Cards Belong to the Past, Red Sox Rule the Present
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
With a runner on first base and none out, a team can expect to score .81 runs. With the runner on second and one out, that number falls to .67 runs, a difference of 17%.
Nonetheless, last night in the bottom of the first inning, with Tony Womack on first base and Larry Walker at the plate, St. Louis manager Tony LaRussa put down the bunt sign. Walker, making his first sacrifice since 1991, squared perfectly, Womack made it to second, and the Cardinals failed to score. The play reeked of desperation.
It makes no sense to have a light-hitting speedster like Womack if it takes a sacrifice to get him into scoring position, nor does it make sense to have a hitter of Walker’s quality if the bat is to be taken out of his hands. Many of LaRussa’s strategies throughout the World Series were equally nonsensical, and they are a large part of why his team lost.
The Red Sox were deeper, more talented, and luckier than the Cardinals, and perhaps as importantly, manager Terry Francona gave them the chance to prove it by simply letting them play. Instead of treating the grandest stage in the game as an opportunity to display his genius, Francona gave his hitters the chance to score runs and challenged his pitchers to get the Cardinals out. This made a great difference in games that were decided by narrow margins – it’s hard enough to win a ballgame without your manager making it harder.
This was as compelling as a four-game World Series can be. LaRussa and his team belong to the past, and Francona and his to the present. The contrast showed in every inning.
There was a time when scampering middle infielders hit atop the order, punchless catchers hit at the bottom, sluggers hit in the middle, everyone could catch the ball, and the manager won the games on his wits by ordering bunts and complicated defensive plays. Baseball may (or may not) have been more compelling when this was so, but that time has passed.
If the emblematic Cardinals play of this Series was Walker’s first-inning bunt in Game 4, the emblematic Red Sox play came in the top of the third last night. Two hits, a fielder’s choice, and a walk had the bases loaded with two outs and Trot Nixon came to the plate. Cardinals starter Jason Marquis, who walked five hitters in six innings, ran the count to 3-0.
If you watch a hundred baseball games, you won’t see a hitter swing in that count five times; nearly all managers will put the “take” sign on, hoping to force a sure run home. Not this time. Nixon either didn’t get the sign, or felt free to ignore it; either way, he belted the fastball he knew was coming and missed a grand slam by inches. Two runs came home, and the Sox were up by three runs, all the lead Derek Lowe would need.
It’s a peculiar kind of great managing that puts the responsibility on the player to make a choice, to swing at the pitch if he thinks he can hit it and take it if he thinks he can’t. Tony LaRussa would never do such a thing; to him, the game is something he must control.
Terry Francona, on the other hand, understands that all a manager can do is put his men in a position to succeed, and leave the rest in their hands. This showed in the decisions he made throughout the postseason – letting Nixon swing, keeping Mark Bellhorn in the lineup, resting Pedro Martinez instead of forcing him into a Game 1 start, bringing Keith Foulke in whenever he was needed.
That may be why the Red Sox are so appealing, even to Yankees fans who have hated Boston their whole lives. Baseball sometimes seems to have become an overcomplicated game in which outcomes are predetermined by reams of statistics that dictate every tactical move. Games are called not by catchers on the field, but from the bench by spreadsheet-wielding coaches.
Pitchers are switched in and out of the game at absurdly fast intervals as managers seek a minute edge in crucial situations. Defenders move all over the diamond, between at-bats and even between pitches, responding to the tendencies of the batters shown in the scouting reports they read before games. A three-time batting champion is instructed to lay down a bunt in the first inning of a World Series game with none out.
The Red Sox had scouting reports and specialist relievers just like any other team; but these never dominated their play. Francona put in his best pitchers when the situations were most important, and let them pitch. He stood by his players when they failed and when they succeeded; he never panicked, and he never did anything desperate.
Even when his team was down 3-0 to the Yankees, he let them hit the ball, catch it and throw it, and let them win and lose on their own. David Ortiz, Keith Foulke, Curt Schilling, Derek Lowe, Johnny Damon, Mark Bellhorn, Pedro Martinez, and even Dave Roberts all had their chances, and they all came through. I’m not a Red Sox fan, but I have to think it was worth the wait.