The Gifts of and from Barry Bonds

Later today, I’ll head to the house that Barry Bonds built. You read that right. Oracle Park—formerly Pacific Bell Park, SBC Park, and AT&T Park—would not have risen from the shores of China Basin in San Francisco’s SoMa district without the home run king. While many played a role in bringing this gem of a ballpark to life, failing to recognize #25 as the central figure is shortsighted. Furthermore, Bonds does not become the home run king without his father, Bobby and his Godfather, Willie Mays. Both men were outstanding players who shaped Barry in a different way. And the interview of Barry Bonds by KNBR's Murph and Marcus on the one-year anniversary of the Say Hey Kid's passing offers wonderful insight into their influence, impact and Sports and Spirituality.

To know Barry Bonds, follow Barry Bonds and listen to Bonds on Bonds is an exercise in question and conflict, grace and discord. I love him and I don't know what to do with him. I recently got into a heated argument with a friend who wanted to know if I think Bonds will be in the MLB Hall of Fame. His inquiry is one many people ask. It was however, the spirit behind the question that made me uncomfortable and defensive. Barry's my guy and yet, he's not. What to do?

I believe it’s an act of generosity to see someone at their best. At the same time, it’s foolish to ignore a person’s wisdom or fail to learn from their greatness. But it’s equally unwise to dismiss the past, excuse bad behavior, or overlook selfish choices and ulterior motives. The truth is, I don’t know Barry Bonds personally—he’s not a colleague or a friend. He’s a public figure, a fourteen time All-Star, seven time MVP and, as noted here, someone who helped make something very special in San Francisco possible. Somehow, I’m able to hold all of that—his brilliance, his flaws, and his impact—at once.

When Barry signed with the San Francisco Giants in 1993, he intended to wear #24, the number he wore for most of his time with the Pittsburgh Pirates, and the number worn by his Godfather, Willie Mays. 

Mays actually gave his blessing for Bonds to wear #24. However, there was a public outcry and media commotion surrounding the idea of unretiring what has long been associated with the Say Hey Kid. 

Ultimately, Bonds decided to wear number 25 in honor of his father, Bobby Bonds, who also wore number 25 during his time with the Giants. Bobby Bonds was a teammate of Mays and also served as a mentor to Barry. 

No doubt Willie gave Barry much more than literally the number off of his back. As noted in the interview, he gave Barry both permission and encouragement to surpass his record of 600 home runs. He gave him the support and love that at times was elusive from his own father, Bobby. 

To wrap up the interview Brian Murphy said "one year ago we lost Willie, right away—what is your favorite favorite story, memory, instant anecdote. What do you think about?

"My Godfather. That's it" said Bonds.

Murphy responded, "watching the game?"

"No."

"Hanging out on the back porch?"

"No, said Bonds. I have one thing of Willie's, and it's a picture of him and me. But the greatest gift that I ever got from my Godfather is him saying "I will be your Godfather. There's no greater gift I could ever have."

I heard these words and paused. I can't believe it took watching an interview of Barry Bonds for me to realize the importance of my own Godmother and my own role as one. What were all Godparents and Godchildren to understand, appreciate and hold this simple truth? Might we live that role differently? Would be appreciate our Godparents more? 

Part of why baseball fans love the game is that it moves at a pace different than other sports. There is action and inaction in baseball. Its cadence allows for us to stand up and cheer, sit down and look around. We have space to think and ponder, recall and reminisce. Today I will take the words, the lesson and insights from Bonds with the me to the yard—grateful that he is a key reason I can sit in View Reserved, Row 16, Seat 5.

photo credits
Bond and Bonds
Laughing with Willie

Inside Bay Bridge Baseball: The Pen Remains Mighty

When was the last time you put a pen to paper and wrote a letter? And when is the last time you received a missive in the mail? in print? Although letter writing might feel like a practice of the past, two recent events in Bay Area sports have reminded how and why writing a letter is important. 

History reveals this truth. Go to any Presidential museum in this country and you will find countless letters on display. By one estimate, Teddy Roosevelt penned 150,000 letters. Furthermore, letters serve as primary sources. The book All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings taught me a great deal about American history, culture, art and more. Who knew that saving all those cards and handwritten notes could and would prove invaluable? Letters are passed down and passed on. They are both personal and private, sometimes public, often revelatory.

The first chapter of On the Eighth Day:A Catholic Theology of Sport —the required text for Sports and Spirituality—is entitled "From Saint Paul to Pope Francis." Saint Paul is important in this course because he "invokes the motif of running as a metaphor for discipleship on multiple occasions" through his letters to different communities. His wrote to inform, persuade and encourage others (of the love of Christ). These letters are recorded in the New Testament. Though they were written nearly 2,000 years ago, we write letters for similar reasons today. Such is the thought that came to mind when I saw that the Oakland Athletics' owner, John Fisher wrote a letter to A's baseball fans. I knew it was something I needed to share.

I posted Fisher's missive in my presentation but offered to read it to the class. I reminded my students that in the past athletes have written letters to their fan base when they retire or move on. Others, like Kobe Bryant have written letters to a game. Though you might not be an A's fan, I'm curious to know what you think.

Fisher notes the franchise's 123 year history. It has moved before and it is moving again. The list of accomplishments is so impressive. The characters who contributed and colored their story are legion. I got to the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, the Bay Bridge Series and the 20 game win streak and I got so choked up, I paused. I told my students, "I'm sorry, this is harder than I thought it would be." I finished reading the letter and let them unpack its meaning, their reactions and responses. Many sat in silence. Others noted how hard that might be for those fans. I told them I had no idea I would feel this way. 

Although I grew up in Walnut Creek, California—the East Bay—I am not an A's fan. People who have met me away from my home want to know how or why I am Giants fan instead. Easy. The Giants had a Triple-A farm team in Tacoma, WA, so my dad saw the genesis of some Giant legends. My mom grew up in San Francisco, which is where I have lived for the past 20+ years. No further explanation needed. 

