On Walt Weiss, the Braves’ old-school ‘beast’ who deserves to be Manager of the Year

Welcome to Sliders, a weekly in-season MLB column that focuses on both the timely and timeless elements of the game.

Eight teams changed managers last offseason. Only one of those new managers has guided his team to first place. He is the oldest of them all, and he should be the National League Manager of the Year.

The Atlanta Braves promoted Walt Weiss, 62, from bench coach to manager to replace Brian Snitker, who retired after a decade on the job. Snitker won a championship in 2021, part of a seven-year postseason streak that ended last season, when the Braves finished 76-86.

Under Weiss, the Braves topped that win total on Aug. 25 against the Los Angeles Dodgers, in a series that ended with Chris Sale throwing his first shutout in seven years. It took a season-high 109 pitches for Sale, but Weiss read the moment and let his ace shine.

“He’s an old-school baseball guy, so he still has a good feel,” Sale said last week in Philadelphia. “With that game, I felt strong throughout. He saw that I was still hitting my spots, and it worked out.”

Weiss, who also managed the Colorado Rockies from 2013 to 2016, brings an open mind to his old school. He is endlessly fascinated by biomechanics and keeps a library of photos on his phone that show players with ideal sequences of movement. As a manager, he understands data without letting it restrict him.

“The information is great, but most of it comes without context,” Weiss said in the Braves’ dugout during batting practice last week in Philadelphia. “Once you start to put context to the information, things change, and you can start to poke holes in some theories.

“That’s the science. This is the art, down here. You can’t just run a game based off science, it doesn’t work. Until this game is AI or robots, that’ll never work. You have to find that sweet spot. You have to use your eyes.

“People say — and I hate the term — ‘he uses gut.’ It’s not a gut feeling. It’s based on wisdom. Gut feeling sounds like you’re winging it, just throwing (stuff) up against the wall. If there are times you might go against the information, it’s based on wisdom. It’s based on what you’re seeing; it’s based on knowing your team. There’s a lot that goes into it.”

Weiss had interviewed for other jobs since his Rockies’ tenure, but got no other inquiries last winter. Only Alex Anthopoulos, the Braves’ president of baseball operations and general manager, considered Weiss for a managing job, and not just because of his familiarity with the Braves.

Of the eight new managers hired last offseason, only two others — Skip Schumaker of the Texas Rangers and Derek Shelton of the Minnesota Twins — had previously led a team in the majors. Weiss had not managed since 2016, but his experience mattered to Anthopoulos.

“Even though the game has changed,” Anthopoulos said, “the human element is exactly the same; the media element is similar.”

The Braves’ players were familiar with Weiss from his eight seasons as bench coach, which gave him instant credibility in the clubhouse. So did his textbook tackle of former Brave Jorge Soler during a brawl with the Los Angeles Angels in April.

“He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve met, but he’s also an absolute beast,” said reliever Brent Suter, who was traded from the Angels to Atlanta last month. “He’s in the weight room all the time. So he’s like the perfect epitome of walking softly but carrying a big stick. It’s really rare to find that guy who’s tough and strong, but also gentle and humble and really has a lot of care for everybody else.”

The Braves took over first place in the NL East on the night of the Anaheim brawl, and have held it ever since. It has not been easy: only three teams had played more one-run games than Atlanta’s 45 through Wednesday, and the Braves were 25-20 in those games despite a depleted pitching staff.

Setup man Robert Suarez, a two-time All-Star, was cruising through late June until an elbow injury, which has kept him out ever since. Sale has been elite atop the rotation, and deadline acquisition Tyler Mahle has been a revelation. But the Braves’ other starters have combined for a 4.37 ERA through Wednesday; the team has missed the high-end stuff of the injured Spencer Strider, Hurston Waldrep and Spencer Schwellenbach.

“We always have stuff that comes up, and we always get through it,” Anthopoulos said. “For me, it’s just about keeping everything stable. All teams have challenges, but Walt is very consistent with who he is. In that spot, it’s important to have a steady hand on the wheel.”

A steady hand and soft eyes. With that approach, and a lot of talent, Weiss has been the NL’s best.

“You still have to do what the game is telling you,” he said. “It can’t be the other way. You can’t tell the game what to do.”

Reflections on 9/11 from the 2001 Mets

Of the thousands of articles I’ve written, none felt as meaningless as one that never ran.

