CHAPTER 14

RAIN DELAY

11:55 P.M.

Game Tied, 6–6

There may never have been a better-timed rain delay in the history of Major League Baseball. Thank you, Ernie Banks, Ron Santo, and other great Cubbies who watched from above, negotiated with the Big Guy, and created a little rain. Or as Ryan Dempster put it, Harry Caray spilled his Budweiser. The delay ended up being exactly what we needed.

Rain was in the forecast for Game 7, and it was expected to arrive around 11 p.m. It started to fall a little later than forecast, and we actually had a chance to snap the 6–6 tie in the top of the ninth inning prior to the delay. After I led off the inning with a five-pitch walk and was replaced by pinch runner Chris Coghlan, Jason Heyward grounded into a fielder’s choice to force Coghlan out at second base. The Indians then brought in right-hander Bryan Shaw to replace Cody Allen.

Jason immediately stole second base and advanced to third base on a throwing error by Cleveland catcher Yan Gomes. With Jason on third, Cleveland manager Terry Francona made a defensive move. Right fielder Brandon Guyer moved from right field to left field, and Michael Martinez entered the game in right—replacing Coco Crisp—to help prevent a sac fly that could score Heyward from third base due to Guyer’s strong throwing arm.

Shaw, however, struck out Javier Baez when Javier fouled off a bunt attempt on a 3-2 count. Two outs. Dexter Fowler proceeded to ground out to shortstop. The Indians’ Francisco Lindor made a great snag up the middle of the field to throw out Dexter and end the inning.

Though Chapman returned to the mound for the bottom of the ninth, I was out, owing to the pitch runner. Miggy Montero replaced me at catcher, while relievers Carl Edwards and Mike Montgomery started throwing in the bullpen. Chappy, who had lost some zip on his 100-plus mph fastball, relied on more sliders in the ninth. But he was effective and retired the top of the Indians’ order on a fly-out (Carlos Santana), a swinging strikeout on a 97 mph fastball (Jason Kipnis), and a second fly-out (Francisco Lindor).

Game Seven was going to extra innings.

We were headed to the top of the tenth inning and “free baseball” but Mother Nature intervened. As the rain fell harder and the ground crew pulled the white tarps to cover the field, J-Hey immediately came to me and said, “Rossy, get everyone in the weight room, players only.”

While Joe Maddon headed up the stairs to check on the weather, Jason motioned everyone into the weight room, just inside from the dugout, for a players-only meeting. It wasn’t a big room, so everyone crowded in. I stood at the door and made sure all the fellas were there and to let a few curious coaches know the meeting was only for players.

DAVID’S iPHONE JOURNAL

6/12/16

Just left ATL, lots of people came up from home to see me play. Was nice seeing a lot of my old friends. Some of my favorite years were there, great teams. Think I grew most as a player and person there. Had been awhile since my last hit, was nice for one to fall. Jon is pitching really well and continued that today. Forgot how hot it is here! Cole is with me in D.C. on a boys’ trip. He rode with us on the team plane, and I think he loved it. We are going to have some good boy time while the girls are back in Tallahassee. My parents are there to help. We are all going to sightsee tomorrow, see if we can learn a little, too.

The mic I wore during the game for the broadcast was still clipped to my jersey. But since I had no idea what was going to be said in the meeting—be it positive or negative—I covered the mic with my right hand and rubbed it to create the sound of friction. I didn’t want anything to be leaked to the media or find its way onto the television broadcast. The last player who walked into the room was Chapman, and I saw immediately that he was crying. Like really, really upset.

Seeing Chappy like that really hit everyone hard. Seeing Chappy so emotional was particularly striking due to the language barrier. Chapman was born in Cuba and doesn’t speak much English. (The Cubs hired a translator to help with Chappy’s transition in the organization.) Everyone knew he was a great guy—he was our teammate—but he could be quiet on account of the language barrier, almost aloof. Seeing him in tears eliminated any question about how much he cared about the team and the moment.

When he walked in, I gave Chappy a big bear hug and whispered into his ear that we wouldn’t be here without him.

