Baseball's most colorful managers: the game has had its share of field generals whose antics created a fan following and a perception of quirkiness

Baseball Digest, Nov, 2005 by George Vass

SAD TO SAY, COLORFUL MANAGERS, field leaders with offbeat personalities who captivate the fancy of fans and media toilers, are almost as extinct as that long-gone bird the dodo. Their wings have been clipped by the serious-minded, financially-motivated, cautious "suits" who do the hiring in modern baseball.

With all due respect, it would be a far stretch to pin the label of colorful on such current outstanding managers as Joe Torre, Bobby Cox, Tony La Russa and Lou Piniella. They are dedicated and competent, as well as famous and durable, but the appropriate tag for them would be "celebrity" managers.

When it comes to being colorful, they're not in a league with such charismatic--or turbulent--figures of the past as Earl Weaver, Billy Martin, Leo Durocher, Casey Stengel, John McGraw and the like. Today's field leaders are generally all business and mostly well-behaved, other than the occasional outburst against an umpire, competitor or underperforming player.

There was a time when a younger Piniella displayed a tendency to turn to the eccentric. His "field goal" kick of a first base bag into the outfield, cap tossing, and other antics, drew widespread attention a decade or so ago, but he has mellowed.

In general, the current roster of 30 big league managers, capable, experienced or otherwise, is short of almost anyone who could be described as colorful, certainly in comparison to their predecessors. There may be one or two exceptions, namely young Ozzie Guillen and old Jack McKeon.

Guillen shows promise--loudly expressed if not always clear, occasionally controversial though never really mean-spirited.

Guillen may be in the early stage of what could become a long and successful managerial career, but he may also be headed in an unusual direction in a neglected aspect of his calling.

Guillen has shown "the right stuff" in his first two seasons as manager of the Chicago White Sox, the game's surprise team of 2005.

What Guillen has done is produce flashes, of the personality quirks, volatile temperament, and verbal barrages required of that almost absent specimen among current field leaders, the colorful manager whose activities, actions and antics make him a distinct personality rather than a cipher in baseball togs.

As Chicago Tribune columnist Rick Morrissey noted: "Guillen is incapable of letting a thought go unspoken. He probably filibusters in his sleep."

Guillen admits that his tendency to run off at the mouth can get him into trouble. He was widely criticized for exchanging verbal barrages with Magglio Ordonez over the circumstances which led the former White Sox outfielder to depart to the Detroit Tigers after the 2004 campaign.

What's significant is that Guillen--while not there yet--appears to have the makings of what it takes to emerge into national media and fan consciousness as a major colorful personality.

It may be by design that the vast majority of today's managers seldom intrude upon fan consciousness other than to be condemned if their teams fail to meet expectations. They're almost interchangeable and replaceable, as is only too often the case.

It's doubtful most fans could name the skippers of many major league teams other than their own. How many fans in Chicago, New York or Los Angeles, could accurately place John Gibbons, Ken Macha and Bob Melvin, respectively managers of Toronto, Oakland and Arizona in 2005?

Today's managers are not expected to be colorful, merely effective. Even the most successful and enduring, such as Torre of the New York Yankees, La Russa of the St. Louis Cardinals, Cox of the Atlanta Braves and Piniella can't be described as attracting the aura that enveloped Stengel. Casey's unique personality became larger than life, and his legendary status not only persists, but even grows in anecdote and literature to this day.

To a lesser extent much the same can be said of Weaver, Martin, Jimmy Dykes, Frankie Frisch, Charlie Grimm and McGraw, to list a few of the memorable managerial personalities of bygone eras.

McKeon, who led the Florida Marlins to a World Series title in 2003, may not quite rank with those cited here, yet it could be suggested he is the last of the breed of colorful managers.

Being a generation older than most of today's "cookie-cutter" pilots--he turned 75 in 2005--McKeon's folksy, if shrewd, approach to his role, stamp him as out of the ordinary. If any doubts of his claim to eccentricity remain, they should be put to rest by some of the contents of his recent autobiography.

One anecdote about McKeon's earliest managerial days suggests he has displayed a tendency to "flake," the sure hallmark of an offbeat pilot.

When McKeon started managing in the mid-1950s in the Carolina League he had a player named Juan Vistuer whose baserunning was abysmal. Most annoying was Vistuer's habit of running through stop signs at third base as if he were a homing pigeon, heading for the plate even with no chance to make it safely.

McKeon decided he could no longer put up with Vistuer's folly, and resolved to take extreme measures. He told Vistuer he would shoot him the next time he ran through a stop sign. Vistuer naturally thought the manager was kidding.