That being said, I grew up with and among A's fans. Several of my dear friends from high school donned the green and gold. I can still recall getting into an argument during my freshman year over who was the better franchise: the Giants or the A's. We were sitting in the back of the bus. One girl couldn't let it go. She defended the orange and black. I respect her to this day for that.

It was so moving to see many of those friends return to the ballpark for the final games. A's fans are both angry and sad. I don't think it would be too much for John Fisher to acknowledge this. Instead he wrote what a local announcer, Larry Beil deemed a "great work of fiction." His pronouncement went viral.Watch and you will see why.

One announcer said "that statement does nothing for any A's fan." Beil responds, "you sort of have to release a statement but what would be nice would be a news conference where you take questions, but we haven't seen that. Why start now? It's only been 18 years." A good friend Dan, added

I believe that no fan needed or wanted to hear from Fisher. It’s amazing that the hearts of an entire fanbase and city are in the hands of one human being. And it’s unfathomable that he could not make it work in one of the country’s largest media markets.  Its all so disappointing.  I enjoyed my farewell on Saturday vs the mighty Yanks.  You could feel the love in the building and the respect for what that franchise accomplished in Oakland.  The titles, the characters and legends, the grit, inspiring a major motion picture, the fan support throughout…I feel fortunate to have grown up with A’s and grateful to my family for getting to so many games.

Dan's words remind me—for the fans, baseball is so much more than a business. It's just not entertainment. I knew what this loss would mean to him and his family. A team binds friends and family, our community and makes a place home. It affects our lives and livelihoods in ways big and small. My brother was a paper boy for the Contra Costa Times—a news source that proudly featured the A's.  He threw out the first pitch of an A's-White Sox game on Saturday, June 16, 1984, a nationally televised game on NBC. He said, "I was among a group of seven or eight paper boys who sold the most subscriptions and was picked to throw out the first pitch after winning a contest." Great job, Mark! In sixth grade, I got free tickets to an A's game because I read ten books in the summer. Incentives do work! I wrote a letter to my Great Aunt, my Aunt Dottie. In our regular USPS exchanges, I told her about that prize!

Personally, I think it's important that Fisher wrote this open letter. Yes, his director of communications likely wrote it. Yes, it feels more fiction than fact but the written word gives all of us a place to stand. It is from this message we can respond and react, retort and reply. It could have been different. It should have been different. Silence in this instance would be deafening and damaging....and furthered the defeat so many people already feel. A meeting, a question and answer session, a press conference with the fans and for the fans isn't too much to ask. They deserve so much more. They got an open letter and lost a team. This story is a sad one.

No one is sure of what is to come for sports in and around Oakland the larger Bay Area. I can however report this week, my students were privy to letter with a different tenor. Speaking about the San Francisco Giants ten years ago felt a whole lot different. Loyal fans like me are hopeful that the words from our All-Star and three time World Series champion, Gerald "Buster" Posey will deliver the promise he offers. 

The fact of the matter is feelings, hopes and desires, dreams and dreams deferred need to be written and shared. A letter is an important place to make a record of that. The pen is mighty... Shakespeare said so himself.

Photo Credits
Buster Posey—is he getting better looking or what
A's in Line
Double Trouble

Two Words, One Rally Cry, Remembering Humm Baby—Roger Craig

The death of a great athlete or coach prompts personal, local, communal, and for some— a national response. Tributes recall their accomplishments and achievements, greatest wins and toughest losses. For others, it's a laundry list of stats, what they did first...or last. For all, it's the sharing of stories or speeches, a replay of the highlight reels, memories and more. And for the late San Francisco Giants manager Roger Craig, it's two words: Humm Baby.

For those seeking "Inside Baseball," Roger Craig was a Durham, N.C., native who joined the Giants in 1985—in what was the final weeks of a 62-100 season. He immediately endeared himself to fans with his folksy charm, Southern accent and "Humm Baby." 

In the article, Roger Craig, beloved former Giants manager, dies at 93, The Athletic reports

The “Humm baby” nickname he gave to a third-string catcher, Brad Gulden, became a beloved phrase to a generation of Bay Area baseball fans.

“It symbolizes to me something special because he didn’t have a lot of talent, but he gave you 180 percent,” Craig told the San Francisco Chronicle in 2006. “That’s the way Brad (was). Humm-baby.”

The phrase later came to apply to the entire team, and especially, to Craig himself. 

His catchphrase, “Humm baby,” caught on and became a rallying cry for the team and the fans, who were desperate for something, anything to get excited about. His style of managing was unorthodox, with suicide squeezes becoming the norm and the deadly split-finger fastball taking over the staff. 

It was fun. Fun! Imagine that, the Giants playing a fun brand of baseball. In 1987, he managed the first NL West winner since 1971, and in 1989, he was the skipper for the pennant-winning team in the earthquake World Series.  

What might be just as important about Craig's unorthodox managing style is the way that Humm Baby was implemented off the field. 

If you only believe that games are won on the field, then pay no mind. If, however, you think there's more—here's a story for you.

In late September, 1989, I got my Dad to take me to the 'Stick to not only go to a Giants game but to secure the giveaway. A poster. The Pacific Sock Exchange. Two men, one black, one white wore suits in the locker room with baseball bats on their respective shoulders. This dynamic duo, first baseman Will Clark and left fielder Kevin Mitchell though different, made Humm Baby work. I loved both players. With their offensive ability at the plate, the Giants stock was rising.

Kevin Mitchell was the National League MVP in 1989. Though he arrived in 1987, he made an indelible mark on April 4, 1989 with his barehanded grab in left on Ozzie Smith's pop fly. (If you've never seen it, stop reading and watch now).With Clark batting three and Mitch in the clean up spot, the Pacific Stock Exchange led the orange and black to the World Series.

But, none of this would have happened without Humm Baby. In her book Intangibles: Unlocking the Science and Soul of Team Chemistry, Joan Ryan offers a story of what that means in the clubhouse..and not on the diamond between the Craig— the manager and Mitchell, his star player.

One day Mitch was checking the daily lineup card Craig had just posted in the clubhouse. “How come Skip [Craig] puts my name up there without knowing how I feel?” he asked Krukow. The question was a bizarre one. It was not the practice of managers to check with players on their availability to play. If a player was hurt or sick, the trainer would let the manager know. Otherwise it was assumed he was good to go. Krukow could have explained this to Mitch. Instead, he took it to Craig. 