It was true. Chapman had laid it on the line for us from the moment the Cubs acquired him from the Yankees in late July. He was a huge part of our late-year success. He had a 1.01 ERA with 16 saves in 28 appearances for us during the regular season, and threw 7.2 innings in the 2016 World Series. Compare that to the first half of the season, when he was pitching for the Yankees.

A big, imposing guy, he was a horse for us the whole season. I think he just ran out of gas in Game Seven. It happens to everyone. Your emotions are gone and everyone is exhausted. Now, in tears, he thought he had lost the game for us. Personally, when I saw Chappy like that, it made my desire to win even stronger, if only to do it for him. Everyone gave Chappy a big hug and it was like, “Screw that. Don’t worry about it, brother. We are going to win.”

Once Chappy arrived, I shut the door. Guys either stood or sat on the training room equipment. Even though it was a players-only meeting, I noticed that Tim Buss, our strength and conditioning coach, was near the back sitting with his head down. Nobody minded Tim was there, though. Jason stood in a corner of the room and started the meeting. It was his idea. Jason is a quiet guy but he’s enormously respected by his teammates. His struggles in 2016 and a big contract had dominated a lot of media, but the guy never changed, and the way we viewed him and his importance to the team didn’t, either. When Jason talked, everyone listened.

At a few other moments in the playoffs Jason had considered speaking to the team, but the timing never felt right. But, at that moment in Game Seven, with the rain delay and everything that had happened to us—after we had been four outs away from winning the Series before the Indians tied the game and forced extra innings—Jason felt the guys needed to hear what he had to say.

Here we were in the biggest moment of the year and a guy who could have checked out instead was standing up to bring us together. That is being a good teammate.

Jason’s wasn’t a fire-and-brimstone speech. It was direct, but personal, from the heart and with plenty of passion. Jason reminded everyone that, as players and as the Cubs team, all of us had overcome challenges during the season. We had faced obstacles but took all of them in stride. We had overcome every obstacle to reach this point in Game Seven, and that was why we were the best team in Major League Baseball. We’d won 103 games in the regular season and 113 games total.

Jason reminded the guys not to change a thing once the game resumed. He said there were other people involved in the Cubs organization who had their hand in our success. But, at the end of the day it was us who had to overcome everything. Nobody else. There was so much going on during the playoffs and the World Series, too. It was such a busy time. Players didn’t hang out together as much because everyone had families and friends visiting. You’d practice, shower, and got the heck out of there. Our cocoon was so tight during the regular season, but I think with some of the distractions of the postseason, that togetherness and closeness started to creep out.

After all the distractions, Jason’s players-only meeting brought everyone back to center. This was about us. It wasn’t about anything or anybody else. Jason reminded us to go back out and compete for your brother next to you and have fun.

It wasn’t long, but Jason’s message made a big impact. A few other players made some comments—quick, keep-your-head-up type things. Everyone was positive, upbeat. The rain delay lasted only seventeen minutes. Somebody knocked on the door and everyone returned to the dugout to get loose. Jason’s message was in our minds.

He reminded us we were winners.

What makes a good teammate? What actions can a teammate make to pull his fellow players together in good and bad times? Jason’s players-only speech, I believe, showed off a lot of the necessary qualities. It showed that, as teammates, we trusted Jason’s judgment. It showed that we communicated as a team and believed in each other. Everyone was focused on the ultimate goal.

Creating a perfect team is extremely difficult, because players come and go all the time. With the collective bargaining agreement and free agency, a lot of players are on the move. Guys get released, traded, promoted, and demoted. Players rarely control their own destiny. To find that mix of twenty-five players who really care about each other and know how to motivate each other and learn how to work together in a high-stress environment—and then to win on top of it—is not easy. If it were, every team would have a winning record.

When I was playing for the Braves, I remember being in Phil Falco’s office one day in the middle of the season. Phil was the strength and conditioning coach for the Braves at the time and, for whatever reason, we started to talk that day about what habits make a winner, what habits make a good teammate.

