McAdam: Ron Roenicke's second chance at managing in the big leagues isn't like he expected

Ron Roenicke asked for this.

But he didn't ask for this.

When the Red Sox and Alex Cora mutually agreed to part ways in January, Roenicke, who had spent the previous two seasons serving as Cora's aide de camp bench coach, pursued the job without reservation or hesitation.

He told chief baseball officer Chaim Bloom that he believed he was uniquely qualified to take over. He knew the personnel. He understood the demands of managing in the Boston market. He had managed in the big leagues (parts of five seasons with Milwaukee) and coached, too.

Most of all, Roenicke, a modest man, told Bloom that he understood the main charge of a modern-day manager: to get the most out of his players through communication and instruction.

In February, Roenicke got (part of) his wish, when he was named interim manager with the understanding that the "interim'' portion would be removed from his title once MLB concluded its investigation of the team's sign-stealing from 2018. It was.

Since then, however, very little has gone according to plan for Roenicke. Like most everything in the world, baseball shut down for almost three and a months before reopening under a blizzard of safety protocols, prior to a shortened 60-game season.

If that weren't enough, Roenicke had reason to believe he was inheriting a team that could at least be competitive in the American League, one capable of playing .500 ball or better. But that was before the organization packed off Mookie Betts and David Price to the Dodgers, saw Chris Sale's season wiped out with Tommy John surgery and later, lost Eduardo Rodriguez for weeks when he tested positive for COVID-19, then, for the remainder of the year thanks to myocarditis, a side effect of contracting the virus.

Rather than managing a pitching staff that featured established starters, Roenicke has had to patch-and-fill with a variety of openers, fill-ins, journeymen, and not-ready-for-prime-time minor leaguers. Often, he's unsure of who will start the next game: the team's press notes, which traditionally lists the probable starting pitchers for upcoming series, on Wednesday, listed "TBD" for four of the five games in Boston's five-game series with the Toronto Blue Jays beginning Thursday afternoon.

It's almost as if the job for which he applied bears little to no resemblance to the one he now holds.

"No doubt, it's changed quite a bit,'' said Roenicke. "But I still feel the same way (about being right for the job). I still believe because of where I was and the experience I think that I've had, dealing with all the different things that have come up...And I'm not saying I'm doing this job perfect, because I don't feel that way.



"But with all that's happened, I think experience really is important and I know that's something we're not seeing quite as much of now in baseball, as being important. But I think it's very important for this year, to have people in place that have experience and have gone through some tough times, that are keeping the players focused and keeping everybody, from top to bottom, on the same page.''

In Wednesday's loss to the Braves, Roenicke trotted out the following pitchers: Robinson Leyer, Mike Kickham and Andrew Triggs.

Often, as was the case in Tuesday's lopsided loss to the Braves, Roenicke finds himself limited in his loves. Some times it's because he's out of rested relievers because a blowout the previous night led to overuse. Some times, it's having to turn to players who aren't ready to handle a role, but options are limited.

In other words, his in-game moves are sometimes being dictated by survival rather than strategy.

"Sometimes,' acknowledged Roenicke ruefully, "it's a little of both."

All of which helps explain why the Red Sox went into Wednesday night tied with the Los Angeles Angels for the worst record in the American League.

"I'm not somebody who likes to lose a lot,'' he said. "It gets to you after a while. It's better for me if I just focus on having lots of conversations with guys -- in game, especially -- and trying to get guys to get a little bit better. And if I feel like I'm getting guys better, then I'm doing my job right. And the wins and losses, sometimes I can't do anything about that.''

But he can't hide from it, either. Roenicke conceded that, from his perch in the home dugout, on the first base side, he can't help but see the division standings on the left field wall, showing the Red Sox in the A.L. East cellar, seemingly in another world from the rest of their rivals.

"Every day that bothers me,'' said Roenicke. "I don't like that at all.''

When Roenicke leaves the ballpark and gets home, he finds refuge in a book to take his mind off baseball. It should come as no surprise, then, that Roenicke says, without irony: "I've read more this year than I've ever read in my life. And I like to read a lot. I'm going through so many books, I can't tell you. But that keeps me sane.''

The losses are bad enough. But what bothers Roenicke nearly as much is that, because of the social distancing rules and protocols in place, he can't be more hands on with players -- teaching, talking and building relationships.

"Absolutely, I've been hampered quite a bit,'' said Roenicke. "Usually, I'll go and sit down by a guy in the locker room and just having conversations and talking about things. Or them popping in my office and talking. That usually goes on almost daily. To not be able to do that (is difficult). And during batting practice, it's tough because they're working on swings and trying to perfect their game and they're locked in. So there's not a lot of time there.

"But it's not what I expected. And I do think that's definitely one of my strengths, is getting the most out of players. But that has to be, if not daily, then two or three times a week, where you can talk to a player and try to get him to either think differently or (make) a mechanical change. And I haven't been able to do it as well (as I would have liked).''