THERE are three framed photographs above Willie Randolph’s desk at Shea Stadium: Jackie Robinson, Satchel Paige and Cool Papa Bell.
“They inspire me. I feel their spirit in a way,” Randolph said last night in a quiet moment before the NL East champion Mets played the Marlins. “I feel the legacy. In some ways, me accomplishing what I’ve accomplished, it makes them proud because of what they struggled through.” This is a proud time for Randolph, the first African-American major-league manager in New York.
“It’s always cool for me when I see the old Negro Leaguers at different ballparks and they come up to me and shake my hand and say, ‘Willie, I’m so proud of you.’ “I’m saying to myself, ‘Wow, you’re proud of me. I read about you.’ I don’t want to get on my soapbox or anything, but I do feel that responsibility to be as good as I can be. Years from now, maybe I will have inspired someone to be a manager.” Randolph is a winner. Always has been. He came here to teach the Mets how to win. Omar Minaya and Fred Wilpon gave him his shot when no one else would, despite a resume that put most managerial candidates to shame.
Step 1 is complete. The Mets have won the East for the first time since 1988. Now they have to move forward, get past the first round of the playoffs.
“There’s still a long ways to go,” Randolph said.
The congratulatory calls have been pouring in, and Randolph was genuinely touched when he received one from Joan Hodges, Gil’s wife.
“That was really special,” he said. “She thought she was bothering me. I said, ‘You can call me anytime.’ ” Randolph was thrilled Joe Torre got through Monday night. This was no sandwich commercial.
This was one winner calling another, a Subway Series on the horizon.
By his count, with the help of his son Andre, Randolph figures he has participated in about 40 champagne celebrations. Randolph did not get any congratulatory calls from those many interviewers who did not hire him. And he wasn’t being cocky when he reiterated that he dealt with those disappointments by telling himself, “Those teams missed out.” He told me of one particular interview when he went to dinner with two executives from the team. When one gentleman went to the restroom, the other told Randolph: “You know, I was sitting here talking to so and so and I said, ‘Willie’s a pretty good guy, a pretty sharp guy, he’s got a good sense of humor.’ At that moment, Randolph said, “It gave me chills, I was saying to myself, ‘Why is all that surprising to you?’ ” Through the years, some executives who have interviewed him later admitted they missed out on hiring one excellent manager.
“Dean Taylor told me he felt like he made the wrong decision,” Randolph said of the former Milwaukee GM. “Jim Bowden [Cincinnati] kind of said that too, but he was kind of just making it sound good.” Randolph knew what interviews were sham interviews, like the one in Philadelphia when he was told by a writer beforehand not to go to the interview because Larry Bowa already had the job.
“If I didn’t go, people would have said I was arrogant,” Randolph explained. “It gave me the opportunity to tell them, ‘I’m your guy. You may not know that, but I’m your guy.’ I went in there and tried to blow them away. I didn’t blow hard enough, I guess.” No, that’s not his nature.
In the end, it has worked out for the best.
“It’s perfect,” Randolph said.
“Growing up in this town, I’m privileged and happy to have the opportunity here. This was meant to be.” After the on-field celebration, the first person Randolph looked for Monday night was his wife Gretchen.
“I gave her a hug,” he said.
“She’s my rock, since my high school days. She knows all my struggles and my pain, and she’s still there hanging there with me.” Hanging with a winner.
