We need moments of calm now more than ever, so I've set up a site where I'm posting one-minute videos of scenes from the natural world in California's Marin, Mendocino and Sonoma Counties, as well as Golden Gate Park and the Presidio in San Francisco:
When Dusty Baker became the San Francisco Giants manager in 1993, I wasn't critical, but I was skeptical. Yes, he'd been a coach for the team for five years, but before that he'd spent eight years (in a 19-year career) playing as a Los Angeles Dodger. Could a Dodger really lead the Giants? Well, this one could.
And Baker's leadership made a significant impression on me during the ten years he managed the Giants. I came to deeply appreciate his candor, his determination, and his calm intensity. He was an adult in the often juvenile world of professional sports. His teams made the playoffs but fell short in 1997 and 2000, and their failure to close out the 2002 World Series when they were just eight outs from victory ultimately led to Baker's firing.
This pattern would repeat itself in subsequent managerial stints in Chicago and Cincinnati, where Baker would enjoy just enough success in the regular season to raise expectations, only to have those hopes dashed in the playoffs. After 20 years as a manager, it seemed Baker had finally found the perfect opportunity to compete for a World Series title when he took over the Washington Nationals in 2016 and led them to first-place finishes in their division for two years running.
But Baker was fired by the Nats after last season, a move that probably marks the end of the 68-year-old's major-league career, meaning that he won't win a World Series ring as a manager to match the one he earned as a player with the Dodgers in 1981. Given that his 1,863 wins as a manager ranks him 14th on baseball's all-time list, it was assumed that a World Series victory would assure his elevation to the sport's Hall of Fame, but now his candidacy is uncertain.
Baker was recently interviewed by Dave Sheinin of the Washington Post, and the piece concludes with a bracing bit of advice:
"You don’t judge yourself. I’ll let other people do that," [Baker] said. "Ain't nobody ever given me nothing in the first place. So if [the Hall of Fame] happens, fine. If it don’t happen, hey, what can I do? I did my best with what I had. I’m at the point, I really don’t care what you say. Why should I let other people control my self-esteem? My dad taught me you don't have anybody to satisfy but God, family and yourself. They’re the only entities you can't fool if you’re an honest guy."
"So I tell my son that. People gonna always say what you can't do. People been telling me what I can't do my whole life. And guess what? Fifty years later, they still telling me. And I. Don't. Give. A. [Expletive]."
I don't know what expletive Baker used, because the Post deleted it. That's fine, I'll imagine it. And I'll repeat it to myself whenever someone tells me what I can do and what I can't.
Photo via NBC Sports Bay Area.
This morning Amy and I sat on a log at Mile Rock Beach and watched the waves crash against the coast for a long time.
The air was crisp and clear--the lighthouse at Point Bonita gleamed white across the water.
The sun warmed our backs, the winter chill still filled the shadows.
A handful of people wandered by, posed for photos, and wandered off again, but most of the time it was empty and peaceful.
But it wasn't quiet. The waves thundered ashore, and occasionally one hit so hard that we felt the earth shudder.
And as each wave rolled back out, it dragged along hundreds and hundreds of small stones, which rattled and clattered against each other, over and over again.
I've been to that spot so many times, and each and every time it makes me feel so alive.
The day will come when I won't be able to walk down those steep steps, but I'll remember.
A little while and you will be nobody and nowhere, nor will anything which you now behold exist, nor one of those who are now alive. Nature's law is that all things change and turn, and pass away, so that in due order different things may come to be. ~Marcus Aurelius
I will miss this life so much--an absurd thought, but no less true.
I am so very thankful for it.
Photo © Streeter Lecka/Getty Images
I moved to San Francisco in 1990 with no meaningful loyalties to any sports teams, and I quickly fell in love with the city, so it's no surprise that I became a 49ers and Giants fan. I don't write about sports often, although occasionally they provide useful examples and counter-examples that are relevant to my work with leaders and MBA students. So today I want to express my appreciation for Colin Kaepernick, #7 above, and Alex Smith, #11, the current and previous quarterbacks for the 49ers.
Smith was a long-suffering (albeit well-compensated) talent on the poorly coached, horrendously mismanaged and perennially terrible Niners teams of the second half of the last decade. He deserves some blame for those failures, of course, but in my opinion he was repeatedly let down by leaders who simply had no idea what they were doing. New leadership eventually turned the team around and seemed to rekindle some magic in Smith, who in 2012 was having his best season by far when an injury knocked him out of the lineup.
