Lewis: Jokes, respect, support and baseball: Cleveland and the game itself will miss Tito

CLEVELAND — Since he was in diapers, Terry Francona has been breathing baseball. Soon, the game will miss him.

Soon, the man who has embodied Cleveland baseball for more than a decade will no longer be perched in his seat in the Guardians dugout. Soon, one of baseball's best characters will be leaving baseball and retire to his home in Tucson, Ariz.

"Baseball. He is baseball," said former Cleveland reliever Dan Otero, when asked to describe him. "I can't come up with anything else right now, because that's just what he is in my mind."

Francona was born into baseball. His father, the original Tito, was already in the majors by the time the younger Tito came along. Francona spent much of his childhood wondering major league clubhouses.

He's been a baseball lifer ever since. He's always had the feel of the dirt and grass beneath his feet and the smell of the hot dogs (especially those from his beloved New Brighton Hot Dog Shoppe in New Brighton, Pa.) in his nostrils. For decades, Tito has been a part of baseball, and baseball has been a part of him.

When he was considering retiring from playing in 1991, he thought, "Man, who loves baseball more than me? Nobody."

But he knew it was time then. And he knows it's time now. Health issues have caught up with him and made the everyday job more and more difficult. Francona was forced to step away from the team in 2020 and 2021 for health reasons. He recently said he'll need a shoulder replacement surgery and two hernia procedures. He's been playing catch-up for years. And he's been "really grinding" since the middle of June.

Francona doesn't feel he can do the job his way. And, as he said a few weeks ago, that bothers him. So, it's time.It's the people and the "nine innings of competition" Francona loves. He wanted to go to battle every night, and he wanted to do so with the people in the clubhouse "all pulling the same direction," as he often said. But the daily demands of a manager took their toll.

He's been Cleveland's manager for 11 seasons, which is almost an impossibly long tenure these days. He's been a manager for 23 years, including stints in Philadelphia and Boston. There was a time where he didn't think he'd be anywhere close to where he is today.

Cleveland rankings: Where does Guardians manager Terry Francona rank in longevity in Cleveland sports history?

Francona has had baseball in the forefront of his life nearly every second he's been on the planet — except for two weeks. For two weeks, after he was done playing, Francona took a real estate course and bought some books.

"Two weeks into that, Buddy Bell called," Francona said, laughing. "Took those books right up to the guy and said, 'Hey man, ain't nobody going to buy a house from me. Went down to Sarasota the next morning. Best decision I ever made."

Whew, that was close. Tito the realtor just doesn't' seem to fit. He's more at home writing up a lineup card than describing a nice 2-bedroom, 3-bath Colonial with granite countertops (and a sunroom!) on the side of town.In four years as the Phillies manager, he went 285-363 (.440). They never won more than 77 games.

But from there, a Hall of Fame career blossomed. He won two World Series with Boston and nearly pulled off a third with Cleveland in what might have been his best managerial campaign considering the state of the roster with injuries.

But after the Philadelphia experience, he never thought he'd make it 23 seasons.

"And I'm guessing there's a lot of people in Philadelphia who probably didn't think so, either," he joked.

And now, Cleveland fans will say their goodbyes to Francona on Wednesday, his final home game at Progressive Field. The team will be giving away "Thank You Tito" T-shirts to the first 20,000 people in attendance.

Technically, the official announcement of Francona's retirement hasn't yet been made. Francona never wants to make anything about himself, so he didn't want the attention to be directed away from the players. But, it's happening.

"I mean, once you give out T-Shirts, man, you can't be going back," Francona said, laughing.

Francona joked about it being "the worst-kept secret ever." He also spoke with the team prior to Tuesday's game against the Cincinnati Reds.

"It was quick," Francona said of the team meeting. "I just told 'em that I know they're going to do something [Wednesday] before the game, and I thought out of respect for the players, they needed to hear it [first]."

"I think it's respectful to tell 'em, and I just wanted to thank them because I told them in spring training, it's an honor for me to stand up in front of them and go through not just the good, but the difficult, and I wanted everybody in that room to know today how I felt, like it was an honor of a lifetime to be here for 11 years. That was basically it."

Terry Francona had the support of his players because they had his right from the start

When you walked into a clubhouse with Francona as the manager, you knew he had your back — no matter what.

Among the many things that have stuck with the hundreds of players who he managed, that, perhaps above all else, has remained with them — along with all the self-deprecating jokes, of course, and perhaps a mountain of bubble gum.

Francona went to battle not only with his players, but for them. And in the meantime, he knew how to keep the atmosphere light through all the hardships of a grinding, 162-game season.

For more than two decades, he has been the shining example of a players' manager, never putting himself first or above anyone else.

"There's probably a bunch of players' managers out there, but from my experience and from who I've met around the game, there's just not too many people like him," former Cleveland second baseman Jason Kipnis told the Beacon Journal.

