The White Sox’ 44th offers both a question and a promise
Taken on faith, a requirement hereabouts, Will Venable is the 44th manager of the White Sox, although to be honest I stopped keeping count somewhere between Jeff Torborg and Robin Ventura.
Introducing a new manager is a recurring obligation for the Sox. Whereas others might rotate the tires or restock the pinot, the Sox dutifully announce the next guy to peer watchfully from the Sox dugout, not counting Tony La Russa, who would nap occasionally.
Appropriately, the new manager of the White Sox has a first name that is both a question and a promise. The Sox will or will the Sox? There would be no such confusion with someone named Ozzie.
I recall my days teaching 11th-grade English when I tried to show the distinction between “will” and “shall” by explaining that one is a belief and the other is an intention.
The White Sox are very big on intention, every two and a half to three years or so, meaning, I guess, if we are being realistic here, the new manager should be called “Shall” Venable until further notice.
Upon his introduction, assuming it was not A.I., Venable admitted he is “excited about the challenge,” suggesting that he knows it is not going to be easy and recognizing that whatever happens it will not be his fault.
“Will” not. There’s that auxiliary verb again. I have a feeling we have not seen the last of it.
Primary puzzle fixer Chris Getz did not “gush” as did predecessor Rick Hahn when he hired the doomed Pedro Grifol, but he did allow as how Venable was “well-rounded,” meaning, I guess, that he can play basketball with the fellows like he did at dear old Princeton, a place not noted for baseball intellect.
A side note here. Venable holds the major-league record for hits and home runs by an old Princetonian, while any Ivy League discussion must start and end with Columbia Lou Gehrig.
Getz might have meant Venable’s well-rounded baseball resume, including nine years of major-league playing, a geographical minor-league journey that saw him be both a Wizard and a Beaver, or his later peripheral duties with the Cubs, Red Sox and Rangers.
All in all, Venable seems rather overqualified for minding millionaires and misfits who, as the fifth inning of the fifth game of the recent World Series revealed, can suddenly play like contagious bindlestiffs.
Apparently, much effort was involved in choosing just the right man for a job that any reasonable baseball lifer would avoid, there being not only the 121 losses, the Reinsdorf factor, the in-over-his-head, impossible to surprise Getz, the city second-thought status, the probable sale and/or relocation disorder, but the simple truth that the Sox roster reads like the ingredients on a soup can.
One player, maybe one and a half, (pitcher Garrett Crochet and oft absent Luis Robert Jr.) do not a roster make. The Sox were the worst hitting team in baseball, had the worst bullpen in baseball, blew saves like balloons (not that there were that many to save).
The Sox were last in every category, hits, runs, homers, RBI and don’t get me started on WAR, since I do not know what it is but do know that the Sox were very bad at it.
Excited about the challenge? If there is a graveyard handy (and Guaranteed Rate Field may qualify) Venable should bring a pocket full of whistles. Maybe the Sox should greet Venable at the door with banner proclaiming, “Welcome to the Dysfunction.”
Can a manager make a difference? I suggest you look at the Cubs’ Craig Counsell, or rather avoid eye contact.
Two pieces of advice here. One is to recall what Yankee pool toy Billy Martin once said about the secret of managing a baseball team. Keep the five guys who hate you away from the five guys who are undecided.
Secondly, the first thing you do is to write three letters. Keep them available for use when needed. The first letter puts all the blame on the players. The second letter blames the press. The third letter is for your successor. It says, “Write three letters.”