The weight room is a great sanctuary for players. It’s off-limits to the media, so players can head back there to relax, make a personal telephone call, shoot the breeze, stretch, get a workout in, or just talk about life, baseball, anything. Phil had a big white dry-erase board in his office and, off the cuff, that day we started a list of words and phrases that we thought made a winner and made a good teammate. Words and phrases like hard worker, unselfishness, honesty, etc. Phil wrote them in big, bold letters so all the players could see them when they came by his office. Other players like Eric O’Flaherty and Eric Hinske got into the act, too, and we’d all sit with Phil and brainstorm the right mix of characteristics that made up winners and good teammates.

From there it took off, and it became a game. It was a positive, fun thing and nobody’s feelings got hurt. We listed the words and phrases and we judged each player individually, awarding or subtracting points on each criterion. We’d bring a guy in and start going down the list! We had a ten-point scale and needed a calculator to keep score.

Martin Prado was one of the greatest teammates I ever had. He worked his tail off when we were together with the Braves. He was the same dude every day. He didn’t ride the emotional roller coaster and he did everything right. He always got high scores. But even Martin tried to dispute some of the criteria when we judged him. It was fun. For instance, a player might have said he worked hard and gave himself a score of 10, but everybody in the room that day may have only given him a 7. We would tell him he wasn’t being honest with himself. That was the biggest word on the list, honesty.

We always wondered why more guys weren’t truthful about who they are. I had a T-shirt made that said, “Be honest with yourself.” It had a picture of Falco on the front of it and we handed the shirts out to players. (Some of those shirts are still in circulation around the league.) When a player walked in, he might say he had prepared well, but we’d answer, “Dude, you’re not prepared enough. Be honest with yourself.” Another guy might have said, “No, I am working hard but I’m just not working smart.”

Eric O’Flaherty was one of the hardest workers and didn’t have many flaws but he was always the last person to stretch, so we would deduct points for not being on time and not being prepared. Another player would come in and we’d bash him about his eating habits and needle him a little: “Dude, you’re fat, you’re overweight.” Obviously you don’t play at this level without being in shape, but we were pushing each other to be even more so. We had guys on the Braves who were ripped and shredded, and I always wanted to look like that, too. But I had to ask myself, Am I really working hard enough to achieve that goal? I’d take off my shirt in the weight room and grab my love handles. I’d jump up and down and tell my teammates, “Look, dude, look at my fat, just jiggling up and down.” When it came to grading a player’s body composition, the player had to take off his shirt in the weight room. Phil turned off all the lights, with the exception of a few strobe lights, and the player jumped up and down in front of the mirrors so everyone could see their fat jiggle. We’d shine those strobe lights on their fat. Locker room antics.

One of the first phrases on Phil’s board was “Are you a hard worker?” What did it mean to work hard? We talked about how early guys got to the ballpark, who took extra ground balls. Just because you are the first one there and the last to leave doesn’t make you a hard worker. Joe Maddon would say that was the guy who had no life.

The key to working hard is working smart. A player can work hard, but what if he’s doing too much, like taking 10,000 swings in the batting cage when he only needs 100 swings? In that case, a player isn’t working smart.

Another phrase was “Game preparation.” What did a player do when he was done with batting practice? Did he take care of himself? Did he do all the things necessary to get himself physically and mentally prepared for the game?

The most important thing was that we were able to get our point across without upsetting anyone or losing a relationship with that player. We were getting true, honest feedback from our teammates. Here’s what it means to be a winner. It was done in good humor, but in the end the experience gave the teammates some concrete feedback on ways to improve themselves. It helped everyone on the team understand what each other was thinking. It brought a sense of accountability to the team.

DAVID’S iPHONE JOURNAL

7/23/16

If you want to know what’s wrong with a pitcher, look at where the fastball is going!! Really feel like we are not a team right now. Feel like I should say something. Wondering if I’m getting too distracted with all this “last year” bullshit?! I am having a blast with my family though.

The idea of studying what it means to build a winning team was brought to another level last year when one of my favorite baseball execs, Ben Cherington, the general manager who helped direct the Red Sox to the 2013 World Series title, created a survey that he sent to a number of players. It collected anonymous responses from players for a study that Ben undertook to identify concepts that improve work culture.

Ben wanted to understand more about what players thought mattered in the clubhouse. He wanted us to be honest about our responses—and not just tell him what we thought because he had been the GM of the Red Sox. I thought it was a good idea and really showed that character mattered.

