When Toronto writers descend on his office at 4 p.m. on game day, they find John Gibbons in repose. Often he’s wearing a grey T-shirt with the sleeves sliced off and he’s leaning back in his chair, almost to the tipping point, and wearing a big grin. His cowboy boots, decorated with white stars on blue stripes, stand in his corner locker.



It takes a while to get down to the business of discussing his Blue Jays. The manager loves small talk, and sometimes the small talk goes long, featuring the occasional dig at a reporter, followed by a side-eyed wink and a burst of guttural laughter, just so no one takes it the wrong way.



Which no one does. Gibbons has a folksy, self-deprecating way of making everyone around him feel comfortable. The former catcher walks a little like John Wayne used to in those old western movies, as though he’s a tad sore from a long day in the saddle, but his typical mien is affable, no matter the pressures he and his team face...