Jimmy Dugan's unrivaled managerial performance for the 1943 Rockford Peaches
Baseball season is back. Instead of talking about pitchers’ arms falling off or immense gambling debts, let’s talk about something that’s more important than both of those storylines combined.
In 1943, Jimmy Dugan authored the greatest one-season managerial performance in baseball history. What he accomplished with the Rockford Peaches remains unrivaled to this day and it’s about time he was given the respect he deserves.
Jimmy was assigned a franchise in its inaugural season. Did the roster have talent? Sure. But these women had never played as a team. Faced with the challenge of how to bring his players together, he did something none of his peers ever considered: He took a 76-second pee in front of everyone.
Now, sure, in these modern times, peeing in front of your employees would be grounds for immediate dismissal. The woke left will tell you that showing up to work drunk and taking a borderline erotic piss in front of female subordinates has no place in today’s work world. But it was 1943. Times were different. Our country was at war and Jimmy was at war with baseball’s biggest enemy — poor team chemistry.
By being gruff, drunk and/or hungover in the early part of the season, Jimmy gave his players something to rally around. Their hatred for Jimmy brought them closer. It was the foundation of greatness. While other managers were playing checkers, Jimmy was playing chess while peeing.
And public urination wasn’t the only mind tactic Jimmy deployed. Evelyn Gardner had a child and a man at home who wanted no part of being a father. When she asked if she could bring Stilwell on road trips, he didn’t hesitate to say yes. Well, he hesitated a little, but he was hungover. And again, this was 1943. Jimmy’s brave, progressive choice made Evelyn a better, more-focused Peach.
Jimmy was there for Evelyn off the field and on the field. When she wasn’t hitting the cut-off man (I am forced to used the sexist vernacular of the time in the name of historical accuracy), Jimmy knew this could be a problem deep into the season. He decided to air her out in front of everyone at the stadium but did so with some self-deprecation. He pointed out that his manager once called him a talking pile of pig shit, then cracked a joke about the phallic appearance of the umpire to get himself ejected.
His players applauded. They were getting on board.
Once the foundation was laid emotionally, Jimmy was now ready to reveal his in-game prowess.
Marla Hooch — what a hitter — was at the plate with two runners on and one out. Dottie Hinson, your classic superstar player with a terrible attitude, was asking Marla to bunt. Seeing this, Jimmy knew it was time for phase two—maximizing run expectancy. He sent Marla the signal to swing away, and she drove in both runs.
You think Billy Beane invented not bunting? Sorry, that was Jimmy Dugan.
All that stuff? Yawn. Solid managing at best. Here’s where Jimmy revealed his true greatness.
With the team in the midst of a drive to a championship, the integrity of the roster began to crumble in unprecedented fashion.
Betty Spaghetti found out her husband is dead and leaves the team. Understandable. A tough break. Thoughts and prayers to Mrs. Spaghetti. Take all the time you need and come back next season.
But the rest of this roster implosion would have broken most other managers.
Marla gets some good D for the first time in her life and QUITS THE TEAM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SEASON. No manager in baseball history has ever faced this problem. Derek Jeter didn’t tell Joe Torre his career was over after get laid during the 1998 season. Jimmy lost his best hitter to Nelson’s abilities in the bedroom and he didn’t miss a beat.
Then we get to clubhouse cancer Dottie Hinson. Crying all season about how she doesn’t want to be there. Bossing everyone around. Throwing a fit when Jimmy takes over the in-game signal calling. Then she STRONG-ARMED THE LEAGUE INTO TRADING HER SISTER! Kit Keller is traded to arch-rival Racine because, quite frankly, Kit was getting too good.
Dottie, not surprisingly, takes no responsibility. Rockford’s opening day starter, gone. And Dottie’s response is to tell Helen Haley to piss on her hat? That was a nice hat! Dottie was a bad teammate and diva, forcing Jimmy to ignore the fact one of his players couldn’t read and focus more attention than necessary on managing Dottie’s infinite ego.
But he did. And he excelled at it. This team was something special despite all the obstacles.
It didn’t end there, though.
Dottie’s husband comes back from war alive. She uses this as an excuse to quit the team, her latest selfish decision. You don’t think Bill Pullman (that was his character’s name) wouldn’t love some free tickets to a World Series? You think he wants to be in a car for a week listening to his wife whine about Mae’s smoking? Bill seemed supportive and chill, unlike Evelyn’s deadbeat husband, and he probably could’ve used a week of relaxation and baseball, after, you know, BEING IN A WAR.
But since Dottie did not support the troops and her only goal was to sabotage the Peaches while keeping all the attention on her, she becomes the latest player to quit mid-season for D-related reasons.
But in classic Dottie fashion, she got halfway home to Oregon, heard on the radio that the Peaches were doing just fine with Alice Gaspers behind the dish, and turned the car around to complete her destruction of Rockford’s dreams. Dottie returns and intentionally drops the ball in a home plate collision with her sister, giving Racine a title and delivering one final death blow to Rockford.
Then of course, Dottie quits baseball forever, her diabolical scheme completed.
Handed a team of individuals that needed to be quickly molded into a team, losing a front-line starting pitcher, Betty’s presence in the outfield and on the mound, Marla’s big bat because she found a big bat of her own and the all-around talent of Dottie behind the plate mid-season, Jimmy guided his Peaches to within one win of a World Series.
That’s why I’m calling for Major League Baseball to name the manager of the year award after Jimmy Dugan. Sure, critics will say that’s stupid because Jimmy is fictional and this incredible season didn’t happen in the majors or on any plane of reality. Well, shut up. Who cares? End your own free Substack posts how you want.