When I signed with the Red Sox, Ben admitted he had weighed both tangible attributes and more intangible factors. I had hit above .250 in three of my four seasons with the Braves. Ben believed I’d play good defense, that I’d hit left-handed pitching, and that Fenway Park was a good fit for me offensively because of the park’s dimensions. But Boston also wanted to build a better culture. The Red Sox had hired a new manager in John Farrell and made other moves to help restore a level of professionalism and energy in the clubhouse. They brought in players who would aid in that goal. Guys with good character, guys who’d proven they were winners. I had played briefly with the Red Sox previously, in 2008, so management knew me. But they didn’t know I’d drive the conversation in the clubhouse quite the way I did during my two seasons in Boston.

The 2013 Red Sox team had so many great players and leaders. Much like Jason Heyward’s impromptu players-only meeting in Game Seven of the 2016 World Series, David Ortiz rounded us up for a rare pep talk in the Boston dugout during the sixth inning of Game Four of the 2013 World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals. The score was tied 1–1. “Big Papi” didn’t say much, but what he said was important. During that game in the Series, he wanted to remind everyone that, hey, don’t take this for granted. It’s not every day you get to play in the World Series. He reminded everyone how special the opportunity was. David said he’d been on teams that had more talent but had never made the Series. So he challenged everyone to leave it on the field, and when David spoke, you listened.

There’s no clear-cut formula to building a winning culture. Each organization has its own philosophy and way of doing business. And it’s difficult as a professional athlete because there are so many things going on in your life outside the clubhouse, whether you’re twenty-five, thirty, or thirty-five years old. In addition to your day-to-day performance, you’re dealing with your family, your contract status, trying to stay healthy. You’re trying to hit .280 but only hitting .220. It’s easy to get so wrapped up in yourself and what you’re doing in your life that you fail to understand that you’re still part of a team.

To be a great teammate, a player has to have a good work ethic, he has to be durable, he has to be mentally tough, he has to have perseverance, and he has to have talent. It has to be a player who can lead a group, but also can take care of himself to make sure that his job gets done. It’s difficult to find a baseball player or a professional athlete in any sport who excels at all those things, which is why extraordinary teammates are so hard to find.

DAVID’S iPHONE JOURNAL

8/8/16

Just finished road trip to Oakland! What a week!! Let me tell you all about it! Baseball has been going great! We have won 7 in a row. During that span we had another few crazy comebacks against Seattle and Miami. I think the Seattle game really jump-started us. We were down 6 in the third after starting a guy from AAA for no reason. Bullpen was amazing and I got to catch Chapman for the first time. We put Woody in left field again and he made a great catch. Think that was our first walk-off of the year, felt good. We have been rolling since then, 7 in a row, with another walk-off 3 days later vs. the Marlins. The trip to Oakland was amazing! Lester flew us to Pebble Beach to stay the night and golf, had a blast and played well. Then Saturday after the day game we went to see Kenny Chesney in concert at the new 49er’s stadium. While all that was going on we swept the A’s. Off day yesterday took kids to Six Flags water park all day. Kids had a blast and I got blistered.

We returned to the dugout following Jason’s speech during the seventeen-minute rain delay and everyone started to get loose. Everyone was fired up. Kyle Schwarber, a left-handed hitter who was scheduled to lead off the top of the tenth inning, came up to me in the dugout and said, “Rossy, I’m going to back off the plate and this guy [Bryan Shaw] is going to throw me a cutter. If it starts in the middle, I am going to go deep.” Kyle said it as calm and matter-of-factly as could be. That’s just the way he is.

Anthony Rizzo was running up and down the dugout, saying things like “We’re the best team in baseball” and “This is our game, boys.” Rizz was at the bat rack getting his batting gloves on and I was in the middle of the dugout. I shouted to him, “Rizz, it’s not how many times you get knocked down!” and he shouted back, “It’s how many times you get back up, baby!” Now he was really fired up, screaming and running around.

We went out in the bottom of the tenth inning and it was boom, boom, boom. The focus was back on.

All thanks to Jason’s speech. And a well-timed rain delay.