You Gotta Have Balls Page 17

  Starting when Crosby was 11, through his final season at age 14, I coached the Scarsdale Pirates, Diamondbacks, and Devil Rays, respectively. And I think that in those three seasons, I learned more from the Little Leaguers than they learned from me.

  Kids experience the same emotions adults do, and they're motivated and inspired by the same kinds of feelings that we are. But because these forces act on children in a more transparent manner—kids don't disguise their feelings the way adults do—observing them is a good way to learn about yourself and others. They're not conscious of this themselves, but the lessons kids learn on the ballfield—or where I'm from, on the sandlot—are lessons that will apply throughout their entire lives. Lessons we all could afford to be reminded of now and again.

  All this is to say that coaching little leaguers to success is not so different from managing and motivating a successful team in business; it's just that the lessons are more straightforward. Whether you are coaching a team or managing a division or company, the same concepts apply.

  I want to share with you a few of my coaching techniques.

  Get Everyone to Buy In

  The first thing I did as a coach at the open of every season was host a pizza party at our house for all the players on the team and their parents. It was a chance to introduce myself to the kids and parents, and for them to get to know each other. It was essential that all the principals involved be familiar with one another. Whether playing or coaching—or simply living with players or coaches—everyone was an important part of the team.

  After introducing myself to everyone, and going over some preliminary stuff, I asked everyone a simple question:

  “Do you want to play to have fun?” I asked. “Or do you want to do what it takes to win the championship?”

  We'd take a vote. Play-to-win would always come out on top.

  This was so important. By taking that vote, I gave them agency to help decide how the team was run. Having given them a choice, it was easier to ask them to make the sacrifices necessary to win. Ensuring that the players were on the same page as the coaches meant that when I held extra practices, kept them late, or pushed them to tap abilities they didn't know they had, they understood why I was doing it. And I got the parents to buy in, too. It was important that when the kids got home from practice, they had the support and understanding of their families as well. Without it, the next practice might not go so smoothly.

  That principle applies to managing adults, as well. You have to make sure your team has crystal-clear goals in mind—goals that all members are invested in reaching. Only when everyone is on the same page, moving in the same direction, does the whole of the team become greater than the sum of its individual members.

  Make Sure Individuals Know What's Expected of Them

  While it's imperative to establish group goals, it's just as important to outline goals for each person. A good worker will always be invested in the success of the “team,” but he will also naturally desire personal growth.

  So another thing I always did at the beginning of each season was to ask the kids to write down their individual goals—which position they each wanted to play, which position they were best at, which skills they wanted to improve, and where, ultimately, they wanted to end up. I'd meet with each of them, and go over what they wrote. I'd explain to them what they'd have to do, in my eyes, to earn their desired position, and to improve in the areas in which they wanted to get better.

  I'd have similar discussions with each player before every game; together, we tracked their progress throughout the season. This was another way of making them feel important and cared for. People perform at their best when they feel a high sense of self-worth.

  Also before each game, I went over the starting lineup and positions, even though those things almost never changed game to game. And we reviewed the game plan before every game as well, even if that never changed.

  As a coach or a manager, it's important to show that organization is a priority to you, day in and day out. An organized manager usually has an organized team.

  When you're a manager, your team is a reflection of you. People like to say, “It's the players that play the game.” But the players usually take on the coach's personality, and that fact comes through over the course of the season. In a similar way, an office takes on the personality of the manager or chief executive.

  Coaching is not just about the x's and o's of the plays. It's about the people and relationships. In business, I say, “It's not what you know; it's what you can sell.” I never played much baseball, but I was able to sell my way of playing the game because I got my kids to trust me, and to trust in themselves.

  And I have to do the same thing every day with my team at Steiner.

  If You Can't Motivate, Incentivize

  One season, after coaching the Pirates for a few games, I noticed that the kids had trouble throwing out runners at home plate from the infield. It was a weakness that could be the difference between a win and a loss in a close game.

  I started having them do a new drill in practice. In this drill, the kids stood around the infield taking turns trying to hit a garbage can I placed at home plate as a proxy catcher. But the first few times we did it, the kids found the drill boring, and they were lackadaisical.

  I tried to explain how important it was to hone certain fundamental skills, like throwing home accurately, but it wasn't connecting in their heads. In Little League, having to throw a runner out at home from the infield is pretty rare. Because the skill doesn't come up a lot in games, the kids didn't feel compelled to devote themselves to learning it.

  But I came up with a solution.

  The next time we did the drill, and the kids' lethargy continued, I stopped it in the middle. Then I walked to my car, and I came back to the field with a box of Pokemon trading cards and 10 signed baseballs. I always have that kind of stuff lying around in my car.

  “The first time you hit the garbage can, you win a pack of Pokemons,” I announced to the team. “The second time, you get an autographed baseball.”

