd take the bus over to the other side of town to visit my sweetheart, Carolyn, who is now my wife, and I'd see my dad walkin' to work.

[Q] Playboy: What did you learn from that?

[A] Craig: Beyond a great love for my father, a real sense of humbleness--that he was tryin' to make things good for his kids. There were ten of us, so, in a way, we were kind of like a team and my father was a wonderful manager. So you've just asked the question I never get to answer. Thanks for askin'. Next?

[Q] Playboy: You never really finished saying what unique thing you've given to baseball.

[A] Craig: Unique? The split-fingered fastball. Best thing that's ever happened to pitchers, and I'm quite proud of teachin' that to all the ones I've taught it to. That, I guess, is my best legacy. It's a different pitch and I'm proud I've changed so many careers by teaching pitchers how to throw it. If I'd known how to throw it when I was still pitchin', it would have extended my life as a player a lot more years. It's changed the game forever, that pitch.

[Q] Playboy: Some managers, such as your friend Sparky, say the pitch is just a fad.

[A] Craig: And that's a lot of crap. Sparky's wrong. It's not a fad, it's here to stay, and it's a really revolutionary pitch for the guys who want to learn it. I taught it to Jack Morris when I was with the Tigers, and he's become a tremendous pitcher because of it--he was pretty good already. I taught it to Mike Scott, the leading guy for the Houston Astros, and he won the Cy Young Award in 1986 because he mastered it so well. It's sort of strange that way, because I taught him something he's beat us with.

[Q] Playboy: Maybe you'd better explain what the pitch is.

[A] Craig: The split finger is, simply, a fastball that you put an extra spin on so that it drops down in front of the batter so fast that he don't know where it's going". "To put it in layman's terms, it's a fastball that's also got the extra spin of a curve ball on it. Every pitcher with brains who wants to stick around wants to learn it. I don't take credit for inventing it--I kind of stumbled onto it, because when I was a pitching coach, I used to throw batting practice a lot, and I was always trying to figure out something different that could help my pitchers.

Back then, I owned this company called the San Diego School of Baseball, an instructional camp for kids 14 to 16 years old. I wanted to teach my kids the pitch, and one day I did it--I found a simple way to teach it--another reason why baseball's such a great game. Here I was, 50 years old, and I learned how to throw and teach this pitch, and now everybody wants to know how to throw it. You can't believe the fan mail I get every day--high school kids, college coaches, everybody wants to learn it. I mean it--this pitch has changed the game forever.

[Q] Playboy: You managed pitcher Gaylord Perry, the premiere spitter artist of all time, in San Diego. What's all the commotion about the spitter? Why shouldn't it be a part of the game?

[A] Craig: The spitter is not a natural pitch: You're using a gimmick to strike people out. I don't like to see guys scuff the ball or throw spitters, and with the split finger, you're using your own natural talent to throw. You're usin' a foreign substance when you're throwin' a spitter. You can't believe all the things pitchers use--slippery elm, K-Y jelly--Gaylord would just put stuff in his hair. You can also put it on your armpits, your belt buckle, all over, if you teach yourself to be sneaky enough.

[Q] Playboy: Did you ever throw a spitter yourself? Tell the truth.

[A] Craig: I threw a few spitters at the end of my career, because I wanted to stay around for as long as I could and I figured, as long as I can get away with it....

[Q] Playboy: Did you always get away with it?

[A] Craig: I never got caught. But the point is to keep your arm healthy enough to not have to resort to the phony stuff--and that's why the split finger is so great. Throw it right, you'll keep a strong arm and you'll win ball games for a long time. But you never know if a pitcher you've trained might get traded to another club, and he can always come back to beat your ass. Knowing that helps keep me on my toes--you just gotta keep getting smarter.

[Q] Playboy: Are you getting smarter in the autumn of your years?

[A] Craig: Hell, don't put me in my grave yet, but, yeah, I sure hope so, because the competition gets smarter all the time and I gotta stay on top of things, because that's my job. Athletes are a lot different from when I was playin'--they keep in shape during the off season, they have their weighttrainin' programs, which make 'em stronger, they can beat you better; but a whole lot of things about baseball won't change, and one of them is the will to win.

