Is it possible that we here at the Seventh-Inning Scratch are horsemen of the managerial apocalypse? Consider the following: Only three of the skippers ranked on last year’s “Worst Baseball Managers” list remain employed in that same capacity. Eerie, right? Anyway, here’s your 2009 Opposite-Of-Good MLB Manager rankings—updated from our preseason rankings to reflect the slovenliness and brain-melting inanity of the season's first six weeks.

7. Manny Acta, Washington Nationals

Why? His I’ll-do-anything-to-gain-an-imaginary-advantage tactics extend games without affecting the end result. The endless procession of pinch-hitters and relievers brings to mind a parade that marches blissfully into a brick wall.

Mitigating factor: He’s a smart, thoughtful guy—look! There’s Baseball Prospectus on his shelf, right next to a dog-eared copy of Bunt This!, Jerkface, by Earl Weaver with foreword by Sparky Anderson—who hasn’t had a whole lot to work with. Executed with and by real players, Acta’s process would make a lot more sense.

 

6. Eric Wedge, Cleveland Indians

Why? You look at the talent he’s had on hand and you can’t help but wonder why the results haven’t been more favorable. It’s like: Play more better! Play more better, dammit! But such appeals would be syntactically imprecise.

Mitigating factor: He didn’t sign the relievers who have largely been responsible for the Indians’ failures under his watch.

 

5. Dusty Baker, Cincinnati Reds

Why? After 16 years as one of the dummyhead-iest big-league skippers, he still doesn’t get the whole “if you let your starters throw 184 pitches per game, eventually they’ll wear down” thing. Last year, Dusty crippled staff ace Aaron Harang by using him for four innings in relief two days following his previous start. This happened against the Padres. In May. Harang spent the next three months blowing on his forearm and wincing.

Mitigating factor: In one isolated respect, Dusty might actually be getting smarter: In 2008, he not only gave regular at-bats to under-25 players like Joey Votto and Jay Bruce, but also declined to replace them with a rickety veteran (read: his obsessive crush Corey Patterson) when they hit an inevitable rough patch. Good Dusty! Good Dusty!


4. Clint Hurdle, Colorado Rockies

Why? He loves calling for sacrifice bunts like a billy goat loves gnawing on lawn furniture. There is nothing in the world Hurdle would rather do than give away an out—of which teams are allotted a mere three per inning—to move a base runner up 90 feet. Judging by his over-reliance on this inefficient act, we can only conclude that he attains something akin to sexual gratification from its successful execution.

Mitigating factor: He lacks an oh-so-colorful dugout quirk, like Dusty Baker gnawing on a toothpick or Joe Torre digging for gold in the northwest quadrant of his left nostril.


3. Cecil Cooper, Houston Astros

Why? He leads the league in sitting on his hands and in sticking with a batting order, no matter how theoretically and practically nonsensical it may be. If inactivity were a virtue, he’d be our baseball Pope.

Mitigating factor: Uh, well, let’s see… Cooper ranks fifth among all active managers in alphabetical order.

2. Bruce Bochy, San Francisco Giants

Why? He systematically abuses young pitchers, to the extent that local protective-services bureaus ought to be alerted. If somebody treated an elite race horse the way Bochy did 2008 Cy Young winner Tim Lincecum, the ASPCA would declare jihad on his ass.

Mitigating factor: If your team lacked hitters proficient in the art of making solid contact with pitched balls, you’d ride the pitchers, too. You would. Just admit it. Admitting it is the first step to recovery.


1. Ron Washington, Texas Rangers

Why? When the best thing you can say about a skipper is “reformed lunatics like Milton Bradley and Josh Hamilton didn’t do any harm to themselves or others under his watch,” you know you’re reaching. His teams play as if they haven’t been coached: they miss signals, swing away in obvious take situations (and vice versa), and run the bases as if recently concussed. In conclusion, we’re not sure why he gets to manage a major-league team and we don’t.

Mitigating factor: Everybody calls him “Wash.” We can’t hate a guy nicknamed “Wash.”