You know what they say ...

If it walks like a duck
sounds like a duck
and looks like a duck,
then it's probably a duck.

Don Baylor walks like a manager, he sounds like a manager, he certainly looks like a manager, and of course he is a manager. But a good manager? The evidence is mixed, at best.

Don Baylor is a fine "baseball man," but time has passed him by, leaving too many things that don't work in the 21st century. Let's not feel too sorry for him, though. He's made a good living in the game for three decades, and he'll have a job in baseball for as long as he wants one. "Manager" just shouldn't be that job any more.

Baylor has now managed in the major leagues for eight-and-a-half seasons, and he's led exactly one team -- the 1995 Colorado Rockies -- to the postseason. It's hard to put a finger on any one thing that led to Baylor's downfall in Chicago, but sabermetric types can't help but notice that he has, for more than a few years now, held a bizarre fascination with the sacrifice bunt.

     Team     SH  Rank  
1993 Rockies  70   10
1994 Rockies  50   11 
1995 Rockies  82    2
1996 Rockies  81    2
1997 Rockies  73    8
1998 Rockies  98    1
2000 Cubs     89    1
2001 Cubs    117    1
2002 Cubs     51    3

Does anyone know what happened to Don Baylor during the winter following the 1994 season? Was he possessed by the ghost of Gene Mauch or something?

Probably not, because Mauch was alive then (and still is). But whatever the cause, beginning in 1995, Baylor's teams finished first or second in the National League in sacrifice hits in five of his next six seasons as manager. This year, Baylor's Cubs have dropped down 51 sacrifice hits, third in the league. Oddly enough, the Montreal Expos, managed by Frank Robinson -- who, like Baylor, spent a few years with Earl Weaver (who hated the sacrifice bunt) -- lead the NL with 66 sacrifice hits. And noted control freak Bob Boone's Reds are second, with 56.

While it's easy to demonstrate that the sacrifice bunt is generally not an efficient use of a team's precious outs, it's also difficult to demonstrate that the sacrifice bunt has a significant effect, either way, on a team's wins and losses. That is to say, even Baylor's profligate use of the bunt -- and in Colorado, no less -- almost certainly hasn't caused one of his teams to miss out on a postseason berth. In 1995, Baylor's Rockies earned the wild card, but none of his other teams have finished within four games of a playoff spot. And however much you might hate the bunt, it's hard to argue that fewer bunts could have resulted in five more victories last year.

As long as we're picking nits, though, we should mention Baylor's apparent disregard for the fragility of a young pitcher's soupbone. A couple of years ago, for example, Baylor let Ruben Quevedo throw 127 pitches in his second major-league start. Baylor's excuse?

"We lost track."

OK, so when it comes to dereliction of one's duties, losing track of the pitch count isn't as bad as an on-duty airline pilot staggering around an airport terminal like Foster Brooks. But it's pretty bad. Quevedo finished the 2000 season with a Jumbo Jet ERA (7.47), and just now seems to be getting his career back on track ... in Milwaukee.

Baylor took so much flak in 2000 that he actually seemed to make some progress in this area last year. Still, you always got the sense that he was going against his nature, like a fox trained to guard chickens rather than eat them. And when a man goes against his nature -- when he can't be himself -- it's going to affect everything that he does. And not in a good way.

Don Baylor is a fine "baseball man," but time has passed him by, leaving too many things that don't work in the 21st century. Let's not feel too sorry for him, though. He's made a good living in the game for three decades, and he'll have a job in baseball for as long as he wants one. "Manager" just shouldn't be that job any more.