On Sept. 11, 2001, after coming home from the airport and listening to the radio about the catastrophic events of the morning, I checked in with my editor at The New York Times. I was the Mets beat writer, and back then we had a Mets story in the paper every day of the season, without exception. There would surely be early deadlines for the Sept. 12 paper, I was told, so just write whatever I had in my notebook, and fast.

Those instructions would soon be rescinded; obviously, there would be no traditional Mets coverage for days. But for an hour or so, as fear and uncertainty swirled, I wrote what I had: an interview I’d done with Mets third baseman Robin Ventura, who had slumped all summer but was finally starting to hit.

Last week, when reporting a story about the Mets’ ongoing commitment to the heroes of the FDNY, I spoke with Ventura and mentioned that. He remembered how helpless he had felt at the plate, and how silly it all became.

“It wasn’t like I was feeling sorry for myself, but it was like: you could do something good here, you know what I mean?” he said. “It wasn’t just, ‘Worry about myself and try and figure this out.’ It was bigger than that.

“In some ways, I think doing all the other things that went with it kept my mind off of going to the cage and trying to figure out my timing, or if my mechanics weren’t right, or whatever. I mean, you’re meeting people every day at the stadium, and what they were going through was a hell of a lot worse than what I was going through. Like, hey, ‘My average isn’t what I’d like.’

“Firehouse visits, packing boxes, meeting families — you just did it. You didn’t know how it would really go over or if it was even making a difference. But it was probably making a difference more for me, just kind of releasing whatever demons I had going on.”

The next season, after a trade to the Yankees, Ventura made the All-Star team for the first time in a decade.

For manager Bobby Valentine, who stayed with the Mets, the aftermath was different. The 2002 Mets finished in last place, and Valentine was fired. He had lost friends in the attacks and poured himself into recovery efforts. It consumed him.

“Looking back, I didn’t give my best effort on the field,” Valentine said. “One of the things that earmarked my uniform time is that I was there early and stayed late, and I was committed and prepared for everything that was going on. And the rest of that year, and even the following year, when I look back, I didn’t have the same commitment of time and energy. And that I feel bad about.

“But, you know, you only have so much to give. And when you’re coaching, you have to be a giver. You have to try to fill the needs whenever there’s a need. You’ve got to see it, you’ve got to fill it, you’ve got to be there, and I think I missed some beats there for a while with the guys.”

Valentine is 76 now. In 2021 he lost a close race for mayor of Stamford, Conn., his beloved hometown, and moved to Southern California. I asked how the events of 2001 changed him.

“I’m not sure how it changed me,” he said, after a pause. “What it did is it set my priorities a little different. I made more time for more things, and when you do that, there’s a sacrifice. Something has to give. I’m not sure that it’s a bad or a good thing. It’s just what it was.”

Five questions with…

Dan Gladden, Minnesota Twins Hall of Famer

One of my favorite bits of trivia is that Gladden’s daughter, Ashley, is married to Gary Gaetti’s son, Joe. This makes Gladden and Gaetti, who were pillars of the Minnesota Twins’ 1987 title team, grandfathers to the couple’s two boys, Luca, 9, and Malone, 5.

“They had their first day of school,” Gladden said last week, leaning on the railing of the home dugout before a game at Target Field. “I went over there this morning, watched them get on the bus.”

Gladden, 69, has been a Twins fixture for most of the last 40 years. He spent five years as the team’s leadoff hitter (and mullet-wearing icon) and has called their games on the radio for the last 28 seasons.

As a player, Gladden’s Twins career stretched from 1987 to 1991, with championships on the bookends. In his first World Series game, against the St. Louis Cardinals, he hit a grand slam. In his last, against the Atlanta Braves, he scored the only run in a 10-inning, 1-0, walk-off thriller.

It’s been a fascinating baseball life, and Gladden — the man who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time — made time for a few questions last week.

How did you get into broadcasting? “I was a coach and scout with the Colorado Rockies, and then became a roving instructor with the San Francisco Giants. Came home, had to get some surgery on my shoulder, and during the offseason at TwinsFest, Dave St. Peter, the president, asked me if I’d consider doing radio. And my first interview was with Paul Molitor. I asked him one question; we talked for 20 minutes and I thought, ‘This could be easy.’ So I segued into the radio booth and haven’t looked back. I’ve gotten to hang out with John Gordon, Herb Carneal, and of course Cory Provus for 11 years, and now Kris Atteberry.”

