The Manager

It isn’t easy to be a baseball manager. They have to win even though they have no direct influence on whether a game is won or lost. One home run and the manager is a genius. One bad pitch and the manager is a bum. They have to deal with players who think they are in charge, reporters who make their living by being critical, and stupid bloggers like me who think they know best.

Once upon a time, managers were basically drinking buddies of the owner, guys like Mike (Pinky) Higgins of the Red Sox and Jimmy Dugan of the Rockford Peaches. Higgins could drink Tom Yawkey under the table, which is how he kept his job managing some of the worst Red Sox teams in history during the 1950s and 1960s. Once, in 1959, he was fired and replaced by Billy Jurges. But Yawkey found out that Jurges couldn’t drink as much as Higgins and Higgins was back in mid-1960. He was so good at drinking, in fact, that he was promoted to general manager.

By the mid ’60s, the model manager was the young leader-type. He was in charge and let everybody know it. If a player was out of line, the manager set him straight. Ralph Houk, an army major in World War II, brought his leadership skills to the Yankees. Earl Weaver and the Sox went out and got Dick Williams, leaving Tom Yawkey to take one for the team and drink alone. The Impossible Dream Red Sox went from ninth place to first and could have won the 1967 World Series if there was one day of rain between games six and seven. Meanwhile the Orioles got into the act and brought in tough-guy Hank Bauer and Earl Weaver for a 19-year run of success that saw the O’s finish first or second 13 times.

Then the model changed again. Warm and fuzzy is in. Managers have become the players’ friends, defending any mistakes and making sure that they get days off every now and again (except for Derek Jeter, Justin Morneau and Ichiro, who play every day). Even Lou Pinella has toned down his act.

But whatever the current model is, the manager is only as good as the team on the field. Casey Stengel with the Yankees was a genius when he managed Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra. Casey Stengel with the Mets was the village idiot when he managed Marv Thronberry and Rod Kanehl. Dick Williams went from genius to idiot so many times that he managed six different teams and he was fired from all of them. But he won four pennants and two World Series titles and ended up in the Hall of Fame. Terry Francona in 2004 and 2007? Genius. Terry Francona in 2006 and 2008? Idiot. Same guy, same personality, same way of treating players. But having Curt Schilling and Pedro Martinez on your pitching staff makes you a genius. Having Brad Penny or Jason Johnson on your pitching staff makes you look like an idiot.

Of course, if you’re Grady Little, you could have Cy Young, Christy Mathewson, Sandy Koufax and Bob Gibson on your team and you’d still be an idiot.