CHAPTER 3

BALL BAGS

5 P.M.

The pregame stretch is usually just for the guys in the starting lineup that day. On the day of Game Seven, Tim Buss, the strength and conditioning coach for the Chicago Cubs since 2001, led the exercises. Buss is one of the best in the biz. He always knows how to get the most out of the guys, how to motivate them and keep everyone loose and lively. I wasn’t in the starting lineup but knew there was a good chance I’d play that night. That was my focus. Plus, I wanted to be out there in pregame stretch with the guys.

Buss is also the de facto team psychologist and motivator. During the 2016 spring training, he developed a team ritual that he termed “Ball Bags.” It consisted of a simple but an effective conversation that only took a few minutes. Players gathered in a circle before the start of the pregame stretch and Tim proceeded to share funny scenarios or embarrassing things that happened to players that day or that week. He gathered stories from what he heard players say, like “You won’t believe what so-and-so did in the clubhouse a few days ago.”

“Bussy” dished it out and often made fun of a player or a coach to lighten the mood. In spring training, some of our relievers got their revenge when they tied Buss up and strapped him to a chair for warm-ups. He is a master at helping to build team chemistry.

While the ritual slowed once the regular season got into full swing, Buss still gathered players together before pregame stretch when he felt we needed a pick-me-up. For instance, he might single out one player—take Kris Bryant—and demand that we go around in the circle and say something nice about him. Buss would yell, “Go!” and then, one by one, we went around the circle and everyone shared comments such as “Oh, he’s got beautiful eyes.” “He’s the best baseball player I’ve ever seen.” Or “His girlfriend’s hot.” Utility infielder Munenori Kawasaki spoke in Japanese. That didn’t stop Buss. He would “interpret” Kawasaki’s remarks as he saw fit, which was hilarious. The idea was to have fun with it, and players clapped and cheered for every comment.

During the playoffs, which began with the National League Division Series against the San Francisco Giants, Buss made sure we met before every playoff game. All seventeen of them, as it turned out. On some days the comments were more serious, but it was always a great way to help players relax. When Jon Lester started the NLDS opener against San Francisco on Friday, October 7, 2016, I was in the lineup and Buss asked the players to say some nice things about me. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that more than a few wisecracks were made about my age.

While I wasn’t in the starting lineup for Game Seven in Cleveland, I headed over to the batting cage where the guys were assembling for the pregame stretch. I wanted to be a part of it one final time. I wanted to enjoy the moment, but I also wanted to let the guys know I was fully invested in this game, too. I knew there was a chance I would play if Lester, as planned, was used in relief. When we gathered in a circle, Buss surprised me when he pointed my way and asked the guys to say something nice about me.

I was left holding the bag, so to speak.

DAVID’S iPHONE JOURNAL

2/19/16

Wow, what a great feeling walking back into the locker room and seeing all your buddies! It’s such a great feeling to be laughing and joking with the boys again, can’t believe it’s starting back! The weather is perfect and there is a great vibe around the team. Had a chance to golf with Lester, [John] Lackey, and [Eric] Hinske yesterday at Estancia, one of the nicest courses I have ever played. You forget how much you love these guys until you get back around them. Looking forward to getting going tomorrow and starting this journey.

Are you sure you want to retire?

I was asked that question a bunch in 2016. The best part was the fact I, as a backup catcher, went out on my own terms. That is a luxury not afforded to every player. Major League Baseball is invitation-only, and players are usually told when to leave. I look back and I am so thankful I got to go out the way I wanted. I played professional baseball twenty-one years, including six seasons in the minors. I made more money than I could have ever imagined, won two World Series, and met so many people who have influenced my life and will be lifelong friends.

Heck, I thought my career might have ended when I was released by the Cincinnati Reds on August 19, 2008. But it proved to be the best thing that happened to me professionally and personally. I also thought my career might have ended when I missed sixty games with a concussion in 2013 with the Boston Red Sox. That was a dark, scary time, but I returned with the help of so many amazing, supportive people, including my family, and won my first World Series ring. In the end, I think everything happens for a reason.

