The San Francisco Giants shut out the Philadelphia Phillies, 5-0, Wednesday night, for their second consecutive shutout victory and first home series win of the season. The Giants are 5-8 and presently in last place in what is shaping up to be a tough NL West—yes, behind even the Colorado Rockies, who are having a ball. They've faced a tough schedule, but wins and losses are only part of the picture: The Giants sport the worst run differential (-16) and second-worst offense by total runs (41) in the National League. They scored a single run in their season-opening three-game series against the Yankees, and were outscored 24–5 in three losses to the Mets. They've looked listless at times, and broadly out of sorts. By at least one measure, this has been the worst start to a Giants season in more than a century. It has not been an encouraging introduction to the majors for rookie manager Tony Vitello.
Vitello has been on the job not quite six months, and already his legend is growing, though not in any direction he might've hoped. He didn't say anything weird or outlandish at Wednesday's postgame presser, which was a surprise. So far this season he has already given props to a disgraced, radioactive entertainer and affectionately compared his player to an athlete currently in the news for flipping his SUV. He's also revealed more than is advisable about his team's internal dynamics and his own managerial thought processes.
"It’d be awesome to be in a better situation, but I think we found some things out about ourselves that can be valuable in the long run," Vitello said on Wednesday. "We’ve certainly got to be motivated to learn from mistakes in the past and hunt down the best version of ourselves." Perhaps when he says "learn from mistakes" and "hunt down the best version of ourselves," Vitello is referencing more than swing decisions. Perhaps he is prepared to be normal for a change.
This would not be an entirely welcome change, certainly not if you're a sports blogger. Vitello, who was hired from the University of Tennessee and has no prior professional coaching experience, has a delightful knack for cramming his foot into his mouth. It would be a shame if two bad weeks of pro baseball chasten the habit right out of him, just as he embarks on what could be a Jim Tomsula-esque arc as a sports figure.
The man simply loves to say things, and to hear himself saying things. Vitello took his first career ejection on April 5 in a 5–2 loss to the Mets. One of his players, Jerar Encarnación, took a distinctly wobbly route to first base on a swinging bunt, and was called out under Rule 5.09(a)(11), which gives umpires discretion in instances when a runner "interferes with the fielder taking the throw at first base." Vitello stormed out of the dugout to argue. Weirdly, he said he did this not because he thought the umpire was wrong, but because he had bad memories from his time coaching in college, and viewed this as a matter of principle worthy of mid-game martyrdom.
"I'm sure he got it exactly technically right," said Vitello, with evident sincerity, of first base umpire Nestor Ceja, who made the ruling, and who in fact was technically right. "It's just a play I've got a lot of history for ... I've got a ton of history with that play. Lost a game to Lipscomb on that play, lost the game to Frank Anderson and a Big 12 championship on that play. The difference between the two that I'm talking about—and I can talk about others—is the runner. In Frank's instance—and I've called his team cheaters—completely interfered with the throwing lane for the pitcher. So again, umpires are held accountable by what the rules are, and they enforce those rules. And again, I don't watch the replay. I'm sure they did it 100 percent to the T."
This isn't an egregious example of Vitello's frequent over-answering, although it's worth noting that the ellipsis in that quote up there is cleaning up a rambling answer that featured digressions on related frustrations yet managed to leave enough unsaid that the reporter had to come back for a second whack. I like it when coaches and players err on the side of going long, because truth and openness are better than their opposites, and also we get to write about it. Still, someone in Vitello's professional circle would be wise to encourage him to consider his words more carefully. Vitello, by his own reckoning, gave his team a too-intense speech ahead of their season opener, which he now considers relevant to their lackluster performance.
"I got all fire and brimstone a few days ago," admitted Vitello on March 27, after his Giants were shut out in their first two games of the season. "I think some good words were shared, but I also think as of right now it's a little emotional in there, and there are a lot of try-hards." The manager saw his players squeezing their bats a little too tightly, and wondered if maybe he should have tried a different tack with a locker room full of veterans preparing themselves for a marathon of a regular season. "To be honest with you, I'd blame myself. Maybe it's time to do what I can to maybe ease any tension in there so guys can be free and go out there and play." One thing he might consider, when brainstorming ways of making his players feel better about doing their jobs, is not calling them "a lot of try-hards."
