Brash Managers Need to Have Brash Pitchers
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By GEORGE VECSEY
THE NEW YORK TIMES
Published: October 26, 2003
nytimes.com
Ever since most of America discovered Josh Beckett — that is to say, when Sammy Sosa bristled during the National League Championship Series — almost every mention of Beckett has included the adjective "brash."
Brashness often pays off in sports. And it paid off gloriously last night as Beckett pitched a superb five-hit shutout and the improbable Florida Marlins beat the Yankees, 2-0, to win the World Series in six games.
The visitors then celebrated on the mound in Yankee Stadium, a sight that had not been seen in the postseason for 22 years. The Yankees have not won a World Series in three seasons, but who is counting?
Two figures dominated the World Series. One was the bongo-banging septuagenarian Jack McKeon — Zorba the Manager — who has been known to sit in with the band long after midnight.
It was McKeon who chose Beckett to pitch last night, no doubt blowing cigar smoke in his face and saying something like, "Let's get it over with, kid, so we can party right away."
And when a Champagne-drenched McKeon came out for his interviews, he chortled, but in a nice way: "You believe me now? Anything can happen."
The other dominant figure was Beckett, who lost Game 3 on Tuesday, but who gave up only two runs. He was clearly McKeon's best pitcher as this thrilling autumn evolved.
Last night Beckett, on only three days of rest, outlasted the gallant Andy Pettitte. Throwing fastballs in the high 90's, Beckett struck out nine and ruled the Yankees right to the end.
"This guy is special, I told you that," McKeon crowed, but pleasantly. "He's very tough. I knew he had the confidence to do the job tonight."
There had been a potential for second-guessing McKeon for going with his ace a day early. However, this was a decision of two adult parties. Beckett wanted the ball, and McKeon had no problem handing it to him.
"He's a fun guy to play for, man," Beckett said last night. "He expects a lot out of you. He's a good guy who likes to have fun."
They are an odd couple of age and youth. Beckett, the swaggering righty from Texas, shows little deference to his elders, or his peers, either. He buzzed Sosa in the league series, when the Marlins were down by three games to one, and when Sammy took exception to the heat, Beckett said he thought Sammy was over-reacting.
Then after throwing a two-hitter against the Cubs, and showing them to be vulnerable, Beckett said he fully expected to be pitching relief in Chicago in the seventh game, which indeed he was.
There is a school of thought that says McKeon should have saved Beckett to be fully rested today and played mix-and-match — as he has often done in the postseason — last night. But McKeon played down the four-day rest that has been the norm for almost every pitcher in baseball this generation.
"That stuff is in the past, this is the future," McKeon said. "I would not take him out in the ninth after 99 pitches."
Beckett concurred, to a point, saying: "In my case, it was O.K., but through the whole year you can't do it. You get stiff arms in a five-man rotation."
Beckett signed out of high school in Spring, Tex., and made the majors in his second year as a professional. Limited by injury, he has only a 17-17 record in parts of three seasons. Last night he shut down the Yankees in their own park and helped win a World Series at age 23.
Even if the Marlins had lost last night, McKeon was not likely to morph into Grady Little, the manager of the Boston Red Sox, who has become a legendary figure in the Greater New England Pantheon of Gloom and Doom because he stuck with Pedro Martínez, a fragile pitcher known for his full four days of rest and his pitch counts.
Little challenged that accurate profile of Martínez, and will pay the price, perhaps in unemployment, certainly in historical repute.
If it had gone badly last night, McKeon would not have had a problem with hauling the kid off the mound. He was never shy about moving people around when he was a general manager known as Trader Jack.
McKeon was rescued from the dreaded R-word last summer when the Marlins' leadership, under Jeffrey Loria, recognized that McKeon was too young at heart to hang around on his porch. A few months later, the Marlins were in the World Series, and McKeon was on the top step pounding his chest and yelling at umpires, the best possible exercise for elderly managers.
With Donald Rumsfeld having a bad season, McKeon might very well become the nation's No. 1 pinup among senior citizens. People sense his zest for life. He does not come off as some Hefnerian old goat, but rather a man who talks about his wife and grandchildren, attends morning Mass, likes to have a good time — music, cigars, cocktails, theater, opera and lots of baseball hypotheses in the sultry and smoky night air.
McKeon has given us a refresher course in loving life and loving his business.
Josh Beckett is a bit of a throwback, too. They both wanted to play ball. Plus, as Zorba might have said, there is no second-guessing a manager who plays the bongos. |
