Reds skipper Terry Francona shakes off a nasty virus, strides back into the dugout just 24 hours after a flu‑like bug swept through Cincinnati’s clubhouse

MILWAUKEE — A wheezy, sweat‑soaked team bus ride, one sleepless night at the Pfister Hotel and a hastily rewritten lineup card later, Terry Francona is back in his usual perch on the top step. Cincinnati’s 66‑year‑old manager re‑emerged at American Family Field on Saturday, April 5, still pale but kidding that he hasn’t felt “100 percent since 1988.” It was vintage Tito: a shrug, a self‑deprecating quip and then straight back to the business of baseball.

The night before, the Reds looked more like a MAS*H unit than a major‑league roster. More than a dozen players and staffers woke up with chills, stomach cramps and headaches; Francona himself was bad enough that president of baseball operations Nick Krall ordered him and several starters back to the hotel. Bench coach Freddie Benavides ran the club in a 3‑2 loss to the Brewers while the clubhouse was closed to reporters and disinfectant crews moved in.

Krall admitted he had “no idea what the sickness is,” only that it hit fast and hit hard. “We sent some staff members to the hotel, some players as well. Hopefully they’re better tomorrow,” he said late Friday, emphasizing competitive‑balance secrecy by refusing to name the hardest‑hit athletes.

 Benavides added, “We’ll just go with whoever’s available and see what we can do,” a stoic line that sounded even grimmer once everyone realized the Reds had been held scoreless for 35 straight innings.

For Francona, missing even a single game revives uncomfortable memories: multiple surgeries, a pulmonary embolism, a catheter ablation for an irregular heartbeat and the double hernia/shoulder combo that ended his Cleveland tenure in 2023. Those setbacks prompted a brief retirement, but last October the future Hall of Famer surprised the sport by agreeing to steer a young, streaky Reds club that had just fired David Bell.

Since Opening Day, health has trailed him like an unwelcome shadow. December brought a bout of vertigo during winter meetings; a kidney‑stone scare interrupted spring training in Goodyear; now April’s gastrointestinal bug temporarily knocked him off course. Nevertheless, Francona insists he is fitter than during the “dark summer of 2021” when blood‑clot complications forced him off the Guardians’ bench for months. “I feel good enough to be here,” he insisted Saturday, before joking the club’s medical staff might wrap him in bubble wrap if they could.

Team physicians still have not labeled the illness “influenza,” but the breadth of symptoms suggests a fast‑moving stomach flu. Reserve outfielder Jacob Hurtubise was singled out by Francona as “probably feeling the worst of anybody.” First‑base coach Collin Cowgill also missed Friday’s contest; utility catcher Jose Trevino was scratched that morning but felt well enough to sit on the bench a day later.

The Reds’ problems were as much mental as physical. By the time the bug struck, Cincinnati had already dropped four straight and been shut out in three consecutive 1‑0 defeats. Friday’s loss stretched the scoreless streak to 35 frames, the franchise’s longest drought since 1946. Francona said he tried to watch from the hotel but “got furious” when the MLB app lagged behind live radio.

Whether it was adrenaline, hydration IVs or simply Tito’s presence, the Reds exploded for an 11‑7 victory the moment their skipper returned, finally snapping the skid. Francona managed with an IV port still taped under his sleeve and kept the postgame focus on the players. He waved off suggestions that the win hinged on his comeback: “They don’t need an old guy hawking sunflower seeds to score 11 runs—though if it helps, I’ll keep chewing.”

The team’s medical staff spent Saturday night doling out Tamiflu, electrolyte packets and strict bedtimes. Krall said the club has flown in extra clubhouse attendants armed with ultraviolet sterilizers, hoping to head off a second wave before Monday’s flight to Atlanta. The Reds have already used the injured list a National‑League‑leading 18 times this season; another outbreak could force creative roster shuffling.

For Francona, the episode serves as yet another reminder of how thin the line can be between leading a contender and watching from quarantine. “Baseball is supposed to be played from the dugout, not a hotel room,” he quipped. Then, in a more reflective tone, he added: “I’m grateful to be upright, grateful for this group of guys, and grateful for Pepto‑Bismol—though I’m hoping we can all switch back to sunflower seeds tomorrow.”

Health scares have followed Francona throughout a managerial career that already includes two World Series rings with Boston and three Manager of the Year awards. Each time, he has insisted the dugout is where he feels healthiest. In that sense, Saturday’s quick return is less a surprise than a continuation of his stubborn, clubhouse‑first ethos. As pitcher Hunter Greene noted last week, “Tito’s the heartbeat. If he’s breathing, he’s managing.”

Cincinnati’s front office designed 2025 as a transitional season—enough prospects to dream, enough veterans to contend. Through the season’s first fortnight, the dream had looked nightmarish: a shaky bullpen, a .185 team average with runners in scoring position and now a flu outbreak. Yet the image of Francona, half‑smiling and half‑grimacing, planting himself back on that dugout step has already become the internal rallying cry.