Kaepernick, a second-year player, took over and never looked back, keeping the starting job even after Smith had fully recovered. Some fans felt, as I did, that Smith was being unfairly denied this opportunity to finally lead a decent team, and we couldn't quite embrace Kaepernick, the new guy. Through it all Smith was a model teammate, although I have to imagine it felt like a cruel twist of fate to lose his position just as the team was on the cusp of greatness. And I can't even fathom what Smith felt when the team he led for years fell just short and lost the Super Bowl with Kaepernick at the helm. Half-misery, half-schadenfreude, I guess.
But the off-season heals, and I'm happy that Smith was able to move on and find a new professional home in Kansas City, and as the 49ers traded scores with the Green Bay Packers (Boo!) in the season's first game this weekend, I found myself equally happy that Kaepernick was on our side. The Packers had been threatening before the game to shut down Kaepernick by intimidating and overwhelming him, and what finally marked the transition for me and made me think of Kaepernick as our guy was this quote after the game:
#49ers QB Colin Kaepernick: "If intimidation is your game plan, I hope you have a better one."
— Matt Maiocco (@MaioccoCSN) September 9, 2013
I love it.
I'm not suggesting that Smith and Kaepernick are role models--they're entertainers. (And as Charles Barkley once said, athletes and rock stars aren't role models.) But I find it interesting to think about their different approaches to leadership, at least in the narrow realm of NFL quarterbacking, and to wonder what we might learn from them and apply in the wider world: Smith, the stoic veteran who refused to complain and refused to quit, and Kaepernick, the joyful upstart who refuses to be intimidated, who refuses to be anyone but himself. These approaches aren't mutually exclusive, and I suspect Smith and Kaepernick could both learn something from the other.
There's value in finding the balance between those two poles in ourselves, being able to regulate and self-manage and stoically persist through times of intense stress while also being able to tap into our defiance, our anger, our power and, when necessary, let someone know that we won't be intimidated.
Amy and I have been to Point Reyes many, many times over the last few years. Given all we've been though we've needed a regular spot to slow down and recharge, and I can't imagine anyplace better. I recently realized that I have a number of pix from our most recent trips that never got a second look, and it's been good to revisit them.
Last November we spent a day at Abbotts Lagoon, one of our favorite spots on the planet. You start out along a wide path that winds between pastures to the south and scrubland to the north. Plenty of deer, flocks of birds--that's the two smudges above--and cows in the distance.
Eventually you pop out of the grassy fields onto sprawling, endless dunes. You slog across the sand, but if feels like you're never going to reach the surf.
Until you're suddenly there.
Nearly a year later--that's too long.
Two short-term, high-profile Bay Area leaders were let go recently, but the manner of their respective departures couldn't have been more different, and I find them a fascinating study in contrasts.
Ten days ago Yahoo CEO Carol Bartz was fired abruptly by the company's board--actually via a phone call from the chairman--and the following day she spoke freely with journalist Patricia Sellers:
Here is what Carol Bartz thinks of the Yahoo board that fired her: "These people f---ed me over," she says, in her first interview since her dismissal from the CEO role late Tuesday... "The board was so spooked by being cast as the worst board in the country," Bartz says. "Now they're trying to show that they're not the doofuses that they are." [1]
It's noteworthy that Bartz's contract had a non-disparagement clause, and she was apparently owed $10 million. [2] I assume Bartz knew exactly what she was doing, and it was a deliberate choice to sacrifice that compensation (or at least put it at risk) in order to speak her mind without constraints.
Just over a week later, the San Francisco Giants announced that managing general partner Bill Neukom will become "chairman emeritus" next year and will sell his ownership stake, a move apparently forced by the team's primary owners. Neukom will be replaced by team President Larry Baer, and they both stuck to the script at yesterday's news conference, as reported by Gwen Knapp:
Neukom repeatedly ducked the issue of whether he had been shoved aside with variations on "mistakes were made," the fingerprint wiper favored by politicians. When asked the question directly on Thursday, Neukom began his reply with "Umm" and a pause before he went into a long-winded explanation about his plans to step aside in the near future and saying that, after consultation with the other investors, "I think the conclusion was that this was the right time to turn the reins over to Larry." [3]
Mychael Urban offered a similar perspective:
Neukom neither admitted nor denied reports of communication issues with the other owners, describing their dialogue over his three-year tenure as "robust." Asked if he was forced out, Neukom said, "I don't think that's the right characterization at all." [4]
I'll let others debate the merits of these decisions by senior management--what interests me are the choices made by Bartz and Neukom at the moment of their departure. The two clearly are very different people who had very different relationships with their organizations. Bartz is well-known as a straight-talking, f-bomb-dropping leader, while Neukom is a tight-lipped, bow-tie-wearing corporate attorney, and both of them held true to form. Bartz was hired to turn Yahoo around just 32 months ago, and there's no indication that the company holds any special meaning for her. In contrast, Neukom was a 16-year-old in San Mateo when the Giants moved West in 1958, and he's owned a stake in the team since 1995--it seems reasonable to assume that running the team fulfilled an important and long-held ambition of his.
