ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. -- Can I ask a question? Other than that one, I mean. Another question. This question:
What does Charlie Manuel do all game?
Don't tell me he manages the Philadelphia Phillies. I didn't ask for his job title. I don't want the first line on his resume. I want to know what he does for nine innings, because two games into the 2008 World Series, I can't figure it out.
The Phillies lost Game 2 on Thursday night, but that's not necessarily Manuel's fault. The Rays won 4-2, but Manuel didn't lose the game. To lose the game, you'd have to try to win it first, and Manuel didn't try to win it. He didn't try anything. He didn't do anything. He must be hell on the sports-talk radio scene in Philadelphia, because you can't second-guess a manager who doesn't do something first.
Hey, it works. Not Thursday night, obviously, but in general ... it works. The Phillies won 92 games in the regular season, then eliminated the Brewers and the Dodgers without much of a fuss. Throw in their victory in Game 1 of the World Series on Wednesday, and the Phillies have won 100 games in 2008. That's a lot of W's.
Manuel has contributed a lot of Z's.
Well, he could. He could be napping during the game, for all I know. Manuel apparently does most of his work before and after games, when the manager's job is motivating his team, bringing it together, pushing and pulling and doing whatever it is managers do behind the scenes over the course of the February-to-October grind. If Manuel has a genius, there it is. Players play for him. That's not as simple as it sounds. Ask Willie Randolph. Ask Bobby Valentine. Players have to like their manager to perform for him. The Phillies seem to love Charlie Manuel.
But as often as not, when Manuel has been asked a question about strategy during the World Series, his eyes go blank and he gives an answer that makes me think, jeez, this guy is no Tony La Russa. And if you're wondering, yes -- that was a shot at both of them.
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| 'It kind of works its way out,' Charlie Manuel says of the Phils' slumping offense. (Getty Images) |
Will he shake up the lineup for Game 3?
"Will I shake the lineup up? Basically, we got kind of like two lineups. Every now and then I'll move (No. 6 batter Shane) Victorino down to the two-hole and drop (Jayson) Werth down to the six-hole. Basically we kept those same lineups all year long."
Did he think about pinch hitting for right-handed batter Pedro Feliz in the sixth against right-handed Rays reliever
"No, Feliz has gotten some real big hits for us. I thought he'd been swinging OK."
Manuel didn't say, because I'm sure he didn't know, that Feliz had two home runs in seven lifetime at-bats against Wheeler. So leaving in Feliz was the right move to make. Manuel just didn't know why.
Then: What can he do to wake up his team's offense, which pounded pitchers all season but has gone limp with runners in scoring position and has scored five runs in two World Series games?
"You've got to ... it kind of works itself out. We can talk about it. We can go out and take extra hitting. You can practice, but yeah, at the same time, it kind of works its way out."
It does when Charlie Manuel is the manager. Things just work out. This season, for example. The Phillies bludgeoned teams with the long ball, getting 214 home runs -- 114 from Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Pat Burrell. And things worked out.
The bullpen, which is where most managers make the bulk of their decisions, took care of itself. New closer Brad Lidge converted all 41 save opportunities in the regular season, and all six in the postseason. Ryan Madson is the set-up guy.
What else is there?
There's the World Series hassle of making out a lineup in an American League, with the designated hitter. Manuel's solution for Game 1 was to make his slumping backup catcher, Chris Coste, the DH. And to bat him eighth.
Most managers wouldn't do that -- not just because Coste has been in a horrific slump for months and a DH should be more potent than a No. 8 hitter, but also because they wouldn't want to tie their hands strategically by not having a catcher available off the bench. Manuel's response was baffling. He goes against the book because, well, that's just what he does.
"I've done it quite a bit," he'd said before Game 1. "I've taken my catcher out quite a bit this year. ... Most of the time when Coste is in the game, I'll pinch-run for him, or later in the game I might hit a left-handed hitter for him. But I've been doing it most of this year."
Manuel chose lefty Greg Dobbs as the DH for Game 2, and Dobbs stranded runners in scoring position his first two times to the plate. Manuel replaced Dobbs with right-handed Eric Bruntlett in the eighth to face Rays lefty David Price, and Bruntlett homered. So that was a move. And it worked. But that was the only noticeable thing Manuel did all game
With one out in the ninth, one on and Utley representing the potential tying at the plate, the Rays conceded first base by shifting third baseman Evan Longoria near second. Utley had only to make contact with a bunt to the left side of the infield for a single, and RBI machine Howard would have come to the plate in a two-run game with two on base. Manuel let Utley swing away. Utley struck out.
That's just one of a dozen moves, a hundred moves, Manuel didn't make. How can you quantify a nonexistent number? Manuel has an American League team, and he's an American League manager. He's inert.
Meanwhile, the AL champion Rays and their inventive manager, Joe Maddon, won with a slew of small-ball plays, including a bunt that scored lumbering Cliff Floyd from third. Maddon shifts his infield, bunts, sends runners and basically probes the other team, and dugout, for weakness.
Manuel, well, he doesn't do much.
And whether the Phillies win the World Series, I'm not sure it matters.