[Q] Playboy: Let's talk about racism at the management level.

[A] Craig: You're talking about Al Campanis, aren't you?

[Q] Playboy: Yes; you know him as a friend. What did you think about the remarks he made about blacks that got him fired?

[A] Craig: First, I don't think Al is a racist at all. Shoot, he grew up playin' with Jackie Robinson in the minors. I think he was real tired and overworked that night, and, unfortunately for him, it got all out of proportion. I'm sorry he said it.

The way I think about these things, I'm really color-blind. I see a guy for talent, and I certainly don't think that blacks lack managerial skills. The Giants just hired a great baseball man as their first-base coach, Dusty Baker, who happens to be a black man. I'll tell you, I'm glad we got him. I guess if you look at the game overall, there's a real disproportionate number of black men in the game--and that's a real shame--but I do think the situation is changing. The issue has become more noticed because of what Al said, and that's good--it'll wake 'em up.

[Q] Playboy: Do you think that what Campanis said reflects the thinking of baseball management?

[A] Craig: I think managing is a matter of brains, and there are lots of smart black men in this game who can do a great job. The sooner management realizes that, the better the sport will be. I think part of the problem is like the situation Jackie faced--40 years later, some people just won't let you be judged on your God-given ability, but your skin color, and it's unfair. But I've never seen a contract that guarantees that life has to be fair.

[Q] Playboy: A few months after Campanis' statement, Jimmy "the Greek" Snyder was fired from CBS because of his remarks about black slaves' being "bred" for sports, which he said explained blacks' superior athletic skills. What did you think when you heard that?

[A] Craig: You're really tryin' to catch me, huh? I think one thing he was right about was that baseball, football, track--all sports are better now because of black athletes. They've changed the whole picture. But I also think it's just a matter of time before some of these great black athletes become great coaches and great managers.

I love basketball. Sometimes, when you watch a basketball game, all ten players are black, and I love to see that, because black men can jump higher, they can run faster and, in general, they are better overall. I don't know nothin' about that remark of Snyder's about slave days; I'm not that smart. And baseball has some catchin' up to do, because there have been seven or eight black head coaches in the N.B.A.

[Q] Playboy: Jimmy the Greek also said he thought black athletes were better today because they grew up poorer than whites and had to work harder than white players. Do you agree?

[A] Craig: I can't speak for anybody else, but I don't think any of the great black athletes of today worked any harder than I did as a kid. Or even now. Every day is a new challenge, and you wake up every morning to do your best by working as hard as you can; so if he wants to make a color distinction that way, I think he's wrong.

See, there are two different types of athletes--those who have natural talents and don't have to work that hard to really be successful, and then there's a guy like Sparky Anderson, who doesn't have real natural talent----

[Q] Playboy: Or a Roger Craig----

[A] Craig: You can definitely put me on the list, but I was a helluva lot better athlete than Sparky, and you can tell him that! [Laughs] I knew I wasn't a good hitter, and so I figured I'd make myself into a great bunter--an outstanding one, if I may say so--when I was a pitcher. Then, after a couple of glory years with the Brooklyn Dodgers, I reinjured my arm real bad and I knew that, although I couldn't be a real power pitcher anymore, I could learn control, depend on that. And I did it. Adversity is a good teacher, no matter what your color is. After I hurt my arm, I got shipped down to the minors. Teachin' myself, with no real professional help, to come back from that injury is probably the proudest moment in my career, now that I stop to think about it--better than winnin' the National League Western Division championship last year, because, hell, nobody knew nothin' about sports medicine back then. And lemme tell you this: Gettin' sent down to the minors after you've seen the bright lights of the majors--particularly the world series--makes a real difference in your attitude as a player. I was bound and determined to get back to the bigs so bad.

And that's part of what I'm talkin' about here--I was no superstar. I could have been a whole lot better if I hadn't gotten hurt, but that's just a part of the game, gettin' hurt. A lot of the great black athletes with the natural superstar talent get hurt a lot--and if you've got the will, you can figure out a way to come back, if you work hard enough.

