So Terry Bevington got fired. You were expecting, what, an announcement of a contract extension? News that Bevington was establishing a charitable trust called “Bev’s Bleacher Buddies”?
Bevington was gone nearly a year ago. He just didn’t know it. The moment White Sox Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf offered the managing job to Jim Leyland during the off-season, Bevington was a pink slip waiting to happen. An 80-81 record just made it that much easier.
As usual, there was the obligatory “we-felt-we-needed-to-move-in-a-differen t-direction” explanation from Good Guys General Manager Ron Schueler. This is what front-office people say when they don’t have the guts to admit publicly the obvious.
The first thing Schueler should have said is that he goofed when he hired Bevington in the first place. Bevington was a loyal company man with an impressive minor-league managing record. That’s fine for Triple A, but it wasn’t enough to hide his flaws on the major-league level.
Bevington couldn’t have inspired a pig to roll in slop. He was a company man, but also a yes man for Schueler. That’s partly why he lost coaches (Doug Rader), lost respect (players wouldn’t share the team bus with him), lost games and eventually lost his job.
None of this is newsflash stuff. Bevington never tried to hide his faults. In a strange sort of way, it almost seemed as if he tried to flaunt them, trying to prove he could succeed without having to adapt.
His mistakes were the talk of opposing clubhouses. Texas Rangers coaches still can’t believe he issued the first-ever intentional walk to Tom Goodwin, whose free pass meant later having to pitch to Rusty Greer, who hit a grand slam.
Bevington had zero communications skills–with the media, his coaches, his players. He allowed Albert Belle to have a traveling entourage but then kicked Ozzie Guillen’s kids out of the clubhouse. He made pitching changes without having a pitcher warming up in the bullpen. He argued calls that favored the White Sox. He was as cuddly as a cactus.
But Schueler didn’t say any of this, because he wants to put the Bevington Era (or is it Error?) behind him. A manager today, a footnote tomorrow.
Not so fast. If the White Sox want to move in another direction–like up–maybe they ought to head the opposite way of Schueler too. He was as responsible for this season as Bevington was, maybe more so.
Schueler could have had Roger Clemens. Instead, he paid huge money to Jaime Navarro, second only to Mel Rojas in terms of free-agent flops. He could have traded for an experienced third baseman, such as Charlie Hayes or even Wade Boggs. Instead, he went with Chris Snopek, who finished the year in the minors.
There’s more. Schueler could have ditched one of the Sox’s three catchers for a backup infielder but didn’t. He could have acquired a much-needed left-handed pinch-hitter but didn’t. He could have found a better setup man than Tony Castillo but didn’t.
Notice a pattern?
This was Schueler’s seventh season, which is plenty long enough to expect results. In that time, the Sox have gone from a 1993 playoff team with a promising young nucleus to a franchise with two losing seasons in its last three. Schueler had the third most expensive payroll in the major leagues and still couldn’t reach the .500 mark.
Schueler will think he’s getting picked on. And he is. At least when the Cubs stunk it up this season, General Manager Ed Lynch said it was his fault. The Sox underachieve, and Schueler conveniently misplaces his conscience.
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The time to unload Bevington wasn’t Tuesday. It was last April, when the Sox went 8-17. And if it wasn’t last April, it was July 31, when Reinsdorf gave up on the season and approved the trade that jettisoned Wilson Alvarez, Roberto Hernandez and Danny Darwin to the San Francisco Giants for a handful of minor-leaguers.
By then it was obvious Bevington didn’t connect with his players. He knew it. The players knew it. Schueler should have known it.
Now the search for a Bevington replacement finally begins. Bucky Dent, the hardest-working man in baseball, would be our choice. But whoever is hired–Chris Chambliss . . . Cito Gaston . . . Tim Johnson–should realize the White Sox are a franchise in transition and, at times, in disarray.
Reinsdorf, Schueler and Bevington are partly responsible for the troubles. The players share the rest of the blame.
But only one guy got the hook Tuesday. It was Bevington, overmatched from the start, a victim of his own ignorance and, as it turns out, a handy excuse for Schueler.