Billy Bruton: The Ideal Leadoff Man

A speedy outfielder and leadoff man for the Milwaukee Braves (1953-1960) and Detroit Tigers (1961-1964), Billy Bruton led the National League in steals in his first three years and averaged more than one hit per game in his career.

He proudly wore his 1957 World Series ring – rubies for bases and a diamond in the middle --while we visited in the living room of his home, formerly owned by his late father-in-law, Negro Leagues Hall of Famer Judy Johnson, in Marshalltown, Delaware, on March 10, 1990. – Norman L. Macht

Getting Invited to Spring Training by The Braves

I was playing sandlot ball in Wilmington and a man who lived here had a connection with the Boston Braves. In 1950 they invited me to spring training in Waycross, Georgia, an ideal training spot.

We had our own dorms, and there was nothing else to do there.

They sent me to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, in the Northern League. Andy Cohen was the manager. A good teacher.

He wanted to get the most out of you and build your confidence, so he turned me loose. I stole 66 bases.

In 1951 I was assigned to Hagerstown, Maryland, but there were racial problems at the time, so I went to Denver and played for Cohen again.

I had no problems in Denver or the other cities we played in.

The Major Leagues

When I got to the majors in 1953, Charlie Grimm was the manager. Grimm was easy to play for.  If he could have picked his own players, he would have had a winner then.

He would have picked players he respected and who respected him, who would not embarrass him or the team or themselves on the field.

He felt we were playing a boys’ game but we were grown men and had responsibilities.

You should know how to act. He seldom if ever fined anybody. We put on our own hit and run.

He told us we knew how the pitchers would throw to us better than he did and that we should get our signals worked out between us players. “I’ll figure out what’s going on,” he said.

Stealing Bases

Grimm told me, “You’re in the majors. You should know when to attempt to steal a base and when not to. Don’t wait for me for a signal. You know the pitchers better than I do. If you get a jump, go ahead.”

He gave me the green light all the time. I led the league my first three years with 26, 34 and 25 stolen bases. You didn’t run then just to steal a base. You ran because you represented the tying or go-ahead run.

We didn’t run for personal records. When you steal 100 or more bases, that’s a guy running just because he’s on base.

World Series champion, Billy Bruton

If we’re leading by 6-1, why should I run into second base and take a chance on breaking a leg? What good is it going to do?

Even if you score from there, now it’s 7-1. So what? We had enough confidence in our pitchers to hold the lead.

Strategy in the Big Leagues

If I led off and got on base, I wouldn’t go right away. If the number two hitter failed to advance me, I might even debate then.

In Milwaukee our number three hitter was a left-handed pull hitter, Eddie Mathews. If the first baseman is holding me on, that gives him a bigger hole to aim at.

If I’m on second, that hole’s not there anymore. I was more valuable to the team and to Mathews being on first than second in that situation.

Now, if Mathews goes out, the number four man is a right-hander, Pafko or Adcock, or, later, Aaron. I’m not going to take the bat out of his hands.

I’m going to give him a chance for a swing. If he gets two strikes on him, then I might go. If I get thrown out, he starts off with a clean slate. If I make it, I’m in scoring position for a single. 

That was the general strategy throughout the league. Not everybody had a green light. I was fast, could run, and knew what I was doing.

You steal off the pitcher. If you get a walking lead off second, it’s easier to steal third than second. Lefties are tougher to steal on from first because they get away with murder.

Righties will have one little thing to indicate they are going to throw home.  You have to spot that one indicator. Lefthanders are facing you, and they cheat anyhow, so they were tougher.

I never used a headfirst slide. I was always afraid of it and it doesn’t get you there any faster.

The thing I didn’t like about it was: who says that second baseman or shortstop won’t have to go up in the air to get a bad throw and when he comes down, your face could be right under his spikes.

If I go in feet first, he can come down on my leg. He might break my leg, but not my head.

I hit the first home run ever hit in Milwaukee County Stadium on opening day in 1953, and won the game in the tenth inning. It was the only home run I hit all year.

Success in the mid-fifties

In 1956 we went into a losing streak and they thought we needed to make a change. In a midseason change, you always wonder what style of ball the new manager will play. I was concerned about it.

There were many things that [the new manager] Fred Haney brought to the club that I thought was detrimental, against the kind of baseball that you had learned how to play.

