Grandpa, What's a "Yes Man"?

It was only ten o'clock in the morning, but the pads were already sticking to our undershirts; the worst part was that our day had not even started yet. Technically, we hadn't started practice yet--we were doing our warm-up blocking drills with the cigar pads because…well… because coach told us to. It was the end of August--dog days--and we were in the middle of two-a-day practices, it was the year 2000, and it was my senior year of football. Stay with me, I promise this isn't going to turn into "glory days".

What happened next was a conversation that I will always remember. Our offensive line coach, Coach Shaw, pulled our center aside to have a man-to-man conversation with him. Our center was a 265 pound teddy bear, who had the manners of British Royalty. He was nice to everyone, and kind in all aspects of life. Sadly, this did not help his blocking, or his chances of being a starter during his senior season. To make matters worse, our defensive linemen were dirty dogs, with foul mouths, who strived to get in a cheep shot. Coach Shaw knew this, because he was the toughest and grittiest lineman of his time. He knew that in order for our center to get playing time, he had to find emotion, anger, and fire so that he could hate nose tackles of all shapes and sizes.

"Listen, I know that you are a good guy at school and outside of football," Coach Shaw began, "And I commend you on that…I really do. But out here, on the field, it's ok to hit people, it's okay to be an asshole. This is the only chance you get in life to be mean, and have it be a good thing."

It was obvious that Coach had been working on expressing his anger with his words--a giant step forward for someone who (without a helmet on) would head butt helmeted players. Polite as an old gentlemen our teddy bear center apologized to our coach for not being mean enough with a respectful smile on his face (I thought he was going to try to shake Coach's hand when they were finished). This past season, every time I saw Joe Mauer, Coach Shaw's speech would pop into my head. If it were up to me, Coach would be on the next flight to Saint Paul to give our starting catcher his motivational speech. Which got me thinking, can a player truly be great without an attitude?

Mauer is arguably the best all around baseball player in the game, and the Twins were somehow able to sign him to a long term deal. Mauer was a prodigy, it is well documented that his Grandpa began developing his hitting before he could barley walk; his Grandpa was the one who encouraged him to switch sides and become a left handed hitter. I can't help but wonder if his Grandpa was also training Joe on how to be a "yes man" during his developing years as well. Smile at the boss Joe, don't argue about anything, when you don't know what to do-smile and say nothing, just go with the bosses' plan Joe. Mauer has the physic and batting skills of an MVP, but he has the temperament and personality of a 40 something middle management accountant, who has no purpose for his company but to work, and happily go along with the management's plans. Joe would be perfect for the business world; any alpha-dog boss would want him on their right side to laugh at their jokes and make them look good. Mauer has the personality of someone who knows that he is stuck at a dead end job, and can't fight it. For 99.9% of men, this is an adaptation that we have had to painfully learn at our jobs in order to survive.

The problem is that Mauer has one of the only jobs where he doesn't have to be a "yes man". The adaptation doesn't make sense for him! He is a professional athlete, and if a sport's writer gets under his skin, it's ok to use name calling and intimidation. Torii Hunter threw a baseball at a picture for beaning him with a pitch; the consequence: he had to sit out a few games. If a lawyer throws a briefcase at work, he's in contempt. Albert Belle had a teammate climb through a ceiling to fall into the umpire's locker room in order to steal a confiscated corked bat. The consequence--nothing, the story is now told like a folk hero story (the only thing holding the story back is that Belle was the "Anti-Mauer" personality). If a construction worker pulls a stunt like this, it's tampering with evidence. Last year, Brandon Phillips of the Reds called the Cardinals a bunch of bitches in a press conference, all that came of it was an all out brawl in Saint Louis. If Mark, the data-analysis, calls his co-workers a bunch of bitches in angst--he's fired for harassment. Roger Clemens threw a piece of splintered bat at Mike Pizza, and said that he thought it was the ball. Assault with a deadly weapon (and he stayed in the game)!

These examples are not good things (except Hunter's), and I'm not saying I want Mauer to go postal. However, they prove a point--pros don't have to play by the common man's rules. What changes would I like to see? First, if Carlos Gomez is taunting at the plate, put a forearm in his throat instead of just staring at him. The next time Slowey shakes off the pitch sign six times, get in his face in the dugout. Lastly, if you get swept by the Yankees in the playoffs, instead of staring blankly into space, maybe it's time to start a small dugout tantrum (keyword small. This can be taken too far; Google: Carlos Zambrano or Milton Bradley). As Coach Shaw would say--" It's ok to be an asshole. This is the only place in life where you get to be mean." The biggest problem is that there is a very fine line between lack of emotion and lack of truly caring. Earl Weaver wasn't crazy--he just cared a whole lot.