The Manager Still Matters

Connie Mack, baseball manager

I had another one of those on-air breakdowns today.

This is why I prefer to simply be a play-by-play announcer versus a talk show host. It's better for my blood pressure.

As I drove home, I heard the news that Luis Rojas would not have his contract renewed by the Mets.

I'm generally not a fan of firing managers but I know sometimes it needs to be done. In the case of the Mets, it was a necessary move, even if it was unfair.

Rojas, by all accounts, is a good man who has a nice future in the sport. There are myriad ways he can be right back in it and, for his sake, I hope he makes it.

He was thrust into this job when Carlos Beltran was relieved of his duties in the wake of the trash can scandal with the Astros.

But I've heard frequently (mostly from one place) that managers don't manage anymore and I'm here to call nonsense on that.

Look, these aren't the days of Connie Mack, who managed and owned the Philadelphia Athletics (now in Oakland, of course). General managers, or whatever comparable title, have played a role in a team forever and their influence has only grown over time.

Yes, you can absolutely say that Brian Cashman dictates the lineup everyday. You can even say he tells Aaron Boone who to use in the game on a given night. Still, at the end of the day, it's Boone who has to juggle the personalities and plug and play as necessary.

I saw this play out, essentially, in person for 61 games from May until late September this year. At the end of the day, Dan Fiorito still had to run the Renegades.

Still, some believe they're just mere puppets but here's where I say they can't be: what owner wants to pay money (and a lot of money in some cases) to a manager if they're doing nothing?

Aaron Boone makes a little over a million dollars a year. Joe Maddon of the Angels made $4 million. Terry Francona of the (still, for now) Indians made $4.2 million.

Get the idea? Owners are overwhelmingly cheap. If they could dump that money they would.

A manager might not have all of the responsibility of their predecessors but they still have to make in-game decisions. For one thing, the GM can't have contact with the dugout during the game. Former Mets GM Brodie Van Wagenen got in a little hot water with MLB over this very topic in 2019.

There is no question the job has changed. Gone are the days of Casey Stengel deciding on platooning players on the Yankees of the early 50s. Gone are the days of Yogi Berra deciding to use Tom Seaver in Game 6 of the 1973 World Series on three days rest.

The Mets led three games to two and Berra tried to close it out with his ace. While Seaver pitched well, the A's (again, Oakland) pitched better and beat the Mets. Yogi used Jon Matlack in Game 7 -- which he could have saved Seaver for -- and the Athletics won the title.

Look at Kevin Cash and the Rays from last year. There's no question that data suggested that the Dodgers should not see Blake Snell for a third time through the order in Game 6 of the World Series, even though the Rays were leading 1-0. The moment leadoff hitter Mookie Betts approached home plate in the sixth inning, Snell's night was over.

Snell had pitched a two-hitter with nine strikeouts. He was dominating.

The Dodgers celebrated because they knew they had (sorry) dodged a bullet. Betts greeted reliever Nick Anderson with a double and the Dodgers were on their way to clinching their first title since 1988. Final score: Dodgers 3, Rays 1.

Cash took the heat for the decision. It was a move I questioned at the time, as did many.

Most critics got it right. Pregame and postgame? Blame the front office. In-game? It's the manager (with the assistance of the data).

Owners wouldn't waste the money on managers if they didn't have to.

It's that simple.

*****

Oh, I also had a breakdown on the air because Marcus Stroman of the Mets (for now) tweeted support to Tim Ryder, one of the writers he gave tickets and cleats to last week.

So, if you're keeping score, Ryder wrote a positive story about Stroman. Of course, certain Mets fans (and journalists) think this is just fine and dandy.

Er. Really?

Quid pro quo, anyone?