Detroit
Only in baseball, where spitting sunflower seeds is considered an art form, would anyone confuse a manager with Albert Einstein.
But there was a photograph of Jim Leyland, the smartest thing to roll out of Detroit since the 1964 Mustang, pictured alongside Einstein on a poster waved by a fan as the Tigers took the field Saturday night for the World Series.
If Leyland is such a genius, then why did he give St. Louis slugger Albert Pujols, the most dangerous hitter in baseball, a chance to beat Detroit in Game 1?
Any dummy knows that was a really stupid idea.
By blasting a home run that blew the game open in a startling 7-2 victory by the Cardinals, Pujols struck a big blow for the truth in a game too often overcomplicated by hopeless romantics with tobacco juice dribbling down their chins.
“The manager’s decision is either to pitch to him or walk him. I pitched to him and obviously he burned us,” Leyland said.”I take the bullet there and if somebody gives criticism, you accept it, because it’s ultimately my decision.”
The most popular myth of this World Series is these are mediocre teams lifted to greatness by two real men of genius, Leyland and St. Louis manager Tony La Russa.
Tell you what.
You can have Leyland, La Russa and all the Sharpies in the world to fill out a lineup card.
I’ll take Pujols and his bat. Every time.
Baseball manager is the most overhyped job in America.
There was another elaborate, homemade sign seen in Comerica Park, in which the mug of Leyland was superimposed on the side of Mount Rushmore, alongside the greatest leaders in U.S. history.
But pitching to Pujols with first base open and the Cards leading 2-1 in the third inning was a stupid human trick that not even Johnny Knoxville would attempt.
Pujols drilled a pitch from Detroit’s Justin Verlander for a two-run homer. Could it have been Verlander threw to Pujols despite his manager’s better judgment?
“I’ll take the heat for that,” said Leyland, who indicated before the Series he would not let Pujols beat the American League champions. “That’s just the way we went about it.
“Obviously that’s not the way it was supposed to be, but that’s fine.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. Most of the time, Leyland is smarter than your average bear.
Years ago, Leyland conclusively proved he had undeniable insight into baseball by telling the Rockies $4 million was not sufficient compensation for the aggravation of managing a franchise without a clue, and saw the futility years before the rest of us in Colorado.
I’m no baseball purist. But the championship showdown deserves better than to be dumbed down with the designated hitter, which diminishes managing into a paint-by-numbers exercise.
What’s there for a manager to do? Fill out a lineup card? Most of us learned to print in the first grade, then moved on to more challenging tasks, like riding a bike without training wheels.
The real beauty of baseball is found in its simplicity.
Either you walk Pujols with an open base, or you hear how loud the noise can be when a Motor City full of motor mouths second-guess your mistake.
Any bleacher bum with two Buds in his belly can decide when to make a pitching change. You don’t have to be La Russa to do what’s in your gut.
Sure, there’s skill involved in managing all the juvenile hijinks and personality clashes of a major-league roster. There are 25 hyperactive kids in the clubhouse. In that regard, being a manager is almost as tough as being a kindergarten teacher.
The first big break Leyland got in the majors was way back in 1983, when he landed a job as a coach with the Chicago White Sox, working for La Russa.
But before anybody could liken that learning experience to Harry Potter’s matriculation at Hogwarts, Leyland waved his hand and dismissed his genuinely fond relationship with La Russa as something less than baseball magic.
“I’m not talking about Tony and Jim. We’re talking about the players here,” said Leyland, cutting off the question, before some baseball poet began penning an ode to the awesome wonder of the double switch.”This is the players’ show, with all due respect.”
Now there’s a man who knows the score. The players decide who wins. You could listen to a manager talk baseball all summer long, and never hear him say anything smarter.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