Vitello might also consider honoring the privacy of the clubhouse. On Monday he was asked about his team's vibes, and acknowledged in his answer an incident from the Giants' game on April 1, when third baseman Matt Chapman ripped teammate Casey Schmitt during a mound visit for his role in an error that moments earlier was charged to Chapman. "Catch the fucking ball," Chapman said to Schmitt, who is only an occasional first baseman. Because cameras caught that exchange, it would be pointless for Vitello to ignore it. But it's the ones which cameras could not have caught that he strangely wants everyone to know about.
"A couple things we were able to keep from you guys, which was great," said Vitello, while actively revealing those same things. "But if you lump those two, and the one you’re referencing, which is kind of the meeting on the mound, we’ve really only had three things that have been—I don’t want to say controversial, because that’s a mislabel—but kind of some intensity back and forth a little bit. We’ve played our best three games following that." It's a good thing cameras weren't around for those private controversies, or else his players might be embarrassed. Vitello says he is upright today only because many of his own actions were not preserved for posterity. "Like, I wouldn’t be sitting here if in college—I don’t know if you guys would be too—if there was Twitter or cameras all over the place. I might be in jail or something like that," he added.
Vitello's running mouth is becoming a significant subplot for the Giants. If they're winning, it'll be a quirk. While they're losing, he will make an easy target, not only due to his lack of experience but because he can't stop talking. USA Today already ran an article about how "baseball experts" see the manager as "too candid with media." Former Giants pitcher Mike LaCoss called into a local radio morning program after San Francisco's discouraging season opener to rail against Vitello's hiring and his "word salads," which a bitter LaCoss warns "will get worse and worse." Giants fans are comparing Vitello to the character Ted Lasso, which feels both fair due to his habits of speech and distressing to the extent that it identifies him as an interloper.
When Vitello reached for a flattering comparison for Rafael Devers, his team's best hitter, and landed on Tiger Woods—in the same week that Woods flipped his vehicle and was charged with driving under the influence—the coach that came to mind for me, aside from Tomsula, was Sean McDermott, recently of the Buffalo Bills. McDermott infamously once had to apologize for trying to motivate his players by citing the teamwork and discipline of the 9/11 hijackers. McDermott survived the excruciating 9/11 episode, among other gaffes, stuck for nine years in Buffalo, and coached to a proud regular-season record. You can struggle with the messaging part of the job and still succeed as an administrator. Still, I would advise Vitello to choose better sources for quotes about his struggling team than Kanye West:
"I really don’t feel like there’s been a tightness, like waiting for bad things to happen, or guys yelling at each other," Vitello said. "I just think there’s been an emotional charge of really wanting to do well. If you ask Kanye — I think he’s out with a new album — if you try hard, you die hard. Strange fellow, but he don’t miss much on the music, not that you asked."
The job of baseball manager has changed enough over the years that nowadays they'll let scrawny youths sit in the big chair, but at a basic level it is like any management job, in that the performer has to make it possible for their charges to take them seriously. For now, Vitello's players seem inclined to extend him some grace, or at least to treat him to a big rowdy celebration when things go his way.
"There was adult beverages, but there was other stuff mixed in, too," said a still-wet Vitello, of the eyeball-stinging ceremonial soaking he received from his players following his first career victory. "So at some point I'll be plotting my revenge."
"I don’t know if he liked it or not," said Giants pitcher Landen Roupp, who was also treated to a celebratory soaking that day. "But we definitely enjoyed it."
The Giants want to win; per FanGraphs, they are 11th in projected payroll for 2026, and are fifth in the majors in the percentage of their payroll that is guaranteed. Unlike some other brand-new managers in MLB this season, Vitello can't flail around for too long without being accused of wasting what might otherwise be a competitive season. His players have to buy what he's selling, brimstone and all. Otherwise he's just a guy soaked in mystery juice, waging obscure battles, spouting cursed references, and recording a colorful cautionary tale about the dangers of miscalculating the readiness of managerial candidates.
