I see a lot of love for Gabe Paul around here, and I have to admit it surprises me. About the only thing anyone can cite as to his "greatness" is the fact that he oversaw the building of the Bronx Zoo-era Yankees. It's true that he did a good job in acquiring players for that team, but how much of that was his own shrewdness, and how much was the fact that he worked for a franchise with deep pockets?
It's true that Gabe Paul won the Sporting News' Executive of the Year Award in 1956 for overseeing a Cincinnati Redlegs team that contended for the pennant, which suggests that he was well regarded long before coming to New York. If you look at the award's history though, it looks similar to the Manager of the Year Award, where it mainly honors guys whose teams had surprising seasons. I mean, Cam Bonifay won it in 1997 based on the Pirates' near-winning season. That should tell you it doesn't necessarily go to a great baseball mind.
I'll admit my impression of Paul is a bit biased, because for a long time, I only saw him as a guy who made a long career out of GMing mediocre-to-crappy teams, and there was also a telling passage in Terry Pluto's Our Tribe: A Baseball Memoir, which I read sometime in the early '00s. The book is one part a history of the Indians and another part the story of a father and son who bonded over the Indians where the son grew up to cover the team as a member of the media. Here's Pluto's commentary on Paul:
It sounds like Paul managed to have such a long career due to having good people skills and being reasonably competent, but I see folks who think he has an argument for the Hall of Fame, and that seems to be going a bit too far, if you ask me.
To all the Gabe Paul fans, if I'm missing something, what is it? Was Gabe Paul better than he appears? Does building one great team make a GM great, while the rest of his failures deserve to be overlooked?
It's true that Gabe Paul won the Sporting News' Executive of the Year Award in 1956 for overseeing a Cincinnati Redlegs team that contended for the pennant, which suggests that he was well regarded long before coming to New York. If you look at the award's history though, it looks similar to the Manager of the Year Award, where it mainly honors guys whose teams had surprising seasons. I mean, Cam Bonifay won it in 1997 based on the Pirates' near-winning season. That should tell you it doesn't necessarily go to a great baseball mind.
I'll admit my impression of Paul is a bit biased, because for a long time, I only saw him as a guy who made a long career out of GMing mediocre-to-crappy teams, and there was also a telling passage in Terry Pluto's Our Tribe: A Baseball Memoir, which I read sometime in the early '00s. The book is one part a history of the Indians and another part the story of a father and son who bonded over the Indians where the son grew up to cover the team as a member of the media. Here's Pluto's commentary on Paul:
[T]he Tribe team I inherited was owned by F.J. "Steve" O'Neill, an elderly man who had made his money in the trucking business. He was recruited by Gabe Paul, the master of romancing money men and convincing them that what they needed to do was...drumbeat, please...own the Cleveland Indians! And better yet, Gabe Paul himself would stay around as team president to help the new owner learn the game. What a deal! At least that was Paul's sales pitch for nearly thirty years in Cleveland. The remarkable part of the story was how often it worked. There always was another guy willing to believe that Gabe Paul was just the man to turn the Indians around. Most of these guys didn't have the cash to do it, even if Paul had been the John Hart of his day. At best, Paul was a very ordinary baseball operator with little vision or creativity. Team him with George Steinbrenner in the 1970s, hand Paul a wad of money that was twice as thick as anyone else's in baseball--and yes, Paul would produce a winner.
The man was no idiot, no Frank Lane.
But when I began to cover the Indians in 1980, Steve O'Neill was bearing down on eighty years old. Paul and general manager Phil Seghi were in their seventies. The Indians were twenty-six years away from their last pennant, twenty-one years away from the Rocky Colavito trade and their last legitimate contender. They were light years away from being able to compete in baseball during the free agent era. Paul and Seghi brought in players such as Bake McBride, Manny Trillo, Gorman Thomas, and Ross Grimsley. They were all at the end of their careers. The last place they wanted to be was that old, drafty, damp Cleveland Stadium. For the most part, they were as much fun to be around as a cemetery on a rainy day.
Paul and Seghi were desperate. They knew the owner was old, and probably dying. They knew time was running out for them. They knew the rest of baseball looked at them as two old men whom the game had passed by. They desperately wanted to put together one last contender in Cleveland, to prove everyone wrong. This led to one plan after another. In 1979, they had a team based on power bats with the likes of Bobby Bonds, Cliff Johnson, Andre Thornton, and Toby Harrah in the lineup. By 1981, it was a pitching team--Len Barker, John Denny, Bert Blyleven, and Rick Waits forming one of the better rotations in baseball. But that was the strike year. Also, the Indians didn't hit. So the pitchers were traded for hitters.
It was like that, year after year. Pitchers traded for hitters, then hitters traded for pitchers. One year, it was a veteran team. The next year, the veteran players were traded for kids.
There were so many plans, there was no plan.
The man was no idiot, no Frank Lane.
But when I began to cover the Indians in 1980, Steve O'Neill was bearing down on eighty years old. Paul and general manager Phil Seghi were in their seventies. The Indians were twenty-six years away from their last pennant, twenty-one years away from the Rocky Colavito trade and their last legitimate contender. They were light years away from being able to compete in baseball during the free agent era. Paul and Seghi brought in players such as Bake McBride, Manny Trillo, Gorman Thomas, and Ross Grimsley. They were all at the end of their careers. The last place they wanted to be was that old, drafty, damp Cleveland Stadium. For the most part, they were as much fun to be around as a cemetery on a rainy day.
Paul and Seghi were desperate. They knew the owner was old, and probably dying. They knew time was running out for them. They knew the rest of baseball looked at them as two old men whom the game had passed by. They desperately wanted to put together one last contender in Cleveland, to prove everyone wrong. This led to one plan after another. In 1979, they had a team based on power bats with the likes of Bobby Bonds, Cliff Johnson, Andre Thornton, and Toby Harrah in the lineup. By 1981, it was a pitching team--Len Barker, John Denny, Bert Blyleven, and Rick Waits forming one of the better rotations in baseball. But that was the strike year. Also, the Indians didn't hit. So the pitchers were traded for hitters.
It was like that, year after year. Pitchers traded for hitters, then hitters traded for pitchers. One year, it was a veteran team. The next year, the veteran players were traded for kids.
There were so many plans, there was no plan.
To all the Gabe Paul fans, if I'm missing something, what is it? Was Gabe Paul better than he appears? Does building one great team make a GM great, while the rest of his failures deserve to be overlooked?
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