Review: George F. Will's Men at Work (1990), Part One of Four

On "The Manager: Tony La Russa, On Edge"

Not long ago, I picked out George F. Will's Men at Work (1990) amidst a sea of baseball-related literature on the shelves of my local Barnes & Noble for, it turns out, quite the same reason that Will wrote the book: I yearned to understand the game in a way to which the observation of modern games and study of statistics could only contribute but never fully satisfy. As he notes in the introduction to the 2010 edition, "As an amateur student of baseball, I wrote this book during the 1988 and 1989 seasons, not to say what I knew about baseball -- which, I soon discovered, was not much -- but rather because no one had written it for me" (xiv). Fortunately for me, there was a book available when I went searching.

In this post, I'll address the first section of the book, "The Manager." (Will neatly divides his book into four parts, as is the game: manager, pitcher, batter, and fielder.) Although I did not appreciate this quality in myself initially, I was forced to admit that I perceived managers in a way I've criticized in others before: I felt I understood how managing worked because I'd watched it happening so many times. This, of course, is a limiting perception, as if one could understand acting on Broadway because I'd seen "x" number of performances. As a Mets fan, I'd watched -- and continue to watch -- many games managed by Terry Collins, alternately praising and criticizing his decisions. However, reading Will's study of Tony La Russa, then-manager of the Oakland Athletics, reminded me that viewing the game as a fan provides only one level of understanding.

Much of the first half of Will's chapter is a dizzying mix of contexts, both regarding La Russa and baseball history. However, it is a delightful dizziness that serves, I think, to spur the interested student of baseball onward. In reviewing this chapter in anticipation of my post, I found that I could follow it much more clearly, and so it is perhaps a book that not only bears but also encourages multiple readings. Despite his suggestion that this book came about as a result of a learning process, Will manages consistently to have a suggestion for the reader and to provide ample evidence for his assertions. He also interweaves a number of purposes; in addition to the manager, the reader is apt to learn about La Russa as a person, the backstage goings-on of the Athletics, trends in baseball since early in the century, and much more.

​The second half of "The Manager" concerns itself with matters of statistical analysis as well as guiding principles and philosophies that reveal how La Russa relied on intelligence, common sense, and the human element in order to manage his teams. Will takes a deep dive into the nuances of La Russa's approach, and he deftly sidesteps at times to address matters such as the debate about designated hitters (should there be one?). Largely, he draws on conversations with the Athletics' manager to explore topics such as retaliation (as in whether and how to strike back after a batter on one's team has been hit), stealing techniques (when and how to steal in various situations), etc.

All in all, Will manages to focus his narrative on one manager while simultaneously accounting for the bigger picture of management in the game of baseball. This model should serve to sustain and vary the reading experience throughout all four sections.

THE CALL ON THE FIELD: This first part of Men at Work is a solid triple. Not one of those triples that happens because someone in the outfield screwed up -- an authentic, well-deserved three-bagger. I look forward to the second chapter ("The Pitcher") and will report back soon.