Kapler didn’t manage to do complete job in 2018
PHILADELPHIA » Some day, Gabe Kapler will be fired, to be made to take his smoke machines and go. That would be both smoke machines, the one he keeps in the clubhouse to splash New Year’s Eve glee over regularseason achievements, and the one that he likes to blow at fans who know better.
It’s not going to happen this week, or next, or any time before next season. Matt Klentak’s manager-replacement account is too low for that, given his own inability to field a winning ballclub. But as long as Kapler cannot prod his players into championship-level interest, he will be a short-term employee. And if he has one 10game losing streak early next season, he won’t see another All-Star break.
Whenever that happens, and even the ever-popular Charlie Manuel once was made to take his infamous Wawa Bag Walk, Kapler can wonder why he chose to put himself in professional peril in an effort to protect the incompetent.
Whenever he moves onto his next line of work, he can ask himself why he was so loyal to hitting coaches John Mallee and Pedro Guerrero as his 2018 Phillies stumbled into an historically inept month-plus of offense, calling them “incredible,” and using the phrase, “off the charts.”
As he begins to network his way to his next job, he can ask himself why he felt it necessary to call Jake Arrieta, a $30 million pitcher with 10 wins, a “horse,” as if his fan base hadn’t seen Roy Halladay or Curt Schilling, Steve Carlton and maybe even Jim Bunning.
Through a collapse that drove him from a Manager of the Year favorite to one requiring late-season public assurance of 2019 employment from his general manager just to keep the customers from any more rebellion, Kapler consistently elected not to be critical, not to demand excellence, not to do anything but make crossed-fingers promises that all would be fine in the end. That was a reasonable choice, and one that should play well with a generation of major-league players raised in the participation-trophy age.
There is more than one way to manage. Kapler’s way was to take advantage of numbers and graphs and printouts. There would be little room for motivation. There would be no reason for him to look into a player’s eyes and have a feel for how he would do in a pennant race. There was no managing of emotions.
In many instances, Kapler flashed brilliance. His manipulation of batting orders to gain earlygame edges was at a Gene Mauch level of advanced baseball thought. It was an inspired idea to start Justin Bour early in a game and have him bat twice against a right-hander, then pull him early for better defense. Why save him for one atbat later, when the opposing manager has a stash of left-handed relievers ready to cause torment?
Kapler was right to use relief pitchers in high-leverage situations rather than thrust them into archaic roles of long-man, setup and closer. His defensive shifts had some glitches; in what baseball game-plan is it sensible to neglect to cover every base? But for the bulk of the season, they did help more often than not.
Kapler has the ability to manage. But as the Phillies made him look incompetent late in his only season, he elected to not really manage. He didn’t bench players for rotten baserunning decisions. He didn’t enter a single postgame press conference and cite an unprofessional defensive play, raise his voice or promise to demand better.
When the Phillies’ late season slide began, Kapler was asked when he would change his approach. The question included the phrasing “rip the paint off the wall.” Kapler rejected that idea at the moment, and then carried it through the continued collapse, often saying he wouldn’t kick dirt, or throw water buckets, or grab that clubhouse ping-pong table by the net and toss it into the shower. Though he had an awkward lack of awareness that one of only two Phillies world championship teams was prodded by the raised voice of Dallas Green, his approach had the chance to be ideal with players not born in 1980. Keeping calm was a most appropriate option. His problem: He refused to consider another option. And part of managing is knowing how to adapt. No manager in modern Phillies history had a better grasp of that than the late Jim Fregosi, who had the gift of perfect timing and clubhouse management, knowing when to unfurl his displeasure in public, but also when to trust the players to police the room. The Phillies’ 1993 National League pennant would not have happened without Fregosi making the players feel empowered or without the real threat that he would take on that responsibility if necessary.
Kapler’s tolerance of failure by his players and his coaching staff, and his announcement that under no circumstances would he demand anything more, enabled an atmosphere of disinterest. Their September follies provide undeniable proof.
The Phillies have a chance to end the season on an 11-game losing streak. Even if they sweep the visiting Braves this weekend, they will not have a winning record, that despite once having being 15 games over .500.
Because Klentak lacks sufficient professional accomplishment to fire a second manager in as many years, Kapler will be back next season. Then, he’ll manage. Or he can ask himself why he never really bothered.