Kyle Schwarber led off the final inning of 2016 with an outlandish degree of confidence. He reportedly strode to the batter’s box, nonchalantly reassuring Mike Borzello, “Borzy, I’ve got this. Don’t worry. I’m locked in.” Naturally, he was right.
It’s a special twenty-three-year-old who can bring that kind of self-assurance – and deliver – in World Series Game Seven extras. But when it’s also only his twenty-fifth plate appearance of the season? Come on. Even more bizarre, perhaps, was the front office activating him in the first place. Hindsight has normalized the decision, as the Cubs’ razor-thin margin of victory likely depended on its success, but it remains an epic managerial move.
The Kyle Schwarber narrative is most compelling as one of gritty self-determination with a bit of the superhuman thrown in. But it also highlights how expert management can optimize possibilities. Efforts to comprehend the against-all-odds moments of skill and swagger have yet to satisfy – it’s still unbelievable – but they have revealed a good deal of the process behind the legend. It turns out Schwarber is front office philosophy personified. His story depicts how organizational strength quietly influences outcomes in not-so-quiet ways, and it hints at the potential still lying in wait.
The Cubs talk a lot about being a special organization, and the concept of heart – or ‘the heartbeat,’ as it’s known these days – comes up frequently. But the scouting and development strategy inspiring the catchphrase is much more than that. Epstein recently went into detail on his formula to achieve separation in a data-saturated world:
“The Information Age…has pushed you to two different areas, I think, for competitive advantages. One is you just have to go deep. You can’t just look for more data, you have to look for deep data that maybe no one else has. For example, the neuroscience stuff that we’re doing, and we were probably a little bit ahead of the game on [that]…
“The other thing it’s done, which is really ironic, is all this data and analysis out there has swung the pendulum back where I think there’s a real competitive advantage in just remembering that the game is played by human beings. And set aside the data and understand that these guys are complicated people with thoughts, feelings, emotions, lives away from the field, and the ability to get better, the ability to get worse.
“If we treat them like gold, we give them every resource, from the best weight room, the best training facilities, to the yoga and meditation, and nutrition, and the mental skills programs that we have, and treat them with honesty and transparency and make them invested in the culture and the organization and their teammates so that they become their best selves with a growth mindset and they want to get better, that’s a huge competitive advantage. And you can’t quantify that.
“It’s probably the opposite of what some analysts might tell you, but I think we showed it last year. There’s a real culture to the organization now. Our guys get the best out of themselves because they feel connected with their teammates, with the organization…Turn back to where the game has been for a hundred years. It’s about the players, it’s about human beings.
“…Organizations make mistakes when they think it’s about the front office, or they think it’s about ownership, or they think it’s about the brand. The game’s about the players. It’s always a player’s game, so the more player-centric you make your organization, the more you realize you can listen and learn from players and understand them a little bit better, the better off you are.”
The simplicity of this nature plus nurture recipe is deceptive. Epstein understates it here, but, for him, meeting players’ needs and building a culture of connection extends well beyond supplying resources. Any organization can do that. Uncanny emotional intelligence at the top – and a willingness to break down barriers between players and management – may be the true separating factor.
Of his impressive interpersonal skills, Epstein has said, “I can feel where people are coming from, what makes them tick, where they are vulnerable, what makes them feel good about themselves. I get just as much out of it as they do. I love connecting.” The relationships formed through such uncommon empathy allow effective, individualized handling of players, but they also unlock wells of information for the mastermind.
In general, the process plays out away from public scrutiny, as it should. But the improbable arc of Schwarber’s young career – from lightning fast call up to repeat postseason heroics with almost no playing time in between – means his handling has received more attention than most. And his path has become a window on organizational philosophy in action. A prime example of Epstein’s deep-data-plus-human-element strategy, the legend clearly was not born in a vacuum.
We now know that Schwarber’s introduction to the club featured all-manner of information gathering, including deep data. His unexpectedly high draft position in 2014 had previously been explained by a convincing face-to-face that impressed with intangibles. But, with the championship burden finally lifted, Epstein revealed a new wrinkle:
Schwarber’s interview also included a Cubs-exclusive brain evaluation – that ‘neuroscience stuff’ referenced above. Software simulations measured his hard-wired hitting abilities, from reaction time to reading pitches and the ability to lay off, and he apparently nailed the test in eyebrow-raising fashion. So from the start, the Cubs knew they had a secret weapon of sorts, or at least a known weapon with a secret. The edge was established.
But Epstein has been clear in his belief that raw talent doesn’t simply rise to the top unassisted. Unlocking that potential at the major league level relies on the second area of his two-pronged approached: nurturing the human element. For Schwarber, that process began with understanding, in Epstein’s parlance, ‘what makes him tick.’
The scouting reports on Schwarber were never generous toward his goals behind the plate, but the front office has continually supported the pursuit simply because it means so much to him. Many have wondered why, reconstructed knee and all, Schwarber is still being mentioned in the catching conversation. Jed Hoyer laid it out this winter:
“I think when he goes to bed at night, he’s a catcher. And that’s not going to change. That’s part of what we love about Kyle and his mentality – is that he believes he’s a catcher. He wants to work on that advanced report and have that rapport with the pitcher. I don’t think you could ever take that away from him….our job is to put these players in the best possible situation for them to succeed…sometimes with exceptional athletes, they can do great things if you allow them to pursue their goal, and so I think it’s important not to be closed-minded on things like that. And to sort of allow their greatness to come out.”