[Q] Playboy: Another issue in baseball is drug and alcohol abuse. When you were growing up in the sport, in the Fifties, getting drunk was thought of as fun, except when it erupted into some kind of major brawl, such as the famous 1957 Copacabana incident when Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and Billy Martin got involved in a fight with Copa patrons. Although Stengel traded Martin because of it, the incident was treated at the time as a boys-will-be-boys thing, wasn't it?

[A] Craig: Not by management. Billy got shipped out because he wasn't as important to the Yankees as Whitey or Mickey; but I'll tell you that back then, unless you were a big star, if word got around that you had a drinking problem, you were dismissed from the club, period. You were gone if management thought you were a drunk and it affected the team and your performance. No second chance.

I really never saw a whole lot of it when I played. On a hot New York night, after a hard day on the field, a bunch of us players would get together in a hotel room and ice up a bathtub full of some beers and play cards for a few hours--but I never did see any problems myself among the friends I knew, though it sure happened to a lot of people. As for this cocaine stuff--I really don't even know what it is, except that it's dangerous. The difference now is that the owners, at their own expense, have instituted a rehab program for guys who wanna come forth with their addiction, either on their own because they recognize the problem or they get arrested and have to admit it because they got caught. Sometimes they get another chance if they relapse--and that's good, because, as I say, in my day, most guys were thrown out forever the first time around.

But this is true, too: The bottom line to me is, three strikes and you're out. Two chances, that's it, because it means that you don't care enough about yourself, your team and your life to make anything matter.

[Q] Playboy: OK, time for a change-up: You're supposed to be a whiz at stealing the signs of opposing pitchers. How important is that?

[A] Craig: Are you kiddin'? It's real important, and I do it very well, because I constantly study the opposin' managers, the opposin' pitchers and the opposin' third-base coach when I'm managin' a game. I like to keep about 15 levels of concentration out there when I'm managin', and that's one of the most important ones, because it gives a manager a tremendous advantage if you can predict what the other team is up to. When you can detect a sign, and your detection is right--you predict something that's true--that's real satisfying'.

[Q] Playboy: And, of course, the other side of the coin is making sure your opponents can't detect your signs to your team.

[A] Craig: I've sort of mastered that, too, I think. [Laughs] That's fun. I remember when I was pitchin' coach for Alvin Dark with the Padres, and Frank Robinson, who was managing the Indians back then--this was in cactus-league spring trainin' in Arizona, where both teams get ready for the season. Frank sort of approaches me and says, "I know what you're doin'--you're the one calling the signs, not Alvin--I'm on to you. Every time you cross your leg the way you do, it means something, doesn't it? You're the guy." It took me back for 'bout half a second. I have such long legs and I always sat next to my managers when I was pitchin' coach. I said, "Yeah, Frank, you're on to me." All I was doin' was tryin' to keep comfortable, but I certainly wasn't going to discourage him from that notion. [Laughs]

[Q] Playboy: So what does it take to give good signs?

[A] Craig: The secret is what's called the indicator, which means I can go through all the motions I want, but none of them mean anything until after a crucial signal is given, after which you pay attention. That goes for the pitchers, batters and coaches who have to relay them to my players.

[Q] Playboy: What's your indicator?

[A] Craig: Boy, you must think I'm as dumb as my horse. [Laughs] I'll show you this [tugs on ears and belt buckle, touches armpit and abdomen, wipes forehead]. Now, one of them is it. But if I told you which one, it wouldn't be an indicator anymore, would it?

[Q] Playboy: What happens when a player who knows the sign gets traded away?

[A] Craig: Personnel changes, the basic indicator changes--it is still one of those basic moves. They move, I move it.

[Q] Playboy: To us in the bleachers, it seems like an entirely different language.

[A] Craig: You can figure it out, if you're a real Hum in Baby.

[Q] Playboy: And we thought you'd never say it. Ever since you took over the Giants, San Francisco has gone Humm Baby crazy. It has become the team's rallying cry; it's even the name of your ranch. Did you know you were giving a new expression to the language?

[A] Craig: Not at all. Came from growing up in baseball; it was just a thing you said, some chatter--Humm Baby, Humm Baby--to encourage your team. It was amazin' to me when it caught on the way it did, because it's been around the game for so long; lots of guys always said it. Now it's become a chant again, as well as a whole 'nother thing since the media made such a big deal out of it.

