The Futility Infielder

Johnnie B. Paycheck and the Musical Chairs

Back in elementary school, a teacher once told me that the surest way to get somebody to think of something was to tell them explicitly NOT to think about it. An order not to think about elephants produces nothing but deep thoughts about those pachyderms. So it's been with Bud Selig's edict prohibiting teams from making any managerial announcements during the World Series. Selig's reasoning was that such news would detract from the action on the field, lest four and a half hours per night of whooshes, clangs, thundersticks and McCarver-blather fail to remind us that there's a ballgame going on. But if anything, Selig's pronouncement only heightened the intensity of media speculation over the current round of managerial musical chairs, and revealed more leaks in baseball's front offices than a 99 Cent Store Life Raft.

In the catbird seat is Dusty Baker, who now stands one win away from validating a widely held opinion that he's the best manager in the game with a World Series trophy. That Baker may turn around and whisper the immortal words of Johnny Paycheck ("Take this job and shove it!") to Giants owner Peter Magowan only adds to the drama, not to mention the media feeding frenzy. Recent reports have Baker bound for Seattle, Chicago, and, in a fanciful bit of speculation by ESPN's Ray Ratto, across the Bay to Oakland.

Seattle's doors are open because Lou Piniella, with one more year on his contract, yet no apparent desire to remain in the Emerald City, requested the opportunity to work closer to his Tampa home. The Mariners management, while offering to free Piniella, took his closer-to-home request at face value, and allowed the Devil Rays to negotiate compensation -- said to be All-Star outfielder Randy Winn -- in the event Piniella agreed to a contract. But the M's played hardball when it came to Piniella possibly returning to New York to manage the Mets; no compensation could be agreed upon between the two teams, thus preventing the Mets from even interviewing Piniella. Though they're fairly bereft of high-level prospects that might entice Seattle, the more likely story is that Mariner management simply gave Sweet Lou a sour kiss-off. Sour to the tune of $13 million over 4 years to manage in his own backyard a team that's never won 70 games in a season. It's worth remembering, of course, that Piniella's the manager who turned the Mariners around after a decade and a half of post-expansion futility.

As for Oakland, their bench is now officially vacant. They willingly let Howe go to the Mets because, as Ratto writes, "after helping drag the Athletics out of Contraction Row... general manager Billy Beane saw less in Howe than the American League standings did. Now that's perverse." Howe had been on the hot seat in each of the past three seasons, in part because he demonstrated more resistance to Beane-ball than the GM (and perhaps the owner) preferred. Slow starts by the A's in each of the past two seasons didn't help. But most damning in his critics' eyes was his inability to win the big one -- literally. Merely one game away from advancing to the second round of the playoffs in each of the past three years, the A's went 0-6 as they failed to close out the Yankees (twice) and the Twins.

Not to be forgotten is that Billy Beane has been sitting on the hottest managerial prospect in the game for some time now; this past spring, Beane denied the Red Sox permission to interview bench coach Ken Macha for Joe Kerrigan's job. With Macha making the rounds as a candidate, reportedly even offered the Milwaukee Brewers job, and still in the running for the Cubs slot (and perhaps the Mariners one as well), Beane likely felt that he couldn't afford to lose the man he preferred to his sitting (duck) manager.

As for the Dusty-cross-the-Bay, it's highly unlikely, which didn't prevent Ratto from floating the thought balloon:

While the A's might not seem all that keen on paying a new manager four times what they paid only grudgingly to the old guy, it's still a fascinating thought that begs the question: How much is it worth to you to stick your finger in another guy's eye up to the second knuckle?

Understand here that Schott and San Francisco owner Peter Magowan regard each other with the same mutual feeling one normally finds with firemen and arsonists. The most charitable way to put it is that each man dreams nightly of driving the other into the sea.

But would Steve Schott make Peter Magowan a fool for $4 million?

Ratto's conclusion is that such a scenario is no more perverse than anything else in this saga. But cross-bay animosity is one thing; cold, hard cash is another, and the Cubs may be the team willing to dig the deepest for Baker. Aside from the 1-2 punch of Kerry Wood and Mark Prior, and a pile of that green stuff, it's hard to see what Chicago has that SF doesn't. Though it's in its infancy, Pac Bell rivals Wrigley Field as one of the game's great ballparks, Barry Bonds has it all over Sammy Sosa, and it's been 57 years since the Cubs went to a World Series and 94 since they won one. Dusty's a stubborn man, but that stubborn?

Meanwhile, the reception of the Mets new manager (not officially, of course) by the New York media is an unjustly cold one. "Settled for" seems to be the preferred choice of words, and by them you'd think that Howe couldn't manage his way out of a paper bag. Never mind the fact that Howe racked up 298 wins over the past three years piloting a ballclub with one of the game's lowest payrolls -- one that finished ahead of Piniella's team twice. Or that the last manager to be dubiously received in this town, "Clueless Joe" Torre, has done rather well for himself and his employer. That parallel wasn't lost on Roberto Alomar, who told the New York Post, "It reminds me of '96 when the Yankees got Joe Torre and everyone was hammering him. What did they do? They ended up winning a world championship."

Howe's laid-back style is 180 degrees from that of his predecessor, Bobby Valentine, which may be exactlyt what the Mets need after tuning out Bobby V's often-grating words. Not that Valentine should have been the sole scapegoat for the Mets lousy season; general manager Steve Phillips' acquisitions of too many expensive and over-the-hill players (while gutting an already thin farm system) sealed their fate early. The player also carry their fair share of the blame; when geniuses like Mo Vaughn and Roger Cedeno admit late in the season that they actually need to keep themselves in shape, one has to wonder how they've survived all these years.

Howe made his reputation in Oakland working with a young, bargain-basement team. While the Mets don't have much in the way of youngsters (or bargains), that reputation might be inaccurate -- young players such as Terrence Long and Ramon Hernandez stagnated in their development, while Carlos Pena washed out early and was shipped off to Detroit. On the other hand, the trio of great young pitchers Howe had in Oakland flourished on his watch; it remains to be seen whether Howe will be able to import pitching coach (and New Jersey native) Rick Peterson. And Howe seemed to do just fine with the veterans; to my recollection, Kenny Rogers was the only player to ask out of Oakland recently, and several A's vets, including Jason Giambi and Matt Stairs, went to bat for Howe against management when the skipper's job was on the line.

As for the pressure of New York, Howe ought to be able to handle it after hanging tough in the A's job despite the whispers and the weight of expectation. Not to sound too Peter Gammons-y, but Howe has shown character during his time as manager. He's even-tempered, classy, and he doesn't rip his players in the press. He's no Bobby V. It's revealing that the Mets gave Howe a four-year contract, providing him with more security than the GM. Phillips' job is justifiably on the line, and faced with a roster of cumbersome contracts, he may have to take a page from Billy Beane's playbook and find some bargains to patch the holes. Whether he's willing to do so remains to be seen.

With only two games and one weekend left in the baseball season, this saga will probably simplify itself come Monday, when the music stops and Piniella and Howe are introduced. By then we may know who else has found a seat. Willie Randolph? Bob Melvin? Billy Martin? Casey Stengel?