Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-06-28

| prince himself
But the amusement of all others that
| never pailed on US was watching this
| handsome race airing their f1nery in the
| open streets of Cettinje. The national
| costume seems designed to show off the
| grace and dignity inherent in even the
| humblest Ontenegrin-crimson and gold
| sparkle in the sunshine. in dazzling con-
| trast to the somber tints of the encr-
| cling mountains. real gold. too. which
| is deliberately worked in the garment by
hand From the royal family down the
| men wear a long. wide-skirted coat of
| light gray. white, robins egg blue or
! dark green cloth. embroidered in gold. or
| dark red. open " ide in front over GRIM
| son waistcOat heavily decorated in gold
and confined about the waist by a broad
sash of plaid silk. The belt is stuck full
| of responsibilities. pistols. etc.-for our
| friend considers his toilet incomplete
without such accessories. and indeed ones
| eyes become accustomed to seeing
| every man q walking arsenal that on re-
| turning to workaday Europe people look
| strangely undressed! Dark blue breeches
baggy to the knee. with the leg incased
| in white homespun and low string shoes
| on the feet, this Is thoroughly charac-
teristic, or if the wearer be bit of
dandy q pair of high black riding boots
will be worn instead: a cane for dress
| occasions, and the cocky, stiff-br!mmed
| cap complete the costume.
Ine GrOuchy manager.
| ''rhen there's a pessmistic ball club
| manager of my acquaintance who gets
sorely on the nerves Of his outfit. He's in
a state Of the deepest and darkest de-
spair all the time about the way his club
| is going, and it doesn't make a particle Of
difference what fine ball they're playing
or how high they stand on the list. He
can't see 'eIl, anyhow. with an obServa-
foincnnno To- nat oil hnr nos
simist. and he's got the blue devils from
getting up time until he turns in at
| night. II his team wins a game or
whole series OF games by. he's there
with the sad. sad comment that the clubs
only winning huky games, and that he
can't understand how the team wasn't
slaughtered every time by the other fell
lows. Every time the club cops, why, to
listen to this manager, it's nothing but
bullhead luck. Every time the club drops
one. why the managers dope makes it
perfectly natural and right: he tells EN-
that he knew they'd boot the game, and
that he isn't surprised a little bit. and
that he regards 1t as not hing short of
miracle that they ever get game. He
won't cheer up. They can't get him to
| cheer up. He's like your old Aunt Jemimy
| that used to go whmpering and whining
| all over the house when you were a boy.
saying that everybody hated and despised
and picked on her and tried to make her
| life misera bile. and all like that. His
brand of gloom works nightly upon the
spirits of his players. too. and it accounts
for the whipped look his men are often
noticed to wear when they show up on
| the ball field.
'Then there's a manager on my list OF
acquaintance who's got the sulking hab-
it. He's all right-rightey when everything
is gliding along smoothly and the outfit is
mailing $50 per cent of it's games and no
body is on the hospital list and the pitch
ers are on edge and all hands are hit
ting and the sleeping car is nice and cool
and the sun is always shining and there
are no postponed games and the attend
ance is big, and so on and so on. Well,
anybody can be happy and all right when
the break is as good all that comes to-
| But this manager. just as soon as the cog
slips ard the team begins to show 10
cents worth of non-SmOothness-he be-
| as long as the space from his neck to his
! surcingle. and he wears the glare that
! can't be erased He can't be joggled or
jollied out Of his sullenness. He doesn't
nag. He doesn't pick-pick. He simply
| gets the deep. dark crouch. and he won't
| speak To anybody ON or off the team. and
| he curls UP like Mister Caterpillar when
| a small boy holds a piece Of punk too
| close to the eaterpillarish hair. and he
gives just as fine and realistic an imita-
| ton Of the human crab as is to be found
! anywhere in North America. He won't
even reply to his players when he's asked
| for instructions. If he does, on some un-
usual occasion when he's in the middle OF
one of these sulks. make any reply he
| tells the inquirirg player to dope the
! thing out for himself. and that's all there
| is to it. His gal-loom wears on his men
| like water on rock, and the result is
that they become Indifferent, sloppy and
| careless.
Still another type of the manager-I
J know several specimens Of this one-is the
chap who takes everything first class that
| his players pull off for granted, accepts
| their swell stuff as only what they are
paid for and what's expected for them
| but lands on them like a tenement house
| falling down when they put the boots on
| even occasionally. The player on this
outfit can make five hits during game
| and pull down whole lot of circussy
| fielding stunts and use his conk at crit
| and all like that, and nary and likewise
| nix the word of praise does such a player
ever get from the lips Of his manager.
The manager just sits back and accepts
all that fine stuff as the kind that be-
longs to him. He hasn't got the little
kidful pat on the back for the bully boy
| with the chimney eye who makes the fine
plays. He doesn't believe In that stun.
he tells you. 1T gives 'em the fairness
under the hat to tell 'em about how good
| they're working he says. But the min
| ute one Of his gang makes a slip-Zingo!
| You can hear that manager bawling all
over the bench like a bull buffalo chal-
| longing all of the rest OF the herd to bat
] tie and death. and he never stops making
| his head roar about the players mistake
| until the glms are doused.
The Wholesale Jollier.
| THE direct contrast TO this manager is
another one on my list Of acquaintance
who's there with altogether too much oil.
He's there with the siinerino stuff all
! the time. and lie hands 1t out with alto
gether too much impartialty. He's the
boy with the assortment OF salve. He's
so much of a petroleum distributor that
I none of his gifts in this line are worth a
hang, and the men on his club all know
it. He's patting 'em AL on the back with
| the most obvious Jollying all the time. 1t
| doesn't make any difference whether they
deserve it or not, they're getting the old
unguents and pastes and salvey things
| splattered all over them all the time, and
| know. when this managers players mere
~ grin in his teeth, and then proceed to
| quietly guy him. when he starts out to
! feed them all of that vaseline stuff. He
! means all right. this manager. and he
| really SuppOSeS that he has the right
system. But he overdoes it, and that s
| why what he says doesn't really make
| much Of an impression upon his players
| one way or the other-which means that
| their discipline is more or less destroyed.
| THE right kind of ball club manager
| and there are plenty Of this right kind.
| too. understand. to offset the managers
| who've got the system all wrong@is the
| manager who doesn't say much, but who
Y I'll. hn tor