Some years ago, a friend of mine who was the general manager of a minor
league baseball team led me into the bullpen to watch that night’s
starter warm up. He was perhaps 6’ 4” and 220 pounds, left handed,
shaggy, and mean. As I walked carefully along the edge of the pen, I didn’t
see the first pitch, but I heard it whistle by and explode
into the catcher’s mitt. I was startled, my curiosity was up, and I
could hardly wait to see the second pitch. The next fastball made the same
sublime noise, located perfectly on the black. I thought to myself, “Geez,
if this is warm-ups…” The pitcher got more into his routine and
started breaking off sliders in the same fashion, each one biting hard at
the last moment and grabbing the edge of the plate. There was no doubt in
my mind that this guy was headed to The Show.
As we walked back to my friend’s office, I told him that I had never
seen anything like what I had just seen and that this kid was going to be
a star. “He’ll never make it,” he replied.
“You’re nuts,” I said.
“Nope,” he replied calmly, “he’s a head case. He falls apart at
the first error and he has no guts.” My friend was right—he never made
it out of A ball.
I tell this story because it is part of the long debate about what
matters most in baseball, which is what Three
Nights in August is about. Does heart matter when you are trying to
win games? Or is every game statistically reducible? Is there some rule—such
as the sabermetrician’s
that nothing is worth more than an out—that needs to be lashed to the
mast of strategy? Or do intangibles matter? Should strategies be employed
at times that defy the predictions of numerical analysis? Will the desire
to win carry teams and players beyond their standard capabilities? Does
chemistry matter? Does the squeeze bunt ever make sense in the third
inning?
LaRussa
Tony LaRussa, seen
here in his days as the White Sox skipper,
is the star of this book.
Buzz Bissinger narrates a three game series in August of 2003
between the Cubs
and the Cardinals
after extensive access to the Cardinals’ players, coaches, clubhouse,
and manager Tony
LaRussa. The result is a detailed account without equal in baseball
writing. Every pitch comes alive with a tension born of the incessant
rhythm of what to do next. Possibilities arise as LaRussa weighs
each one, accepts, rejects, and anticipates. We see inside a manager’s
mind in the way that Bouton
took us inside the major league clubhouse. It is revealing, interesting,
and it makes you a little uneasy to know that so much is going on.
Bissinger hopes that it makes Moneyball
devotees uneasy as well. He openly derides the sterility with which
sabermetricians seek to remove all emphasis on intangibles by rejecting
all things non-quantifiable. If there is no reason to squeeze early in a
game or hit and run ever, why does one of the game’s greatest managers
constantly weigh those options? Why doesn’t he stock his lineup with OPS
machines and sit back and watch the wins roll in? Is LaRussa really just
old school? Bissinger thinks not. After watching him manage a team
through a season and a series, after understanding the unfathomable
contingency that weighs on every play, Bissinger decides that LaRussa has
a leg up on the deconstructionist statheads like DePodesta and Beane. He
argues this by placing enormously complex situations in front of the
reader and showing how LaRussa has sweated every statistical and emotional
detail; he claims that LaRussa’s mind houses far greater capacity for
understanding the complexity of the moment than any database ever could.
In the end, we understand that if LaRussa loses, it is because even his
prodigal understanding cannot overcome the frailty of divination in an art
so subtle as a simple game of baseball.
Lest these comments scare the reader into
thinking that the book is a prolonged debate, I should add that it is full
of great stories. While I hate to spoil even one for a potential reader,
one is too good to resist and I tell it in the hopes that it will whet
your appetite for more. Bissinger recounts LaRussa’s visit to the mound
to talk to Tom
Seaver when Seaver was pitching for the White
Sox. Seaver was out of gas, admitted it, yet needed to get Lloyd
Moseby out. He calmly told LaRussa not to worry because he would run
the count to 3-and-1 and throw a deceitfully enticing changeup to get him.
Seaver did exactly that, Moseby popped out, and the inning was over. That
never makes it to the sports page.
[Note: Retrosheet game logs do not corroborate LaRussa’s memory about
this story. I checked all of the games from 1984-1986 in which Seaver
pitched against the Blue Jays and LaRussa managed and could not find the
instance referred to in the book].1
Three Nights in August is a wonderful tribute to a season, to
contingency in baseball, to one of its greatest managers, and to the
detail of the game that escapes even the greatest fan. It will go down as
one of the game’s unforgettable books, alongside Ball
Four, The
Long Season, and The
Boys of Summer.
Notes: 1.
Here are the three appearances Seaver had
against the Jays in '84: May
19, August
19, and August
30.
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