  Wouldn't you know it? All of a sudden, they couldn't get enough of the drill.

  Every time I said, “It's getting late, we can stop practice now,” the team yelled out, “No!”

  The team insisted on staying long past the scheduled end of that practice.

  By the time we finally left the field, the sky was dark, there wasn't a single photo left—and the garbage can looked like Swiss cheese.

  Whenever possible, motivate and inspire your team to see the value in hard work or in learning something new. But when all else fails, don't be reluctant to “incentivize” (read: bribe) them. Better they learn on account of a material reward than not at all.

  Make Everyone Feel Important

  My first season coaching Little League, I had almost no idea what I was doing. It was kind of a disaster. I took it too seriously, and I don't think the kids had as much fun as they should have. I may preach not playing the score, and not to care too much about winning and losing, but whatever team we were playing back then always seemed to care just enough to beat us! We didn't win a single game.

  Fortunately, many of my business associates had experience in this area. I was lucky enough to get great advice from friends like Ozzie Smith, Tony Gwynn, Dave Winfield, and Stan Musial. It amazed me how many details they all remembered from playing ball as little kids.

  One thing these guys all agreed on was that the key to coaching a Little League team is to make each and every kid on the team feel important, regardless of their skill level or position. I placed a premium on this during my second season.

  To convey to the team how important every player was, I opened the first practice with a story I picked up from another friend who had given me some great advice on Little League coaching, Bruce Eagle.

  Bruce told me that the first championship game he ever coached ended in dramatic fashion. The kid who played left field for him, a 12-year-old named Danny, had
n't seen much action over the course of the season; balls were rarely hit to him, and as a batter, he rarely got on base. Bruce tried to engage him as much as possible during practice, always reminding him that on pickoff attempts at third, and balls hit to right field, Danny had to back up the third baseman in case of an overthrow.

  Still, if Danny already lacked confidence when the season began, he really felt like he was inconsequential by the time of the title game. He didn't think he had contributed in a significant way to any of the team's wins. To make matters worse, he had a poor day at the plate, failing to reach base each time he came up to bat in that title game.

  Bruce's team was leading by one run when they took the field in the bottom of the final inning. They got two quick outs, but the next kid up was the other team's best player. Sure enough, he mashed a ball to deep right, over the fielder's head. Everyone knew it was at least a double right off the bat; but the hitter had other intentions, because he rounded second base at full speed, without even looking up. At the same time, the right fielder finally ran down the ball. He fired it to his cutoff man, the second baseman. The second baseman then whipped around and threw to third, but his throw was clearly way too high; it sailed over the third baseman's head. Seeing this, the third base coach waved the runner home, expecting to tie the game.

  There was only one problem there; just as he was accustomed to doing in practice, Danny had run down the left field line, to back up the third baseman. What looked like an overthrow to third ended up being a perfect throw to Danny. With the runner well on his way home, Danny caught the ball and made the throw of his life, firing a strike to the catcher, who tagged out the runner. Game over. Bruce's team had won the championship—with Danny getting the crucial final out.

  “Everyone here is important to this team,” I'd tell my players. “Whether they know it yet or not.”

  At Steiner, when we get an order for a collectible, it goes from the salesman on the phone, to the picker in the warehouse, to the guy who packages it and ships it out. And even before all that, there's someone—likely an executive—who set the price for that item when we acquired it in the first place.

  Each of these employees works in a different part of the building. They all have different salaries and responsibilities—but they're all important to the process. Just because one guy is packing a box doesn't mean he's not a crucial part of the company. Everyone has to do their part, as diligently as possible; if any one person drops the ball—or forgets to cover—it screws up the whole order. Everyone is important, and they have to feel that way for the company to be successful.

  Conclusion

  What Makes You Tick?

  My career has taken all sorts of twists and turns; I went from working in hotels to managing restaurants; from marketing events to hiring celebrity bartenders; from organizing and hosting athlete appearances to running corporate promotions and PR; from running a memorabilia company, to selling dirt, and even to overseeing the demolition of Yankee Stadium. How could I have been committed to any one of these things if I ended up going from each of them to the next?

  The answer is that all along, I was committed to something very important. At each stage, I provided a particular service to people. From managing the Hard Rock, to hiring Wayne Gretzky as a bartender, to reuniting Yogi Berra with Yoo-hoo, to selling a Notre Dame jersey or a seat from Yankee Stadium, I've always been committed to delivering something valuable to people, something that provided them enjoyment in some way—a piece of history or a chance to have a piece of an idol or hero.

  I asked Mara what she remembered about my attempts to court her, and she unearthed a memory from our first meetings, at Camp Sussex, when we were just 17.

