Back in the segregated days of the 1930s, there was a Cuban closer who was known as “Ven por Dios” Fernandez. Fernandez’s manager would see the game getting into a desperate situation and would call for his ace with the cry, “Fernandez, ven por Dios!” — essentially, “Fernandez, get out here for God’s sake!” Eventually, people acted as if it was a part of Fernandez’s name.

On Tuesday night, during a cataclysmic outing by closer Jose Valverde, the Astros learned that sometimes prayers are unanswered. The nightmare game also underscored why having a Mariano Rivera or a Billy Wagner on hand is not only a pleasure but a privilege that can save an errant manager from a great deal of decision-making — a plus, since managerial “thinking” almost always leads to trouble.

The sequence of Tuesday’s bottom of the ninth in Philadelphia: The Astros had a 3–0 lead after receiving eight innings of shutout pitching from Shawn Chacon. Valverde came in to close. Having invoked Rivera and Wagner, it is important to note that Valverde bears little resemblance to either of those pitchers, particularly in the specific area that makes them so valuable: consistency. Since reaching the majors with the Diamondbacks in 2003, Valverde has alternated good years with bad. In his rookie season, he was as close to unhittable as a pitcher can be, allowing just 24 hits in 50.1 innings and a .137 opponents’ batting average. Subsequent seasons haven’t risen to that level, but his 2007 was strong enough that he recorded 47 saves. The Astros dealt away three players — including the valuable middle reliever Chad Qualls — in order to acquire his ninth-inning services.

With slumping catcher Carlos Ruiz due to lead off the ninth, Phillies skipper Charlie Manuel sent Chris Snelling up to pinchhit. Snelling’s at bat resolved in one pitch, as he knocked Valverde’s initial offering over the right-field wall. Chase Utley followed with his own one-pitch plate appearance, as Valverde hit him. The pitcher recovered in style, whiffing Ryan Howard on three straight pitches. One out. Pat Burrell, who has opened this season with the kind of hot streak we’ve come to expect of middling players in the final year of their contracts, took Valverde’s first pitch for a strike, then sent the next pitch on a one-way trip out of the park. The game was now tied.

When Cecil Cooper took over as manager of the Astros last season, he received mixed reviews at best. Here is a good example of why he probably is not destined to be the next John McGraw. Your team, which is off to a 5–8 start, has gotten a great night of pitching from an unexpected source in Chacon. Though he’s 3-for-3 in quality starts this year, you know he’s not likely to have too many more games like this, so you’d like to get this one into the books. You bring in your closer. Though the pitcher has been a bit shaky this year, allowing runs in three of his first five appearances, this is the right move, the by-the-book move. Yet, that move has just (Ven por Dios!) blown up in your face, with the closer giving up two home runs in the inning. Clearly he has nothing tonight. What do you do?

Hall of Fame manager Leo Durocher used to have a little aphorism that would impel him to action at moments such as this: “I’m not nailed to the bench.” In other words, if you see a reason to act, do so. Unlike Durocher, Cooper was apparently nailed to the bench. Geoff Jenkins battled Valverde for 11 pitches before striking out, but three-time Gold Glove winner Brad Ausmus could not hold on to the ball, and Jenkins reached first. Cooper: still tugging at those nails. Phillies third baseman Pedro Feliz took Valverde’s first pitch for a ball (a small miracle in itself given Feliz’s nigh-legendary impatience) before pulling the next offering into the left-field corner for a double. Jenkins, who will never be mistaken for Johnny Damon, flew around the bases, ran through his coach’s stop sign, and slid across the plate for the game-winning run. As the Phillies celebrated on the field, Cooper began thinking about the possibility of making a pitching change.

It was reported that after the game, Valverde was crushed, but he can only be faulted for the tie. The loss is on the manager who left him to stand naked on the mound. The great value of a Rivera or Wagner is that they don’t often put a manager in Cooper’s position. A skipper is supposed to be able to trust his closer. When the closer betrays that trust, apparently the cognitive dissonance is too much to handle. Even Durocher froze when his own bullpen ace, Hugh Casey, fell apart in the 1941 World Series. Who do you turn to when you’ve already turned to your best?

Willie Randolph rarely has to think about that; the way Mariano Rivera is pitching this year, Joe Girardi may not have to for months. One would hope that when they finally do, they won’t lie down and die as Cooper did. Even if your reliever is on a mission from God, to paraphrase Ben Franklin, Dios is por those who are por themselves.

Mr. Goldman writes the Pinstriped Bible for yesnetwork.com and is the author of “Forging Genius,” a biography of Casey Stengel.