My green light was turned off. We always waited for a sign. 

But we had a good ball club and went on to win the pennant in ’57 and ’58.

[It sounds like you won more in spite of than because of Haney.]

You said it, I didn’t [laughs].

I played a shallow outfield and could go back to the fence.  I felt if you hit a line drive to the fence in center field, you deserved a hit. But if you hit a fly ball back there, I was going to catch it.

I played the position as well as anybody.

When the batter got fooled and held up and then blooped the ball over the infield, I had to play shallow to try to cut them off.

Getting Injured on a Blooper

It used to gall me to see those little bloopers fall in there, like the one I got hurt on when I collided with shortstop Felix Mantilla in July 1957 and it put me out of the lineup and the World Series.

It was a little bloop Texas Leaguer, no height to it. The standard thing to yell was “I’ve got it,” or “I’ll take it,” and the other would say, “Take it.” Neither one of us waved the other off. You don’t do that.

The ball was hit in one of those spots where you did not know if anyone was going to be able to reach it. Looking up at the ball, you don’t see each other.

The second baseman couldn’t come out to warn us; he had to stay and cover second. We both reached for it at the same time. My knee hit his knee. His was swollen but had no torn ligaments.

My right knee had torn ligaments. We tried treatment until September 1, but I couldn’t run on it.  It took surgery to correct it. Even today I can only bend the knee so far, but I had enough mobility to run.

If there was any one leader on the ’57-58 Braves, it was Red Schoendienst. The infield gelled when he came there. Logan and Mathews and Burdette and Spahn were the fun-makers, kept you loose.

The 1958 World Series

Just being in the 1958 World Series was a thrill. There’s a difference in how you feel before that first game than others. But once the ball is pitched, it’s just another game.

In game Two I led off and hit a home run, but that was not my biggest moment in baseball. Home runs were an accident as far as I was concerned.

It meant I had hit in the air and I was aiming to hit it on the ground or on a line. That doesn’t use my speed.

I can intimidate the pitchers more if I’m on base. I wasn’t sorry I hit it, but if I had my druthers, I’d have hit a single. Just being on base, they knew I would run, but they didn’t know when.

That kept them guessing, kept them from total concentration on that hitter.

We had a three games to one lead that disappeared against the Yankees.  We came back to Milwaukee with Burdette and Spahn ready to go. We felt good. It wasn’t overconfidence.

The harder we tried, the less we produced. Mathews hit poorly – four hits. I hit .412 and was always on base when he came up. 

Getting Traded to Detroit

I wasn’t surprised when I was traded to Detroit in 1961. What surprised me was that the Braves management started breaking up that team a couple years too soon.

I would like to have stayed with the same club throughout my career, but I was still in the big leagues. I had to learn all the pitchers and hitters in the new league, and new ballparks too.

[Detroit manager] Chuck Dressen was a good teacher, but he wanted to change you from the way that you had been successful. This set well with the youngsters but not with the veterans.

He was more valuable in AAA than teaching me his way to run the bases or Mathews the way to hit homers.

One of the best outfielders I saw was Carl Furillo because of his arm. He was more effective in Ebbets Field than elsewhere. He was pretty accurate when you gave him time to throw.

In my rookie year, we were in Brooklyn and I was on second and a ground single went to Furillo and I’m going to score on a ground ball to right field. I knew how to make my swing before I got to third, not go home by way of the dugout.

I didn’t even look at the coach, just rounded third and scored.

The coach liked to had a fit, said, “Don’t you know he has the best arm in the business?”  I said, “I got the best legs. I’m going to make him make a perfect throw to get me, and he can’t do that every time when he’s hurrying.” 

Mays, Vada Pinson, Richie Ashburn were good center fielders. If I could pick two outfielders to play alongside me on their fielding ability, I’d pick Mays and Aaron. Nobody talks about Aaron’s fielding.

He had good hands, good speed, could make the plays, strong arm, instinct to put his head down and get to where the ball was going. He didn’t look so graceful doing it, but he got there.

He learned to become more graceful as he played, but he could get a jump on the ball.

In 1964 there were no jobs open to black players to stay in the game, except maybe as a scout. I went to work for Chrysler in Detroit and stayed until I retired.