By all accounts, Alex Cora is a good manager as far as these things go. Dan is correct in that you really can’t predict or even properly judge a manager’s contributions except in obvious outlier situations, but the buzz around Cora has always been positive. His strongest claim to fame is winning a World Series with one of greatest teams of all time, credit for which can go whichever way one is inclined. Did the manager inspire or ride the team to greatness?
Cora landed on the positive side of that
unknowable gulf, having come out of the 2018 season with an incredible reputation that persists to this day even if it doesn’t necessarily stand up to scrutiny. Unfortunately, that was followed by a yearlong suspension by MLB for his role in the Astros’ cheating fuckery, leading him to being fired by the Sox, which honestly was probably a blessing given that the “season” he ended up missing was 2020, which was a fake idea (the playoffs were good tho). But let’s assume for purposes of this column it wasn’t and say getting fired for cheating was generally bad for his career.
So when Cora returned as the Red Sox manager in November 2020, several months and a “full” MLB season later during which the Mookie Betts-led Dodgers won it all, it was understandable from both sides. The Sox had been terrible and Cora needed to rebuild his reputation. But the last time Cora had suited up for the Sox, Betts was on the team. Cora knew the environment into which he was walking. He was returning to Dysfunction Junction.
Fast-forward to second Instagram post following his shock dismissal on Saturday, a reel of Mookie Betts talking about the business of baseball in Boston. I wasn’t moved. He came back into the fold with eyes wide open with respect to John Henry and Sam Kennedy — a Massachusetts Milhouse crossed with Walnut St. Wormtongue — and has been kicked to the curb like so many before him, including Betts and Rafael Devers. He didn’t appear to be too upset or surprised about it in the first post, that’s for sure:
It was, as I wrote on Saturday, probably just time for him to move on, but the Red Sox, in their inimitable way, botched it completely. And let me tell you something: the nostalgia dopamine blast for this nonsense I had for this was amazing. It wasn’t just a throwback to the more recent FSG fuckery. I’m 48 years old, which is older than most of you, and pre-FSG this was the norm. It’s sort of unreal that the Sox won 5 titles between 1900 and 1918 and 4 between 2000 and 2018 and decided, exactly 100 years apart, to aggressively self-sabotage. Billy Shakes would be proud; Claude could never. Even in the misery, life is beautiful, in its way.
But I don’t feel bad for Cora. He came back because they gave him money and power because they were chasing their tail, which they continue to do. Live by the disinterested billionaire and his quietly power-mad protege, die by them. Henry is cooked. Kennedy’s job is obscuring that, and he’s running out of other people to blame. Breslow is a patsy, one who’s supremely aloof but better at his job than his predecessor, but on the subject of Chaim Bloom I can firmly now say that I might have been too hard on you, given how absurd your bosses were.
