With uncertainty the only given in baseball now, the White Sox could have cast a vote for stability. But so far as singing the praises of manager Gene Lamont, their proposal merely hummed.
He was tendered a contract for the 1995 season at a relatively modest wage, and if it was an offer he couldn’t refuse, Lamont didn’t rush to a decision. From the time Lamont was asked to return until his acceptance Wednesday, George Will logged more hours on Public Television than Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and Mister Rogers combined.
“Don’t make anything of the delay,” Lamont said from his home in Sarasota, Fla. “If I wasn’t at peace, I wouldn’t have signed.”
Ron Schueler, who generally manages the Sox, explained Lamont isn’t being extended longer-term security because of policy. The franchise has banned multiyear deals for non-playing personnel as a result of this monumental mess in which baseball finds itself, an allegedly public trust being held hostage by private interest groups.
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The already weary “fiscal responsiblity” will be heard often, even if owners who erased the World Series don’t get their salary cap. Retrenchment will be the byword of 1995 or 1996, or whenever the games resume, so prepare for the day when the $2 million utility infielder is not paid what he’s not worth.
But whatever the payroll, the Sox shall reconvene at the date to be named later, and for the sake of continuity, Lamont belongs in the dugout. The next Sox you see might not include Julio Franco or Jack McDowell or other components who contributed to their first-place standing when the lights went out.
Owner Jerry Reinsdorf won’t be bullish on the free-agent market, but the best money he could spend would be to lock up his manager for a while and throw away the key, for Lamont is a level-headed if not dynamic presence.
Instead, this one-year contract indicates Reinsdorf might be happier if Tony La Russa or Jim Leyland were managing the Sox instead. If either became available tomorrow, are we to believe that the one-year-only contract manifesto would have applied? Doubtful. Nor would La Russa or Leyland bite on such a bare-bones expression of faith.
Lamont did, not because he is weak, but because he isn’t. During 2 1/2 seasons with the Sox, he has endured the inevitable second-guessing that comes with the title. But he’s not out of his element, over his head or in too deep. He is-like Minnesota’s Tom Kelly, another solid manager-just a baseball guy.
“Maybe that’s why Gene is the best-kept secret in the game,” said Leyland, the vibrant manager of the Pittsburgh Pirates. “I always thought it mattered how many games you won, not how often you argue with the umpire. Yeah, I’m biased. Gene’s my best friend. But he wins. Last year, he won under extenuating circumstances.”
Lamont’s clubhouse wasn’t as comfortable as it might have been in 1993, what with the awkward departures of legendary Carlton Fisk and popular Bobby Thigpen. Then, during the American League Championship Series, Bo Jackson volunteered that the Sox were playing “one man short.” Actually, Lamont’s deck was even thinner, but Bo did his part, going 0 for 10 with six strikeouts. Then George Bell decided that “48 percent” of the players were anti-Lamont, pretty inflammatory stuff for the owner of a gas station.
The Sox didn’t beat Toronto, but Lamont held serve in his own fair and firm way. He didn’t buckle over the potential Michael Jordan circus during spring training, either. Jordan was no problem whatsoever, but more venerable managers than Lamont have unraveled under fewer distractions.
If the Sox win it all next season, if there is a next season, Lamont only then might see the upside of this one-year consolation prize. He deserves better, and if he isn’t disappointed, he should be.
But if baseball made any sense, Lamont wouldn’t be in Florida now. He would be in Seattle.