The result has been a clear shift in managerial demographics. Gone are the iconoclasts with big personalities and bigger egos, who decide with their gut and dare you to criticize them after the fact. Gone, even, are the crease-faced baseball lifers whose choices are informed by decades of neuromuscular memory. In their place stands a new kind of archetype: the even-keeled 40-something with quiet charisma and an understanding of the analytics that now rule baseball. It’s no coincidence that the game’s three oldest managers (Baker, the Philadelphia Phillies’ Pete Mackanin, and the New York Mets’ Terry Collins) have all been dumped since the season ended. Nor is it a fluke that three of the five youngest managers in baseball (Boston’s Alex Cora, the Mets’ Mickey Callaway, and Philadelphia’s Gabe Kapler) have been hired in this same window.

There was no better example of this transformation than the just-completed World Series, which pitted the 43-year-old A.J. Hinch (Houston Astros) against the 45-year-old Dave Roberts (Los Angeles Dodgers). Both Hinch and Roberts had little experience, come off as serious yet affable, and readily acknowledge the role of new-age wisdom in their decision-making. Their adherence to stathead principles is evident in how quickly they remove their starting pitchers and how flexibly they deploy their bullpens. Hinch explained recently that his job was to “tie … together” the various aspects of a single-minded organization. “We’re combining [front office efforts] to have one message, one synergy that goes from front office to the manager, the coaching staff, to the players,” he added, as Billy Martin rolled over in his grave.

Hinch and Roberts’ collective success has teams seeking to follow a similar blueprint, which spells bad news for managers who predate baseball’s new world order. Farrell’s firing, which came after his Red Sox lost the American League Division Series to the Astros in four games, was easy enough to explain away. Though Boston had won a World Series and three AL East titles under his command, the team had not only flattened out performance-wise but clubhouse turmoil started to bubble up in recent months, between the pitcher David Price’s clash with the media and the team’s Apple Watch sign-stealing scandal.

The Nationals’ decision to not bring back Baker was a bit more confounding. In two seasons in Washington, Baker won two divisions and twice came within a bad break from securing the franchise’s first playoff series win. Still, his dismissal could be chalked up to ownership’s increasing desperation for playoff success and Baker’s occasionally suspect decision-making.

But the decision that truly announced baseball’s new normal was the Yankees’ choice to let Girardi walk. On the surface, Girardi seemed to tick every box for a modern manager. He was steady and patient, respected by his players, amenable to front-office data, and managed teams that had overperformed projections.