I was a little disappointed in this book. Perhaps I don't have a right to be; in many ways, I've spoiled it for myself. For years, I've preached on Weaver's style without reading it from his own tome. For example, I've used Weaver's example of using Mark Bellanger at shortstop. Bellanger was one of the worst-hitting position players in baseball, but Weaver played him for his defense, knowing that having Bellanger out there would make life easier on his pitchers, that a pinch-hitter could take Bellanger's place in a crucial offensive situation, and Bellanger actually did hit well against certain pitchers - including the great Nolan Ryan. My point was that there are no disposable people; you succeed in life because of what people CAN do, not because of what they can't. I didn't find that kind of nuance in Weaver's thinking as expressed here, though. It seems that some of Weaver's virtues may have remained hidden from the man himself.
The guts of the book come down to playing good defensive players and living by base hits and home runs on offense, perhaps sacrificing defense in the outfield corners in favor of good hitters. Weaver felt that a team should seldom bunt, squeeze bunt even less, and never, ever use the traditional hit-and-run play - though he did believe in the more aggressive "run and hit," where the runner on first base breaks for second at full speed while the hitter swings away. Weaver also reveals his (perhaps grudging) use of basestealing in certain situations, especially against pitchers with poor pickoff moves like Ryan.
Weaver comes off as egotistical in places, often reminding the reader that he never had a losing season (though after the book came out, the Orioles called him back for a brief period, putting an end to that streak). The book can come off as monotonous as well; we hear the same things about the same players (Bellanger, Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Lee May, Eddie Murray, Jim Palmer, and a few others) time and again. Granted, this was the life of a manager in a settled position in the days before free agency's full bloom, but ghostwriter Terry Pluto should have seen this and done something about it, perhaps using more parallel examples from other teams to break things up.
It is striking - almost breathtaking - how the pitching game has changed since Weaver's day. Current practice is to keep five starting pitchers in rotation with strict pitch counts, using spot starters at any hint of arm trouble and commonly using four pitchers a game. Any current manager who rode his best pitchers the way Weaver did - going with a four-man rotation, replacing pitchers on hunches instead of pitch counts, and getting nine innings from his top guys more often than not - would find himself unemployed in a big hurry. The Orioles' use of top-flight defensive talent mitigated this somewhat, but Weaver's handling of the pitching staff today would be as out of place as a raised toilet seat in a convent.
These points aside, there are some interesting nuggets here. Weaver feels passionately that the manager is the only person who should ever argue with the umpire, and one might infer that the intensity of Weaver's well-known tirades (which earned him 89 ejections in his first fifteen years of managing) were intended to deflect the anger of his players and keep them in the game. In a moment of modesty, Weaver admits that if he gets thrown out of a game it doesn't hurt the team; if a Hall of Fame players gets kicked out, that's a different story.
Perhaps most disturbing is Weaver's distant, authoritarian approach to players; he doubts that he ever said more than ten words to Frank Robinson. Weaver is blunt in having never praised his players or become friends with any of them, feeling it would complicate the times when the manager would have to chew players out; perhaps this is why Jim Palmer bore Weaver such animosity despite their mutual success. This sets up a interesting parallel between Weaver and Joe McCarthy, the winningest manager of all time by percentage, who made a habit of being some players' personal cheering section while simultaneously earning a reputation as a disciplinarian. Weaver (perhaps at Pluto's behest) includes an episode where the manager wins a fight with Reggie Jackson about wearing a tie when the team traveled. McCarthy made a show of eschewing his dress code when he managed tie-hating Ted Williams, reasoning that if a manager couldn't get along with a .400 hitter it was the manager's problem.
Weaver on Strategy is probably still mandatory reading for baseball sachems. There is much to learn here, and it is gratifying to see Weaver use pre-Moneyball statistics in running ballgames, as detailed in chapter nine, with real-game examples in chapter 11. Weaver had a canny baseball mind, and it is instructive to see it at work, especially as it applies to matching players to specific situations. This book could have been better, but it is worthwhile none the less.