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Schottzie's lucky charms failed her owner, Marge Schott, and all-time hits leader Pete Rose. Both are now banned from the game.

Durocher would arrive in the clubhouse at the same time every day and leave at the same time. If his team was winning in the ninth inning, he’d walk the length of the dugout for a drink of water after each out recorded against the opposition. Joey Amalfitano recalls Leo’s behavior during the 1954 pennant chase: “Leo felt it would be even better luck if all his coaches did the same thing. It was like a Chinese fire drill. Every time we got a ninth inning putout, five guys had to get up and march down to get a drink.”

Hair of the dog

Is there a god of superstition who smiles and rewards those who daily incorporate sometimes strange routines into their lives to ward off evil spirits? Perhaps, but since .400 hitters and thirty-game winners are rare, that deity, real or imagined, must be myopic or inattentive (except in the cases of Boston and Chicago, where it appears rather vindictive).

Maybe that’s why today’s players and managers remain wary of tempting fate. Seattle’s Ken Griffey Jr., who many observers proclaim the best of contemporary players, feels luck is with him only when his mother is in the stands. Terry Pendleton knows it’s bad luck to throw a bat; he always hands his bat to the batboy. David Justice steps out of the box after each pitch and has a one-way conversation: “If I’m not talking to myself, I’m not into the at-bat.”

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Luis Tiant with his trademark cigar.

Culinary rituals have always carried clout. Pitcher Jim Palmer ate pancakes for breakfast while on a streak: “Well, I went something like 17-2 during one streak eating pancakes, so why take a chance?” During a season filled with twenty-five wins, pitcher Steve Stone’s daily rite consisted of having breakfast with the same sportswriter. Hall of Famer Al Lopez breakfasted on kippered herring and eggs seventeen days in a row. Roger Maris hit two homers on a day when he had eggs and bologna for breakfast, prompting him to order the same breakfast at the same deli, at the same table, with the same waitress, for all home games. Then-Orioles catcher Mickey Tettleton believes that his career was revived by eating Fruit Loops for breakfast.