A couple
of years ago, Ian Kinsler and Michael Young found themselves signing autographs
and taking questions from a group of children at a Texas Rangers community
function. One of the kids asked the players to identify the nicest guy on the
team. Kinsler, with no hesitation, responded with “David Murphy.” Young
overheard and swiftly agreed.
 |
| David Murphy poses with two Rangers staffers at a commercial shoot. |
In fact,
you’d have a tough time finding anyone who didn’t agree. During his time with
the Rangers, Murphy earned a reputation as a good ballplayer and an even better
person. One could expect a smile, a professional and friendly attitude, and an
overall positive feeling to emerge from any interaction with #7. That includes
the time when he changed that uniform number with no fuss to accommodate the
return of franchise icon Ivan Rodriguez.
We
devoted two paragraphs to praising David Murphy because he won’t play for the
Rangers next year. He just signed a two-year contract with the Cleveland
Indians. We can rest assured that the
signing pained the folks in the Rangers’ community relations department,
marketing department, and anyone else in the organization who worked with him,
including baseball operations. It’s the latter group who made the decision
about whether or not to pursue a new deal with Murphy, and it’s part of the
reason they have a hard job.
In a lot
of workplaces, a boss can afford the hardworking, standup guy that everyone
likes some leniency if his performance level dips. Murph had a down year on the
field last year after a superb one the year before. His character indicates
he’ll put in maximum effort to improve, and, at most companies, he’d maintain
his position and market-level salary. But baseball’s 40-man roster and its even
more obstinate cousin, the 25-man roster, permit no sympathy. A team’s budget and
the league’s luxury tax combine to boot sentiment even further out of the
dugout.
The need
to evaluate strictly on performance runs counter to much natural human impulse.
We tip the friendly and honest waiter even if our salads came out late. We
contribute to charities offering wayward kids a second chance. Humans like
doing generous things for other humans we like, and, unlike fantasy league GMs,
real baseball ops people often have personal rapports with their players.
Setting aside unequivocally positive relationships in an effort to win more
games seems emotionally taxing, making an executive’s already demanding job
even more stressful.
Jettisoning
emotion has become even more necessary in the free agency era. With instant roster
replacements more available than ever, an evaluator often has to reduce
clubhouse character to, at best, the role of tie-breaker. The situation also
cuts the other way, where an executive keen to win signs a player with whom he
wouldn’t want his children to associate, keeping his fingers crossed that his
decision will yield on-field success and no Incognitogate situation in his clubhouse
or locker room. A good-hearted executive wrings his or her hands when faced
with such a dilemma.
Speaking
of children, the news of Murphy’s Cleveland contract apparently broke when his
daughter informed her day care of it. One would assume that David’s new job
will prevent him from spending as much time interacting with his daughter’s
friends at the center. If their experience mirrors that of seemingly everyone
else who has met the Indians’ new outfielder, they will be bummed about it.
Welcome to your career, Mr. General Manager. Sometimes you have to make
decisions that make little kids sad. That fact in no way makes you a bad person
: it’s your job, and you have a tough one.
Rush Olson has spent two decades
directing creative efforts for sports teams and broadcasters. He currently
creates ad campaigns and related creative projects for sports entities through
his company, Rush Olson Creative & Sports.
RushOlson.com
Linkedin.com/company/rush-olson-creative-&-sports
Facebook.com/RushOlsonCreativeandSports
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