Saturday, August 05, 2006

Joe Torre, The Zen and The Gay Produce Guy



When managers, associates and coaches are in a position of authority over others, they are responsible for those people. Too often, managers, coaches and regular folks position others as close to the figurative exit as possible, so they can throw them under the bus when things get embarrassing or results are disappointing. It takes a real man to expose himself to ridicule to help others be their best. Joe Torre never ridicules his players in public. And, he shelters them from the heat when Steinbrenner gets angry about a losing streak or a hitting slump. Torre is an example of someone who instills confidence in others so they can be their best. In turn, his players and coaches are as loyal as the Marine Corps.

Mitch, The Gay Produce Guy (TGPG) works at the grocery store where my family gets all our groceries. Short and balding, he (TGPG) speaks with a lisp and waves his hands for bravado when he makes a point. His shoes suggest that he is poor. I used to wish that he hadn’t chosen me to talk to every time I get salad, bananas, whatever. But, now I’m just resigned to the fact that I’m going to have to talk about how great Jaclyn Smith looks at 60, or give my advice on how to keep Mitch’s (TGPG) cholesterol in check.

He (TGPG) started talking to me because I bring my kids with me everywhere I go. And, they help me shop. John drives the cart. Maddie keeps the grocery list. I maintain radio contact with my wife via cell phone in order to get approval for extravagant purchases, like Feta Cheese. So, we’ve got a system that works. Mitch’s shrill voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard the first time he ever spoke to me. He remarked that my kids are so well-behaved. He said I looked like a strict disciplinarian. My Gay-Dar was redlining.

Thursday, (since Mitch and I chat all the time now) we had a lengthy conversation about some of Mitch’s favorite people. Then, Mitch wanted my advice on how he might keep trim without straining too much. We segued into some diet advice. And, after about 10 minutes, the conversation mercifully ended.

After we walked away, my 9 year old daughter asked why I had spoken for so long to that strange man. I told her that all Mitch needs is validation. He needs to hear someone that he respects speak to him as if he and his ideas have merit. I explained to Maddie that some folks live their entire lives seeking the validation they’ve never gotten. And, sometimes showing these folks a little kindness helps them be their best.

I wasn’t always so nice. I’ve been reading The Zen of Zim. In it, Don Zimmer talks about his experiences as a baseball man. During the 1996 World Series against the Atlanta Braves, Torre used up almost every bench player by the tenth inning in taking the lead in Game 4. As the Yankees were to take the field, they had no first basemen left on the bench. Third baseman Charlie Hayes volunteered.

Hayes claimed he’d played first a couple of times in the past and, being as we didn’t have anyone else anyway, Joe said: “Go to it.” Then, he turned to me (Zimmer) and laughed: “We do things by the seat of our pants around here, don’t we?”

You can see why guys loved playing for him. Players all have insecurities, even the best of them, and they look to the manager for confidence.


Of course, the Yankees won the series against the Atlanta Braves 4-2. The point is that a good manager or coach can support a person and make him/her feel like an ace in the hole. Or, they can exude panic, and crush confidence in a time where the need for that is greatest. Joe Torre, a man who has survived cancer and an abused, dysfunctional childhood (and worse; now works for G. Steinbrenner) is an example of a man who accepts such contingencies as the opportunities that they are. We can apply a little of his approach at work, in everyday life and at the ballgame.