Marlins manager Dan Jennings has an impossible task - to the delight of many

Bob Nightengale | USA TODAY Sports

PITTSBURGH - Dan Jennings watched the reporters leave his office Wednesday afternoon after yet another Miami Marlins loss, grabbed his Bud Light, angrily slammed it on his desk, and cursed in sheer frustration.

Jennings has been on the job 10 days as the Marlins' manager, but with the sleepless nights, stressful decisions and grueling losses, it's already felt like 10 years.

The Marlins' players, who so badly wanted to believe this was their year to finally make the playoffs again, sat numb in the clubhouse. There were only muffled whispers. Guys stared blankly into their cellphones, looking up only to check what time the team bus was leaving for the airport.

It's another miserable season in South Beach, with the Marlins swept Wednesday by the Pittsburgh Pirates, 5-2, and sitting in last place in the NL East, with the third-worst record in baseball.

Yet, this one has been like no other.

In these last 10 days, they hired a manager who used to be their general manager, and whose lone coaching experience was back in high school three decades ago. They hired a bench coach, Mike Goff, who was their advance scout, and childhood friend of Jennings. They moved their assistant hitting coach, Lenny Harris, to third base. They moved their third base coach, Brett Butler, to the bench. And they've had three starters and their starting first baseman, Michael Morse, go on the disabled list.

No wonder when Marlin players walked into the clubhouse Wednesday morning, and saw Jim Leyland sitting in Jennings' office, they couldn't help but wonder if Leyland was returning to the manager's chair.

Hey, after what they've witnessed over the years, they're become immune to surprises.

It turns out that Leyland, who led the Marlins to the 1997 World Series title and retired a year ago, was simply offering Jennings advice on everything from pre-game preparation to clubhouse leadership. It was much appreciated, Jennings said, finding a friendly face. Finally, someone who wasn't ridiculing him or the Marlins for making perhaps the oddest managerial hire since Ted Turner left the owners' box for a game to manage his Atlanta Braves in 1977.

Managerial changes will always be part of baseball, but when you hire someone whose lone coaching experience consists of a stint at Davidson High School in Mobile, Ala., 30 years ago it takes on a different flavor.

The last time a manager was hired with only high-school experience on his resume was Walt Weiss of the Colorado Rockies. Yet, Weiss also happened to have a 14-year playing career who played in three World Series. Jennings was in the Yankees' minor-league camp in 1984 with Class A Greenville, but was released at the end of spring, and never played a professional game.

The Marlins, according to a high-ranking official, seriously discussed several candidates once they decided to fire Mike Redmond. They talked about bringing in Ron Washington, who resigned from the Texas Rangers last September. They brought up Dusty Baker, who fired by the Cincinnati Reds after the 2013 season.

Yes, if you can believe it, they also debated the idea of bringing back Ozzie Guillen, who was fired by these same Marlins after the 2012 season, and is still being paid $2.5 million. Yet, fearing a backlash from corporate sponsors about Guillen's comments praising Fidel Castro that got him axed in the first place, that was squashed too.

Anointing Jennings, however, elicited attacks and ridicule the moment the news broke.

And now, after losing eight of their first 10 games under Jennings, it's still open season.

"I knew this was going to be scrutinized,'' Jennings told USA TODAY Sports. "I definitely expected to hear some of the cynical comments. Everybody is entitled to their opinion, and people want to focus on the negative.''

Oh, and it's been ugly, even if Jennings is considered one of the greatest guys you'll want to meet in the game, and well-respected as a shrewd talent evaluator.

"If people truly knew DJ, and knew what kind of guy he is, there probably wouldn't be as many shots taken as there are,'' Goff told USA TODAY Sports. "But right now, he's an open target.

"And everyone who gets a chance to take a shot at him is going to take it. Everything that doesn't work is going to be magnified. That's just the way this business is. It's not easy for him. It's not easy for his family. It's not easy for this ball club.

"But no one said this damn thing was fair.''

Jennings, who twisted his left knee trying to relieve some stress jogging in the outfield last weekend, can't even walk without pain these days. But as bad as the leg hurts, the losing and criticism are a lot more excruciating.

"Hey, I don't disagree with some of the things people are saying,'' Jennings said. "I get it. But I'm going to tell you what, I was in that (expletive) car and driving 50,000 and 60,000 miles a year, and grinding out three to four games a day as a scout. So I paid my dues as well.

