Steps from home Bruce Bochy’s walk from his condo to Oracle Park is only six minutes door to door, but it took the Giants manager a lifetime of achievements to get there.

Steps from home Bruce Bochy’s walk from his condo to Oracle Park is only six minutes door to door, but it took the Giants manager a lifetime of achievements to get there.

Bruce Bochy eats his oatmeal with blueberries and almond butter in his China Basin condo Tuesday morning while texting with his boss about a major roster shakeup.

Editor's note In this fourth installment of a five-part series covering Bruce Bochy’s final season, the Giants manager permitted a Chronicle reporter and photographer to observe a day in his life.

This day is busier than most because the Giants are making six transactions, including the promotion of Mauricio Dubon, the team’s hotshot infield prospect, and the release of second baseman Scooter Gennett. The moves won’t be announced until 2:30 p.m., and Bochy and president of baseball operations Farhan Zaidi, who had discussed them at Oracle Park after Monday night’s game, continue communicating about the roster.

The Giants manager is sitting in a leather chair in front of a window overlooking gorgeous views of the bay, harbor and ballpark.

The location is extremely convenient. When Bochy managed the Padres, he drove 25 miles from the family home in Poway to Petco Park, and now he’s so close to the yard that he’ll walk across the street on off-days to use the workout facilities.

“This place is perfect,” Bochy says. “I can’t imagine I made that drive from Poway every day.”

On the Embarcadero, many hours before every Giants game, Bochy takes the walk he had never anticipated, the walk that was too far-fetched to be a dream. Too unimaginable to be real.

The walk along Second Street and across King Street. The walk over two streetcar tracks in front of statues of Orlando Cepeda and Gaylord Perry below a giant promotional poster of Madison Bumgarner. The walk to a place he never expected when he got his first minor league managing gig in 1989.

A big-league ballpark. A manager’s office. And the final stages of a Hall of Fame career.

“I didn’t see myself managing in the major leagues,” Bochy says from the condo in a King Street tower, accompanied by his wife of 41 years, Kim. “I would’ve been happy staying in the minor leagues. That’s how much I loved it.”

When Kim mentions they’ve accumulated a “ton of stuff” since moving in seven years ago, Bruce says, “We’ll look like the Clampetts driving home.”

A month of regular-season games remain for the 64-year-old three-time World Series champion. When it’s over, the Bochys will return to Poway. And then? To be determined.

“We don’t know where we’ll be living. We don’t have any plans,” says Kim, supportive, upbeat and accommodating to her husband’s career. “We didn’t want to have that on our minds. After the season, we can decide all that.”

For now, there’s a game to win.

12:10 p.m.

Bochy kisses Kim, rides the elevator to the lobby, takes the walk across the street, enters the ballpark, saunters down a long hallway, turns right into the home clubhouse and makes an immediate left into his office.

It’s only six minutes door to door but a lifetime of achievements to get there. He turns on the lights, and it begins.

“Home, sweet home,” Bochy says 6½ hours before Tuesday night’s game against the Diamondbacks. “I’ll miss this.”

“This” is his office. But also his job. His career. His journey. His players. His coaches. His successes. Even his failures. He’ll miss it all because it’s all he has known since he managed his first game in 1989 for the Spokane Indians of the Class A Northwest League.

12:21 p.m.

After slipping on his uniform, Bochy sits behind his desk and reaches for his lineup card. Longtime clubhouse man Mike Murphy, who’s playing Frank Sinatra tunes on the sound system, emerges from his nearby office. Bochy says, “Murph, you the man. I need you to do the lineup.”

Of course, Bochy does it. Like always. He had come up with an order the night before, so it’s a formality. Against right-hander Mike Leake, Bochy’s inserting five left-handed batters, including catcher Stephen Vogt over struggling Buster Posey.

Bochy writes in Mike Yastrzemski at leadoff even though the outfielder’s wrist is sensitive two days after getting plunked. A change could be made later.

The subject of analytics surfaces, and Bochy calls Michael Schwartze, baseball operations analyst, into his office to explain to a couple of visitors how he provides data to players and coaches that aids their performance and strategy. Schwartze spends entire games in a room next to Bochy’s office crunching the numbers.

“I’ll be in there sitting with him next year,” quipped Bochy, who added, “Players are intrigued by it. They want to know. They’re curious. They want to get better. Most of them are all in.”

Beyond managing the game, Bochy fills countless roles throughout the day. It seems everyone needs a piece of his time, and he accommodates.

1 p.m.

The flood of meetings continues. Bochy consults with pitching coaches Curt Young and Matt Herges to review Monday’s game and see who’s available in the bullpen, trainer Dave Groeschner to get the first of several medical updates, and media relations director Matt Chisholm to go over the manager’s schedule, including any interview requests.

