Cardinals Writer Praises Oli Marmol Despite Trying Season

There are seasons you forget, and there are seasons you survive. For the St. Louis Cardinals, this one felt like the latter — a long, uneven journey stitched together with frustration, hope, missed opportunities, and the stubborn belief that somehow, it could still turn around. Through all the turbulence, through all the noise and the criticism, one figure stood at the center: Oli Marmol, the manager who seemed to carry the weight of an entire baseball city on his shoulders.

And now, as the dust finally begins to settle, one Cardinals writer has stepped forward with a message that cuts against the grain of the season’s public sentiment — a message of praise. Genuine praise. Not blind loyalty, not sugarcoating, but honest acknowledgment of a man who weathered a storm most never truly understood.

It’s easy to judge a manager by wins and losses. Fans do it every day. Analysts do it every night. Talk radio thrives on it. But what happens when the standings don’t tell the full story? What happens when injuries stack like bricks, when young players stumble, when veterans decline faster than expected, when every lineup you craft seems to unravel before first pitch? That’s the part of the job the public rarely sees — but the writer did.

He wrote about the long nights. The ones where Marmol stayed in his office long after the lights went out in the clubhouse, studying film, reviewing conversations, revisiting decisions he’d made hours earlier. Not because he needed to save face, but because he felt responsible. For the players. For the staff. For every fan who spent their evenings living and dying with each pitch.

He wrote about the subtle leadership — the meetings that never appeared in headlines, the quiet one-on-one talks with struggling players, the way Marmol refused to let any individual take the fall publicly, even when the blame would’ve been easy to assign. It wasn’t theatrical leadership. It was steady leadership, the kind that doesn’t always help you win games but helps you hold a team together when losing threatens to tear it apart.

What struck the writer most wasn’t Marmol’s strategies or analytics or bullpen management — all things that fans love to dissect — but his humanity. The way he defended his players even when they didn’t defend him. The way he absorbed criticism without complaint. The way he walked to the dugout every single day with the same determination, even when the weight of the season pulled hard at his steps.

In a year like this one, it would’ve been easy for Marmol to shrink. To retreat. To lash out. But he didn’t. He stood firm. He listened. He learned. And yes, he made mistakes — every manager does — but he also grew. Quietly, determinedly, relentlessly.

The writer didn’t praise him for perfection. He praised him for perseverance.

And maybe that’s what the Cardinals needed most this season — not a miracle worker, but a steady hand. Someone who didn’t panic when the pitching fell apart. Someone who didn’t lose his composure when the bats went cold. Someone who didn’t divide the clubhouse when the outside world demanded someone to blame.

What the praise ultimately revealed wasn’t just something about Marmol, but something about St. Louis. A franchise built on loyalty, on respect, on understanding that baseball seasons are living, breathing things — and sometimes, the ones that break you a little are the ones that shape you the most.

By the time the season ended, the Cardinals were battered, but not broken. And in the writer’s eyes, that was no accident. That was Marmol. His calm. His consistency. His belief that tomorrow still mattered, even when today hurt.

The praise wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t erase the frustrations of the year.
But it meant something.

In a trying season, Oli Marmol stood tall.
And someone finally stood tall for him.