The last manager How Earl Weaver tricked, tormented, and reinvented baseball

Seems just yesterday that Earl Weaver retired from managing his beloved Baltimore Orioles in 1986 after 17 seasons, such was his vibrant, outsize impact on Major League Baseball. Weaver is remembered for his legendary, often comical dustups with umps; his highly quotable, yet often profanity-laced interviews; the consistently superb level of play he drew from otherwise mortal players; and his innovations, including the speed gun and his savvy use of data analysis. Reporter Miller, who wrote Weaver's 2013 obituary for the Wall Street Journal, naturally covers the notorious side of the Hall of Fame manager, including the hardscrabble St. Louis upbringing that stiffened his spine, while also revealing Weaver's lesser-known strengths: an uncommon ability to adapt to circumstances, to put every one of his players in the best position to succeed, and to let go of the grudges that so easily form in the heat of a baseball season. A long overdue, humanizing reassessment of a near-mythic baseball figure.

Showman, scrapper, innovator, champion--this baseball manager did it all. His teams won 58 percent of their games and played in four World Series, taking the title in 1970, but Earl Weaver, who managed the Baltimore Orioles from 1968 to 1982 and 1985 to 1986, might be best known for his frenzied arguments with umpires, clips of which are easy to find and hilarious. As vividly recounted by Miller, when the 5-foot-7 Weaver was angry about a call, he'd scream at the offending ump and maybe "beak" him in the chest with the bill of his cap. He'd kick dirt onto home plate and once tore up a rulebook on the field. He was "a drawing card with stage charisma" in an era when Major League Baseball "managers were American royalty and powerful operators within the game." Simultaneously, Weaver modernized the sport, forgoing by-the-book tactics like the sacrifice bunt, consulting data when choosing his lineups, and pioneering the use of radar guns to track pitch speeds. Miller makes no apologies for his subject's flaws, reporting that the heavy-drinking manager passed out in public places and, according to an Orioles executive, ruined one young player's career for arbitrary reasons. The journalist and first-time author builds an evocative backdrop for his account of Weaver's rise. When Weaver played in the minors, he went "picking the lettuce"--collecting dollar bills fans passed through ballpark fences. Later, in the heyday of sporting nicknames, long-suffering umps dubbed him Son of Sam and Ayatollah; he was "Le Hérisson, or the Hedgehog" in Canada's French-language press. That his detractors bothered to mock him only bolsters Miller's argument. Unlike many of today's relatively mild, predictable managers, Weaver was a crowd-pleasing ham and a rule-flouting trailblazer. An illuminating, entertaining biography of a mercurial tactician who changed the national pastime. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.