"Really, the only opinion that counts are those guys in there.''

Jennings motioned to a Marlins clubhouse where the players should be accustomed to chaos by now, the franchise going through seven managers in the last nine years, but there's been nothing like this one. The players who are willing to speak publicly make sure they say the right thing, but yet, they are confused.

They would love to openly speak their mind, but they also want a paycheck, and are fearful of the consequences.

"It does not matter,'' said Marlins All-Star right fielder Giancarlo Stanton, when asked his opinion of the changes. "It does not matter.''

Stanton acknowledges that Jennings was one of the biggest reasons he decided to sign a $325 million contract extension during the winter. He trusted Jennings. He believed in the organization's direction. Never in his wildest imagination did he ever think Jennings would one day be managing the team.

"It's a very interesting situation,'' Stanton told USA TODAY Sports. "There's a lot of people from the outside judging him. He can't worry about all of the other stuff, but at the same time, he has a job to do. He's working very hard to make the transition and understand the difference in roles, and just how difficult it is.''

Really, everyone in the clubhouse is trying to make the best out of an awkward situation, trying to tell themselves there's still more than four months to play.

At the same time, they cringe at the thought there still are four months to play.

"I've been through managerial decisions before, so you kind of know what to expect," said Marlins veteran infielder Jeff Baker, who has played for six teams. "But a lot of guys haven't been through this before, and they're kind of in shock. There's always an adjustment period, but this situation is unique.

"One day, you're seeing DJ as your general manager. The next day, he's your manager.''

No wonder when the Barnum and Bailey circus train came rolling past PNC Park on Tuesday, someone asked aloud if the Marlins' bus had just arrived.

"It's hard with all of the stuff that's gone on,'' said starter Dan Haren, who talked with Jennings a few days ago. "We want him to do well. Obviously, we want to win. But it's a tough situation for him.

"It's going to take time because of the initial shock value.''

Ichiro Suzuki, who has played 23 seasons in Major League baseball and Japan, told USA TODAY Sports he was shocked to wake up and discover Jennings was his new manager. He never had a manager in his life who never played professional baseball.

"Usually, you think about moves and stuff that could happen,'' Suzuki said, "but this one, I never even imagined it. I worried about what the players might think, or what the fans might think. So I tried to lighten the mood.''

Suzuki showed up with a necktie, presenting it to Jennings in the dugout, letting him know that while he may now be wearing a manager's uniform, he can still be a suit at heart.

Jennings' biggest obstacle as manager simply may be gaining acceptance. Baltimore Orioles manager Buck Showalter ridiculed him one day for his bullpen usage, while Arizona rookie manager Chip Hale criticized the fact that he's even a manager, and made sure to point out a game-winning pinch-hit came about because Jennings did not have a pitcher warming up.

"The thing I couldn't figure is that I've known Buck a long time, we beat them two out of three games,'' Jennings said, "and then he's all angry and pissy. Come on, I've always given Buck respect. And I never met Chip Hale until I took the lineup card out one day.

"I respect every manager and what they've done to get here, but the bottom line is I'm not here to kiss anyone's ass and take them to dinner.

"I'm trying to beat their ass.''

It's not as if Jennings was lobbying for this job. He wanted to keep Redmond. He preached patience when Redmond's job was in jeopardy two weeks into the season.

And when it came time to fire him, Jennings didn't even deliver the news, with club presidents David Samson and Mike Hill informing Redmond.

Yet, despite his affable personality, and three decades of working his way up from an area scout, Jennings is Public Enemy No. 1 on the field. Managers want him to fail. They fear that if this works, someone else may try to copy it. At the least, any success will only deepen the notion that the dugout is becoming a mere extension of the front office.

Logic tells us this will be only a short-term experiment, lasting until the end of the season. If the Marlins had placed an interim label on Jennings' managerial position, maybe he'd already be back upstairs, where his job title remains unfilled.

"I think he's being looked at as a test model,'' Goff said, "wondering whether it can be done. But the one thing about DJ is that he's not afraid to take on anything.

"To him, this is a challenge.''

"A huge challenge.''

And yes, much to the delight of the managerial fraternity, perhaps an impossible challenge.

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