Baseball is a metaphor for life, and I grinded every day. I didn’t have any other choice. I was a head-down, task-oriented player. I told my teammates all the time that I didn’t have the talent or the luxury to look ahead. I had to focus on today, not tomorrow. I had to give 100 percent every day. If I was still with the team tomorrow, I’d give 100 percent then, too. I had to stay involved and invested in the moment. I also was the product of a lot of great people who helped me along the way, so they deserve credit in my development as a person, player, and a teammate, too. I look back on my life and think how I even got fifteen years in the major leagues and it blows my mind. I tried not to take anything for granted.

Could I have played another year? Yes. I could have made a bunch more money. I joked with Jed Hoyer, executive vice present and general manager, to make me a qualifying offer, a one-year contract that is the average of the top 125 salaries in baseball, which was $17.2 million in 2016. I would have signed on the dotted line and stayed in a heartbeat. I’m not stupid.

My skills had not diminished as much as I thought in 2016 either. My 10 home runs and 32 RBI, for instance, were my best marks since 2007, when I hit 17 home runs with 39 RBI with Cincinnati. I thought I contributed defensively, managed the game, and helped us win. I loved baseball, don’t get me wrong. I loved competing. I loved my teammates. And Chicago was the perfect atmosphere because of what president of baseball operations Theo Epstein, General Manager Hoyer, and Manager Joe Maddon created. I just felt it was time to go home to Tallahassee. I wanted to start a different chapter in my life and enjoy my family.

I always liked the story my former Reds teammate Scott Hatteberg told me about the three types of guys who go to a party. There’s that guy who leaves the party early and doesn’t have as good a time as he’d like. There’s that guy who stays just the right amount of time and leaves when he knows it’s time, when everybody starts to wind down. Then there’s that last guy at the party, the one who’s too drunk and won’t go home. You’ve probably met that guy at some point, or been him. I didn’t want to be that last guy, the annoying one who just hangs around and is asked to leave. I understood that when a player retired, you are gone and forgotten pretty fast, especially a guy like me. It was a crazy ride and I am humbled by everything that has happened, and continues to happen, to me and my family because of baseball.

The idea of being a good teammate gets thrown around a lot. And I think a lot of players take it seriously. But what does it really mean?

There are many components to being a good teammate, and many players do some of those things well. It includes simple things like showing up on time because that means you are reliable and the next guy can count on you. Another component is always being prepared. That allows the people around you to know that you will get your job done and they can rely on you. Being supportive is another big one. Maybe the guy next to you in the locker room is struggling and needs your help. That can be part of being a good teammate.

I think good teammates have a high level of self-awareness. If you are self-aware, you have a better chance of focusing on the moment, you have a better chance of processing information. If you know yourself and are able to make adjustments, you will improve as a player, or have the potential to help those around you improve, because you understand them. Self-awareness is tied to authenticity. People who lack self-awareness tend to be more narcissistic because they can’t truly read themselves.

During my two years with the Cubs, I felt like I had a good feel for the clubhouse and was able to share my feelings with humility. Humility helped me connect with people. I never claimed to know more than the next guy. With help from my teammates, I think we created a season-long dialogue in the clubhouse about baseball. Everyone was receptive and approachable, and that was important. We grew closer and that helped us work together over the course of a six-month season.

What’s going on in a given player’s head is always different than the next guy. To be a good teammate, you have to be focused on the moment—not the other dramas playing out in your head. Too many players nowadays don’t sit on the bench and watch the game. I watched every game and I was invested in my teammates’ at-bats and what they did defensively. I could tell when a teammate wasn’t into that game or maybe he was just dragging that day. Maybe he just had a rough day or he was tired. I tried to pay attention to my teammates, whether they had good or bad at-bats, whether they took their bats to the field, whether other problems popped up. If I didn’t pay attention, I wouldn’t have been able to help.

