Alex Grammas

Ninety-eight years ago on April 3, Alex Grammas was born.  In 2014, I was fortunate to interview Mr. Grammas about his experiences growing up in Birmingham, serving his country, attending Mississippi State, playing ten years in the big leagues, and serving as a third base coach for twenty-five seasons.  One of my favorite stories Mr. Grammas told was about coaching the 1965 Pirates with his friend and new manager Harry Walker: 

          Grammas understood how to treat players so they played relaxed and well. The 1965 Pittsburgh Pirates were an incredibly talented team with future Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente, Bill Mazeroski, and Willie Stargell along with ace pitcher and Birmingham native Bob Veale who won seventeen games and rung up 276 strikeouts that season. A month into the season, though, the team was playing poorly, winning only nine games but losing twenty-four. 
            Grammas sensed his friend Walker was part of the problem. 
            “He’d push them, guys to do this, that. But, when the season started, he was constantly [instructing]. A guy’d be hitting, and [Walker would] be hollering about holding the bat and all that. It affected us. You know, you’re trying to concentrate on the pitcher, and you got somebody screaming at you from the dugout. God dog it.” 
            Recognizing he wasn’t solving anything if he stood by silently, Grammas approached Walker privately. 
            “I’ve got to talk to you,” Grammas said. 
            “What’ve you got there?” Walker asked.   
            Grammas began, “You know, going to spring training, you took over the club, and we had a hell of a spring training the way you were stressing how things would be done.”
            Walker nodded. 
            Grammas continued. “Now that the season’s started, you ought to back off a little of that approach because now you’re trying to teach, but you can’t be teaching every day here. Every day here, you can’t do that.”
           Walker tensed. “What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to get all over them, or am I supposed to back off?” 
            Grammas said, “I’m going to tell you something. I going to tell you it as straight as I can. Because I know you better than most people do, and you know me. But between standing in the corner like a goddamn dummy or overdoing it, there are two extremes. And, between those extremes is what you’ve got to find. You can’t sit over there and over-do it this way and get mad. In between those two extremes is a happy medium, and that’s what you’ve got to find.” 
            Walker listened. He relaxed. The team started to play better and have more fun.    
          “From that day forward, we played the best ball in the league. We almost won the damn pennant,” Grammas says.   
            Grammas believes Walker listened to him because of Grammas’s honesty. 
           “He knows I’m not a bullshitter. He’s the same way. He didn’t bullshit you.”

(From Baseball in Alabama:  Tales of Hardball in the Heart of Dixie -- The History Press)