Manager of the Era.
There's no such award, of course. And I'm in no way advocating for baseball to add yet another piece of dust-collecting hardware to its already expansive list of accolades.
But if there were such a laurel, it should be bestowed upon Bobby Cox, the Buddha-like curmudgeon who's been sitting at the front end of the bench in the Atlanta Braves' dugout for what seems like forever.
The guy who reminds us why late-age men shouldn't wear body-hugging ...
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