Thanksgiving: Cardinals Manager Mike Shildt

This is another Thanksgiving post. It’s just me, sharing gratitude with the universe, or, at least, the Internet. Who are we thanking today?

Thank You, Cardinals Manager Mike Shildt

Dear Mike Shildt,

I rarely write fan letters to anyone. No, scratch that, I’ve never written a fan letter at all. But this is different. This time, it’s different.

I feel genuine heartache that the organization fired you, especially after that amazing winning streak at the end of the season. I have to admit I don’t know much more than what I read in various media, but I do know what it’s like to be let go of. The awful shock. And I know what it’s like to have a boss whose decisions and direction I disagree with. I also know what it’s like to have a boss who has your back, as well as what it’s like to have a boss who stabs you in the back. I know what it’s like to be in the middle, between the big boss and the people I manage.

I usually only listen to the ballgames over the radio (I much prefer it to TV), and I always make a point of listening to the postgame, and in your comments you always struck me as the kind of boss I’d like to have. No apologies, no blame, just a constant analysis and movement to the future, toward progress, improvement, growth.

You, and the players, did the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt (by fate and by the front office), and I’m sure your confidence in your players meant everything to the team.

When the pitchers were blitzed by injuries and the team was struggling to win games, a lot of people seemed to think your optimistic postgame comments were out of place, but longtime fans—and you, obviously—know that one of the secrets to winning is to rely on your strengths, and not to flail about, second-guess, and change things all the time. We knew you were waiting for reinforcements.

When certain players were not playing up to their historical levels, you didn’t (you probably couldn’t) send them away to the minor leagues. What could you do? I suspect your hands were tied. You didn’t have a limitless array of players.

It seems that when a team is losing, the coaches and managers get blamed, but when the team is winning, all credit goes to the players. And people are fond of pointing out a single misplay (on the field or as a managerial call) and use it to condemn someone who has otherwise done very well. That’s not fair. And if there’s one thing you seem to stand for, it’s fairness.

Even as the storms of injuries tossed the ship, you kept the ship’s wheel steady. When galley boys had to be brought up on deck to do the job of boatswain, your confidence enabled the youngsters to perform admirably (given the circumstances). That’s what a skipper’s supposed to do, and you did it well. No wonder the players like you.

I always enjoyed hearing your interviews. I enjoyed the games I heard; the team clearly improved with you as the manager. Of course, I really enjoyed that run at the end of the season. Amazing what happens when all the pieces are in place, and when reinforcements finally arrive.

During these pandemic years, listening to baseball has been a real godsend. We don’t go out like we used to, but having the game in our home summer evenings helped our minds and spirits to travel everywhere the Cardinals did.

In future seasons, I’ll keep thinking of your impact on the Cardinals, as players you scouted and coached continue to have long, fruitful careers. Development is a huge part of the Cardinals, and that’s one reason we’re so proud as fans.

You’re full of integrity; you’re everything a baseball manager and boss should be. You’re a class act. I know that some team will snatch you up, and that we’ll be seeing you coaching in another postseason, too. And soon. I wish you the best. Thank you.