Good managers have partners in the clubhouse. Over a long season, players know other players in ways a manager never can. (“We’d joke that you can sit down in the shitter and look at the feet next to you in the stall and know who it is,” Krukow said.) He knew Mitch wasn’t looking for an answer from him. He needed something only Craig could give. 

Before the lineup was posted the next day, Krukow watched Craig stop at Mitch’s locker and ask how he felt. He did this every game from then on. “I was up late last night,” Mitch would answer. Or, “My legs are really aching, Skip.” To which Craig unfailingly replied, “Mitch, we need you.” And Mitch would play, as Craig knew he would. 

This was a guy who once dislocated his finger taking grounders in batting practice, yanked it back in place, and took more grounders. Craig knew Mitch just needed to know he cared. The gesture took a minute of the manager’s day. 

Some players grumbled that Craig coddled Mitch. But if the so-called coddling made him a better player, it wasn’t coddling. It was smart managing. “I did some special things for Mitch,” Craig told me a few years ago when I visited him at his home in Borrego Springs, east of San Diego.

“He was so important to us. And such a sweet kid. I just loved him. If you don’t handle him right, he’s going to crawl into his shell.” Craig was tending his garden. The proof was in the numbers. In sixty-two games with the Padres and manager Larry Bowa in the first half of the season, Mitch hit .245 with seven home runs and twenty-six RBIs. In sixty-nine games with the Giants and Craig in the second half, he hit .306 with fifteen home runs and forty-four RBIs. And the best was yet to come.

Smart managing. Tending a garden. Showing care. THAT'S Humm Baby. That's the legacy of Roger Craig, who brought much more than an NL Pennant to San Francisco. He brought two unlikely words that when paired together, meant much more. It's not only what we do front stage that matters, it's how we operate back stage, too. It's what we see in other people and how we treat them, what we think is possible and what we can give that makes things go...that catches fire...that prompts and creates something entirely new..and fun.

In 1990, the San Francisco Giants motto was "Humm Baby! Let's do it again..."  Let's....

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May they rest in peace. Humm Baby. Amen.

Photo Credits
Pacific Sock
Humm Baby Kid
Joy
Memorial

Ryan, Joan. Intangibles (pp. 193-194). Little, Brown and Company. Kindle Edition. 

The Retiring of #22 in Honor of Will Clark: Fire and Beauty

Go to any Giants game—home or away—and you're sure to see a legion of fans wearing a white, cream, gray or black jersey in honor of #22 Will Clark. Clark, played eight of his 15 years in MLB with the orange and black. He had a tremendous career as a Giant, turning around a team "that accumulated a dry spell of 15 straight seasons without a playoff appearance or even a finish higher than third place in the NL West (SJ Mercury News)" Will was named MVP of the 1989 NLCS, but the Giants were swept by the Oakland A's in the fabled Bay Bridge Series. The World Series ring he wears was earned by other players. 

Still, I encourage you to see for yourself. Take your own straw poll of Giants' jerseys and I guarantee you'll see the likes of Mays (24), Posey (25), and even MadBum (40). Those names and the rings that accompany them, speak for themselves. So what gives? Why do countless men and women cite Will Clark as their favorite player? Why is his jersey evergreen? Two words: Fire and Beauty.

During the game, a variety of Bay Area celebrities from James Hetfield, the lead singer of Metallica to basketball great, Chris Mullin of the Golden State Warriors weighed in with their congratulations by way of video tributes. Nine out of 10 of them used the same word to describe Will the Thrill: intense. At one point, I thought "can't they be more creative?" The answer is "no." I'm the one who missed the point. 

Bob Brenley, Al Rosen, and Kevin Mitchell each described Will as intense because he was. It was his signature, a fire that burned brightly. From his trademark eye black to the way he channeled his 20 x 12 vision behind the plate, every pitcher, TV camera man, manager, and baseball fan could see just how focused Clark was when he came to bat. And that intensity produced results. Will's lifetime batting average is .303. I will never forget the day in 1989 when he lost the NL batting title in the final game of the season. Will finished the season with a .333 average. Tony Gwynn, who collected eight batting titles in his career took it with a .336 average. All intensity aside, I have a feeling even Will was able to tip his hat to one of the game's greatest hitters, and he did as the game was among the two teams. 

It's worth mentioning that Clark brought the same intensity and fire to the both sides of the game. As a Giant, he earned two Silver Sluggers (1989, ’91) and a Gold Glove (’91). One of his career highlights at the retirement ceremony featured Will crashing into the cameras along the first base line to make the out. He emerged from a virtual handstand in the media box with the ball in his glove. Unfazed, Clark tossed the ball back to the pitcher ready to get the next out. Intensity 2.0

However, fire isn't always friendly. Clark's intensity was known to create conflict in the clubhouse. For example, his relationship with other strong personalities such Jeffrey Leonard and Barry Bonds were often cited as problematic and potentially racist. Over time, both sides have admitted they needed to fan the flames. They did and it was a sight to see both men standing by his side at the ceremony. Bonds' words were heartfelt. The hugs they exchanged were not forced or fake. They were strong and sincere. Just one mark of the fire... and the beauty.

As many times as one heard the word "intense," it's worth noting no one spoke of Will Clark without mentioning beauty. Why? How? Will Clark had a beautiful swing. It was fluid. It was long and it was strong. It even has a name! The Nuschler—Will's middle name, which is a family surname.

One might think, so what? A swing ought to be effective. It's objective it is to make contact and get hits. Whether or not it's beautiful is inconsequential. Right? Wrong. 

Baseball can be slow. There's a lot of dead time. Outs are routine. Plays to the infield and the outfield come and they go. However, the game is punctuated by action and reaction. And infrequently that action is characterized by something beautiful. 

Will's left handed swing—one that hit to all parts of the field— was a thing of beauty. You wanted to watch him hit because of his intensity, and it was hard not to watch because it was so beautiful. 

