Perhaps you should have included the rest of the article.
One of the mysteries of the last quarter century in baseball is how Tony La Russa, the Cardinals' smart manager, can have 2,114 regular season wins, but only one World Series victory. And that championship was 15 seasons ago.
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</TD></TR></TBODY></TABLE>After Sunday night's 6-2 Red Sox victory in Game 2 of the World Series, the Cards are halfway to extending La Russa's streak of futility to 16 seasons. And the pattern and tone of this Series are already ominously similar to several previous La Russa postseason disappointments when his players sensed his worry and tension, then tightened up themselves.
La Russa can see baseball karma in the fall of a sparrow. And, in October, what he usually intuits, whether it exists, is bad. This odd, almost perverse tendency to intuit doom on the verge of victory transmits quickly to his teams. And, if something doesn't change fast, we may be watching another remarkably talented La Russa team make a quick and ugly October exit.
Yet in 10 trips to the postseason, his record is 4-5 in league championship series and a poor 1-2 mark in the World Series with the Oakland teams of 1988, '89 and '90, which were all heavy favorites.
Now, it's happening again. A brilliant Cardinals team has looked horrid and tense in losing the first two games of this 100th World Series. In a luck and fluke saturated Game 1, the Cards lost the slapstick affair, 11-9. On Sunday night, the Cards' starting pitcher was knocked out early for the second straight night, allowing a less-than-full-strength Curt Schilling enough cushion to last six victorious innings. Worst of all, the heart of the Cardinals' vaunted batting order hasn't hit a lick in the clutch.
La Russa is such a dominant personality and team molder that his clubs not only mirror his personality but, like a family with a strong parent, instantly sense his moods, opinions and -- especially -- his worries, tensions and premonitions.
And, in a short, tension-packed series, La Russa is often choked full of worries, tensions and forebodings. He can't help it. It's his nature. He senses turning points, key plays, crucial bad breaks or rotten luck and has a precise sense of how those events change the probabilities of victory. Many nuances -- especially negative ones that few players would notice -- are instantly obvious to La Russa. Since he can't help using these postseason stages as an audience for his theories and views, La Russa's words, and the tone underneath them, filters throughout the Series. Anybody who's been around him much can read him easily. And that certainly includes his players.
In this regard, La Russa resembles Earl Weaver, another high-strung, intelligent manager who was better suited to strategies that worked over a 162-game season, but tended to tense-up his own teams with his superstitions, worries and dugout grumblings.
In this World Series, it only took one game for La Russa to start talking like the same fellow who may have rattled his over-dog A's when they were upset in five games by the badly injured Dodgers in '88 and swept by the hugely overmatched Reds in '90.
In the first answer to the first question of his first mass interview, La Russa went out of his way to mention how much the Cards would miss valuable fifth starter Chris Carpenter as well as left-handed reliever Steve Kline. "These two guys have been so important to us," he said. "It's really a tough break, but, you know, we'll do without."
Few things are more important in a World Series than for a manager to dissolve as much of the event's enormous pressure as possible. Last year, 73-year-old Jack McKeon set the example for his Marlins by dancing with his wife at parties, cigar in jaw, until 3 a.m. after games. His message? Just having a ball beating these cocky Yankees. Anybody got a beer?
You would think that, after 86 years without a world title, Francona might be mentioning the importance to the Red Sox of winning this affair. He's never mentioned it. However, before Game 1, La Russa said, "It's our fourth chance [for these Cardinals] that we finally have a chance to play for the ring . . . and only three guys [on the Cardinals] have a ring . . . Man, [this] ain't another baseball game. We're playing for the big ring."
Perhaps the quintessential example of La Russa's tone-deafness to the proper choice of words and subjects on these stages came before Game 2 when he described "the toughest thing to swallow" from the bizarre 11-9 Game 1 loss. He could have mentioned the Cards' wild pitching or bad clutch hitting or even his own weird decision to pinch-run Game 4 starter Jason Marquis who almost disabled himself twice in one trip around the bases, stumbling several times just running 90 feet to second base then having a home plate collision with Boston's massive catcher Varitek. La Russa's lucky his bright idea didn't put Marquis in the hospital.
Instead, LaRussa said, "The groundskeeper came up and apologized for the bad hop on Womack [on a David Ortiz RBI infield single in the seventh inning]. I've never had that happen. We had a chance to get a double play or throw the guy out at the plate, but the ball was hit very hard. . . . A double play would have been a nice momentum thing for us."
The groundskeeper was classy enough to apologize. Instead of being gracious, LaRussa chose to blame the Boston infield for a bad hop on a ball that was hit about 500 mph. Only in October, and only when he seems to sense that subtle factors and forces are conspiring against his odds, does La Russa suddenly sound like a manager who wants his excuses and his scapegoats all lined up, just in case he doesn't win the World Series.
"Baseball is meant to be analyzed and discussed and second-guessed and first-guessed," said La Russa. "You have a whole year of statistics for these two teams, plus you have career [stats]. I'd analyze it almost to death [as a fan]. I think that's part of the enjoyment of this."
Dump the analysis, the strategy and the stats, Tony. Give somebody a hotfoot. Wear a fright wig on the team plane.
Oh, sorry, that's what the Red Sox do when they get behind. The Cardinals will probably just re-polish their shoes and shave twice. That may not be enough.
2004 The Washington Post Company