The second baseman of the future … or not
George Anderson
The Philadelphia Phillies pick up their second baseman of the near future – or so they think – 66 years ago today when they acquire the 5-foot-9, 170-pound George Anderson from the Los Angeles Dodgers for outfielder Rip Repulski and two pitchers, Jim Golden and Gene Snyder.
Before the trade, young George believes he no future with the talent-rich Dodgers, saying, “I had no right to think I could break in with a club that had (Gil) Hodges, (Charlie) Neal, Don Zimmer, Junior Gilliam, Dick Gray, (Carl) Furillo, Duke Snider, Gino Cimoli, Norm Larker, and Johnny Roseboro — and with a pitching staff built around Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, and Johnny Podres.
“I simply didn’t belong in that kind of company.”
Anderson finds a spot, or so he thinks, in Philadelphia.
His career there starts well enough as his eighth-inning RBI single on Opening Day 1959 against Cincinnati’s Don Newcombe gives the Phillies a 2-0 lead in a game they eventually win 2-1 before a Friday night crowd of 22,189 at Connie Mack Stadium.
The 25-year-old Anderson, though, hits just .218 in 1959 over 152 games – only future Hall of Famer Richie Ashburn plays in more games that season for Philadelphia – and quickly finds himself back in the minors.
Alas for young George, he never again plays in the majors, although he eventually returns there first as a coach and then as a manager.
By then, George is known more by his nickname, Sparky, and goes on to win three World Series titles – two with Cincinnati, the third with Detroit.
Sparky Anderson ends up managing 26 seasons in the majors, winning 2,194 games between the Reds and Tigers from 1970-95.
Sparky Anderson with Detroit
When he retires, only Connie Mack (3,731 victories in 53 seasons) and John McGraw (2,763 in 33 years) have more victories as a manager.
Five years after he retires, Anderson – the onetime Phillies second baseman who once believes he is not good enough to be a Dodger – is inducted into the Hall of Fame for his work as a manager.
“I managed 26 years and found out when I retired I didn’t own the game,” Anderson says. “I thought I owned it when I was managing all those years.
“You can climb to the top of the mountain, get down on your knees and kiss the ground, because you’ll never own that mountain. That mountain is only owned by one single person, and he’ll never give it up. That’s the way baseball is.”