Photography courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, SD Dirk
Tony La Russa is headed to the Hall of Fame. This morning in Florida, at baseball's annual Winter Meetings, it was announced that the Veteran's Committee had voted unanimously to induct the former Cardinals manager. Joining him in the class of 2014 will be two other great managers of his era, Bobby Cox and Joe Torre.
La Russa finished his career with 2,728 managerial wins, third most in the history of the game, behind Connie Mack and John McGraw, and just ahead of Cox and Torre. He won three straight pennants with the Oakland Athletics from 1988 to 1990, capturing the 1989 World Series. And he won another three pennants during his 16 years in St. Louis, including championships in 2006 and 2011. He retired after that magical season, punctuated by David Freese's heroics to save Game 6 of the Series and bring the Cardinals back from the dead.
It's easy to list off those accomplishments, but slightly more difficult to explain just what made La Russa great. Unlike players, whose individual contributions can be quantified by hits and runs and strikeouts, a manager's impact is more vague. There's no stat for leadership or a great pep talk or an adjustment that helps a hitter break out of a slump.
In baseball, especially, managers have limited control over what happens on the field. They set the lineup, make pitching changes, occasionally call for a bunt or a hit-and-run. But they can't substitute players like a basketball coach or call plays like a football coach. As much as a manager might want his star player to hit a home run, there isn't much he can do to influence the battle between pitcher and hitter.
La Russa never seemed to accept this. He had a constant need to exert his will on the game. He would change pitchers with reckless abandon (a key component to that 2011 championship). He would call for more bunts than statistical experts said was prudent. Sometimes, he would even bat the pitcher eighth, rather than ninth. That perpetual drive to do something—anything—to change the game led to frequent criticism that La Russa was over-managing.
On a deeper level, though, I think that hard-charging style inspired players. La Russa's players seemed to recognize that their manager wanted to win worse than anybody else on the field—to the point that he would make questionable tactical decisions if he thought they would make the difference between losing and winning. And if he was trying that hard, if he was putting his neck on the line to win at all costs, then the players would, too.
That might sound cliche, but it's telling that in a September 2012 interview with SLM, when La Russa was asked about the best advice he ever received, he said, "Early on, Paul Richards—the legendary farm director for the White Sox—said, 'Trust your gut. Don’t cover your butt.' I lived by that."
Perhaps more than any other manager in the game, La Russa went with his gut. Sometimes, that led to conflict. But three times, it led to a World Series title.
And then there's La Russa's secret weapon: pitching coach Dave Duncan, who turned journeymen into aces, who turned the mystical and confounding art of pitching into a science. Local baseball fans can thank that dynamic duo for a decade and a half of wonderful memories.
Perhaps the one black mark on La Russa's legacy is the perception that he didn't do enough to discourage steroid use among his players, especially Mark McGuire, who played for TLR in both Oakland and St. Louis. If you're looking for someone to get up on their steroid high horse and condemn La Russa, you'll have to go elsewhere. Steroid use was so rampant in that era, and MLB did so little to discourage it, I want no part in trying to parse who deserves what blame. If there is some need to evaluate La Russa's morals, let's credit the manager for his Animal Rescue Foundation.
Even now that La Russa's being inducted into the Hall of Fame, don't think that his fire has been extinguished. He's repeatedly admitted over the past couple of years—which he's spent working for the commissioner's office—that he misses the competition, misses judging himself by wins and losses. Don't be surprised if he's back working with an organization again in the near future.
It's more likely that he would take a front-office job than return to the bench. But don't rule anything out. He's only 35 wins behind John McGraw for second all-time.
Commentary by William Powell
