Jim Riggleman has fallen into the same rabbit hole that every baseball reporter's been peering up from for a century. He mistakenly believes that managers matter and that anyone cares who doffs the cap in Washington's dugout this year.
Riggleman took his ball and went home today saying he was too old to be disrespected after Nationals' brass refused to pick up his $600,000 option for 2012 prematurely. Dear (GM) Mike Rizzo: I am not too old to be disrespected for $600K a year, a generous per diem and free tickets to 18 Phillies games. I'll come to DC to skipper your ship. Your pal, Waldo.
The reason Riggleman expects the franchise would commit to spending 600 large for something it might not want is elusive, unless he knows in his heart that he'll need a big ninth inning rally to win another term at the helm. He seems to be in the middle of a fourth inning rally with the Nats on an 11-1 streak to .500, but it could be long-forgotten by September.
Of course, crediting the manager for his team's spasm of success violently offends the gods of correlation and causation. The inconvenient fact about managers is that they have precious little control over team performance. If you want to judge a manager by his team's W-L record, then Robert E. Lee was an under .500 leader whose team finished last during his four years with the Richmond Confederates.
I was reminded of all this not by Riggleman's snit, but by reaction to Jack McKeon's temporary care-taking in Miami. Following each of the three games played by the McKeon-captained Marlins, the baseball media have cataloged his apparent impact on the final score. If we really have to explain to a reporter the inanity of judging a manager by one, three, 20 or even 50 games, then he might want to consider the night court beat.
What we all conspire to ignore is that managers are charged with three primary functions, and two of them have no immediate effect on their team's play. Only lineup construction can possibly alter team effectiveness immediately, and even that is an organizational decision. A manager's main task is to create a culture in the clubhouse, something that happens over months, not days, and still represents little more than a pinky on the scale.
A dearth of hitting, pitching and fielding talent swamped Joe Torre's managing acumen in his first 14 years with the lowly Mets, Braves and Cards. His teams saddled him with an 894-1003 record. Torre didn't suddenly get 1173-767 worth of brilliant when he took the helm of the Yankees. He got 1173-767 worth of Mariano Rivera, Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Roger Clemens, David Cone, Paul O'Neil, Scott Brosius, etc.
(Managers are also responsible for in-game decisions, but they are so rote that even the average jamoke could adequately pull the levers in a major league game. Do you really need a Dartmouth MBA to bat for the pitcher with a runner on and down by a run in the bottom of the seventh?)
The Marlins could storm back from the abyss and snag the pennant this year, or they could fold like a wet potato chip and move to Brooklyn. Neither would shed a single photon of light on Jack McKeon's managing ability. As long as he's bedfellow with Hanley Ramirez's .605 OPS, the Florida manager is doomed.
Apologies to Jeff Foxworthy for mangling his witticism: if you're name's on the building, you're filthy rich, if it's on the door, you're doing great, if it's on your desk, keep grinding, and if it's on your shirt, you might be a redneck. Managers' names aren't even visible from in front. It's no coincidence.
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