There are but a few players I can name who have a swing as beautiful as Will Clark's; those belong to Darryl Strawberry, Mr. San Diego himself and from what I've read—Ted Williams. I invite you to look for beauty in baseball and other sports—golf, basketball, football and swimming. And look back at Will Clark's swing to point the way.

The San Francisco Giants do it right. They spared no expense in the ritual and ceremony of a great day—one that was  highly emotional for Will Clark and fans like me who are lucky enough to have seen, been a part of and still hold the memories he made. There was fire. It was beautiful.

Before Will exited the field in a 1957 Chevy Convertible to the tune of B.B. King's "The Thrill is Gone," he was asked to throw the ceremonial first pitch. His son, William Nuschler Clark, III—Trey—was there to catch the ball. Before the wind up, Will's intense gaze looked at the plate. This was a man ready to throw a strike. However, Trey who has Autism and struggles with spatial navigation missed the catch. If you didn't know better, it looked remiss. But all I could see was Will charging to the plate to give his son a massive hug. The result of that pitch was completely inconsequential. It was a beautiful moment...another sight to see. It was the Fire of Will the Thrill standing on the field and the beauty of the relationships to others and to the game that has left a Giants footprint forever on our hearts. Thank you, Will "the Thrill" Clark. #22

Photo Credits
Mercury News
22
Intensity
Sweet Swing

Memory, Time and Perfection: Thank you, Matt Cain

While I am aware the modern understanding of time is based on Einstein's theory of relativity, can someone help me get a grasp on how memory works? 

I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday or how I spent last week and yet there are events that occurred five or fifteen years ago that are frozen in time. The perfect game thrown by San Francisco Giants pitcher Matt Cain 10 years from today is one of them.

I imagine legions of baseball fans have miraculous plays and specific games etched in their mind's eye. No doubt a perfect game—a game in which the pitcher completes a minimum of nine innings without a batter from the opposing team reaching any base—ought to qualify for memory lock. It was the first and only perfect game in San Francisco (and New York) Giants history. Thank you, Matty!

For Bay Area residents, June 13, 2012 was just one event in a week that made us feel as though any search for center of the universe would show the Bay. For one, the 112th US Open took place at the Olympic Club on the west side of the city. On June 12, the Giants celebrated Irish Night at the yard by welcoming Rory McIlroy to throw the first pitch. One day later, Dustin Johnson, one of the top golfers in the world joined Matt Cain behind home plate to tee it up. AT&T Park became a driving range with a dramatic target— the McCovey Cove waterway up and over the right field bleachers. Cain admitted this pregame warm-up was one reason he was so relaxed that evening. Note to coaches and managers....

I remember all of it. In high def, in 3-D, in living color. Go Giants!

June can be warm and free of the fog that characterizes the coldest winter Mark Twain event spent. On this night the temperatures were warm and the skies were almost heavy. I can still see and feel it. How is that possible?

I remember a certain buzz started percolating in the sixth inning around the status of this game; the no hit watch was on. At first, the conversation was purely speculation. I thought, there's a lot of baseball left! My friend Heather texted me to tell me her husband was at the game. I was so excited for the Giants and for him!

As Cain continued to put three up and three down, nerves, jitters, excitement and joy reached a boiling point. Gregor Blanco's spectacular diving catch in the seventh inning not only preserved the perfect game, it sent emotions and amazement over the top. After the game Matt Cain asked the right fielder "What can I give you as a thank you gift? A Rolex? Down payment on a house?" Love it.

This once in a lifetime feat, in the midst of one of my favorite sporting events of the year prompted magical conversations on this day—the day after the perfect game: June 14, 10 yeas ago!

Last week I attended my college twenty-fifth plus one year reunion at Notre Dame. It was such a gift to have time with my classmates to reconnect, recall stories and share stories. The biggest surprise wasn't how people look or what became of so and so, it was what I could remember and what I couldn't. I pride myself on having a good memory and I could hardly believe some of the details about classes and teachers, dorm life and people my friends and I discussed. This was both humbling and inspiring. Memory is not a given. Hold on to what you can!

The poet Virgil wrote, “No Day Shall Erase You From the Memory of Time.” Time may or may not fade our memories. The passage of time can deepen out appreciation for what we have been given. And yet, his words, from Book IX of "The Aeneid" suggest the transformative potential of remembrance. So let us exercise our memory and celebrate the milestones—whether it be a perfect game, 25 year reunion or the first month of sobriety for in them lies the potential for transformation, gratitude, inspiration and joy.

Thank you, Matt Cain. Thank you, Gregor Blanco. Thank you DJ and all those who played some part in perfection 10 years ago!

Photo Credits
10 years
Perfect

What Coaches and Leaders Can Learn from the NL Manager of the Year: Gabe Kapler

Earlier this week, I wrote a tribute to a great Jesuit priest, an exceptional human being, Rev. Tony Sauer, SJ who died on Sunday, November 28. The world lost a legend. Reflecting upon his life prompted me to write the post: Remembering Father Tony Sauer, SJ: Hope, Humanity, and Holiness. As of this moment, over 1,200 have read that blog, by far most unique views Sports and Spirituality has received in 12 years time. It speaks to Tony—who he was and what he meant to others. And what a subject!  

Not knowing where I ought to take this blog next, I figured Why not highlight another exemplary San Francisco leader? Though these men are apples and oranges, both men found success in their work because of something critically important to leadership, in relationships, and toward the accomplishment of a goal: communication. 

Father Tony was an outstanding homilist and public speaker. Because he was authentic, erudite, prepared and thoughtful—his audience was always happy to listen and learn. I still remember some of what he taught us about the Gospel through the spoken word. He was also a prolific letter writer. Like many of the greats in US History—Theodore Roosevelt, Eleanor Roosevelt and George H.W. Bush—he understood the power of pen, paper and stamp!

I started writing this blog shortly after Kapler was named National League Manager of the Year. It seems odd to connect him to a Catholic priest. Nonetheless, he offers so much for coaches and other leaders to learn from. Enjoy!

