Sport: Nice Guys Always Finish . . . ?

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Steinbrenner felt it was Martin who was baseball dumb. In the middle of July an event took place that Steinbrenner insists was the true turning point. He had flown to Milwaukee for an evening meeting with Martin and then went to bed. Shortly after midnight, two key players, Munson and Lou Piniella, knocked on Steinbrenner's door. They were distraught about the chaos on the team and bluntly told Steinbrenner that the Yankees could not win with Martin as the manager. Was this the way the owner ran his other companies, they challenged him? Steinbrenner was somewhat startled to hear the two players say Martin had little support from the rest of the team. Suddenly Martin himself was banging on the door. He was enraged to find his players with the owner. Steinbrenner calmed the group down, and the four men argued until 6 in the morning. Several lineup changes were agreed to: Jackson henceforth would bat cleanup, certain pitchers would rotate every fourth day, Piniella would become the daily designated hitter. One other change: the no-pay salary clause in Martin's contract would be dropped.

Still, for the next month, Martin refused to adopt the changes. When he finally did, the Yankees began to roll; they won 40 of their next 50 games. Jackson, his spirit at last lifted by batting fourth, drove in 49 runs. But even that did not satisfy the outfielder of the powerful shoulders and the tender ego. At the end of the season Jackson stood in the corner of the locker room and said: "I wouldn't wish what happened to me here on anybody." He had already told Steinbrenner he would refuse to play another season for Martin, no small dilemma for the owner.

The day after the Yankees clinched the pennant, Martin sat alone in his office. At 49, his bony legs still showed the scars of his early playing days. He had lost his appetite during the season and now took pills to make himself eat. Steinbrenner was still on his mind. "I just can't be the kind of person George wants me to be," he said. "All those goddam meetings, stats, 40 laps in the outfield, discipline. Jesus Christ, discipline. He'd let Babe Ruth go for discipline."

Martin's emotions are never very far beneath the surface. Now his eyes began to glisten. "If he'd just show me a little personal touch," he said of Steinbrenner, "I'd go through the wall for him. He put the money up. I want to honor him. I really don't want to leave this job." Martin's obsession with his contract kept floating back. He leaned forward in his chair, and his face hardened. "Win or lose this Series," he said, "I'm going to demand a new contract that gives me some independence. If he fires me, he'll never live it down, with these fans." He sounded surer of himself now, more confident that he had an edge in the battle with the owner. "A little Dago like me fixed his ass. If I get fired, I've still got something inside of me that will beat him. I'll come back and haunt him."