The All-Tito Cleveland Team: The starting lineup from the Terry Francona era

If something goes right, Francona will deflect the attention and the attribution for the success like he's holding Captain America's shield. If something goes wrong, he'll stand up in the line of the fire, not allowing anyone else to take the blame or the heat.

Francona would walk through No-Man's Land just to draw the attention away from anyone else who might have done anything that caused the team to lose.

If the team wins, he'll say that it's because of the players, the front office, the rest of the coaching staff or the player development staff. Hell, Francona would sooner give credit to the groundskeeper before himself. If the team loses, it's all on him.

In the 2016 World Series, Cleveland put Carlos Santana in the outfield to try to keep his bat in the lineup. Francona didn't even wait for it go right or wrong. He said beforehand that if anything happens, or Santana makes an error, it's on the manager, not the player. Francona took any blame away from Santana before it was even an issue.

In every respect, Francona was mindful to be helpful, not a hindrance.

"You appreciate that there's nothing you probably can't go to him with in the sense that whether it's just playing time or just whatever it may be," Kipnis said. "If you don't think you can go to him, you're probably overthinking it in your head."

It helped Francona command respect from a group of players who wanted to win for him. So too, did his willingness to treat veterans and rookies with the same level of respect — as long as they put the team first. But they all knew the manager had their back.

“You can have 12 years in the big leagues. You could have 12 days in the big leagues,” Kipnis said. “When he's getting you to loosen up and relax and be confident in yourself 'cause he's confident in you, it doesn't matter how many times you've played this game, it's nice to have that.”

Former Cy Young Award winner Corey Kluber believes Francona never forgot what it was like to be a player struggling through a slump, or how hard the game really is, which is a trap to which some manager and coaches can fall. Francona was able to provide a level of comfort and a relatability that can be a difficult element to really drive home to a couple dozen human beings all from different walks of life and different points in their respective careers.

Above any baseball-centric decisions, it was Francona's command of a clubhouse that set him apart from the crowd. He had a charm that worked as a calming agent.

"I think [it's] how at ease he makes everybody, I feel like it makes it fairly, I don't want to say easy, but the environment he creates in the clubhouse makes it easier for guys to just go out and play the game and not worry about all the other stuff," Kluber told the Beacon Journal. "[You're] not worrying about looking over your shoulder, getting sent down and all that kind of stuff. Just really makes it an environment when you're there at the field, it's easy to not worry about just going out and performing that day."

Terry Francona's self-deprecating jokes are his calling card, and something the game will miss

Nobody is quicker on the draw with a joke about Tito than Tito.

When players were joining the clubhouse for the first time, whether it was as a 15-year veteran or a 22-year-old prospect, Francona has long had an aura to him within the game of baseball. He's a legend in the game as the man who guided the Red Sox to a curse-ending World Series title. He's a sure-fire, no-doubt, first-ballot Hall of Fame manager.

There's almost an understandable nervousness that comes with playing for Francona for the first time, considering his resume. And then they meet him, and he won't stop making fun of himself and cracking jokes.

"It's how he doesn't come off as larger than life," said former Guardians catcher Austin Hedges. "I mean, he's the guy, but that can be intimidating to a lot of people. 'That's Terry Francona.' But you come in and he's willing to laugh at himself and keep things light and it shows you, you can always laugh at yourself and keep things light and it doesn't make him this larger-than-life guy."

Almost immediately, he disarms people — mostly with jokes at his own expense.

"When he started here, he's coming from Boston with his history, so he's had success, and that already gives him some credit," Kipnis said. "Then you talk to the guy and he's like, he just (expletive) around. He gets the best out of you. And because probably every guy has such a good relationship with him, you just want to play hard for him."

For 11 years, he was Cleveland baseball. He curated the culture. He led the way. He was the most stable force in Cleveland sports, and he's now one of the marquee figures in the franchise's history.

In 2016, Cleveland went on a run through the postseason that nobody outside the clubhouse predicted. That roster was decimated with injuries. Then they surprised everyone by going all the way to extra innings of Game 7 before falling agonizingly short of winning Francona's third World Series as a manager.

In the center of that journey: it was Tito.

"Listen, he's just this beacon of light," Kipnis said. "You just follow in the darkness, kind of, and I'll put it that way. He's your lighthouse where it's just like, it doesn't matter how dark it gets, you always have this guy in front of you showing you the way, because he's been there for years and he's done it. And he's like, don't worry about any of the crap that you can't see or you can't control."

"He's like, just keep following me."

For the first time in more than decade, the Guardians will have to follow someone else next spring. Cleveland, and baseball, will miss Tito.

Ryan Lewis can be reached at rlewis@thebeaconjournal.com. Read more about the Guardians at www.beaconjournal.com/sports/cleveland-guardians. Follow him on Twitter at @ByRyanLewis.

This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: The game of baseball will miss Guardians manager Terry Francona