Kap
Though well deserved, it's hard to get too excited about the announcement of MLB's Executive of the year. Yes, even though the 2021 honoree is the President of Operations for my San Francisco Giants, this distinction speaks to the business side of baseball vs. the down and dirty, hands on way they play the game. But the orange and black got to celebrate one day later. In a surprise to absolutely no one Gabe Kapler was named the NL Manager of the year. Congratulations Kap...and bigger congrats to Fahan for hiring him.

When hired in in 2019, Kapler knew he had big shoes and a big cap to fill. As the 37th manager of the Giants, he took over for the three-time championship skipper Bruce Bochy (size 8 1/8 hat). Kapler was appointed to this leadership role after being fired for failing to take the Philadelphia Phillies—a talented club— to the post-season two years in a row. 

In a surprise to just about everyone, the Giants chose Kapler among the candidates. The media was skeptical.  Fans were too. This decision left my friend Kevin believing Farhan was a plant by the Dodgers. We held our breath but not our tongues. Two years later, a new story has emerged. 

Though the Giants failed to make the COVID-post season by one game, one year later they won the NL West for the first time in 9 years. Under Kapler the team also won a record 107 games. In doing so, he received 28 out of 30 first place votes for Manager of the year. 

I hope you are wondering How? How did he do it? or maybe you are asking Why? Why did he succeed? From what I have read and heard on the radio, I would like to offer a few answers. Fellow coaches, take note. Leaders pay heed. Fans, thank God. 

1. Communication
Time and again, I have heard Kapler is an excellent communicator. 

MLB writes, "Kapler was praised by his players for maintaining open lines of communication with them throughout the regular season, an important aspect for any manager, but it was especially important given the way the Giants utilized their entire roster in order to optimize every possible matchup. San Francisco shattered the record for pinch-hit appearances as Kapler exploited right-left matchups aggressively."

I don't know what relationship doesn't benefit from good communication. In the Athletics office at St Francis where I work, we encourage coaches to over-communicate. Don't assume what athletes, teams or parents know. It's important to reach out and do so regularly through our words—both written and spoken, shared and promoted. Clearly, Kapler found the right tools for make the lines of communication open and strong. 

2. Become a good listener.

Over the years, Kapler said, he has learned to listen more intently to the needs of his players and use the information to inform his in-game decisions. 

The Philadelphia Inquirer reports, “I think I’ve really started to respect, understand and appreciate the feedback that I’m getting from players on a regular basis,” he said. “I really trust our players.”  That ability to listen has led to a hallmark of Kapler's style of leader and what is interesting to me is that it has led to...

3. Trust
As written in Gabe Kapler opens up about initial perception when Giants hired him, Kapler admits, “my goal was and continues to be to earn trust over the course of time. You don’t earn it in the first conversation. You earn it through consistent work and loyalty over a period of years. I think we’re off to a good start of building that foundation of trust, and I think we have to continue to build on it if we want to keep this level of excitement going about the Giants.” 

Trust is never a given. Quite often it is something we feel must be earned. When it is broken, or shattered (think of the image of a mirror) it takes time to We all thrive when when members of a team feel that they can be trusted and when they trust one another.

4. Welcoming and Promoting Diversity

As told by Steve Gilbert, "I also feel like we've built one of the most diverse staffs in baseball," Kapler said. "And if there's anything that I think is worthy of being emulated, it's that. It's getting a wide variety of people from a wide variety of backgrounds, ethnicities, and baseball upbringings into our group so that every player on our club has somebody to connect with and somebody to relate to. I believe that diversity is critically important in baseball and [so is] helping people from marginalized groups get into decision-making positions in baseball. Part of the reason I think that's important is because I think a more diverse group of people, of humans, make better decisions as a group."

While some might credit Tom Brady with bringing a Super Bowl trophy to Tampa Bay, football insiders give credit to Bruce Arians and the diversity of the Buccaneers staff—one the field and in the front office. Kapler hired the first female coach in MLB, Alyssa Nakken. Looks like one good decisions led to many more! 

5. Focus—Intentionality and Purpose
And here in San Francisco, our local news was proud to report what Kapler had to say. "I have to be putting one foot in front of the other and focused on the job that I have in front of me," he said. "There just isn't enough energy to be doing anything else. Last couple years I've been really focused on helping to build that environment that I mentioned. And we're doing it with a lot of great people in this organization in San Francisco -- in the front office and everybody under the clubhouse roof, but also [people] across the organization who have been working really hard to put together a really excellent baseball operations department. We've got a lot of work ahead of us, but I think we've taken some pretty big steps in the last couple years."

The great enemy of excellence just might be distraction. Kapler nails it when he speaks of the need to keep our energy focused and channeled toward a specific goal.  His words are a great reminder for me as a leader of a team in the classroom.

6. Growth and Development for All
“My goal is obviously to support the players and what their goals are, create an environment that’s helpful for players to grow and develop and for staff members to also grow and develop,” Kapler said after winning the award.

I became a good teacher at St. Ignatius, where I taught for 16 years because of my fellow colleagues and the school's emphasis on professional development. The benefits from those classes, courses and retreats bore fruit in the classroom, the relationships I developed with teachers at SI and other schools and creative ventures (like this blog). 

Because of his ability to successfully fundraise, Father Tony and SI were able to provide opportunities for professional development at little to not cost to faculty. I availed myself to and appreciated these opportunities. I am so grateful. 

The world says "invest in yourself." I get it. And yet, two great leaders invested in themselves and in others. The result? No communication necessary. It speaks for itself.

Photo Credits

Diversity of Coaches
Renewed Contract
Vs. LA

My Hope for Bruce Bochy: The Importance of Cheerful Giving

After twelve years leading the orange and black, The San Francisco Giants bid farewell to Bruce Bochy today. Boch—the eleventh winningest baseball manager of all time has received accolades and tributes, gifts and great honors all season long. In addition to over 2,000 wins as a skipper, Bochy led the Giants to three World Series titles in five years. He is beloved in San Francisco and well respected in MLB—and because of that, I sincerely hope one tribute will not fade. Boch: I hope you never pay for a meal in the city or the entire Bay Area. Ever. I hope you haven't since 2010 and if you have, I encourage anyone with eyes to read, please consider this post on why you should not.