Bochy also phones Gennett, who had left the clubhouse Monday night before the brass could talk with him. Bochy explains it was a matter of pivoting to a younger mix of Dubon and Donovan Solano and giving Gennett a chance to join a team before Sunday’s deadline for playoff eligibility.

Through it all, Bochy finds 20 minutes to ride a stationary bike and eat lunch — clam chowder, for starters, prepared by a team chef.

3:10 p.m.

Chisholm is in Bochy’s office having him sign dozens of copies of “Bochy Ball! The Chemistry of Winning and Losing in Baseball, Business, and Life.” He’ll sign more of the books authored by Kevin and Jackie Freiberg later, 160 in all. That’s how many the Commonwealth Club purchased for his sold-out Sept. 14 appearance.

3:30 p.m.

Dubon peeks his head into the office.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Bochy asks.

“How are ya?” the kid responds.

They meet for four minutes, a short but upbeat session in which Bochy congratulates Dubon, makes him feel at home and lets him know, “Just be ready.” Somewhere along the line, Dubon’s nickname is revealed. And for a reporter, he spells it.

“D-U-B-I,” he says, pronouncing it “Doobie.”

Bochy says, “Dubi, that’s a good name in this city.”

3:45 p.m.

Broadcaster Mike Krukow walks in, asks Bochy for a scouting report on Dubon and boasts that the infielder grew up a Giants fan.

“He knew who I was,” Krukow beamed.

3:54 p.m.

Groeschner reappears and gives Bochy the latest medical update to relay to the media. The MRI exam shows reliever Trevor Gott has a mildly strained right flexor tendon and a Grade 1 sprain of his ulnar collateral ligament. He’s to be shut down for two weeks but possibly could pitch again before season’s end. Johnny Cueto came out of his rehab start fine and will make one more before joining the Giants. Yastrzemski’s officially a go.

4 p.m.

Accompanied by Chisholm, Bochy leaves his office, exits the clubhouse, walks down the steps toward the indoor batting cage and up more steps to the dugout, where 19 media members wait for his daily pregame briefing.

The questions focus on Gott’s and Cueto’s conditions, Gennett’s release and the plans for Dubon and fellow newcomer Tyler Rogers. Bochy has all the answers.

The Chronicle’s Henry Schulman asks whether the Giants are waving the white flag on the season by replacing a veteran second baseman with an untested prospect.

Without hesitation, Bochy says it’s actually “the opposite,” suggesting it could be an upgrade and reminding that Gennett missed much of the season and wasn’t exactly raking. Dubon will get time at second and short.

4:10 p.m.

The news conference ends. Most of the beat writers withdraw to post updates on their popular Twitter accounts. Two of Bochy’s favorites, Janie McCauley of the Associated Press and Manolo Hernandez Douen of beisbolporgotas.blogspot.com, prefer to chew the fat with him in off-the-record dialogue that includes plenty of teasing and chuckling. Some of the beat writers’ most memorable times with Bochy come after the cameras are turned off and he shares stories on various subjects, personal, professional or otherwise.

4:14 p.m.

Bochy goes to his next station at the far end of the dugout with NBC Sports Bay Area’s Alex Pavlovic, who pulls out old baseball cards of Bochy and asks him to reminisce on camera.

Probed about his 1980s mustache featured on many cards, Bochy wisecracks that he’s not ruling out growing it back later in the year. Pavlovic flips around one card and notes Bochy had his only stolen base with the 1986 Padres.

“Highlight of my career,” says Bochy, adding he returned to the dugout and got yelled at by manager Dick Williams, who was unaware that third-base coach Harry Dunlop had flashed the steal sign. “I didn’t rat out my third-base coach.”

4:21 p.m.

Bochy walks onto the field and, as his custom, greets fans gathered in a roped-off area near the backstop. He tells stories, poses for pictures and signs autographs.

4:30 p.m.

Jon Miller approaches for Bochy’s daily pregame radio show. On the grass in foul territory, Miller asks about the moves and about whether getting younger means the Giants are turning away from the wild-card race.

Bochy assures Miller he’s “going with the hotter hitter out there right now.”

After 6 minutes and 24 seconds, Miller wraps it up: “Giants-D’backs on the radio is next, and that’s today’s Bochy.”

4:38 p.m.

Bochy makes his way behind the cage, where he stands alongside hitting coach Alonzo Powell, broadcaster Duane Kuiper and ex-Giants outfielder Randy Winn, among others, and watches the end of batting practice. Bochy later slips into the indoor cage to speak with Powell about particular hitters, including Posey.

5 p.m.

Bochy re-enters the clubhouse, where he eats dinner, calls his son Brett to wish him a happy birthday and makes final preparations for his 4,002nd game in which he’s aiming for his 1,992nd win.

