Valid point, but it was Bavasi who put the M's together. "I feel responsible," he said. Omar Minaya could issue the same mea culpa for the Mets' failures, and David Dombrowski for the Tigers'.

Three talented clubs. Three $100 million-plus disappointments. Three teams lacking the necessary cohesiveness, savvy and fire.

When will owners and GMs get it? Talent wins, but only if the talent fits. If the talent does not mesh, only the strongest manager can turn a dysfunctional collection of players into a functional unit.

Jim Leyland is that type of leader, and he might yet pull the Tigers out of it. The Mets, on the other hand, would be justified in firing Willie Randolph. And the Mariners — who float merrily along issuing votes of confidence with their season in ruins — would not need to apologize for replacing John McLaren.

Randolph and McLaren may not be the problems, but they have yet to prove that they are solutions. The issues in their clubhouses run that deep.

Sabermetricians often scoff at the notion of chemistry, contending that numerical barometers of performance matter most. Such an argument is not without merit. But at this moment in the game's history — when Major League Baseball is attracting players from all over the world — chemistry is more important and elusive than many teams understand.

Globalization, among the best things to happen to baseball in years, presents new challenges. Teams, for the most part, have been diligent in integrating foreign-born players. But the reality is that players from different countries speak different languages and subscribe to different cultural norms. They were not all raised like native-born Americans.

The strain becomes evident when Mariners left-hander Jarrod Washburn, a U.S.-born pitcher, speaks of his difficultly in working with Kenji Johjima, a Japanese catcher. It is apparent when U.S.-born Mets players -- Paul Lo Duca last season, Billy Wagner this season -- accuse Latin American teammates of ducking the media.

These incidents aren't solely attributable to cultural divisions — pitchers and catchers from similar backgrounds sometimes fail to get along, and hiding from reporters is a universal practice among professional athletes. Still, the utopian, multi-national camaraderie that the Mets appeared to achieve in 2006 proved a mere facade at the first hint of adversity — the team's loss to the Cardinals in that year's National League Championship Series.

The Red Sox are a better example of a melting pot, but they are not just a cultural melting pot. The Sox are a blend of players young and old, gifted and ordinary, wealthy and hungry. The pieces — from Manny Ramirez to Dustin Pedroia, Daisuke Matsuzaka to Jonathan Papelbon — could not be more disparate. But somehow, under the leadership of manager Terry Francona, they all pull toward a common goal.

If the Red Sox can make it work, any team can. True, the Mets might be better served by a strong, bilingual manager — the Angels' Mike Scioscia, Cubs' Lou Piniella and, yes, the Nationals' Manny Acta, a former Mets coach, come to mind. But it's not that the Mets are too Latin, a criticism occasionally leveled at Minaya, the game's first Hispanic GM No, the Mets simply have too many older, injury-prone parts — and too little fire.

Certain players bring an edge. I ripped the Astros for acquiring shortstop Miguel Tejada the day before he was cited in the Mitchell report; so did many others. But Tejada, for all his off-field troubles, is a winning player who has made an extraordinary impact. The White Sox had the same idea when they traded for shortstop Orlando Cabrera and first baseman/outfielder Nick Swisher, seeking to inject passion.

The Mets aren't the only team accused of being "too Latin" — you hear the same whispers in baseball circles about the Mariners and Tigers. Not only is such talk simplistic, but it also is tinged with racism.

The Tigers weren't "too Latin" when they reached the World Series with largely the same cast in '06; their problem now is that they feature too many would-be designated hitters, too many players signed to cushy long-term contracts, too many veterans in decline.

The Mariners aren't "too Latin," either. Bavasi created unrealistic expectations last off-season by signing free-agent right-hander Carlos Silva for $48 million and trading five players for Orioles left-hander Erik Bedard. For all the money Bavasi has spent, he still doesn't have a leader in his clubhouse — or enough talent.

A bad mix is a bad mix, and smart teams strive to find the right blend. The Phillies have it, playing with a swagger that the Mets will never achieve. The Cardinals have it, thanks to intense competition for playing time. The Rays also have it, after making a concerted effort in recent years to eliminate disruptive influences such as Elijah Dukes, Delmon Young and Aubrey Huff.

The moment the Mets decided to bring back Randolph at the end of last season, they should have committed to finding him hungrier, edgier players. Left-hander Johan Santana, right fielder Ryan Church and catcher Brian Schneider were fine additions, mind you. But Minaya never addressed the team's lack of grit, which was so evident last September.

The players for the Mets, Mariners and Tigers hardly are blameless; they deserve the criticism they're getting. Still, a general manager's job is to find not just the right balance of talent, but also the right balance of people. When that balance is missing, there's only so much a manager can do.