Oh, it’s been a beautiful period of stability, one the likes of which our city has never seen. All four teams — five if you include the Revs — boasted leaders no one was in a hurry to get rid of. Swimming in championships and coach of the year awards will have that effect.
But that period is ending. Bill Belichick will be around as long as he likes, yes, but I fear his reacquired fear of delegation and coordinators will eventually make his head explode. The Bruins’ year is not Claude‘s fault, but we’re nearing the point of an overhaul, and coaches typically don’t fare well during overhauls. And while we love Doc — and we do love Doc — the Celtics’ window of opportunity slams shut at the end of the year. Era-ending is also never good for a coach’s well-being.
This lead-up is not meant to depress. It is meant to praise. For, while clouds loom for the others, the man with the hottest spotlight is basking in security.
Well done, Tito.
Consider this. Save for one man, Terry Francona has occupied the manager’s office longer than anyone else in the 110-year history of the Boston Red Sox. Joe Cronin had 12 seasons. Francona is about to start term No. 7. No one else even comes close. (The immortal Pinky Higgins was in and out through eight seasons but managed about 500 less games.)
“Hard to believe it’s been seven years,” says Joe Morgan, the last Red Sox manager to enjoy some semblance of affection from the masses. “I didn’t know anything about [Francona] when he first arrived, not even as a player, and the first year I thought he was going to be a little shaky. Instead he’s taken off like gangbusters.”
Tito’s tenure is remarkable when you consider that this gig, in this town, carries as much job security as the nameless guys who would tag along on Star Trek missions. You know, the dudes who beamed up but never beamed back down. Of the 44 managers of the Boston Americans/Red Sox, well over half never saw a third year of employment. Twelve poor schlubs never made it through one — we call them the Joe Kerrigan Award winners. Essentially, the odds of a lengthy stay in this post are just a tad better than that of a kamikaze pilot.
“The hardest thing is, as the players get older, you have to start pinch hitting for them and pinch running for them, and that’s tough to do,” explains Morgan. “You put the team first, players second, but then again you have to count on those players for your own personal success.
“He’s doing things the right way. He gets along with the players, but he’s not afraid to put them in or take them out or move them around, and that’s important.”
Granted, ghosts of managers past did not enjoy the payroll advantages and life on the happy side of baseball’s ridiculous economics. Folks in Philadelphia are still convinced Terry is a bum, just a bum with a really good situation. But the man has managed the media scrutiny and pressures, the fans’ rare blend of knowledge and passion, the most intense game strategy the little park has ever known (’04 ALCS), and some very, very trying cases of Athlete Ego and/or Lunacy.
And he has won. While others in this town have struggled to succeed, he has figured out how to keep the team shaking hands when “Dirty Water” echoes. Of course, that’s the one thing guaranteed to keep those ominous clouds clear of the ballpark.