Former players don’t often do play-by-play, but you do three innings a game. How did you learn that skill? “When I first started, sometimes I’d take an inning off, and I’d go sit in the back of the other radio booths and listen to Bill King with the A’s. I would just try to listen to his style about a routine ground ball at second, things like that. And I listened to other broadcasters, too, and just kind of created my own style – you know, keep it simple. Don’t talk a lot. Let the game breathe. Turn up that crowd mic and let the fans hear the bat crack.”

How often do fans bring up the championship seasons? “I’m still recognized. It’s the age group that you’re referencing (50 and up). A lot of the kids don’t know, but you can hear the parents telling the youngster about this particular player and the style that he played and things like that. These kids are interested in what’s out there now. But I talked to some people the other day; they said they were freshmen in college at Mankato State and had all the girls come down. We had some nuns that got stuck somewhere and watched the games. So everybody has a story they can remember about ’87 and ’91.”

You had a knack for landing on the cover of Sports Illustrated at World Series time: twice in 1987 and once in 1991. Why was it always you? “The one in ’91, where I turned (Braves catcher Greg) Olson upside down, that was a base-running blunder on my part. Bases loaded, somebody hit a ball down the left-field line and I came trotting down third base. And I’m telling (Chuck) Knoblauch, ‘Come on, come on!’ Knoblauch got to third base and (Brian) Hunter caught it out there in the corner on the warning track. So I had to go back, tag up, and by the time they got the ball back in the infield, I was out by 10 feet. He was waiting for me. I went in and hit him high in the shin guards; he flipped over backwards. He got more publicity out of that than anything (else) in his whole career.”

Gene Larkin drove you in to win that epic Game 7. What stands out about that game now? “It really started in Game 6 when Kirby Puckett hit the home run, made that catch. We went into the clubhouse, and there was Jack Morris getting dressed, and we knew we were locked in; we had that horse. So we came out and played 10 innings, John Smoltz and Jack Morris, and if you dissect that game, everybody on that team had a chance at one point or another to be the hero. In the ninth inning, Paul Sorrento was batting with the winning run at second base. He struck out. I was on deck. So I led off the 10th, broke my bat, hustled into second for a double, Knoblauch bunted me to third, and game over. And Gene Larkin, you know who he hit for? Jarvis Brown, who pinch ran for Chili Davis. To this day, Chili’s still bitter. That should have been his at-bat.”

Off the Grid

Al Benton, Boston Red Sox and Cleveland Indians

Speaking of perfect timing, here’s a salute to Al Benton, a right-hander for four teams (also the Philadelphia A’s and Detroit Tigers) from 1934 to 1952. Benton holds a unique distinction in baseball history as the only pitcher to face both Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle.

As a rookie for the A’s, Benton faced Ruth 13 times, allowing one single and three walks. In his final season with Boston, he faced Mantle twice, retiring him on a liner and bunt groundout. In between, Benton pitched mostly for Detroit, as a relief ace for the 1940 champions and an All-Star the next two seasons, usually as a starter.

Alas, Benton’s post-baseball life was not as glamorous. According to his SABR biography, he spent much of 1957 evading the police on auto theft charges. He died 11 years later, at age 57, from injuries sustained in a fire at a motel he managed in Lynwood, Calif.

Classic clip

Subway Series Stickball, 1999

How do you pack 516.6 wins above replacement, 44 All-Star selections, 25 Gold Gloves and a couple of Hall of Fame plaques into 30 seconds? As Nike’s ad folks would say, you just do it.

With the Mets and Yankees matching up this weekend in the Bronx, here’s a charming little sneaker commercial from 1999, the third year of interleague play. The cast includes eight players active at the time: the Mets’ John Franco, John Olerud, Rey Ordóñez, Robin Ventura and Masato Yoshii and the Yankees’ Tino Martinez, Mike Stanton and Bernie Williams.

While the boys bicker over stickball rules, old-timers Keith Hernandez, Willie Randolph and Tom Seaver argue from a stoop. Then an 81-year-old Phil Rizzuto gets into a car and drives off with third base — an especially clever bit, since Rizzuto, as a broadcaster, was famous for leaving early to beat the traffic across the George Washington Bridge.

I don’t even mind the generic NYC jerseys or Olerud’s no-logo helmet. It’s a nostalgic callback to the fun, fresh feeling of interleague play in a city where baseball always matters.