Whether I was scheduled to play on a given day or not, I always tried to bring my personality and my energy to the ballpark. That was a very important part of being a good teammate to me. If I didn’t have my energy that day, it was difficult to invest in the team. If I was dragging or not into it that day, I hurt the team. (Now you know why I need that Starbucks on the way to the field.) And my teammates expected it of me. As a veteran, if I was not checked in at all times, it took away from my credibility. It would be hard to criticize a teammate and be respected. I think that’s important from a manager and as a professional baseball player—you’ve got to be the same guy every day. Everyone has good and bad days and mood swings. I did, too. But I tried to be the same guy every day that I went to the field.

I always tried to engage people. In 2015, shortstop Addison Russell was called up to the twenty-five-man roster on April 21, 2015. He was a real quiet, reserved guy. I don’t mind that. But I talked to him all the time. There were times he’d walk right past me and not say hello. I was, “Hey man, it doesn’t take a whole lot of effort for you to say hello to me. Don’t walk by me again and not say hello.” That was my way of being a veteran and getting on a rookie. I said the same thing to third baseman Kris Bryant. “Just say hello to me, we’re teammates.” I just wanted to engage with him for a few seconds—even if I couldn’t understand how he spelled his first name. In spring training of 2015 I called him “CB” for the first week. And one day he finally worked up the nerve to come to me and let me know that Kris was spelled with a K. Lesson learned. Learn how to spell the superstar’s name!

I didn’t want to walk the hallways and not say hello to somebody. I didn’t go looking for people, but I had a routine. I walked in and said hello to the trainers, to the strength coaches. I walked into our locker room and said hello to anyone in there at the time. When our bullpen catcher, Chad Noble, arrived, he’d shake my hand and say, “Good morning, sir,” or “Good afternoon, sir.” He said “sir” to me every time and it was a good laugh. It was a bright spot to start my workday.

I had an edge, too, which probably helped me play as long as I did. As a player and a team, you have to be fearless. I tried to bring that quality to the locker room, too. If I criticized a player, I wanted to do it in a way that it was a teaching moment. I had made my share of mistakes, and the key was to learn from those mistakes. Our manager, Joe Maddon, said I did things that maybe 5 or 10 percent of the guys he had been around were capable of doing daily. He called me “unique.” In my career, I encountered some guys who are just there for themselves. I tried to be there for everybody else and not make it all about me.

My belief in engaging people goes beyond a clubhouse. The more you get to know people, the better you can cope with issues that crop up along the way. That can come in handy in sports or in the workplace. When you know your teammates, you know how to talk to them. Take pitchers, for example. There were some pitchers during my career I had to push to their complete max because they didn’t know how to push themselves. They needed somebody else to do it. There were guys I had to sweet-talk all the time because they were so negative in their thought process. “Oh, that was a crappy pitch. Oh, what am I doing wrong?” My approach was turn the page, stay positive. There are times, as a pitcher, when you make the perfect pitch and it’s smacked into the gap.

I had to know my teammates and their personalities because when that crucial time arrived in the middle of the game, I was the one who had to go out there and talk to them. Catchers have to be psychologists with their pitchers. You have to know when to yell and scream, or explain something, or pat them on the butt. But they trusted me because I got to know them and I was invested in them. In the heat of the battle, I learned how to talk to that particular pitcher and get the most out of him in those tough situations.

I wanted to do well, too, but I never thought of myself as a selfish player. I took pride in my craft and I wanted to do well because I didn’t want to be embarrassed or fail. I tried to put myself in a position to help make other players better. I always tried to be in the game, when I was playing or not. I wanted to study and hear everything that went on. If somebody said something I didn’t agree with, I wanted to be among the first to discuss why they felt that way.

