The Easiest Job in Sports

The other day I was watching a Youtube classic, and it got me thinking. The video is that of the crazy minor league baseball manager who goes nuts, gets tossed out of the game, and then proceeds to do his best G.I. Joe impression on the field. Watch it here. What the video got me thinking was, "Why are baseball managers so willing to get ejected? Don't they want to win so that they can keep their jobs?" This transitively led to, "Isn't there a better chance of winning if they are with their team?" The answer, I decided, is no. Take a look at Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox. He is the fourth-winningest manager in baseball history. He has also been ejected 156 times (an all-time record). Clearly his presence on the bench is not needed for his team's success. The fact is, other than standing on the edge of the dugout, spitting, and grabbing their cup-covered cocks every once in a while, baseball managers don't do a whole lot. Therefore, it really doesn't matter if the manager is in the dugout. By extension, I believe they are largely irrelevant. "What?!" you cry in dismay, "baseball managers are just as important as coaches in any other sport!" Let me explain to you why this is not so.

Baseball is a simple sport, far more so than any of the other major sports in America. Now, before you stat-absorbing baseball guys freak out on me about the intricacies of the game, let me give you one simple reason why it is true: there is no time limit in baseball. The constraints of the clock in every other sport create infinitely more opportunities and reasons to strategize, making the game more complex and thereby raising the importance of the coach. Think about it. The ebb and flow of every baseball game is the same. You have nine innings, three outs per inning, and three strikes per out. The strategy remains the same at every point in the game, from the first pitch to the bottom of the ninth inning: you want to hit the ball when batting, and get batters out when in the field. There isn't much else a manager can tell his players. Sure, there is the occasional hit-and-run and suicide squeeze, but this is nothing compared to the hundreds of plays that are drawn up by coaches in football or basketball. In those sports, coaches need to have a play ready for every imaginable situation, based on the score and the time remaining in the game. They have to deal with the field position battle, foul trouble ("Kendrick Perkins picked up three fouls in the first 20 seconds, how long should I wait to put him back in?"), clock management, trick plays, player fatigue, etc. Baseball managers do not have to worry about any of these things. Historically, their biggest concern has been whether or not David Wells ate all the sunflower seeds. I am a diehard Boston Red Sox fan and our manager, Terry Francona, routinely does interviews with the broadcasters. During the game. Why? Because he has nothing else to do. This is normal in baseball, but it would be a scandal in other sports.

If there are 2.5 seconds left and the Lakers are losing to the Suns by three points, Phil Jackson needs to draw up a play to get Kobe Bryant an open look at a three. Or maybe he uses Kobe as a decoy to draw two defenders and get that stout little fuck Derek Fisher a wide open shot. Little games within the game like this occur on almost every possession. When the New England Patriots are down by four points with two minutes to go and have the ball at their own thirty yard-line, Bill Belichick needs to think several plays in advance in order to give his team the best chance to score before time runs out. He needs to think about how to move the ball down the field while still drawing up plays to get the ball to the sidelines and stop the clock. He needs to have a different play ready to get off quickly in case they can't get out of bounds. Now imagine that the St. Louis Cardinals are down by one run with two outs in the bottom of the ninth with Albert Pujols up to bat. Do you think Tony LaRussa is going to draw up some strategic way for Pujols to get his team the needed run? Shit no. He's going to spit, touch himself inappropriately, and then say "Give 'em hell, Al." That's the extent of the coaching.

Besides the issue of not being constrained by time, there is another factor that leads to baseball managers doing roughly as much work as Peter from Office Space: technically baseball is a team sport, but it is predicated almost solely on a few individual matchups. At its most fundamental level, baseball is the pitcher against the hitter. One on one. There is nothing anybody else on the team can do except watch. The batter's teammates sit in the dugout and hope he makes contact with the ball, while the players in the field react to the ball if it is hit. There is no cohesion and little teamwork. Every once in a while infielders work together to turn a double play, but that's about it. Otherwise it's just one guy running to the ball. At any one point in time there are usually six or seven players standing around and not involved in the action. Because the team works more as a collection of individuals than as one unit there is not much the manager can do in terms of coaching his team during the game. What can he tell his guys? Make sure you catch the ball? The defense looks the same every time: three outfielders, four infielders, a pitcher, and a catcher. Beyond the strikeout, there are only two ways to get the batter out: by catching the ball on the fly or throwing the runner out at the base. The players aren't idiots; they don't need to be reminded of this. In basketball, though, there are infinitely many ways to try to stop the other team from scoring. The coach can call for a full-court press; he can set up a trap; he can tell his team to leave a poor shooter open while providing help defense in the post; he can call for a double team; he can play zone to throw the offense out of sync. Every player needs to be on the same page in order for these strategies to work. The case is similar in football. The coach has a bunch of different formations to choose from. He can call for a blitz. He can have the defense hang back in pass coverage or use bump-and-run. Even these strategies can be executed in myriad different ways. In baseball, there is really only one thing for the players to do, and they don't need anybody telling them to do it.

There is one other thing that sets baseball managers apart from coaches in other sports: THEY WEAR FUCKING UNIFORMS! How ridiculous is that? Are they really worried that 17 players are going to pull their hamstrings, forcing the manager to enter the game? I don't know about you but I would have loved to see Tommy Lasorda get up to the plate and take a few swings. Come to think of it, how funny would it be if coaches in other sports wore uniforms? I think my personal favorite would be Stan van Gundy (or as I like to call him, Stan van Jeremy) in a basketball uniform. I imagine he would be able to fit into one of Glen Davis' jerseys. Or could you imagine Brad Childress' professor/sex offender self in shoulder pads?

                              Van Gundy

                                            Childress

                                                                                                          

I guess my biggest gripe is this: I am not a baseball manager. It would be the perfect job for me, as it consists of three activities that I love: watching sports, eating, and not moving. I think I'll send in my resumè to the Cubs after the season. No, I have not played baseball since fifth grade. But I think I'd be pretty good at getting tossed out of games. So I'm qualified, right?