Under constant glare, Francona cool on hot seat
ANAHEIM, Calif. -- The job is utterly and completely thankless -- unless you win the World Series. When October rolls around, the manager of the Boston Red Sox undergoes more scrutiny than the governor, the mayor, and the cardinal combined.
Terry Francona has certainly felt the glare -- and the heat -- of that spotlight. He won his first postseason game as a big league manager Tuesday night, but never even considered celebrating the milestone. Not even after winning another last night.
"Maybe after we've won three of 'em," he said. "Then maybe I'll stop and smile for a minute. But only a minute."
He has already endured an avalanche of criticism, despite the fact his team is in the playoffs. He's been tagged with his own unsavory nickname -- Francoma -- because of his penchant for leaving starting pitchers in too long.
The most glaring example was his failure to yank Pedro Martinez in a 6-4 loss to the Yankees Sept. 24 at Fenway Park. Martinez, clearly tiring in the eighth, unraveled, gave up five runs, turned his back on his manager when he came to fetch the ball, then proclaimed the Yankees "my daddy." Even the Sox front office conceded the manager messed up that one.
Through it all, Tito appears unruffled. Either he's a skilled thespian, or truly unperturbed by the pointed barbs.
"I know people don't believe me, but I'm not someone who runs out to buy the newspaper or turns on the television to check on how I'm being perceived or judged," Francona said. "I'm not really losing sleep over that. I lose sleep over a lot of things, but that's not one of them. I do what I think is right, and I live with the consequences."
Francona has come under fire for everything from abandoning the bunt, and being too soft on his players, to donning a red fleece top over his uniform that makes him look like your next-door neighbor en route to the dump.
"I like my fleece top," Francona said. "It keeps me warm. I get cold very easily because of the blood thinners I have to take."
Francona suffered permanent damage to his circulation when a routine knee surgery went awry, causing him to suffer, among other medical horrors, a staph infection and a pulmonary embolism. He will take blood thinners for the rest of his life, and experiences burning sensations in his legs whenever he exerts too much pressure on them.
"But hey, I also wear the top because it's comfortable," he said, smiling. "When I was managing in Philly, I used to wear one all the time. And, the more people got ticked off about it, the more I wore it. Even when it was hot."
Like his predecessor, Grady Little, Francona has been accosted by pedestrians as he walks the streets of Boston.
"And you should see the letters," Francona said. "They're incredible. But I understand it.
"I realize when they come to the park, and they want me to put a certain pitcher in, they've only been to one game all month. They don't understand we had that pitcher up three days in a row, and he's not available on the night they are there."
Francona says he can take the heat. When he managed the Phillies, he had his tires slashed -- on Fan Appreciation Day.
Boston's players back their skipper for allowing them the freedom to wear dreadful cornrows or a long flowing mane. They know he'll publicly take the heat for their mistakes, and they appreciate his optimistic, high-energy approach.
"We're good because we're relaxed," said Manny Ramirez. "[Francona] allows us to be that way. He shows us respect."
Respect for the manager in these parts will only come if a title is won on his watch.
Pinning a 2-0 deficit on the Anaheim Angels is a wonderful start, but that's about all it would be. Like Grady Little before him (and Jimy Williams and Kevin Kennedy and . . .), Francona knows he's in a no-win position unless he wins 'em all.