In his second letter to the Corinthians, St Paul writes

Consider this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. Each must do as already determined, without sadness or compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

God is not alone in God's sentiment; I too love a cheerful giver. Generosity is a wonderful virtue. To encounter a gift with good cheer and enthusiasm? That's pure delight.

I struggle with giving cheerfully. Too often, I feel the weight of obligation. I hold on to what I have too tightly. I fear that I may not have what I want or need and so I give as a last resort. But I have seen with my own eyes and felt in my soul, the difference that cheer brings to giving. I truly believe that those who give with their whole heart not only make others happier, they get a decent kickback t00!

As a teacher of virtue ethics, I am aware of how to become a cheerful giver; I know how to become what I ]admire. Aristotle boiled it down to three steps: 1) learn the virtue 2) look to an exemplar—one who employs the virtue and 3) practice the virtue. I have learned what cheerful giving is and what it is not. I have "giving cheerfully role models;" I love these people. Now I simply need to do it. 

There are varying schools of thought on how to practice the virtue. My spiritual director once told me, be careful if you want patience. "Why?" I queried. "Because you'll get it..." She paused to see if I understood. I nodded in fear. "You'll get patience by being put in situations when and where you need it." Oh no, I thought. Must the acquisition of a virtue be painful?

No. I believe we can also grow in virtue by starting small...by practicing even when it's easy. When we are ready we can take the next step—a small stretch so that a good deed is made better. 

In this instance, I can start by giving in small ways, cheerfully. Over time, I hope to assess my efforts and personal growth. AND, I think a visual tool can be a helpful resource.

Were Bruce Bochy to walk into a bar, I would not think twice about giving generously. Good cheer is implied. My motto would be: ready, aim, pay. I might even be offended if told "I'm sorry, but Bocy's meal has already been taken care of." 

Thinking of the three- time World Series champion in this way, makes me wonder to whom else should I say "thank you." Who else has brought joy to my life? How might I be able to honor those to whom I feel a great deal of gratitude. Why not practice cheerful giving upon these folks?! Habits aren't born overnight nor do they stick without practice, focus or a given mindset.

So consider developing a new habit: a virtue upon virtue. Cheer with generosity, or love with honesty, understanding with courage. I have a feeling God love that too.

In the meantime, we thank the good Lord for leaders like Bruce Bochy. Athletes and managers who have brought great joy and good cheer into the homes and hearts of those who love a great game, meal and all!

Photo Credits
Jim C
Trophy

A Saint, A Cathedral and a Holy Day of Obligation: Remembering Willie McCovey

On October 31 at 4:04 pm with family and friends at his side, the great Wille Lee McCovey, died. #44 should have only played for one team: the Giants because that is what he was. Standing 6'4" and 220 lbs in his prime, Willie Mac was larger than life. Long arms, quick hands, my dad believes he has never seen another ballplayer hit the ball harder—not even Barry Bonds. In 1986, he became just the 16th individual to be inducted into the Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility. His legacy will live on among Giants fans as the waterway behind AT&T park is named McCovey Cove—a place I felt obligated to visit today. I wanted to pay my respects and see how other Giants fans were, too. The day couldn't have been any more beautiful. No wind, a perfect sky and one of MLB's greatest cathedrals in the background, I realized the truths of Sports and Spirituality come to us when we come to them. Here's how....

In the Catholic faith, the first day of November isn't an ordinary day. It is the Feast of All Saints—a day to honor the "saints, known and unknown who are now with God in heaven." On Halloween—"All Hallow's Eve"—I prepared my students for All Hallow's Day by teaching the religious roots of this informal triduum, which concludes with All Souls' Day on November 2. I asked them to pray for the souls in purgatory and in thanksgiving for the holy men and women in our own lives who are saints. I added that All Saints Day is a Holy Day of Obligation. Aware of the formality of the term "obligation," I put all of it in the context of Sports and Spirituality. 

A true cathedral in MLB, flags flew at half mast to honor #44

On a Keynote slide, I placed the following information 

• Holiday = Old English for Holy Day
• Obligation: Athletes are quite familiar with obligations.
• What are some of the obligations of your sport? 
Your team?
• What are the obligations of your faith 
tradition?

I said one obligation of being a Catholic is that we gather as a community to worship. The Church has decided that certain days of the year are holy days—days to come together as one to celebrate and remember. I urged my students to give but 25 minutes at lunch attend Mass on the Feast of All Saints. "It's a spiritual shot in the arm," I said, and "you get to spend time with the Lord."

The school where I work is such a large community that I can go without seeing my colleagues and former students for weeks at a time. Consequently, I don't take for granted the times I do see coworkers who I also value as friends. I sat next to one of them at today's Mass. After the final blessing, I shared with this lifelong Giants fan my sadness at the passing of Willie McCovey. He responded by telling me that he wanted to go McCovey Cove to place flowers at the statue. We shared a few stories we knew about "Stretch" and we parted ways.

I thought more about his beautiful desire; I love that he wanted to bring flowers for a man he never met, but who we feel as though we know. I think it's so important for people to go to public places to venerate, honor and remember. Rituals and traditions lead and guide us in times of joy and sorrow, in loss and in life. The funny thing is however, I wouldn't have thought about going to McCovey Cove on my own. I needed the obligation of my faith—which called me to Mass—to send me elsewhere. And, once I decided to go to ATT Park, I realized that one obligation led to another—both of which are life-giving, transcendent and beautiful.

The local Sports Talk Radio show commented on the fact that Willie Mac died on Halloween—a day characterized by the colors orange and black—the same colors as the San Francisco Giants. I would like to add that the communal honoring of his number, his name and his legacy began on the Feast of All Saints. I have a strong suspicion that Willie McCovey, a man from Mobile Alabama—a place that claims to have the original Mardi Gras—has heard "When the Saints Go Marching In" loud and clear tonight.

We love you Willie McCovey. Thank you for sharing your gifts and talents with us in a beautiful game. I am so proud to be a fan to a team that honors the type of athlete you were and chose to be. The Willie Mac Award goes to the player who demonstrates quiet leadership but it's also for us, the fans. We need your example and inspiration; it will not be forgotten.May Perpetual Light Shine Upon Him Lord and May He Rest in Peace. Amen.

