The Last Manager: How Earl Weaver Tricked, Tormented, and Reinvented Baseball

by John W. Miller

One of the players’ favorite moves was making a honking collective sound directed at Earl: Wa-Wa-Wa. They competed for who could imitate his raspy voice the best. John Lowenstein or Rick Dempsey would stand in the front of the team bus and rasp: “Can’t somebody make the fucking ball hit the outfield grass! Catch the fucking ball!” Every week, they voted for “The Son of the Week,” the player they perceived to have been Weaver’s favorite. Weaver loved the mockery, because it defused tension and kept the players loose. “He saw guys pulling together in a certain way, maybe against him, but that’s exactly what he wanted,” said Flanagan. “We were very tight. We had a common bond in a certain way, and that was to handle this time bomb in the dugout.”