COMMENTARY : Harrelson Not Exerting Necessary Control

Bud Harrelson just doesn’t get it. He can’t seem to grasp that he is the manager, the boss, the man who is paid to make decisions, to control the clubhouse and to assert himself. We have known this for some time now. But the man’s refusal to acknowledge responsibility hit an absurdly low point Tuesday night.

It has been five days now since Vince Coleman, in a public act of insubordination, cursed out New York Mets’ coach Mike Cubbage in San Diego during batting practice. Coleman was hitting out of turn in the batting-practice order and Cubbage told him so. This happened after several players had told Coleman the same thing, but he refused to listen to them.

So Coleman unleashed his assault on Cubbage. It was not tame. It was loud and it was vile. Cubbage later said, “No one’s ever talked to me like that.”

Coleman then fired his helmet and bat against the back wall of the dugout, stomped off into the clubhouse and sulked. This from the same man who, while taking the Mets for $11.95 million last winter, put on a tie, affected the good graces of a Boy Scout, and had Mets VP Al Harazin convinced he was as genteel as Doc Gooden, if not Doc Welby.

He showed up a coach in full view of other players and media. And what has Harrelson, as the manager, done about it? He has handled it as deftly as he does most everything else. That is, he has done nothing about it, unless you count his infantile wishing that everything “negative” in life would go away.

When Harrelson spoke to reporters before Tuesday night’s game in Los Angeles, his explanation for doing nothing bordered on the ridiculous. It started with this: “It was a moment of insanity. I’m just kind of letting it ride. He got four hits (Monday) night.”

What does four hits have to do with anything? If Coleman strikes out four times, does Harrelson pull him aside and say, “We have to talk”? The message is that you can embarrass a coach as long as you get four hits in a game.

Reporters kept at it with Harrelson. They could not comprehend the man’s complete ignorance of his responsibility. Didn’t he see the need to support one of his coaches?

“It’s between Mike and Vince,” Harrelson said. “It doesn’t involve me. I don’t think it’s going to be resolved by me talking to him.”

But Buddy, you’re the manager. It’s your job, right? “What am I supposed to do, solve all the problems?” he said.

By now it was clear Harrelson didn’t have a clue. But we kept pressing, hoping some light would click on in the dark corners of his mind. But every fuse was out. Would he ever talk to Coleman about it? “I’m not sure,” he said. “What if I ask him to apologize and he says no?”

Try this, Buddy. Give Coleman two choices: Apologize to Cubbage or sit your butt on the bench until you do. It’s that simple.

It seems Harrelson is intimidated by Coleman, who, despite having his health, lifetime financial security and the admiration of his peers, skulks around life with a “Do Not Disturb” sign on his face. Jeffrey Leonard, old “Penitentiary Face” himself, looks like Ernie Banks compared to Coleman.

But then, Harrelson is the same man who decided to do nothing about teammates sniping at Gregg Jefferies. When that situation worsened, Jefferies didn’t take his appeal for understanding to the manager. He took it to a fax machine. He sent an “open letter to the fans” to WFAN radio in New York. The problem still festers like mildew, smelling worse all the time. Harrelson explained that it was a matter between players. Why, he doesn’t even bother to intervene in disputes between his children, he said.

When Dave Magadan and Howard Johnson popped off over the weekend about “bad attitudes” on the team, Harrelson did nothing about that, either.

A team meeting was in order to discuss what David Cone would later call “borderline dissension.” But when Harrelson was asked about speaking to the team, he said, “I thought about it, but every time I come to the ballpark I feel differently -- that it’s all just going to work out.”

Just what are the Mets paying Harrelson to do? Any manager knows when to double-switch and it’s not too difficult to change pitchers, put the hit-and-run play on once in a while and send up a pinch hitter. The real job is running the clubhouse. That often means asserting your authority.

Ask Jim Leyland about that. When malcontent Barry Bonds wouldn’t stop whining, the Pittsburgh manager got right in his face. He chewed him out in front of the TV cameras in spring training. Not a discouraging word has been heard from the Pirates’ clubhouse since. Do you think Harrelson would have acted similarly?

You can talk all you want about the Pirates’ bullpen depth and the sock in the middle of their lineup, but where they really have it all over the Mets is in the dugout. If you didn’t know that already, during the past five days, Harrelson has left no doubt about it.