[Q] Playboy: What, exactly, is a Humm Baby?

[A] Craig: Well, it's beyond baseball. But in terms of baseball, the kind of guys I've mentioned, guys who always go out and put out 200 percent for you every day, even if they don't win, they're a Humm Baby. But a Humm Baby can also be a pretty girl--and I've heard tell you've had one or two of those in your magazine over the years. You yourself can become a Humm Baby if you do a good job, in my estimation, with this interview.

[Q] Playboy: We'll do our best. Let's wind down with an old-timer's question: Do you think there can ever be teams like the ones you remember? The Dodgers team you played on had Duke Snider, Gil Hodges, Pee Wee Reese, Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax. The Yankees you played against had Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, Elston Howard, Yogi Berra, Bobby Richardson. The Giants had Willie Mays, Willie Mc-Covey, Orlando Cepeda, Juan Marichal. The question being, do they make 'em that way anymore?

[A] Craig: No, there's no denyin' that. But every era has its ups and downs, and I think baseball is on a real up now. Look at some of the stars we've got now--Tim Raines, Andre Dawson, Jack Morris, Dwight Gooden, Don Mattingly, Wade Boggs, Mike Schmidt, George Brett--all of 'em future Hall-of-Famers.

[Q] Playboy: But there are no dynasties anymore, are there? Aren't the year-to-year rosters always in doubt because of free agency? You just don't have those mythical teams, do you?

[A] Craig: You're right. And that is one of the reasons that winners don't repeat wins twice in a row. Last teams to do it were the Dodgers and the Phillies in '77 and'78 in the National League, and Kansas City, '84 and '85 in the American League. And it's sad, in a way, because it changed a part of the game that had been around for so long. But I understand it--if I'd been in the same spot as these guys are lucky enough to be in, when I was playin', I'd be stupid not to go for all the money I could get from my boss. I fully support players' gettin' their due. I just think so much of the time, the way the negotiations are conducted changes things for the worse--management resents the player, the player resents management and the fans resent the player. That, in turn, can make a guy feel the whole world's on his case, and it affects the team's performance, which is what I'm interested in--the team performance. You can have a team with a couple of big sluggers on it that don't win ball games--look at Cleveland last year. No matter how good you are as an individual, if you're not a team player, you jinx the team.

[Q] Playboy: Do you feel jinxed that two big sports magazines, Sports Illustrated and The Sporting News, have predicted that your team will be the first National League repeater since the Dodgers and the Phillies?

[A] Craig: If you're askin' me if I worry because these predictions are almost always wrong, the answer is a big fat no. Sure, it's flatterin', just like getting the A.P. Manager of the Year Award was flatterin'. But I don't think any whichaway about predictions, because baseball is such an unpredictable sport. Anything can happen any time--your key pitchers might come up sore, your second baseman might get a torn ligament--anything can happen. I don't worry about predictions--I worry about winnin' ball games.

[Q] Playboy: Last question: If you could change the game of baseball, how would you change it?

[A] Craig: First, I'd eliminate the designated-hitter rule, which is a violation of the baseball rule book that says, in effect, there shall be no more than nine players for each team on the field. The D.H. creates a tenth player, on offense.

Next, I'd get rid of domed stadiums. Then I'd get rid of that Astroturf.

And, most important, I'd restore day games to the importance they had when I started playing. Baseball should be played the way it was meant to be played--on green grass, like the little boys play it. A game played in the sunshine, fresh air, real green grass. The game has changed so much, so fast, and it will continue to because of the economics, but, down deep, to my mind, it's still about a little kid fallin' in love with the game, figurin' out who his heroes are, what team he wants to root for, figurin' out what kind of star he wants to be when he grows up, because he knows that the real important thing about the game is havin' fun playin' it. Baseball will always be a game about havin' fun. You won't find a player in the game now, and you never will, who won't say that.

And I guess the final thing I'd make sure of if I had my druthers is that every little boy who worked hard enough at the game to make it to the big leagues would make it to the world series, because that's the best fun on earth. Humm Baby.

"I'll tell you this: My wife says I'm the worst manager in baseball, because I don't go out and argue enough with the umpires."