Photo credits: no need for any, I took all of them today 11/1/18

A Sports & Spirituality Story about 25: Barry Bonds

"Let me tell you a story about 25." —Danny Glover

Though sixteen other men have worn the jersey number 25, the last one to dawn it in for the San Francisco Giants is none other than the Home Run King, Barry Bonds. 25 now hangs with nine other numbers on the Giants own Hall of Fame. The team's CEO Larry Baer, noted that 30,176 men have worn MLB uniforms. Baer continued, “Only 199, less than six-tenths of one percent, have been so extraordinary, so etched into the story of a franchise, that it would be impossible to imagine their number ever gracing another man’s back. And that’s what we have here with Barry Bonds.” Such distinction merits a story.

Thus, on Saturday, August 11, 2018, in what was a beautiful evening in the City by the Bay, some the games' all-time greats and Giants' All-Stars were on deck to share their own story about 25. I don't doubt that every fan in the house could do the same. And, I wonder in the future when a child asks their mom or dad, aunt or uncle about 25, what story will be told? Here's the story I'd like to tell about 25—Sports and Spirituality style.

Bonds played in Major League Baseball from 1986 until 2007, coming to San Francisco in 2003 after seven seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates. His stats are remarkable, downright breath-taking—a word I use intentionally. Take a look

• 7-time MVP
• 14-time All-Star
• 8-time Gold Glove winner
• 14-time Silver Slugger award winner
• 6 Division Titles
• 73 Home Runs: a single-season record.... One that complemented THE record:
• 762 Home Runs
• 35 Splash Hits: an HR that goes outside of Pac Bell/AT&T Park and into San Francisco Bay
• 2558 walks: (perhaps more than once) a pitcher walked Bonds with the bases loaded.

Those numbers tell a significant part of the story about 25, but it didn't end there. Glover framed things perfectly when he stated: "You know what was bigger than the records he shattered? It's the way he stole our breath with every swing." As a baseball fan, I agree. As a sports fan, I concur. And, as a Giants fan, I know. 

What intrigues me most in this story about 25 are those four words: "he stole our breath." Glover invites fans to remember those moments where we stood in utter disbelief. When all we could say was "wow!" if that. To have our breath stolen means that air—a source of life— is taken from us. There is, however, nothing pejorative about his remark. But in my story, I think otherwise.

I listened to the ceremony on KNBR 680 AM radio. It was a treat for me to imagine the events as they unfolded. My mind and heart put color—far beyond orange and black—to the celebration. I thought about AT&T Park in its glory, the left field wall ready for its newest number. I rejoiced when I heard that Giants first baseman Will Clark got a standing ovation. I was thrilled Robb Nen was in the house and not surprised that Jeff Kent wasn't. I found myself car dancing when Bonds walked through the centerfield gates to "The Next Episode." I already knew how dapper 25 would look, how fit he is—a truth confirmed by Giants announcer Jon Miller. I got choked up several times, recalling the memories of so many seasons and the reality that it is because of 25 that we now have a downtown ballpark in SF. They refer to Yankee Stadium as "the House that Ruth built," but Giants fans would be misguided if they didn't recognize our cathedral as "the House that Bonds built". And yet, as I listened to the entire ceremony, I realized that at times, it was hard to breathe...once again, it had been stolen. Part of me was uncomfortable....I found myself waiting for a shoe to drop....wondering if anyone would address the elephant in the stadium. Doubting that was even possible....

Bonds watching "Bonds on Bonds" a reality TV show that lasted 2 months

A day like August 11, 2018—a great day in San Francisco Giants history—is meant to be a day of celebration. Days like this one are not meant to be truth-telling or discerning, and yet because of that, I must admit—it felt inauthentic. And the reason that I editorialize my story in this way extends beyond my belief that Barry Bonds used anabolic steroids. To a certain degree, I fault MLB for not testing for HGH and other PEDs as the game did what it could to recover from the 1994 strike (a shortened season). Like his Godfather, I believe Bonds should be put in the Hall of Fame, with—not an asterik—but the information that Bonds' name appears in the Mitchell Report. We: the fans— those interested in the story— can make our own decisions and judgments. This chapter in 25's career is real, but what—at times was harder for me to hold—is that Bonds was a difficult teammate. Sportsmanship is not a word associated with 25. 

Many fans will offer their own story. The media is relentless and I don't really feel the need to defend them, but the image of his recliner in the designated part of the locker room or his refusal to show up for the team photo, sear my memory. The book "Love Me, Hate Me" might be unfair—it did not include Bonds as one of 500 interviews,—but from them, Sports Illustrated's sportswriter Jeff Pearlman concludes that "his reputation as an insufferable braggart, whose mythical home runs are rivaled only by his legendary ego is deserved." The book's description on Amazon adds, "Bonds inspires a like amount of passion from both sides of the fence. For many, Bonds belongs beside Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron in baseball's holy trinity; for others, he embodies all that is wrong with the modern athlete: aloof; arrogant; alienated." Perhaps Bonds could have addressed that he was, quite often, a difficult teammate. Maybe he regrets some of his choices. He wouldn't be the first or the last. Those at the center of the celebration can be humble in victory. There was space for adoration and atonement, glory and remembering those good times. I just wish he had shared a human bend to it all—flawed, fragile, broken and reborn.

I do love that swing.

The root of the word spirituality is spiritus, Latin for spirit or breath. The etymology of this word has always resonated with me and my understanding of spirituality. The spirit was alive on Saturday, August 11, 2018. At times it was made visible in the hugs, cheers and tears, smiles and the swagger. But it was also taken away as it has before with 25, for better and for worse.