So it's not surprising that Bartz and Neukom chose to leave as they did, and yet both of their choices seem flawed. While I respect Bartz's determination to speak her mind, and I find her brash style personally appealing, I still felt dismayed when I read her interview with Sellars. Bartz's justifiable anger at the manner of her firing seemed to trump all other concerns, and while Yahoo's board should be criticized for their mishandling of this transition, Bartz's clumsy remarks made the board's public silence look (undeservedly) dignified and thoughtful in comparison.
Neukom's approach was just as clumsy, but in an entirely different way. Instead of burning bridges, he sat side-by-side with his successor, tamped down his emotions, and denied that anything was amiss. (At least he didn't say he wanted to spend more time with his family.) But while I understand Neukom's desire to make a graceful exit and avoid damaging an organization he no doubt loves, his adamant refusal to acknowledge reality undermined both him and the team. Neukom's discretion could be characterized as "taking the high road," but it felt like a way of avoiding responsibility. If nothing's wrong, then there were no mistakes--and it merely invited speculation about senior management's dysfunction.
Bartz's resolve to speak her truth and damn the consequences and Neukom's superhuman powers of self-regulation have undoubtedly fueled their careers and contributed mightily to their success. But I'm reminded that our greatest weaknesses are overused strengths.
Footnotes
[1] Carol Bartz exclusive: Yahoo "f---ed me over" (Patricia Sellers, Fortune/CNN Money, 2011)
[2] Yes, Carol Bartz had a non-disparagement clause (Dan Primack, Fortune/CNN Money, 2011)
[3] Neukom's ouster a misplay by Giants ownership (Gwen Knapp, San Francisco Chronicle / SFGate, 2011)
[4] Giants formally announce retirement of Neukom (Mychael Urban, CSN Bay Area, 2011)
Photos: Bill Neukom: Associated Press. Carol Bartz: Robert Galbraith/Reuters.
Sometimes it's just obvious why certain people touch your heart. A former student I know is spending much of this year pursuing personal projects and traveling before starting a new job at the beginning of 2011.
This week she's returning to San Francisco to celebrate her birthday, and here's what she wrote in her invitation:
Instead of receiving birthday presents, I would love to receive your wisdom in the form of answers to two questions:
"If I had three months of freedom, I would. . ." and
"When you finally move to San Francisco, make sure to. . ."
She's going to cover the walls of the party site in paper and have people write (graffiti?) their responses during the party. Wow--what a beautiful idea.
My own responses to those questions?
If I had three months of freedom...I would find a cottage up in the hills of Inverness with a quiet garden and a view of Tomales Bay. I'd spend each morning distilling what I've written here over the years into a narrative about coaching and change and growth; I'd spend each afternoon hiking the trails of Point Reyes; and I'd spend each evening cooking with Amy and looking up at the stars.
And when you finally move to San Francisco, spend as much time as you can in all the hidden wild corners of the city: Land's End, the Presidio, Tank Hill, Grand View Park, Golden Gates Heights Park, Fort Funston, the community garden at Fort Mason, the back side of Twin Peaks, Glen Canyon and the top of Strawberry Hill in the middle of Stow Lake. These places (and more like them) touch my own heart so deeply and are ultimately what make me most happy to live here.
Happy Birthday!
I rode up to Twin Peaks this afternoon, after going through Land's End, out to Ocean Beach and down the path that parallels the Great Highway. It was one of those days when I feel so lucky to live here.
The view above is from Twin Peaks Boulevard--I love how the Transamerica pyramid and the new One Rincon Hill bookend the downtown skyline. And if you look carefully, you can see the Ferry Building gleaming at the end of Market Street.
Today was an astoundingly beautiful day in San Francisco, and I spent a portion of it on one of my favorite rides around the City, a route that winds for just over 13 miles through Golden Gate Park, the Panhandle, the Wiggle, the Duboce Bikeway (above), Market Street, the Embarcadero, Fort Mason, Crissy Field, and the Presidio before returning to the Richmond.
I've ridden through the Duboce Bikeway literally thousands of times--I worked in downtown SF for a total of 8 years, and I commuted by bike for most of that time--but not once have I ever stopped to take a photo of the mural there, even though it happens to be my favorite piece of public art evah.
But for some reason today I stopped and snapped the pic above. And looking at it now I want to ride out to Ocean Beach immediately.
Today we decided to simply hang out and enjoy a day in San Francisco, which included:
