Jim Fregosi Punches Back

In all of his years in baseball, Sam Suplizio couldn’t remember anyone being as big of a jerk as Toronto Blue Jays manager Jim Fregosi had just been.

In western Colorado, Suplizio was simply ‘Mr. Baseball.’ Suplizio had been on the path to the majors before a wrist injury in 1956 prevented that from happening. With the dream over, he headed west and began a successful career in the banking industry. His love for the game would be backed by his growing wealth, and in the Rocky Mountains, his moniker was earned. Mr. Baseball brought the Junior College World Series to a permanent home in Grand Junction, and he was a formidable voice for the Colorado Baseball Commission, a group that helped bring Coors Field and the Colorado Rockies into existence. 

As successful as he was in a suit and tie, a pair of stirrups and cleats were always preferable to Suplizio. He managed Grand Junction’s summer collegiate team for nearly two decades and served as a coach and scout for a few major league organizations. In 1981, Brewers general manager Harry Dalton brought his friend in for his greatest assignment: teaching Paul Molitor to play center field. Suplizio packed his how-to manuals and spent three weeks with Molitor, who lasted roughly a month in center. Nonetheless, Suplizio had a great reputation around baseball for his work with outfielders, and by 1999, he was employed by the Angels as a volunteer coach.

Suplizio had the cash to get any seat in the house, but it was his credentials that got him his preferred seat, one that money couldn’t buy. Now retired from his day job, he spent a chunk of his summers following around the Angels. He worked out with the outfielders before games, and once play commenced, Suplizio would stick around and watch from the dugout. He wasn’t supposed to. In a rule that would surely trouble the Shapiro-era Blue Jays, teams were limited to a handful of coaches on the bench for games. Yet, the rule was consistently broken, and coaches such as Suplizio watched on from the dugout while opposing teams looked away.

On June 15, 1999, Suplizio planned to do what he had done dozens of times that season. He had flown to Toronto to meet the Angels before the start of a two-game series, did some pre-game work on the turf and then he intended, as always, to watch from the bench. He was also there being Mr. Baseball. Before the game, Suplizio sought out Fregosi to say hi to Toronto’s first-year manager. He had well wishes to pass along from former Expos manager Buck Rodgers, and Fregosi’s son had played college ball at New Mexico, like Suplizio had. This was not their first interaction.

As Suplizio approached Fregosi, he surely noticed the shiner Toronto’s manager had received just a few days earlier. His attention would quickly be diverted to the words coming from Fregosi’s mouth. The Angels were at their limit for coaches in uniform, and the Blue Jays were enforcing the rule. Suplizio wouldn’t be sitting in the first base dugout tonight. Nor would he ever again.

Perhaps Fregosi was crusty from the day-old newspaper report that Skinny Joe had tattooed his left eye; perhaps the Blue Jays were just done looking the other way on this, as teams weren’t doing it for them. In ‘98, former 100-base stealer Maury Wills served in a Suplizio-type capacity for new Blue Jays manager Tim Johnson. No one in the American League scored fewer runs than the Blue Jays had in ‘97, and Johnson arrived to change that and talk about ‘Nam (accomplishing both). Wills was with Toronto for the entire spring and was a hit in camp. “I wish we could keep him all year,” said Ed Sprague. 

When the Blue Jays returned from a 3-6 road trip in early April, Wills greeted them back in Toronto. In the dugout for the first time all season, Wills proved to be a good luck charm, as the Jays swept the White Sox, and the Yankees were headed north next. After losing the series opener to New York in 11 innings, the Blue Jays found themselves in another tight one the following evening. Yankees manager Joe Torre knew of Wills’ presence in the other dugout, and with the game tied in the ninth, Torre didn’t feel the need to tolerate the rule-breaking any longer. Prompted by what he thought was Wills shouting from the dugout, Torre said he went to home plate umpire Rocky Roe and had Wills removed from the game.

The Blue Jays were incensed. Sprague called Torre’s move “weak.” Johnson wouldn’t speak to Torre. For his part, Wills said it wasn’t him shouting, but he did admit to being involved in the giving of signals. He joked he must’ve not done a good enough job on the weekend if the White Sox hadn’t noticed him, but either way, he was hurt. “It felt like I was thrown out of my own home, my own life,” he said. “But, hey, they’re trying to win a ballgame. I might have done the same thing.”

Toronto correctly assumed that George Steinbrenner noticed Wills on television and asked to have him removed. For his part, Torre was unapologetic and took the heat for The Boss. “[Wills] is a competitive guy who competed when he played, and he’s good at what he does. If they wanted him to be that active, they should have made him one of their six coaches.” Can’t fight that logic. (photo credit: Cooperstowners in Canada)

Wills spent the rest of the series in the tunnel between the clubhouse and the dugout, with the team officially put on notice by the American League about his presence on the bench. Johnson asked for an exception, but none would be made. On May 6, Toronto was told that Wills would not be permitted on the bench during games again. The Suplizios of the baseball world could slyly watch on from the dugout without a care, but Wills was a bona fide legend of the game, and as Johnson’s successor was about to find out, even franchise legends didn’t go unnoticed.

Having been named manager of the Canadian national team, Blue Jays catching coach Ernie Whitt thought he would get some preparation in. The Pan American Games were around the corner, and Whitt would join Fregosi on the bench for a game early in the ‘99 season. Toronto would be called out on coach quantity again, forcing Whitt to leave the contest. The team would ensure it wouldn’t happen a third time. As an organization, the Blue Jays enacted a policy that it would no longer allow any excess coaches on the bench, and Fregosi was about to impose that limit on the Anaheim Angels.

Quote

“He said we were over the coaching limit by one and that he wasn’t going to let me sit on the bench for the game. I said, ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ That’s as big a jerk of a stunt as I’ve seen in 35 years as a coach...We’ve been friends. With friends like that, who needs enemies?”

Fregosi had little time for Suplizio’s pleading. “[Suplizio] was on the bench when we were in California, and I didn’t say one word. I went to him before the game as a common courtesy, so I wouldn’t have to do it during the game. If he wants to make a big deal about it, I will.”

Suplizio slinked off and sat behind the dugout for the second game of the series, saying he didn’t want to make a fuss over things other than wishing to call Fregosi “small.” An AL official called the Angels a few days later and officially put an end to Suplizio’s days on the bench. Each team got a similar phone call. Toronto’s team policy and subsequent callout of Suplizio would push the American League into enforcing its own rule for limiting coaches on the bench. Somewhere along the line, that rule changed, noticeable in Toronto’s dugout with Edwin Encarnacion cameos and unheard-of titles being bestowed on DeMarlo Hale and Don Mattingly. 

Why did Fregosi choose to make an example of Suplizio, who considered the Blue Jays manager a friend? Maybe Fregosi thought the familiarity would smooth his action over as Toronto made a point following the incidents with Wills and Whitt. It certainly did not. As Wills did, Suplizio felt humiliated, and the incident sparked, for the time, the American League having to enforce a rule it previously hadn’t.