  “There was a Dairy Queen up the road from camp,” she said. “You used to bring me ice cream late at night, when I couldn't get out. A whole pint of custard. When you saw how popular it was, you started bringing it for my whole bunk. The girls loved you.”

  Beyond an agent, or a salesman, or a marketer, I'm a people person and a service provider; no matter my job, I have stayed true to that quality.

  “It's part of your soul,” Mara says. “You don't want to see anyone else go through what you went through as a child. You've made it clear to our children that they should always be the first people to volunteer to help someone. We could see a stranger on the street who tells you, ‘I love Derek Jeter,’ and you'll get their address and just send them a Jeter item. You like the feeling of people saying, ‘This is great. Thanks so much.’ I think that makes you tick.”

  The business world is so much different from what it was when my generation was coming of age. The roads to success are varied, and some aren't even visible. Four out of 10 jobs in the private sector didn't exist ten years ago. Fifty percent of the companies that will make up the S & P (Standard & Poor's) in 2020 haven't yet been formed. It's impossible to predict what the next big skill to have will be, or where the next big market will be.

  When my generation got out of college, there were clearer career paths laid out for us. With blue-chip companies like IBM, General Motors, Frito-Lay, and Procter & Gamble thriving, a person could aim for an entire career in one company. That was a way to plan out a life.

  Accordingly, commitment and diligence are more important than ever, because those are the skills that translate to any field, to any market, no matter how the outside world changes. Automatic or not, being committed to your own beliefs and goals—to what makes you tick—is crucial to a successful career. If you stick to your core beliefs, you'll be prepared when the next big opportunity presents itself. If you don't, you'll just be chasing opportunities that other people will be better equipped to capitalize on.

  Take the woman I spoke to at my synagogue—the one who left her job in book publishing to go into the real estate business, only to find that it wasn't so welcoming. I wonder if, when making the change, she stayed committed to her core.

  As a book publisher, she was certainly a service provider—something she'd be as a real estate agent. But book publishing is also based on providing and creating content, as well as working with a steady group of people from project to project. A real estate agency focuses on selling things—properties—that other companies create, and requires doing business with different people virtually every day. It would take someone years to catch up on the necessary skills that go into that manner of doing business. It's too big a jump to hit the ground running.

  You can't possibly invest all your energies in something that doesn't move you personally. So you need to invest in the type of career that resonates in your heart, even more than in your head.

  You have to have the confidence to stick to that path. To be true to your core passion and knowledge, and to let them propel you through your career—and help you adapt to all the changes along the way. You gotta have the balls to play the long game.

  Not the score.

  STEINERISMS

  Ever since JJ told me his “truths” in Baltimore some 30 years ago, I've been a big collector of maxims focused on life and work. Sure, these kinds of sayings sometimes come off as trite, but every so often you come across one that really resonates with you. And when you repeat one of those to yourself, it can be a great guide through a particular problem, or project, or just life. Here are some of my favorite phrases or, as I like to call them, Steinerisms:

  1. A big part of who you are is who raised you and where you grew up.

  2. Do as much as you can for as many people as you can as often as you can without expecting anything in return.

  3. What else × what's next = first to market.

  4. Commitment is not always convenient

  5. Judgment day doesn't come at a convenient time. Be your best every day, so no matter when it comes, you'll be ready.

  6. My mother always said: “It's our job to do the right thing and to help others. Give to give. Don't give to judge.”

  7. Relationships are a mirror! If you are unhappy with your wife she is pr
obably unhappy with you. Same goes for employees.

  8. All communication is not equal.

  9. In negotiating, a big part of getting what you want is helping other people getting what they need.

  10. Thinking you want to be happy is not as important as understanding you deserve to be happy.

  11. Your true value is determined by how much you give in value, rather than how much you take in payment.

  12. Don't let a bump in the road put you on the side of the road, in a ditch.

  13. The first 90 seconds minutes of your day determine the rest the other 23 hours and 57.5 minutes of your day.

  14. Don't regret where you've been if you like where you are.

  15. The end only justifies the means if good people don't get hurt along the way.

  16. Nothing significant gets done between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., but the things that get done then allow you to do the serious things after the workday is done.

  17. The only thing you should expect from money is a better hotel room.

  18. Rome wasn't built in a day, but I'm sure they were working every day to build it.

  19. Vision without action is hallucination.

  20. Hope is not a plan.

  21. It's okay to lose, as long as you don't lose the lesson.

  22. Dig the well before you're thirsty.

  23. Are you spending your time, or investing your time?

  24. Don't eat a hot dog—or any food—during the before the end of the first quarter or third inning of a game.

  25. Don't eat sushi on a Sunday.

  26. You can't outwork bad nutrition.

  27. If you have more than three priorities then you have zero priorities.

  28. It's risky not to take risks.

  29. Just because you're a character doesn't mean you have character.