Photo Credits
Bleacher Report: A GREAT summary of the day!
Behind the Scenes with BB

Are Sports Meaningless? Look to Matt Cain

At the conclusion of every baseball season, Major League teams make an effort to thank their patrons with Fan Appreciation Day. If you'd like to make an argument for San Francisco Giants fans "earning" such accolades, this would be the year. After an abysmal season—one that was met with high expectations only to be concluded with 98 losses—the Giants managed to leave their faithful with bright smiles and hearts full of gratitude. Despite being in last place in the NL West all season, the Orange and Black never stopped coming out to the Yard (take that Yogi Berra!). For those who did, they were able to honor the 1987 squad, allow Ryan Vogelsong to retire as a Giant and as witnessed on Saturday, September 30 bid farewell to three-time All-Star and World Series champion, Matt Cain. In the Player's Tribune "Forever a Giant," Cain wrote, 

I think it’s the routine that gets you. All those years of routine, all those years of waking up on my start day and going through the same set of pregame habits. There’s a real comfort in routine — I think that’s probably why we do it. But when it comes time for that last time … man, there’s nothing “routine” about it.

If I had served as his ghost-writer, I would add but one word: meaningless. That's right. When it comes time for the last time....man, there's nothing "routine" or "meaningless" about it.

As Cain was working through that routine, I undertook my own: sitting in my sacred space—
which is, believe it or not—my desk. From this perch nestled inside a bay window, I overlook Fillmore Street in San Francisco. I open up my laptop to read the news, e-mails, and articles never without a fresh, hot cup of joe in hand. Though I seldom get through all I would like to read and respond to, the opinion piece in the Washington Post "The Whole Point of Sports is their Meaningless" gave me an added jolt, sans caffeine. 

Abernathy's reflection does not propose anything my students and I haven't discussed before. On the first day of Sports and Spirituality, I share what retired professional tennis player and former world number one Andre Agassi wrote in his autobiography, "Open." He said, "Part of my discomfort with tennis has always been a nagging sense that it's meaningless." Recent events in the NFL have invited this country to revisit the same concern, the same question with yet another dimension, another angle, a worthy nuance, and thoughtful voices. 

Abernathy quotes NBA Hall of Fame basketball legend Bill Russell who said, at the heart of the Civil Rights Movement, "I don't consider anything I have done as contributing to society. I consider playing professional basketball as marking time, the most shallow thing in the world." His words are biting. They reek of truth and yet, I wonder—I have to ask: Does he still believe that to be true?

And it's not just the athletes who hold this conscience qualm. The late sportswriter Frank DeFord admits, that he only got advice from Andre Laguerre, the managing editor at Sports Illustrated but one time. DeFord said "the time he gave me advice was when I wondered whether writing about sports was really substantial. Laguerre simply said Frankie, it doesn't matter what you write about. All that matters is how well you write. I suppose that has helped sustain me all these years." What if we were all to do what we do well (Age Quod Agis). Would we question its meaning? To what degree does the quest for excellence give a sport, a game, or a contest meaning?

I appreciate the voices that ask us to question our values and priorities. I understand their claims. On one level I agree. In the wake of several natural disasters, gun violence and threats of nuclear war, who wins the AL Wild Card isn't keeping the President up at night...until maybe it is. But to deem sports as shallow, hollow and a waste of time is more than a reductional mistake. Why? Because sports can and always will involve matters of the heart...the stuff that makes us human...passionate and joyful...and yes—at times irrational. But when sports involves beauty, excellence, joy and triumph—the spirit can soar. It's a powerful force. This is what fans were privy to with Matt Cain's retirement.

Giants manager Bruce Bochy emerged from the dugout after Cain threw his final out to be the first to greet and honor this Giant workhorse. However, all of AT&T Park beat him to it as all 42,000 on hand rose to their feet, to a thunderous applause. The cheering, clapping, whistling, did not dwindle. Cain raised his arms to recognize the fans...to celebrate a remarkable career...to take in one last time a perch that is the stuff of childhood dreams. The energy was electric...pulsating. Loyal fans and even the announcers got a little choked up. 

Cain exited the mound to then meet the Skipper and greet every single one of his teammates with his thanks. Those who know baseball and those who love it, know that much like a great concert, an encore must follow. Cain came back on the field. San Francisco in all of its mad beauty looked at one man. We looked back at what he did: the perfect game, the start in the 2012 All-Star game, Game 3 against the Phillies in the 2010 NLCS (we were underdogs—I STILL can't believe we won that game in Philly) and considered all that we learned from him. Cain will retire with a win-loss stat this is in no way reflective of how dominant he was on the mound. In 2010-2012, Giants fans would complain of getting #Cained. Matty would throw for seven or eight innings and give up but one or two runs. Another loss for #18 but an ERA that remained consistently low. His work ethic was admirable and impressive; he never complained. Ever. 

Injuries hastened his retirement and when he made the announcement the week before last, Giants fans—though sad to see him go—could not help but be happy for all that he has given. Named as the starter for Saturday's game, everyone knew this day would be the perfect occasion to remember and to celebrate. He wrote

That was the moment, I think, when I finally answered the question — of why it meant so much to me to play my entire career as a Giant. It wasn’t the first World Series, or the second, or the third, or the LCS against the Cardinals, or the LDS against the Reds, or one of the hundreds of Dodgers games, or the perfect game … or any other moment in between. It was the reaction that I got from those fans, on that afternoon, on my last day as a starter.  

It was a reaction that said, Hey — we know what you’re going through. And guess what: We’re going through the exact same thing. It was a reaction that said, You’re going to miss this? Well, guess what: We’re going to miss this — we’re going to miss you — just the same.  

It was a reaction that said, When you’re in this ballpark, you’re not just “Matt Cain, Pitcher.” You’re “Matt Cain, Pitcher, San Francisco Giants” — and you’re not on your own. We’re right here, with you, and we’re going to do this together.  

And that’s what happened. I walked out of the bullpen, and I took the mound — and I didn’t feel alone the entire time.

One can say that sports are meaningless, but we know that's simply not true.

We can say that sports are meant to be a distraction, but that's not true either. Our concerns, our challenges, our tears our losses emerge on the field...inside the stadium...in the locker room....and they are celebrated. And no one can do any of those things alone.

People are beloved and honored—many during their career others long after, some....Forever Giant. 

Photo Credits
Forever Giant
Perfect
Thank you