Posted on Sat, Aug. 14, 2010
Leaving the Royals was not easy for Schuerholz
SAM MELLINGER COMMENTARY
The Kansas City Star
ATLANTA | You know part of this story. The other part may blow your mind.
You know about the skinny and well-dressed man who caused a baseball power shift by going from Kansas City to here in Atlanta. You know what he left behind, what he created here, and how it changed two franchises.
It’s the other part you’ll be thinking about.
This all began 20 years ago this fall, when John Schuerholz moved from general manager of the Royals to the same position with the Braves. Since then, the Royals fell from the top of baseball to the bottom and the Braves rose from last place to 14 straight division championships.
That’s the part you know, about one baseball power crumbling and another being born, and here’s the part you don’t know: it didn’t have to be this way.
Schuerholz struggled with his decision. Owner Ewing Kauffman sensed too much uncertainty, finally telling Schuerholz, “you … must … go.” Both men cried. Schuerholz came back with second thoughts and even today, without regret or blame, says Mr. K could’ve talked him into Kansas City.
“Probably,” he says.
And if Schuerholz would’ve stayed?
“I think we could’ve continued our success there,” he says, pausing just a moment to think on it.
“Yeah. I really do.”
? ? ?
Walk over to John Schuerholz’s desk, by the window overlooking Turner Field. You have to search carefully to find anything Kansas City here. Look deep in one corner. There’s a picture of Buck O’Neil. Go behind the leather chair. Tucked in back of a glass door is Mr. K’s autobiography.
And that’s it. Time moves on.
Two decades have buried what for some would be a good life’s crowning achievement. Maybe Kansas City could’ve been the place Schuerholz sustained. But he’s a Braves guy now, the first 17 years as GM and now in his third as team president overseeing both baseball and business operations.
Atlanta is home now. Those second thoughts faded within the first year. Kansas City is the place he’ll mention in his Hall of Fame acceptance speech someday with sincere warmth but only briefly, because there will be lots of words about growing up in Baltimore and then bringing unprecedented baseball success to Atlanta.
? ? ?
John Schuerholz’s story is self-made success with what sounds like a made-up beginning. A schoolteacher writes a cold letter to the Orioles one day during a free period. The letter catches the team president’s attention, and eventually leads to a job offer. The teacher takes a pay cut to work in baseball.
Schuerholz was so nervous before his first spring training that he developed pityriasis rosea, a rash in which your skin dries and flakes off. He joined Lou Gorman in leaving the Orioles for the expansion Royals in 1969, and Schuerholz continued to impress his way up the baseball ladder.
Along with Cedric Tallis and Joe Burke and a dedicated staff, they built the Royals into the most successful expansion team in baseball history.
The Royals drafted George Brett and developed Frank White in the team’s academy and complemented the whole thing with trades for Hal McRae and others. Theirs was a family. The players fought for each other, often literally, and the executives, in the words of Herk Robinson, “made baseball more important in their lives than it probably should’ve been.”
They built the Royals into division champions in 1976, American League champions in 1980, and after Schuerholz became general manager they became World Series champions in 1985.
The Royals were baseball’s model organization back then, an almost impossible thought today, and Schuerholz was so entrenched that commissioner Fay Vincent laughed when he heard Atlanta would pursue Kansas City’s GM.
? ? ?
What Vincent didn’t know was the culture within the Royals was changing. Kauffman brought in Avron Fogelman as part owner, which even in the most positive translation was tangible proof that Kauffman could see the end.
The best work environment Schuerholz had known began to shift. He won’t speak specifics, but others describe an uncomfortable divide in power ? and credit ? between Schuerholz and Burke, the former GM who became team president. The Royals lost some of their efficiency.
Non-baseball factors began to cloud both decisions and function and the man who once told friends “they’ll have to carry me out of Kansas City in a pine box” thought about life in other places.
“The grounds beneath our feet begun to crumble and shift,” he says now. “It made us worry.”
But what if it hadn’t?
? ? ?
John Schuerholz writes in his book, “Built to Win,” that he felt overlooked as a baseball prospect. The line is meant tongue-in-cheek ? Schuerholz was 5 feet 9 and 135 pounds when he graduated college ? but there is something about his way that makes you think there’s some truth in there, too.
This is a man who never lacks for confidence.
It is impossible and perhaps hopeless to divide the blame for the Royals’ demise. Mr. K’s death. The strike. The board slashing expenses in an effort to sell the team. David Glass bought the team in 2000 without any real baseball direction until more recent years.
But Schuerholz’s departure was the first domino down, and came as the organization’s focus shifted. Schuerholz takes his share of the blame for this, but the Royals began to spend too much time and especially too much money pursuing free agents.
A franchise built on scouting and player development fell for the quick fix in free agency, and by 1990 ? Schuerholz’s last season in Kansas City ? the Royals had baseball’s highest payroll. Mark Davis and Storm Davis remain the posterboys for that failed movement.
The Royals’ fade began almost immediately. Some still swear the team would’ve made the 1994 playoffs if not for the strike. Maybe. But once Mr. K passed away in 1993, the momentum had begun to pull a proud franchise to the bottom of baseball.
