You never knew what you’d find in Indians manager Pat Corrales’ office: Paul Hoynes

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- There was always a bit of mystery when you walked into Pat Corrales’ office. You just never knew what you’d find, hear or see.

Corrales managed the Indians from 1983 until he was fired during the 1987 season. The team, now called the Guardians, announced Monday that Corrales had died at age 82.

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After a loss to the Yankees and veteran lefty Tommy John, reporters walked into his office at old Yankee Stadium only to find about 10 baseballs on his desk. They were all scuffed in the same spot. John had a reputation for doctoring the ball, and Corrales was presenting his evidence to the media.

There was another game, also at Yankee Stadium, when Corrales went to the mound to remove lefty Neal Heaton, who was not happy about getting pulled. He showed Corrales up by flipping him the ball instead of handing it to him. That was a no-no, especially with Corrales.

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After the game, Corrales was throwing his spikes against his office wall, threatening to send Heaton back to the minors.

In Cleveland, Corrales butted heads with a columnist. Corrales would not let him into his office at Municipal Stadium. But the columnist was allowed to poke his head in the doorway and ask questions. It made for some of the strangest interviews I’ve ever seen. The columnist, showing pluck, kept asking questions. Corrales kept answering them, but occasionally warned him not to stray too far into the doorway.

There were stories as well.

He was signed as a catcher by the Phillies in 1959. He had a tough-guy reputation that sometimes carried past the field and into the streets. The Phillies’ upper management warned him that if it continued, he’d be released.

Corrales told the reporters sitting in his office that he tried to walk the straight and narrow after being warned, but added, “What are you going to do when a guy walks up to your table and puts his hand in the middle of your pizza?”

It was never explained why this person assaulted Corrales’ pizza in that manner, but it made for a good story.

As for the Phillies, they must have accepted Corrales’ explanation because he made his big league debut with them in 1964.

The Indians opened the 1983 season with Mike Ferraro as their manager. President Gabe Paul hired him out of the Yankees minor league system. Before the season started, Ferraro lost a kidney to cancer. It was an indication of how his tenure would go.

Paul fired Ferraro during the season and hired Corrales, who had just been fired by the Phillies. In fact, Corrales is the only manager ever to be fired with his team in first place. The Phillies had a veteran roster featuring Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez and others. They apparently didn’t like Corrales’ tough-guy style.

When he came to Cleveland, he had the reputation as a tough interview. But that was wrong. Corrales was good with the media. He seemed to sense when it was a slow news day and would point you in the direction of a story.

That was my first year on the beat, and I learned a lot from Corrales. He even served as an early warning system for me.

During the 1985 season I wrote a story about outfielder Mel Hall. Hall did not appreciate it. When I walked into the clubhouse on a Sunday morning, Corrales told me, “You’d better get out of here, there’s a warrant out for you.”

I still ended up at the bottom of the late Carmen Castillo’s locker with an angry Hall on top of me, but I appreciated the warning.

All managers have a reclamation project or two. Corrales had Ernie Camacho.

The Indians needed a closer in 1984. They acquired Camacho in 1983 as part of a deal that sent Rick Manning to Milwaukee. Camacho’s best pitch was his fastball, but he preferred to throw a multitude of off-speed pitches. He liked to trick batters.

Corrales told Camacho to forget the off-speed stuff and throw his fastball. To emphasize the point, he’d go to the mound in the ninth inning, pound Camacho on the chest and say, “No tricks, Ernie.”

Camacho had 23 of his 45 career saves in 1984.

That direct approach did not work well with all players, especially if they weren’t wearing a Cleveland uniform.

On July 1, 1986, Corrales charged the mound when Oakland right-hander Dave Stewart threw a ball up and in on Julio Franco during a 9-0 Cleveland win. Corrales, a brown belt in karate, tried to kick Stewart, but missed. Stewart knocked Corrales on all fours with a thundering right hand, touching off a fight between the teams.

Corrales told reporters afterward, “It wasn’t a very smart move, but I had to do it to protect my players. He (Stewart) said, ‘Come out here,’ so I did.”

You never had to ask Corrales twice to fight, have a drink or tell a story. Charging Stewart that day in Oakland will probably be the first thing people think of when they hear he’s passed, but there was more to him.

He managed the Rangers (1978-1980), Phillies (1982-1983) and Cleveland. He coached for the Rangers, Yankees, Braves and Nationals. He was a trusted confidant of Atlanta’s Hall of Fame manager Bobby Cox, serving on his coaching staff from 1990 through 2006.

Corrales was also a long-time consultant with the Dodgers. He scouted catchers for them.

He was the first big league manager of Mexican descent. He also had Native American bloodlines in his ancestry.

Most of all, he was a baseball guy.

One last story: When Corrales worked for the Indians, Paul would call him to his office for regularly scheduled meetings. Paul, in his mid-70s at the time, would tend to doze off at times during the meeting.

That’s when Corrales took his cue. He’d slam Paul’s desk with his hands, waking his boss, and say, “I’ve got to go, Gabe.”

I can still hear him laughing as he told that story.

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