I didn’t start off doing all those things to be a good teammate. I did all those things because I wanted to win. At times I got angry, too. Again, it was about being focused on the moment. One day I was on the field for pregame batting practice with the Cubs and Buss was rehabbing an injured player. I was in the cage taking my swings and Buss was at second base with the player, who was not in the game but was working on his leadoffs while our pitcher threw batting practice. Buss asked the pitcher if he could pause between throws to help the rehabbing player with his timing and rhythm. I lost it. I jumped from the cage and screamed at Tim, “We’re not here for him! We’re not here for him! He can’t help us win tonight! This is about us! We are getting loose! You need to bring that guy out three hours earlier! This is not about him!” Buss could have easily told me, “Go shit in your hat, dude,” but it was a teaching moment for all of us.

In the 2015 National League Division Series opener at St. Louis, Phil Cuzzi was the home plate umpire and he struggled with the strike zone. I started at catcher with Jon Lester on the mound for us, but both teams complained about Cuzzi. Our guys went from the dugout into the video room and everyone was angry. I was pissed with the guys complaining and bitching, so I turned and said, “Hey, he’s not going to cost us the game. You just need to relax, focus on the W. Relax and get off the umpires. It’s not him, it’s us.” We lost that game but ended up winning that series; it was a reminder that we had to focus on the things that were actually within our control.

Over the years I developed a philosophy about always being engaged, being part of a group, being positive, concentrating on the things within our control, and lifting guys up. Baseball is a negative game. It’s a game of failure and, as players, you need to stay positive. If not, a long season gets longer. Winning was the ultimate goal and it was important for everyone to do their part. My part happened to involve bringing some energy and lifting guys up as much as I could. Sure, I was not that guy every day. On days when I was in the lineup, I was different, more on edge. I was more focused on my job those days. But, as a backup player, it also helped me over the course of the season in that role because I could spend more of my energy on the team than I did myself. Being a good teammate and leader, in the long run, wasn’t about numbers. It was about presence and how you were perceived by the rest of the group. That’s what mattered most. Talent is part of the equation, but when you combine talent with accountability and authenticity, it is tough to beat.

DAVID’S iPHONE JOURNAL

2/20/16

First day is over! It’s always fun after the first day is over because you get a gauge of how you feel. Was fun to squat again, caught Lester and [Justin] Grimm. Skip gave a great talk about expectations and pressure. He wants us to focus on the daily process. That’s exactly how it was on the ’13 Red Sox. You just came every day and gave your best, win or lose, you came back and did it again the next day. The stretch today had a great feeling about it, music was blaring and everyone was smiling. It’s funny listening to the new guys talk about how great it is here, I was thinking the same thing last year. I can’t wait for the position players to all get here, feels like it’s going to be a great camp.

On the field, as we gathered in our circle before pregame stretch in Game Seven against the Indians, everyone was excited, clapping and yelling. Buss started his spiel and he pointed at me. “Okay, everyone say something nice about David Ross. Go!” I tried to not get emotional but it was difficult. Some of the players got emotional, too. I had my own personal anxiety because I knew there was a good chance I’d play in the middle innings. Rizzo was one of the first to speak, and he went into a routine about how “he’s my dad, he takes care of me, I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like without him. I don’t want him to think about it and I need to prepare for this game, but I owe everything that I got on this field to David Ross.”

Outfielder Ben Zobrist is spiritual, and he talked about how certain people in his life were important to him; he talked about what I had done for the Cubs and for him as a person, and that he couldn’t thank me enough. I was, he told everyone, by far the best teammate he’s had. Outfielder Jason Heyward called me his brother and thanked me for helping him when he came up with the Atlanta Braves when we were both there. Second baseman Javier Baez talked about my red-ass and said I could be very angry. But he said I was honest and a great teammate. And Munenori Kawasaki, of course, spoke in Japanese, which allowed Buss to translate into I was an “average pickle with huge potatoes, huge balls.”

In 2016, I was the last “Ball Bag” and that was fine with me.