Where do managers come from? You can answer the question in many different ways. You could suggest that position is destiny, arguing that many great managers have been catchers or middle infielders, while few have been pitchers or outfielders. We could be overly simplistic: they’re the guys who know how to win — except when they don’t win. One might say that Joe Torre knows how to win, except that he hasn’t won recently, so he must have forgotten. For today, we’ll go with the pseudo-Ken Burns answer: Managers come from a thousand places, too many to list in 800 words. This is the story of one of them.

There is no one model that fits the managerial population. But many of them experienced more than their share of frustration as players. Most were not stars. Joe Torre, Lou Piniella, Dusty Baker, Leo Durocher, Casey Stengel, Miller Huggins, and John McGraw were second- or third-order stars, popular in their day, parts of some very good teams, and occasional award winners. Most did not ascend even to that level of success in their careers. Whitey Herzog, Dick Williams, and Gene Mauch spent most of their playing years as reserves for dead-end teams. Tommy Lasorda’s ERA was 6.48. Bobby Cox had two miserable seasons in the big leagues. Sparky Anderson had one. Tony LaRussa hit .199 in 176 career at-bats. Walter Alston came to bat just once, with the 1936 Cardinals, and struck out. Joe McCarthy, Earl Weaver, and Jim Leyland never even got out of the sticks.

Eric Wedge, the manager of the possibly World Series-bound Cleveland Indians, is a member of that frustration family of managers. His youth — Wedge is in his fifth season as Indians manager yet is only 39 — is a sign not just of his precocity, but that his playing career came to an early, permanent halt.

A catcher, Wedge starred at Wichita State. In 1989, his last year in college, he batted .380 with 23 home runs to lead his team to a College World Series title. A standout on a powerhouse team that went 68–16 and scored 831 runs in 84 games, Wedge was second in the nation in home runs, RBIs, and runs scored, and also led in walks. A solid defender, if Wedge were to have carried just a portion of that production into the majors, he would have been a standout at a position that is always hungry for more bats.

That June, the Red Sox took Wedge in the third round of the amateur draft. At first glance, that made it look as if scouts were tepid in their enthusiasm. But 1989 was a strong draft class with a first round that included Frank Thomas, Charles Johnson, Cal Edred, Mo Vaughn, and Chuck Knoblauch, as well as several other players that were considered surer bets at the time, such as pitchers Ben McDonald and Roger Salkeld. Other third round picks that year included Tim Salmon, Phil Nevin, Shane Reynolds, Denny Neagle, and John Olerud. To put it another way, the Red Sox drafted Wedge one round before they selected Jeff Bagwell.

The knee and elbow problems that would eventually call a halt to Wedge’s career set in almost immediately after he turned pro, and his first seasons in the minors were discouraging. The Red Sox advanced him anyway, and in 1992, things clicked at Triple-A Pawtucket. Wedge batted .299 AVG/.389 OBA/.498 SLG, popping 11 home runs in 211 at-bats. The Red Sox called him up in late August and gave him 27 games down the stretch, most of them as the designated hitter. Wedge looked great, hitting .250/.370/.500 with five home runs in 68 at bats. Perhaps he looked too good, because the Rockies plucked him in that winter’s expansion draft.

Going to the Rockies in 1992 should have been Wedge’s big break. He was capable of outhitting both of the catchers ahead of him on the roster (Joe Girardi and Danny Sheaffer), and the park might have turned him into Johnny Bench. But Wedge never had a chance. He underwent elbow surgery during the winter, one of eight times he was cut during his playing career. After spending all but nine games on the disabled list, Wedge was released. He re-signed with the Red Sox, but it was clear that the injuries had destroyed his ability to catch in the bigs, and though his bat still had power, he couldn’t find the consistency necessary to earn a chance at first base. After the 1997 season, Wedge, at 29, hung up his spikes. The next season, he took over the Columbus entry in the Sally League, beginning the managerial career that has placed him on the national stage this autumn.

There is your redemption storyline for this postseason. Where do managers come from? In many cases, they are men of thwarted ambition who seek to fulfill their destiny by other means. Through the Indians, Wedge may get to complete the journey — and at 39 years old, he can do it sooner than most.

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