The late Gene Michael always laughed as he told stories about how he pushed back against the impetuosity of New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner in Michael's tenure as general manager of the team. There was the time that Steinbrenner, frustrated by the slow development of young outfielder Bernie Williams, ordered Michael to call all other teams and collect offers for Williams, and then trade him.
As Michael told the story, he cast a wide net of phone calls as ordered -- and talked about a lot of stuff, but never about Bernie Williams. Then he dutifully reported to Steinbrenner that yes, he had spoken to every team, but didn't get a single offer for the center fielder. Steinbrenner, his anger satiated for the moment, moved on, and Williams went on to become an All-Star for the Yankees.
There were other times when Michael simply said no to Steinbrenner, as did one of Michael's successors, Brian Cashman. Steinbrenner once ordered Cashman to trade for Blue Jays outfielder Raul Mondesi, and Cashman, rightly believing Mondesi was not a good fit, refused. Steinbrenner benched Cashman and had another executive finish the deal. But Cashman stood his ground and could have easily been fired, but eventually, Steinbrenner restored Cashman's power because he trusted his motives and his word. Cashman is now in his 22nd season as GM.
These are lessons and operating principles that should be considered by New York Mets manager Mickey Callaway and general manager Brodie Van Wagenen, who are both trying to navigate their organization's long-standing culture of blame -- and both will inevitably drown, unless something changes, with Callaway likely to go under before Van Wagenen.
So far, the strategy of each has seemingly been to go with the flow, to try to get along to move along. In recent weeks, sources say, the leadership of the team has dictated some decisions to the on-field staff during games, most notably the choice to remove Jacob deGrom in the seventh inning of a contest against the Diamondbacks. In speaking with reporters Monday evening, Van Wagenen denied the in-game directives from the front office with some masterful obfuscation, saying, "No in-game decisions are ever called down to the dugout. We're not allowed to communicate with Mickey or his coaching staff during games, and we're not doing that."
Neither ESPN nor any other news outlet has reported that decisions have been called down to the dugout. What has been reported, through multiple sources, is that orders have been forwarded through support staff. Callaway should've said no the first time it happened, and he should say no moving forward, if he wants to foster his own credibility, just as he should have stood his ground when the team's leadership wanted to fire members of his coaching staff last week. Callaway knows better than anyone that the team's struggles are rooted in the composition of the roster.
Callaway's job is to manage games, and his understanding of pitching is his biggest strength. A former pitcher and longtime pitching coach, Callaway knows pitching better than Van Wagenen or Van Wagenen's bosses, Fred and Jeff Wilpon, do. He knows deGrom as a pitcher better than Van Wagenen or the Wilpons do; hell, deGrom won a Cy Young Award under Callaway's watch last year. He is better trained than the GM or the owners to recognize signs of weariness or injury.
He should have said no to the in-game directive, and then explained his rationale to his bosses afterward -- and if they had chosen to use this as an excuse to fire him, then at least Callaway would depart knowing he had done what he believed was right.
Instead, Callaway has drifted to a place where his staffers and players increasingly view him as a puppet, sources say, someone merely carrying out the whims of bosses who aren't in as good as a position to make sound decisions as Callaway is.
Van Wagenen runs the exact same risk. Club staffers are well aware of how relentless the Wilpons can be in their micromanagement of some personnel or organizational decisions. Former GM Sandy Alderson would sometimes push back, just as Michael and Cashman did, serving as a buffer for the folks below him in the chain of command, shielding them from impetuosity.
But sources in the organization perceive that Van Wagenen is often pushed by Jeff Wilpon -- in the same way Callaway has been pushed on some in-game moves. Only Van Wagenen and Jeff Wilpon know for sure to what degree that is true, but the perception alone could impact Van Wagenen's effectiveness as a leader, and the trust that others have in him -- particularly because there already were questions about the longtime agent's suitability for the job. In the organizational court of opinion, he certainly didn't start with as much margin for error as Alderson.
In Cashman's first years with the Yankees, other staffers were taken aback by how Steinbrenner and Cashman would scream in their disputes. Steinbrenner often reacted emotionally, changing his directives constantly, and Cashman fought with his boss in an effort to maintain some equilibrium. Having generated a lot of self-inflicted wounds in his early years as Yankees owner, Steinbrenner increasingly shied away from public criticism. Cashman, understanding this, would sometimes play off that fear in deflecting an order. I'll do what you tell me to do, Cashman would say, in so many words, and then I'm going to tell reporters it was your idea.
Steinbrenner often would back off. Sometimes he told somebody else to carry out his order. He could have fired Cashman at any time. But it seems unlikely that Michael and Cashman could have worked under Steinbrenner for as long as they did unless they had learned to say no and to stick to what they believed to be right.
Callaway and Van Wagenen are probably doomed to walk the plank, like so many of their predecessors. But if they want to maintain credibility to others in the organization, and perhaps augment their chances of surviving the moments of impetuosity, they need to stand their ground.