Because of the grind of a baseball season, Bochy had little time to watch his boys, both pitchers, play ball — that was Kim’s duty, and she carried it out faithfully. He saw them play a handful of times in Little League, rarely in high school and never in college.

Both pitched professionally, but not until Brett joined the Giants in late 2014 and 2015 did Bruce get a chance to see him on a regular basis, and he never was more nervous as a manager.

Brett, 32, is a real-estate agent in San Diego, and Greg, 40, whose birthday was a day before Brett’s, is a San Francisco firefighter.

“Above all the accomplishments he’s had with his job, I think the thing I’m most proud of is we were able to raise our boys in a happy home even surrounded with all this craziness we live in,” Kim says at the ballpark. “That’s a big accomplishment.”

Bruce figures to see his family more in retirement. He has two grandkids and a third on the way.

6:40 p.m.

Bochy brings his lineup card to home plate and makes small talk with four umpires and Jerry Narron, Arizona’s bench coach who’s handing over the Diamondbacks’ lineup.

6:45 p.m.

His arms over the rail at the near corner of the dugout, Bochy watches Jeff Samardzija throw the evening’s first pitch to Jarrod Dyson, a cutter away for a ball. Dyson flies to Yastrzemski. Samardzija pitches five solid innings and Rogers makes his debut with a wonderful 11-pitch eighth inning. But the bats are meager once again. Five hits.

The offense shows life in the eighth until a line-drive double play ends the inning. Bochy throws up both arms.

The Giants lose 3-2. Everyone on the dugout rail retreats to get his gear and head to the clubhouse. Except Bochy. He lingers a few extra moments, mourning his 2,011th loss. He finally disappears from view once Brandon Crawford, whose bouncer to second ended the game, comes off the field.

9:41 p.m.

Bochy, after a cooling-off period, again meets the media, this time in the interview room adjacent to the clubhouse. The first question is why the Giants have played the Diamondbacks so well in Arizona (7-3) yet so poorly at home (2-7).

“We have not played at home as well as we should,” Bochy says. “I’ve said this so many times. You try to explain it, but you really can’t. It’s really hard to make sense of it. It’s baseball.”

Bochy cracks a teeny smile when asked about Rogers, a submarine pitcher who spent three years in Triple-A and whose twin brother, Taylor, pitches for the Twins.

“I’m glad this kid’s getting a chance,” Bochy said. “You normally look at guys throwing 95, and here he is throwing 83, 84 from down there, and he’s getting outs. That’s what it’s about.”

9:46 p.m.

Bochy walks from the podium to the clubhouse for some rare down time. In a quiet moment, he says, “You take losses even harder as a manager than a player.” As a player, his responsibility was to himself. As a manager, it’s to 25 players, the coaches and the staff.

Kim is in the family lounge outside the clubhouse, which isn’t unusual. It’s a quick walk home, but she likes to wait it out and walk with her husband across the street. It could be hours, especially with late-night meetings. Or it could be a bit quicker, like Tuesday.

Either way, it’s still hard for her husband to get over a loss, and no one knows better than Kim.

“I hope he gets a lot of it out in there,” she says, glancing at the clubhouse door. “I’ve learned to just let him process it all, let him do his thing. He did make a conscious decision before this season that he would not let things get to him.

“He was going to enjoy this year, win, lose or whatever, and I do think he’s done a lot better in that department. It was really hard in those early months, but he still handled it really, really well, I have to say.”

Bruce emerges from the clubhouse, and Kim greets him with a smile. The two walk the long hallway to the exit.

“Good night, Mr. Bochy,” a stadium employee says. Another chimes in, “Good game.”

Once outside, Bochy is spotted by a guy who always seems to be around.

“How ya doin’, Bruce,” he says. “I got Tyler Rogers’ autograph.”

“Hey, Wild Bill,” Bochy says. “I let you down tonight, Bill.”

“It’s all right, we’ll beat San Diego. See you Thursday. Enjoy tomorrow’s off day.”

The Bochys walk across the street toward the condo, and Bruce stops on the other side to reflect.

“You’ve got to remind yourself your sense of significance can’t be with wins and losses,” he said. “You want to win, but you can’t wear it too long. Family is the most important thing, family and friends. These (losses) aren’t easy. After the game, sure, it’s tough. You go through the game and say, ‘Well, what could I have done different to make a difference?’ After that … hey, it’s my son’s birthday. There’s too much to be thankful for.”

At that point, Kim reminds Bruce she has a banana cream pie for him, and what could be better?

“You’re going to have these tough losses,” Bruce continues. “What’s important is how you deal with them. The guys have done a good job of bouncing back. We’re off tomorrow, then we gotta bounce back.”

With that, the Bochys get in the elevator and call it a day.

John Shea is The San Francisco Chronicle’s national baseball writer. Email: jshea@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @JohnSheaHey