Of interest to the White Sox faithful is not that the new South Side manager is reading “The Oath,” by Frank Peretti, a tale of good, evil and secret sins–themes not unfamiliar to the Comiskey Park clubhouse–but that Jerry Manuel reads at all.
While literacy never has been a virtue demanded of baseball managers, it is at least an indication of actual depth as a human being, an improvement not to be minimized.
“I’m just a regular guy from south Georgia,” Manuel said, “from a little country town. I grew up in Sacramento, not a big city. I live in Loxahatchee, Florida, out in the country.
“I love to read, and I love my family.”
The rest of the blanks will be filled in on Manuel over time, however long that may be. Tenure as a Sox manager has been lasting about 2 1/2 years.
It is assumed Manuel knows baseball, not that it seemed important in his hiring. Manuel is a great interview. That’s what got him the job.
“The boss (Jerry Reinsdorf) told me by far, he’s the best interview we’ve ever done,” said Sox General Manager Ron Schueler.
I can vouch for that after being around Manuel for only 20 minutes Wednesday. Pleasant. Enthusiastic. Agreeable. Thankful. Accommodating. Manuel smiled more in saying hello than the last guy did in the whole torturous time he was among us.
“I never interviewed before,” Manuel said. “It’s not like I’m going to be giving seminars on interviewing.”
What this says more than anything else is the Sox are serious about repairing the sour and cynical taste left by . . . well, by everything that has happened since the ’94 strike, the World Series missed, the foulness of Albert Belle, the tenure of Terry Bevington, the August surrender last season.
“In ’94 I was with Montreal, and I thought we had the best team,” Manuel said. “We had the best record in baseball. We missed the World Series too.”
He might not know you, he might not know the American League, but Jerry Manuel feels your pain, Sox fans.
In fact, there is a mutual unawareness here. Manuel knows as much about you as you know about him.
“I’m sure Chicago is very surprised,” Manuel said. “They’re asking, `Who in the world is Jerry Manuel?’ I know I’m not a household name. I’m not even a household name in the baseball industry. Trust me. People will get to know me.”
Davey Johnson. Cito Gaston. Bucky Dent. Larry Parrish. All the known and larger names were passed by Schueler.
As Schueler put it, “After a long, extensive, thorough, time-consuming search, I’ve found the guy to lead us . . . (dramatic pause) Jerry (for a moment I thought he was going to say Krause) Manuel.”
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Is that Manwell, Emmanuel, with an “e,” with an “a,” what?
Inspiration or desperation or calculated impudence, whatever Schueler’s motives, it matters not to Manuel, who cried at the news, confirmed less than an hour before it was announced.
“I was thinking of my father,” Manuel said. “He died this year. He did some barnstorming in the old Negro Leagues. Not much, but he got around. He gave me baseball. I wish he could have seen this.”
Maybe the Sox have never had a manager more grateful to have the job.
“What I have to do,” said Manuel, “is to get the team to understand my heartbeat, my thoughts, my wishes.
“We want the fans with us. We want to come home on a hot July night from a big road trip and we want the house packed. We want to share our spirit. We want to feel the love. It can carry a team.”
Can Manuel manage in the big leagues? Does it matter?
For Sox fans, it may be best to approach the situation with the perspective of some timeless wisdom, paraphrased for the occasion.
The new Sox manager may not be who you thought he’d be. He may not be who he oughtta be. He may not be who he’s gonna be. But thank God Almighty, he ain’t who he was.