It doesn't take long to figure out that we are in good hands when reading John W. Miller's fine biography of Earl Weaver, "The Last Manager." I clocked it at less than two chapters.
The book starts at the end of the 1982 season, when Weaver was about to end a remarkable run as the skipper of the Baltimore Orioles. Weaver's team lost that one-game playoff against Milwaukee for the division title, but the day became a chance for the fans there to celebrate a spectacular run of success for the franchise. Since 1968, the Orioles had won a World Series, lost three others, and taken several division titles in becoming consistent winners.
And in that opening chapter, Miller points out that Weaver should be remembered for more than arguing with umpires ... although, in fairness, no one was better than Earl in that department. Weaver was an amazing innovator when it came to the game, revolutionizing the thinking that went into the job as manager. He was way ahead of his time when it came to philosophy and matchups, serving as a pioneer in the effort to maximize his team's chances of winning. We might call it analytics today, but Weaver certainly pointed us in that direction. The Orioles manager also carried certain philosophies. Just as an example, Weaver said you only get 27 outs, and you shouldn't give any away. In other words, if you play for one run, that's how many runs you'll get. Weaver emphasized pitching, defense and three-run homers over one base at a time with sacrifice bunts.
Then in chapter two, we find ourselves back in the spring of 1952. Weaver had worked his way up the ladder of the St. Louis Cardinals organization to the point where he had a good chance of making the major league team. The problem was that the Cardinals had just named an infielder named Eddie Stanky as the manager, and Eddie didn't think he was completely washed up as a player. So while Weaver had a good spring training, Stanky wasn't going to cut himself from the roster. So a broken-hearted Weaver went back to the minors. It was the crucial turning point in his life up to that point. He played a few more years but his heart really wasn't in it.
But everyone realized that Earl knew baseball inside and out, so a switch to manager was almost inevitable. He again worked his way up that ladder, stopping in more small towns along the way. In order to make ends meet, he sold cars in the offseason in Elmira, New York. A friend of mine remembers how Weaver sold his father a car while balancing my pal as a young child on his knee. Eventually, though, Weaver reached the majors. Earl took over the Orioles in 1968, and became one of the most beloved figures in Baltimore's baseball history. No wonder there's a statue of him in Camden Yards.
Weaver developed a particular style of managing that you wouldn't exactly call "corporate." The overriding philosophy shown here is that Weaver didn't merely want to win. He had to win. That meant if an umpire's call went the "wrong way," he was going to hear about it from Weaver. Heck, Earl got himself thrown out of games before they started, which is a pretty good trick. Those arguments with the umps featured plenty of colorful words and a few stunts such as turning his hat around by 180 degrees in order to get more of a face-to-face discussion going. The fans, of course, liked the idea that someone shared their passion for the team. Weaver always figured that the team was better off without him than without one of the players, who had a direct influence on a game's outcome.
Off the field, Weaver did some of his best work in the clubhouse. No, he didn't get along with everyone. His "feud" with Hall of Fame pitcher Jim Palmer was almost legendary, and others sometimes weren't happy about Weaver's style either. But while Earl was maybe too direct in spots, he never carried a grudge to the next day. What's more, Weaver certainly got the most out of his players. Many of them were never better then they were for Earl's teams.
That sort of passion carries a price, of course. Baseball's schedule is relentless, and Weaver missed a lot of birthdays and anniversaries and dinners and so on. He was divorced from his first wife by the time he reached Double-A. Miller also concludes that Weaver probably could be considered an alcoholic by most standards. That's the way people of that era sometimes blew off steam, for better or worse (mostly worse, of course). Miller points out along the way that writer Bill James once estimated that 17 of the top 25 managers in baseball history were alcoholics. It would be interesting to see that list, although you'd hope that today's skippers are a little more aware of the dangers of traveling down that road.
Miller's workload in putting together this book is quite obvious. He personally visited several of Weaver's stops, from his native St. Louis through Elmira and Baltimore. The author has a long list of items that are source material. At the book's end, the reader really has the idea of what went right in Weaver's life - it's a good-sized list - and what went wrong. It's a balanced and full portrait.
It's been almost 40 years since Earl Weaver last bounced out of the dugout to complain about, well, something. That might limit the potential number of readers for "The Last Manager." That's too bad, but almost anyone interested in Weaver and the profession of baseball managing will find this just about completely satisfying.
Five stars
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