I once spent 5 innings in the Ranger's dugout...

(This is a little long, but worth the read, trust me.)

Seriously! This is a totally true story with a really good teaching moment.

Prior to moving to Central Washington I worked in the Mercer Island SD where I was blessed to have many very amazing families. One of these families gave me the opportunity to be a groundskeeper for a day during a Mariner's game. So the day I went, they played Texas.

As part of the experience I spent time actually sitting in the dugout. Ron Washington, manager at the time, would sneak cigarette breaks in the tunnel so the cameras couldn't see him. Told me he "needed to be seen as a role model still."

There is a point to this story, not just bragging.

During one inning, Josh Hamilton scored. He came into the dugout and was greeted by fist bumps, high fives, etc. But when he turned towards where I was seated, near the helmet and bats, Washington said, "You missed the steal sign."

Hamilton looked confused.

Washington quietly explained, "Davey gave you the steal sign but you missed it." He then turned, walked the two or three steps up to the railing, leaned on it, and turned his attention back on the game.

The dugout went silent. Players silently returned to their spots and Hamilton stood there for a moment. He then tossed his helmet and sat on the bench, alone, clearly upset at himself.

For you non-baseball fans, Josh Hamilton is a very imposing figure. Huge man, 6'4", 240, arms sleeved in tatoos, chiseled jawbone. And when this experience took place a few years ago, he was a bonafied stud, really in his prime.

Washington was not imposing, 5'11", 155 (maybe), he looked frail and puny next to Hamilton.

But the moment Washington spoke, they listened. It didn't matter that they made billions of dollars and were huge superstars. He was their leader. They respected him. They wanted to please him. It was visibly upsetting to Hamilton that he had let his leader down.

After a few minutes, Hamilton was up on the railing a few feet away from Washington, leaning on his folded arms, just like his manager.

"Hey, Skip."
Washington didn't look at him.

Hamilton scooted a few inches closer.
"Hey Skip." Picture a tail between his legs.

After a few of these "hey skips" and scoots, he was actually right next to Washington, nudging him. Trying to make amends.

This is Josh Hamilton we're talking about. And it's not like he made a huge mistake. He scored the run. It all ended as it should have.

But Ron Washington had done something with this team of professional baseball players that superseded their salaries, their egos, their sponsors, their own agendas. They respected him. They wanted to make him happy.

How?

I don't know. I wasn't there during those moments. But I didn't see yelling. I didn't see intimidation. I didn't see swearing or belittling.

It was clear that they understood what he expected from them. I saw immediate direction. And I saw an employee seeking feedback and support.

I saw Washington eventually unfold his arms, and take a few minutes to talk with Hamilton and offer, what I can only assume was, timely feedback. And a pat on the butt.

I bet Hamilton, and the rest of his team, were much more vigilant looking at the 3rd base coach after that exchange.

One of the coolest experiences of my life!