MADDONISMS

Baseball is, of all the major sports that matter, the one most prone to orthodoxy. By that, I mean most situations that require tactical managerial moves have a "right" way and a "wrong" way, at least in the minds of many fans, players, coaches, owners, and media—even if there is not clear evidence to support these as the only right way to do things. No one will argue that a .200 hitter ought to be the anchor of the lineup (wait, forgot about Pena), or that a catcher ought to be leading off from time to time (oops, forgot about Jaso). Should pitchers be allowed to throw more than 100 pitches? Consensus says No. Does it make sense to bunt with the bases loaded with no one out? Most would say No. Mess around with the lineup every day? Many would say No.

And while there are piles of statistics and studies to support these orthodox positions, such stats often ignore the central reality that faces a manager: that the game is played by individuals, that it’s a game of matchups, and that psychology is the elephant in the room. And so, as a manager, you consider it all, dig into your own experiences, understand how your players are likely to perform in a given situation, and make the move you feel might most benefit the team at that moment. For example, if you have a starter on the mound who is more relaxed and much more effective pitching with a lead, even a small one, you might play to scratch out an early run, rather than bank on a big inning with those bases loaded and no one out early in the game. So a bunt might be called for in that situation. Maybe not, maybe so. But making that decision is what defines the subtle importance of a good manager.

So many classic baseball moves are just accepted, so much so that it actually hamstrings a manager. Since any managerial decision is really just a risk analysis (probability of success vs. consequences of failure), the strong pressure to do the "right" thing leads to fairly uncreative thinking, and in some cases, opportunity costs when a move that could have been made (though it may not have paid off handsomely) is not made.

A manager lives and dies with the criticism—knowing that much of the time the move they make will not pan out at that moment. But in the long run, the measurement of the collective success of those decisions is ultimately the record on the field. Yes, there are ways people have devised how to analyze whether the moves a manager makes have increased (or decreased) the success of the expected outcome. But again, such studies are inherently biased toward an orthodox decision-making model.

You’ve got to love Maddon’s approach. From challenging hoodie laws, to subtlely criticizing umpiring by yelling at his own player, to acting as union organizer in calling for a review of the balk rule, to shuffling lineups, using a combination of psychology and statistics, he’s redefining how the game is managed. His secret is that while he takes his job very seriously, he puts baseball in its proper perspective relative to other important things off the field…which allows him to look at each decision he makes on the field with a combination of amusement, detachment, and ruthless innovation. Frankly, he scares and confuses people. And they love him for it.

Gotta love that.