Sparky Anderson

I was at the press conference in June, 1979 when Sparky Anderson was named Tigers Manager. It was held at noontime in the Tiger Room, the tiny dining room under the stands off home plate at Tiger Stadium where we in the media took our pre-game meals (and where we took our post-game liquor, as well.) What I remember most distinctly was the fact that the room was way too small for the number of reporters who crowded in there to cover this most momentous of announcements the Tigers were making: that they had hired a new manager. Everybody was there.

I was working for a radio station in Lansing at the time, and since the Tigers were playing Seattle that night and I had coverage, it didn’t make sense to go back to Lansing only to turn right around and drive back to Tiger Stadium so I stayed at the ballpark all day that day. After his press conference, most of the media wandered off and Sparky entertained the small group of reporters who remained behind with an impromptu get-together, a bull session actually, right there in the Tigers dugout. I was one of them. He must have spent a couple of hours with us and I will never forget that even though I was a baby reporter at the time—I was only 23—Sparky treated me just like he treated the veteran guys, the important guys like Joe Falls and Jerry Green, which, of course, made me feel like I was some kind of a big shot. He was just great. I’ve never forgotten the fact that he treated me great all that summer and all the summers that came after. (I was also at the press conference in 1995 when Sparky announced his retirement, so we are talking about a lot of summers here).

Remembering Sparky this morning, I came across the following this while leafing through his autobiography “Sparky” that he wrote with another legend, former Tigers PR Director Dan Ewald: “I enjoy helping the reporters, especially the young ones. I watch them when the walk into my room. I can tell they are shaking in their boots. It’s hard for them to believe they are talking to a Major League manager. They’re so scared sometimes they forget to ask questions. I always try to give them something. I try to lead them into a story.”

He could have been talking about me in that summer of ’79. And maybe he was. And I for that, I just want to say, “Thank you, Sparky. Thank you, George!” I will never forget you.