The Royals lost their way, first in how they operated, then without their leader, and finally without support. Schuerholz thinks he could’ve solved it.
He saw the shift in focus and says that would’ve been an easy fix. Mr. K’s death would’ve been a blow even in the best of times, but what part of Schuerholz’s history makes you doubt he could’ve kept the franchise winning? Maybe the board would’ve been more comfortable spending with Schuerholz in charge.
If so, these last 20 years in Kansas City would’ve been a lot more fun.
“I’ve always had confidence in my ability to build and sustain championship teams,” he says. “I had confidence in our ability to work in whatever the economic circumstances were, to get back to our core values … even in the face of difficult economic times in a place like Kansas City.”
? ? ?
Dayton Moore’s Royals are losing again. A bad team is now officially in evaluation mode, a smart move for the future but a lousy thing to watch every day. A fifth 100-loss season in nine years is possible. This a bizarre place to find optimism.
You can divide Moore’s time as general manager in two categories. More than four years after leaving Schuerholz’s Braves for Kansas City, the big-league roster is still a mess. Dead-end veterans have taken way too many at-bats. The biggest free-agent signings have flopped. The Royals focus on pitching but have the American League’s worst ERA.
Yet there is real buzz within the industry about what the Royals are doing in the minor leagues. The franchise ranked dead last in spending in Latin America from 1996 to 2006, but have since climbed comfortably into the top third. A franchise that sometimes ran out of money to sign draft picks set a record for spending two years ago. A farm system that was a sad joke is now viewed by some as the game’s best.
All of that in just four years. It’s a remarkable thing.
It’s exactly how the Braves built and then sustained one of the best runs of success in baseball history.
“I think that’s the wise move,” Schuerholz says.
“It’s how I was raised in the game,” Moore says.
? ? ?
This is an approach with proven success. Every farm system ranked first by Baseball America has led to a big-league playoff team within four years, with only one exception since 1992. The track record for franchises in the top three is nearly as good.
This is what the Royals are working toward.
There is no guarantee this will work. Even if the Royals’ prospects produce, the big-league team will need better complementary players than Moore has so far acquired. The optimism is real this time, but there is enough to support a pessimistic view, too.
Maybe this is how it has to happen. For 20 years, the Royals have tried with varying degrees of focus and commitment to recreate what Schuerholz left. He says he could’ve kept it going if he’d have stayed, and even if his personal history earns the benefit of the doubt we’ll never know for sure.
But at least now, the Royals are doing most of what he’d be doing.
Leaving the Royals was not easy for Schuerholz
SAM MELLINGER COMMENTARY
The Kansas City Star
ATLANTA | You know part of this story. The other part may blow your mind.
You know about the skinny and well-dressed man who caused a baseball power shift by going from Kansas City to here in Atlanta. You know what he left behind, what he created here, and how it changed two franchises.
It’s the other part you’ll be thinking about.
This all began 20 years ago this fall, when John Schuerholz moved from general manager of the Royals to the same position with the Braves. Since then, the Royals fell from the top of baseball to the bottom and the Braves rose from last place to 14 straight division championships.
That’s the part you know, about one baseball power crumbling and another being born, and here’s the part you don’t know: it didn’t have to be this way.
Schuerholz struggled with his decision. Owner Ewing Kauffman sensed too much uncertainty, finally telling Schuerholz, “you … must … go.” Both men cried. Schuerholz came back with second thoughts and even today, without regret or blame, says Mr. K could’ve talked him into Kansas City.
“Probably,” he says.
And if Schuerholz would’ve stayed?
“I think we could’ve continued our success there,” he says, pausing just a moment to think on it.
“Yeah. I really do.”
? ? ?
Walk over to John Schuerholz’s desk, by the window overlooking Turner Field. You have to search carefully to find anything Kansas City here. Look deep in one corner. There’s a picture of Buck O’Neil. Go behind the leather chair. Tucked in back of a glass door is Mr. K’s autobiography.
And that’s it. Time moves on.
Two decades have buried what for some would be a good life’s crowning achievement. Maybe Kansas City could’ve been the place Schuerholz sustained. But he’s a Braves guy now, the first 17 years as GM and now in his third as team president overseeing both baseball and business operations.
Atlanta is home now. Those second thoughts faded within the first year. Kansas City is the place he’ll mention in his Hall of Fame acceptance speech someday with sincere warmth but only briefly, because there will be lots of words about growing up in Baltimore and then bringing unprecedented baseball success to Atlanta.
? ? ?
John Schuerholz’s story is self-made success with what sounds like a made-up beginning. A schoolteacher writes a cold letter to the Orioles one day during a free period. The letter catches the team president’s attention, and eventually leads to a job offer. The teacher takes a pay cut to work in baseball.
Schuerholz was so nervous before his first spring training that he developed pityriasis rosea, a rash in which your skin dries and flakes off. He joined Lou Gorman in leaving the Orioles for the expansion Royals in 1969, and Schuerholz continued to impress his way up the baseball ladder.
