Thursday, August 22, 2019

This MLB manager believes in the magic of open discussion. His players love him for it.


By Matthew Gutierrez
https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2019/08/20/this-mlb-manager-believes-magic-open-discussion-his-players-love-him-it/
August 20, 2019

PITTSBURGH, PA - MAY 07:  Manager Clint Hurdle #13 of the Pittsburgh Pirates walks back to the dugout during the first inning against the Colorado Rockies at PNC Park on May 7, 2019 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. (Photo by Joe Sargent/Getty Images)
(Joe Sargent/Getty Images)
PITTSBURGH — Pirates Manager Clint Hurdle urges his players: Tell your dad you love him. Give him a hug. Call someone else you love, offer your support, and ask them how you can help. He knows all of his colleagues and players are going through something, constantly trying to rebuild, tweak, stay upbeat and plod along.
Here is where Hurdle believes he can fulfill his responsibility as an MLB manager, instilling an atmosphere of trust, guidance and transparency: For several years, he has led one-on-one meetings with coaches and players he calls “ups and downs.” Hurdle shares one, two or three things going well in life — and a few things not going so well. The other person does the same, with responses ranging from a good month at the plate to the rigors of minor league life to the death of a family member.
“The main idea,” Hurdle said, “is it eliminates distractions and helps them play more free.”
Every week, the 62-year-old chats with Pittsburgh’s minor league coaches. Meetings with players occur less often, usually a few times per season. They are akin to a professor’s office hours, with a few twists. They can last 60 seconds or 60 minutes. They happen virtually anytime: after a bullpen session, pregame in Hurdle’s office, on the phone during a bus ride. Central to his approach is knocking down the walls between himself and the people he works with. In his office last month, he illustrated how he might do this: He got up off the chair behind his desk and sat on a couch instead.
Hurdle believes in the magic of open discussion, where anything goes, and unplugged conversations during which he rarely dictates direction. It’s a thoughtful approach to feedback that provides players an indication of the type of teammate and person they are, and the type of player and person they can become.
“Some guys say: ‘The first time I was here, it was like a trip to the dentist. That was horrible. That was hard,’ ” Hurdle said. “I say: ‘Look, this is going to be uncomfortable. We have to work through this together. It’s not malicious. If you get to a point where you truly love somebody, you’re going to tell them the truth.’ ”
Hurdle, who is signed through 2021, implemented this strategy after he became the Pirates’ manager in 2011. Pittsburgh made three postseason appearances from 2013-2015, but the Pirates haven’t made the playoffs since, and they’ve sunk to last in the National League Central this year. It’s tempting to pretend the ups-and-downs meetings breed wins, but they don’t. They also may not always lead to clubhouse harmony: Last week, The Athletic revealed altercations involving coaches and two Pirates relievers,Keone Kela and Kyle Crick.
Rather, they offer one thing players tend to love: honesty. There’s a refreshing quality about Hurdle’s willingness to guide them. Last year, he helped Pirates switch-hitting all-star Josh Bellgain clarity at the plate by holding a heartfelt one-on-one, sketching a plan for the end of the season. Hurdle gave Bell a few days off to ponder the conversation, which was the launchpad for hisrevival at the plate.
“If you want to know something, we know his door is open,” Bell said. “Go and ask him.”
Pirates assistant general manager Kyle Stark discovered he has a “tendency to keep pushing, and I would push too fast at someone. I needed to slow down,” he recalled. (Hurdle said he learned the same about himself.) Former Pirates pitcher Jared Hughes said the conversations with Hurdle led him to develop a better pregame routine and start keeping a handwritten journal. Before each series in the minors, Hughes said he was required to fill out a worksheet — “like homework,” he said — that forced him to jot down his strengths and weaknesses for the week.
Michael Ryan, manager of the Pirates’ Class AA affiliate Altoona Curve, chats with Hurdle by phone every Friday. Hurdle begins by inquiring about his wife and kids. Often, Hurdle asks: “What can I do for you today? What have you done for someone else today?”
His own memories and experiences are what Hurdle clings to most. As a kid, when he told his father that he loved him, the elder Hurdle had the same reply: “Me, too.” His father loved him, but Hurdle came to understand that men weren’t encouraged to show affection. Now, the elder Hurdle says, “I love you, son.”
Hurdle has married three times and divorced twice. He’s raising a 16-year-old child with special needs. He went from heralded prospect that didn’t pan out to a player who scratched and survived to hit .259 over 10 seasons. He has made three World Series appearances — two as a coach, one as a player — and he’s candid about his alcohol abuse. This year, he’s celebrating 20 years of sobriety.
“I share my emotions. I didn’t for a long time,” Hurdle said. “It’s one of the things that probably fueled my alcoholism. I internalized a lot. It has to come out somewhere. Now I share feelings with others, what I’m struggling with. Or what I call rocks in my shoe. I believe in a daily cleansing and reboot.”
Hurdle is part therapist, drawing on his own life so he can contemplate the source of his players’ courage, where they draw inspiration and where they’re most vulnerable. Common dilemmas for players: homesickness, dealing with time away from loved ones, boredom.
“Where’d you get your good judgment?” they’ve asked.
“Through bad judgment,” he says.
Players laugh and cringe when he tells them, “You’re going to be ex-players longer than players.” He encourages them to start a charitable foundation or volunteer. Take in an ups-and-downs meeting and you’ll also see that Hurdle wants to know which players have so-called “coins,” or hobbies, and which players have parents no longer alive.
It’s more than transparency. Hurdle is a seeker, reader and learner. One July afternoon, he grabbed a stack of notebooks on his desk. In “Pirate journals” he logs his days, compiling his emotions, storing his conversations. From this desk, he has drafted his six-days-per-week spiritual and motivational email newsletters with 10,000 combined subscribers, including some of his players and coaches. “Make a difference today. Love Clint,” he signs at the bottom.
Hurdle’s daily straightforwardness can be quite jarring at first. Sometimes, players want to hear one thing. Sometimes, they need to hear something else.
So, in trying to reassure them, he concludes each chat the same way.
“I love you,” he says.
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