When Schwarber first came up, he told a story about his late grandmother hoping he would be the next Johnny Bench, who was, in her estimation, “the best catcher to ever play the game.” The front office listened. They understood that a big source of motivation today still lives in those little league promises. Keeping the dream alive costs little, and goes a long way toward building confidence and establishing trust.
Epstein is keenly aware of how tenuous trust can be between players and management – and how valuable: “Players do have that expectation that they’re going to be lied to at some point. The lightbulb just went off on what a competitive advantage it would be for an organization if you could actually develop trust with your players.”
Beyond supporting Schwarber’s goals at catcher, last season’s devastating knee injury delivered a key opportunity to bolster the relationship. Epstein did not miss it. While emphatically denying trade rumors and constantly praising his work ethic, the front office also chose to bring him closer into the fold rather than letting rehab isolation set in. Schwarber’s gratitude was obvious:
“Once I got hurt this year, [the front office] had my back the whole way. They gave me the opportunity to come and sit in on draft meetings and help evaluate players and give my opinions…It’s not much of a difference [between us and them]. We’re all tight in this organization…we all care about each other, and that’s why this team’s special.”
We can’t know how this boost from management may have affected a recovery timeline. But it couldn’t have hurt, which sums up the whole Epstein philosophy. Every little effort to serve the player pays dividends. If Schwarber believed exceptional dedication to rehab might be rewarded with an unprecedented opportunity, that his self-confidence would be mirrored by an especially player-centric front office, the only possible impact is positive.
As a physical and mental feat, Schwarber’s World Series comeback shocked everyone – with ‘crazy’ being the operative word – but veteran Ben Zobrist immediately recognized the situation’s uniqueness from a management perspective: “He sat out basically all year and then gets put on the playoff roster. Number one, most teams wouldn’t even do that, especially as a hitter.”
Indeed, the unknowns may have been too much for a differently-run organization, an underappreciated aspect that was somewhat lost in the excitement. Later we learned the degree of trust involved between player and president at decision time. According to Schwarber, his doctor’s actual advice before okaying a designated hitter role was, “I’m not clearing you, but I’m not going to hold you back.” Schwarber responded by pleading his case directly to Epstein: “if I didn’t try, it would kill me deep down inside.”
Jed Hoyer ultimately explained filling a precious World Series lineup spot with an untested Schwarber this way: “How could anybody have expected this? We couldn’t. But because of who he is, he gets the benefit of the doubt. He’s just a freakishly good hitter and a genuinely great guy.”
The leap of faith was shortened by their depth of knowledge. In Schwarber’s case, ‘freakish’ was practically a technical term. Deep data suggested the usual rules of readiness may not apply – if anybody could do mental calculations on 1,300 machine pitches and feel good to go, it was him. But the personal relationship probably tipped it, as peer-like connections and mutual trust allowed an outwardly crazy move to reveal itself as boldly inspired.
Looking back on that tenth inning in Cleveland will likely never cease to be anxiety-inducing. It was the last of a string of postseason moments in which the Cubs saw their fate and came out on top. Schwarber, by myriad factors, was there to get the ball rolling. Appreciating Epstein’s role enriches the memory, because, like the ‘D’ in D-peat, management is repeatable.
Schwarber’s behind-the-scenes tale is a case study of the hidden organizational strength surrounding every player. It’s easy to forget and tough to define, but constantly at work to maximize potential. As world champions reset next week and look uphill at a new 162, only the stats will zero. The aggregate competitive advantage of a remarkable front office philosophy keeps building at the margins.
It’s an exciting proposition to begin Epstein’s second act in Chicago: as a young core, treated like gold, increasingly understood and connected, grows together where trust reigns and swagger thrives.
Chances are good that at some dramatic moment in the not-too-distant future, they will again be convincing the world that collectively, for a host of reasons and certainly by design: they’ve got this.
Lead photo courtesy Rick Scuteri—USA Today Sports
Wow, this is what is largely missing in sports, if not all of corporate America: trust between management and employees, recognition of talent and dreams, and being given every advantage to allow those factors to flourish. The human element and it’s development is a lost art, though clearly not in this organization. Makes me proud to have held onto my allegiance as a decades long Cubs fan. They finally got it right and won it all. And then some…
I read an article a long time ago that tested the premise that hitting required supernormal physical skills. They ran some tests on Albert Pujols (Cardinals’ Pujols, not this shell of a Pujols in Anaheim) and found that his reflex times were really only modestly above average; less than a standard deviation. What separates good hitters from great hitters isn’t mechanics–they’re all pretty good mechanically (Heyward caveats apply)–but rather their ability to mentally project a ball in flight, particularly when it naturally leaves their field of vision and moves into the hitting zone. To that end, the best predictor of success has to be endless, merciless repetition.
What Schwarber did in the cage reminds me of this a lot and I really think that the first team to jump on VR in this regard is going to have a huge natural advantage. The most invaluable part about it is that a) you can simulate specific pitchers’ repertoires and tendencies, b) even injured players can take part, c) no poor pitching coach has to go rubber-armed from 1,000 75mph meatballs
GREAT article. I’ve often wondered if Cubs management didn’t originally see a Schwarber WS start as motivation for the other guys (mascot stuff) far more than potential productivity. Jed as much said it. I’m assuming Szczur would have been his replacement.
If indeed they thought Kyle had the potential for a couple of homers like the 2015 post-season, I’m even further in awe since there – literally – was zero evidence that he could perform at that level.
The legend of both the front office and Kyle continues…..