An opinion about a solar eclipse shouldn't be the last straw for a baseball manager, but when the subject is Pedro Grifol, sometimes the topics furthest afield help to clarify my misgivings about him as the leader of a team.
MLB.com's Anthony Castrovince talked to various Guardians and White Sox on the field about having Monday's game -- and pregame preparation -- delayed by the eclipse. Here's new Cleveland manager Steven Vogt, sounding like somebody who has experience conversing:
Stephen Vogt, managing his first home opener for the Guards, was among those in the building who enjoyed the eclipse with his family.
“I can remember in elementary school in California we had one,” he said. “I remember the shop teacher bringing over the welding goggles and we all got to look at it.”
And here's Grifol, once again missing an opportunity of simply relating to a universal experience:
Before the game, Grifol was oddly adamant about not witnessing history.
“I'll see videos of it, see what it looks like,” Grifol had said, “but there's baseball. I probably shouldn't say that, [but] family and baseball. People don't believe it, but I live it. That's all that matters.”
I've talked about Grifol's inability to connect with the general public, with the most trivially illuminating example being his struggle to name a favorite band or a favorite song. Some Sox Machinists empathized with Grifol, at least a little, by saying pop culture just might be a weakness, or he might not be quick with answers to questions outside of his professional context, somewhat similar to the way you might not recognize your dentist at a grocery store.
However, unlike being asked to discuss Fleetwood Mac on the spot, Grifol's reaction to the eclipse eliminates a lot of potential defenses. It's an event 1) the entire country is talking about, and 2) directly interferes with Grifol's day. He's been briefed on what it is. He has a reaction to it. It's just a reaction so bizarre that even the usually deferential MLB.com is using the word "oddly."
Moreover, after the game, Grifol said he saw the eclipse!
Ultimately it's good that Grifol displayed some curiosity about something greater than his job, but it speaks to a fundamental disingenuousness, at least with the public persona he's adopted as manager. He can't ever give an answer that resembles what anybody is seeing, because he automatically defaults to the answer he thinks sounds best. You can detect it when he talks about things outside his purview like music or astronomy, but it also trips sensors when he talks about a culture that never actually existed, or about potential backup plans at a struggling position, or about his first-base coach missing at the start of an inning.
Grifol came into this job promising to kick ass, but it turns out he only kicks cans, and he's accrued so much interest that he'll never be able to cover the credibility debt. After all, here's what Grifol said last September about judging the 2024 White Sox:
“Until a couple of weeks into [next] season, that's when everybody should have an opinion and make a decision whether they like what we put on the field or not,” Grifol said. “It's all going to be based on wins and losses.
“I don't think we can talk our way into anything other than winning baseball games at the start of next season. That's what you'll hear from me all winter long. I'm done with talking about any type of core or talent or talent on paper. I'm done with that stuff. We've got to prove it there.”
Two weeks into the season, the 2024 White Sox are 1-9, and they've been shut out four times. What's Grifol's response?
“This team is going to be based on pitching and defense,” Grifol said. “We’ve got to make sure we clean up those mistakes, and we will, and we’ve got to win these tight ball games.”
Maybe there's little Grifol can say, but mostly because he's only capable of saying little. He's chosen to make himself all about the baseball no matter how bad the baseball, and his instincts for self-preservation only direct upward. There's some value in that approach with a chairman who resists firing managers midseason, but Grifol still has to speak to the media 304 more times between now and the end of the season. I don't know how he's going to do it. Check that: I do know how he's going to do it, but I don't know what's going to be the cost.
If this is never going to get better, the question shifts to how long Chris Getz can let it go on, assuming Getz is empowered to change directions. It made some sense to open the season with Grifol, both for the chance he could improve with a different clubhouse mix, but more because trumpeting a new hire and saddling them with the worst possible team would start the disenchantment cycle anew. Should the next couple weeks look like the first two, any interim manager would be a better option the rest of the way. There'd still be nothing to say, but the "interim" tag would sufficiently indicate a dissatisfaction with the status quo that makes words far less important.
HELPFUL TIPS FOR THE NEXT ECLIPSE
Here are a half-dozen ways Grifol could have answered the question at hand -- "Are you going to check out the eclipse?" -- better than he actually did.
NORMIE: "Yup. I've never seen something like this, it should be cool."
NONCOMMITTAL: "I might, but it's not my biggest priority."
NONCHALANTLY: "Yeah, probably. Space isn't really my thing, but they have to be rescheduling Opening Day for a reason, right?"
SARCASTICALLY: "Yes, and if I don't use the glasses, I won't have to see us trying to hit with runners in scoring position."
PHILOSOPHICALLY: "Sometimes it helps to realize that the universe is a lot larger than whatever you and I are doing."
NIHILISTICALLY: "If only the sun could be blotted out forever, turning our planet into a flying ice cube that would eradicate baseball from the collective memory, and the collective memory itself. Then, and only then, I would finally be free."
