I would argue that Riggleman is, essentially, a replacement-level manager.  He won’t make tremendous blunders (like the time Terry Bevington gestured to the bullpen for a reliever when there wasn’t one warming up).  He will manage using the the “standard” (i.e. tired, old) rules that mediocre managers have been using for decades.

He won’t be colorful for the crowds.  He won’t develop the youngsters.  He won’t show a single ounce of creativity or willingness to embrace new ideas or ways of approaching the game.  He won’t drive you crazy the way, say, Dusty Baker would, but never for a moment will you feel like he’s sparking anything or causing anything positive to happen.

He will *always* put the speedy guy at the top of the lineup.  He will *always* bring in a lefty to face a left-handed batter in a late-game situation, without regard for how effective that particular pitcher is against lefties, etc.  He will *always* bring the designated closer in when there’s a save situation.

Which, it must be said, doesn’t differentiate him from many other ML managers.  As I said…he’s replacement-level.

Bean Stringfellow, Wagner’s agent, has a pretty odd name too.  Somewhat you resisted the temptation to comment on that one!

In the old days, a chance at the bonus money from winning the World Series was a big deal and would have factored more prominently in Wagner’s decision whether to join Boston.  Now, it does even merit a mention:  it’s not much more than rounding error to Wagner.

This one shocked me—in the MLB World Series film of the ‘68 World Series, announcer Curt Gowdy (I’m pretty sure it was Curt) refers to Willie Horton as the Tigers’ “strongboy.”  Has anyone ever heard that word before?  Why would Gowdy avoid the more common “strongman?”  Either Willie was really young in Gowdy’s eyes—or he was really black.