Davey Johnson, the manager of the 1986 world champion New York Mets, has died. He was 82.
Longtime Mets public relations representative Jay Horwitz said Johnson’s wife, Susan, informed him of his death after a long illness. Johnson was at a hospital in Sarasota, Florida, when he died Friday, Horwitz said.
Johnson was a power-hitting second baseman who played 13 years in the majors, sharing in World Series titles with the Baltimore Orioles in 1966 and 1970 and hitting 43 homers for the Atlanta Braves in 1973 while serving as an offensive wingman for teammate Henry Aaron.
“I just lost a friend, teammate and confidant,” Hall of Famer and former Orioles ace Jim Palmer wrote in a text Saturday morning about his former teammate.
But Johnson’s most significant professional mark was as a manager. Over 17 seasons as a skipper, he led five teams — the Mets, Cincinnati Reds, Orioles, Los Angeles Dodgers and Washington Nationals — and at each stop posted winning records. As a manager, he went 1,372-1,071 for a .562 winning percentage, the sixth highest among managers with at least 1,300 wins.
We mourn the passing of Orioles Hall of Fame second baseman Davey Johnson, who earned three All-Star berths with the club and later managed the team to two Postseason appearances. pic.twitter.com/gCa25R0VtH
— Baltimore Orioles (@Orioles) September 6, 2025
“He believed in his players,” said Darryl Strawberry, the right fielder for the Mets under Johnson, in a conversation Saturday morning. “He believed in us. He was one of us. He believed in every last one of us… He would never throw you under the bus… We all loved him.
“He was the greatest manager I ever played for.”
Former Washington general manager Mike Rizzo said of Johnson, “One of the great baseball minds of all time. A forward thinker with an old-school soul. A dear friend.”
Johnson ran his teams with a brash and irreverent style, often clashing with his bosses, and players generally loved playing for him. Johnson managed in the Mets’ farm system before taking over the big league team for the 1984 season, and a lot of his players ascended with him. He loved promoting young players, believing their energy made a difference over long seasons. In his first season, he lobbied hard for the front office to open the year with a talented but inexperienced 19-year-old right-hander, Dwight Gooden.
That season, Gooden led the majors with 276 strikeouts in 218 innings, with a 2.60 ERA. He finished second in the National League Cy Young voting and was named Rookie of the Year. The Mets won 90 games in Johnson’s first year at the helm.
The Mets won 98 games in the regular season in 1985 but were beaten out for the NL East by the St. Louis Cardinals, and when the team gathered to talk the next spring, Strawberry recalled, Johnson stood in the clubhouse and said, “I don’t have a whole lot to say. We’re going to win it all, and we’re going to dominate.”
Strawberry punctuated the story. “And [the players] looked around at each other and said, ‘You know what? He’s right. We’re going to dominate.”
With a core group of Gooden, Strawberry and other young players joining Keith Hernandez, Ray Knight and (eventually) Gary Carter, the Mets built a powerhouse that won 108 regular-season games in 1986. They edged the Houston Astros in the playoffs and the Boston Red Sox in an epic seven-game World Series — highlighted by their comeback in Game 6 that ended with Mookie Wilson’s ground ball rolling through Bill Buckner’s legs.
Strawberry also played on the 1998 New York Yankees, who won 125 games in the regular season and postseason combined, and he has said that he believes the ’86 Mets team was better than the ’98 Yankees.
There was an expectation that Johnson’s Mets would go on to win more championships. But injuries and personal problems interrupted the greatness of the group, which failed to make the playoffs in 1987 and lost in the NL Championship Series in 1988, as Johnson increasingly clashed with general manager Frank Cashen, sometimes over the manager’s drinking. When the Mets started slowly in the 1990 season, Johnson was fired.
By then, he had a well-established reputation for his understanding of statistics. Johnson had played for Orioles manager Earl Weaver, one of the most progressive managers of the era, and he often cited Weaver for some of what he believed in. Palmer noted in a text how Weaver was an early proponent of “crude analytics at the time.”
Johnson had played at Texas A&M and loved math. Years later, when playing second base for the Orioles, Palmer recalled, he had run to the mound while watching Dave McNally struggling to hit the corners.
“Have you ever heard of variable chance deviation theory?” Johnson asked McNally, who was befuddled. Johnson’s point was that McNally would have a better chance if he simply aimed the ball at the middle of the plate, rather than trying to nick the corners, and make the movement of the baseball work for him.
Five decades later, the theory that Johnson mentioned to McNally reflects the general belief of analytically driven front offices around the majors. “He was a precursor to modern-day analytics and pitching theory,” said Palmer.
“What they play off today is a computer, analytics. Davey was the computer,” said Strawberry. “Mentally, Davey was tough. … He had been a great player himself, and he had that player mentality, even though he was a manager. I think because he had been a player, he understood them.”
Johnson also believed in talent and making players comfortable. “Davey was fantastic with young pitching,” wrote David Cone, who played for Johnson with the Mets. “He had patience and instilled confidence in all of his young pitchers.”
Cone remembered that his first start with the Mets was a disaster, with 10 runs allowed in five innings. “He called me into his office and told me he believed in me,” Cone wrote in a text, “and that I would learn from that experience.
“He also encouraged [second baseman] Wally Backman to put a softball in my chair in the clubhouse the next day to make fun of how my fastball looked to the Houston Astros the night before — a great combo of confidence and humility to keep me honest and teach me how to get over bad games.”
Johnson had myriad talent and personalities with the Mets, Palmer wrote, “and used his experiences to steer that ship.”
Horwitz, who was the head of media relations for the Mets when Johnson managed, called a lot of former teammates Saturday morning to give them the news of Johnson’s death. “Bold and brash,” he said. “Always willing to take a chance.”
Johnson once told Palmer that he never second-guessed his decisions. Rather, he used the information that he had, applied his gut feeling for the situation — and whatever happened, he moved on emotionally.
“Once he made a decision on something, he stuck with it,” said Strawberry. “You know what that tells me? He believed in his players.”
Johnson was hired by the Reds in 1993, and even though Cincinnati made the playoffs in 1995, he was fired after that season. The Orioles hired him in 1996, and early in that season, he sometimes clashed with the team’s veterans. For example, he told reporters that he was moving Cal Ripken to third base before talking with Ripken, which ended the iron man’s yearslong streak of games at shortstop. But by season’s end, he had bonded with the players, who won a playoff spot and advanced to the American League Championship Series.
The next year, as the Orioles surged to win the AL East, Johnson ran afoul of Baltimore owner Peter Angelos when the two fought over Johnson’s handling of an incident with second baseman Roberto Alomar. After a season for which Johnson was named Manager of the Year — an award he won twice in his career — Johnson resigned.
Johnson would later manage the Dodgers for three seasons, and in the midst of 2011, he was hired by the Nationals.
Washington won its first division title in 2012, and even though the team went 86-76, Johnson would later say he was pushed into retirement by the club’s leadership.
“He was a tough guy with a caring heart,” Rizzo wrote.
Palmer described in his text how he and Johnson came up with the Orioles at the same time, in 1965.
“A year later, Frank Robinson came along and steered us to a championship — Frank taught us all toughness, and the will to win,” Palmer wrote. “Hammerin’ Hank [Aaron] taught Davey how to hit in Atlanta in 1973.
“I will miss Dumb Dumb, but I will never forget him.”
The Associated Press contributed to this report.