Along with Cedric Tallis and Joe Burke and a dedicated staff, they built the Royals into the most successful expansion team in baseball history.
The Royals drafted George Brett and developed Frank White in the team’s academy and complemented the whole thing with trades for Hal McRae and others. Theirs was a family. The players fought for each other, often literally, and the executives, in the words of Herk Robinson, “made baseball more important in their lives than it probably should’ve been.”
They built the Royals into division champions in 1976, American League champions in 1980, and after Schuerholz became general manager they became World Series champions in 1985.
The Royals were baseball’s model organization back then, an almost impossible thought today, and Schuerholz was so entrenched that commissioner Fay Vincent laughed when he heard Atlanta would pursue Kansas City’s GM.
? ? ?
What Vincent didn’t know was the culture within the Royals was changing. Kauffman brought in Avron Fogelman as part owner, which even in the most positive translation was tangible proof that Kauffman could see the end.
The best work environment Schuerholz had known began to shift. He won’t speak specifics, but others describe an uncomfortable divide in power ? and credit ? between Schuerholz and Burke, the former GM who became team president. The Royals lost some of their efficiency.
Non-baseball factors began to cloud both decisions and function and the man who once told friends “they’ll have to carry me out of Kansas City in a pine box” thought about life in other places.
“The grounds beneath our feet begun to crumble and shift,” he says now. “It made us worry.”
But what if it hadn’t?
? ? ?
John Schuerholz writes in his book, “Built to Win,” that he felt overlooked as a baseball prospect. The line is meant tongue-in-cheek ? Schuerholz was 5 feet 9 and 135 pounds when he graduated college ? but there is something about his way that makes you think there’s some truth in there, too.
This is a man who never lacks for confidence.
It is impossible and perhaps hopeless to divide the blame for the Royals’ demise. Mr. K’s death. The strike. The board slashing expenses in an effort to sell the team. David Glass bought the team in 2000 without any real baseball direction until more recent years.
But Schuerholz’s departure was the first domino down, and came as the organization’s focus shifted. Schuerholz takes his share of the blame for this, but the Royals began to spend too much time and especially too much money pursuing free agents.
A franchise built on scouting and player development fell for the quick fix in free agency, and by 1990 ? Schuerholz’s last season in Kansas City ? the Royals had baseball’s highest payroll. Mark Davis and Storm Davis remain the posterboys for that failed movement.
The Royals’ fade began almost immediately. Some still swear the team would’ve made the 1994 playoffs if not for the strike. Maybe. But once Mr. K passed away in 1993, the momentum had begun to pull a proud franchise to the bottom of baseball.
The Royals lost their way, first in how they operated, then without their leader, and finally without support. Schuerholz thinks he could’ve solved it.
He saw the shift in focus and says that would’ve been an easy fix. Mr. K’s death would’ve been a blow even in the best of times, but what part of Schuerholz’s history makes you doubt he could’ve kept the franchise winning? Maybe the board would’ve been more comfortable spending with Schuerholz in charge.
If so, these last 20 years in Kansas City would’ve been a lot more fun.
“I’ve always had confidence in my ability to build and sustain championship teams,” he says. “I had confidence in our ability to work in whatever the economic circumstances were, to get back to our core values … even in the face of difficult economic times in a place like Kansas City.”
? ? ?
Dayton Moore’s Royals are losing again. A bad team is now officially in evaluation mode, a smart move for the future but a lousy thing to watch every day. A fifth 100-loss season in nine years is possible. This a bizarre place to find optimism.
You can divide Moore’s time as general manager in two categories. More than four years after leaving Schuerholz’s Braves for Kansas City, the big-league roster is still a mess. Dead-end veterans have taken way too many at-bats. The biggest free-agent signings have flopped. The Royals focus on pitching but have the American League’s worst ERA.
Yet there is real buzz within the industry about what the Royals are doing in the minor leagues. The franchise ranked dead last in spending in Latin America from 1996 to 2006, but have since climbed comfortably into the top third. A franchise that sometimes ran out of money to sign draft picks set a record for spending two years ago. A farm system that was a sad joke is now viewed by some as the game’s best.
All of that in just four years. It’s a remarkable thing.
It’s exactly how the Braves built and then sustained one of the best runs of success in baseball history.
“I think that’s the wise move,” Schuerholz says.
“It’s how I was raised in the game,” Moore says.
? ? ?
This is an approach with proven success. Every farm system ranked first by Baseball America has led to a big-league playoff team within four years, with only one exception since 1992. The track record for franchises in the top three is nearly as good.
This is what the Royals are working toward.
There is no guarantee this will work. Even if the Royals’ prospects produce, the big-league team will need better complementary players than Moore has so far acquired. The optimism is real this time, but there is enough to support a pessimistic view, too.
Maybe this is how it has to happen. For 20 years, the Royals have tried with varying degrees of focus and commitment to recreate what Schuerholz left. He says he could’ve kept it going if he’d have stayed, and even if his personal history earns the benefit of the doubt we’ll never know for sure.
But at least now, the Royals are doing most of what he’d be doing.
