Al Lopez may have managed his teams by the book, but he led his players by staying true to himself.

"(White Sox owner) Bill Veeck once said that if I had a weakness as a manager, it was that I was too decent. Well, I never took that as a negative comment. I'd like to think I'm a decent guy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Lopez once said.

During an era when the New York Yankees won all but two American League pennants from 1949 to 1964, Lopez was the one who stopped them, with the 1954 Cleveland Indians and 1959 Chicago White Sox.

"There was no better person as a human being than Al Lopez," Bob Feller, the Indians' great pitcher, told IBD. "He was very well-liked."

Al Lopez Jr. said, "The one thing he always told me . . . when I was growing up was you always treat people with respect."

During a managerial career of 15 full seasons plus a few other games, Lopez led the Indians and White Sox to 1,410 wins against only 1,004 losses, according to Baseball-Reference.com, for a .584 percentage, one of the best in history. In 1977, he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y.

"Lopez had an affinity for making every player feel important, that their contribution was all important to the overall success of the team and organization," said former Indians third baseman Al Rosen.

For Lopez, who also had a solid 19-year playing career as a catcher and held the major league record for games played at that position until 1987, baseball was his passion.

He Was No Smoke

Lopez was the seventh son of Spanish immigrants. His father worked in a cigar factory, and one of Al's earliest memories was of that atmosphere. "I hated it. I vowed never to work in one," he said.

That's one reason he turned to baseball. "Do what you love to do and give it your very best," Lopez said, as quoted on Baseball-Almanac.com. "Whether it's business or baseball or the theater or any field. If you don't love what you're doing and you can't give it your best, get out of it. Life is too short. You'll be an old man before you know it."

In a poll taken among retired major leaguers in the mid-1980s, Lopez was rated the seventh best defensive catcher as well as the seventh best manager of all time, according to BaseballLibrary.com.

By virtue of his long playing career, including learning from several of his managers who eventually entered the Hall of Fame as skippers or players, Lopez became a student of the game. He combined his baseball knowledge with persistence and a burning desire to succeed, Lopez Jr. says.

The way Casey Stengel, the Yankee manager whom Lopez twice derailed, put it: "This man knows the game — inside and out."

Lopez's knowledge of the game gave his players a lift.

"You had so much respect for him, you never allowed his congeniality to get in the way of what he was trying to accomplish," Rosen said, adding that Lopez was the best manager with whom he was associated as a player or front office executive.

"You tried to give him 110% because you liked him so much," Bob Chakales, a 1950s pitcher for the Indians and White Sox, told the Richmond Times-Dispatch upon Lopez's death.

Lopez studied the strengths and weaknesses of his players inside and out. "He was very good at knowing the talent he had and getting the most out of it," said Billy Pierce, who pitched on Lopez's Chicago pennant winner of 1959. "He also stuck with a game plan.

This was especially evident with those go-go White Sox, who relied on stolen bases and defense to win games to compensate for their lack of batting and power prowess.

Patience was another Lopez virtue. He let players work their way out of slumps, even prolonged ones. He didn't put pressure on them and complimented them when they did something good. Lopez never criticized players in front of their teammates for mistakes. If he had something stern to say, he did it privately.

"You knew as a player that Lopez was in your corner," Rosen told IBD. "All athletes go through good periods and bad periods . . . but Lopez never wavered in his support of players. He never registered disgust or disdain. Lopez was imbued with that spirit of allowing a player to be himself. He didn't micromanage. If you went 0 for four, he didn't call you in a say you're 0 for eight or 0 for 10. He didn't say, 'Why don't you try this or that.' "

In the dugout, Lopez managed traditionally, Feller says. While running his teams, he made sure he was heard, whistling loudly to get his players' attention on the field for position shifts. He combined his will to win with a toughness, but was always fair.

Joe Henderson interviewed Lopez during the Hall of Famer's retirement in Tampa, Fla.

"I got a sense from talking to him all these years that he created an environment where guys felt comfortable playing," said Henderson, a writer with the Tampa Tribune. "He was a commanding figure, an authoritative figure as opposed to an authoritarian figure."

Lopez passionately wanted to win. That came through during Cleveland's 111-43 season of 1954, a win total that stood as the American League record for 47 years.

Yet his intensity could give way to a sense of humor in the darkest times. That would also be in 1954, when his Tribe lost the World Series in four straight to the New York Giants.

"They say anything can happen in a short series," Lopez said. "I just didn't expect it to be that short."

Lopez was an icon in Tampa, which named its spring training and minor league field after him in the 1950s. He helped his image by keeping a neat appearance and being polite to the many people who sought him out during his retirement.

A Hit With Boggs

One of those fans was Wade Boggs, a youngster in Tampa who grew into one of baseball's great hitters. Lopez befriended Boggs during his minor league days in the 1970s.

"I'd sit with him on (his) porch and we'd just talk," Boggs told Henderson. "It wasn't always about baseball; it was about basic things, where my future was going, how I was doing, that sort of thing. He was such a genuine man."

Joe Johnston wrote in the Tribune after Lopez's death: "Someone like this can't be replaced, someone who believed that how you treated people was at least as important as what you did for a living. Yes, we flocked to him initially because of what he did in baseball, but we left having met someone of depth and uncommon class, someone we will never forget."

Rosen said: "Lopez wasn't a talkative man. He wasn't given to grandiose . . . moments of throwing his arms around you. He was a man of strength and character. Playing for Al Lopez, you knew you were playing for someone who was going to be with you through thick or thin."


BY MICHAEL MINK