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I guess this is from Sunday. Saw it on Facebook.
Interesting.
Speech for the Visiting Clubhouse
Sunday Night, 8:27pm, Los Angeles, California
The clubhouse door swung heavy as it was opened. After filing through the cavalcade of reporters, Joe Maddon thanked the security guard with a silent nod as he walked into the visiting clubhouse at Dodger Stadium. The room felt heavy, the air thick with disappointment, with only a few intermittent conversations between the players that filled the room. Most were sitting outside their lockers in hunched over disappointment; some were leaning against the wall talking quietly; there were no smiles, only the solemn look of defeat. It was Sunday night, and the walk-off home run was weighing heavily in the midst of the royal blue California pageantry surrounding the players.
Maddon cleared his throat, loudly enough to gain the attention of the room. Everyone looked up except for John Lackey, who had an angry look on his face as he readjusted the ice pack on his right arm while simultaneously looking down at his phone. The noise amongst the untucked Cubs jerseys in various states of undress quickly died off as the manager stepped softly into the center of the clubhouse, leaning his left hand on the tape table and propping his right hand up against his belt.
“I know what happened tonight is tough, and I know it doesn’t feel good. But your 30 minutes of pity are almost up, so I figure it’s time I say something.”
He looked around the room at the faces of his players, seeing eyebrows rise slightly and guys straighten up in their seats. The radio that was playing Spanish hip hop in a distant corner of the clubhouse was switched off to reveal the stunning silence of the room surrounded by thousands of people beyond the reaches of the walls.
Joe Maddon looked down at his shoes and swallowed before saying the words he had been carefully choosing as he walked from the field back to the locker room.
“We are the same team that we were in August, that we were in June, that we were in April, and yes, the same team we were last November. A few of the faces may have changed, but this is it, this is us. I’ve known a few of you from back in Tampa, and some of you are fresh in from Iowa, but I have grown fond of each and every one of you since we started this journey together.”
A couple of the players looked back down at their phones, but Joe continued; “What happened tonight was on me, I made the wrong calls, and it was my responsibility to make the right ones. The truth is, through the time we have known each other, I have come to know each of you as the best player you can possibly be, the elite level you push each other towards, and the family we have become. This has defined what it means to be a Cub for all of us in this room. We have known each other through 162 games this season, and a rough 5 game stretch to get back to where we are today. I used to dream about playing this late in the season, about having a chance to play with the best of the best in October. That, gentlemen, puts us right here, right now, exactly where we have earned the privilege to play. Earned, that’s the word we need to remember, I didn’t care what our record was in June because I know the level we are capable of, and that it would eventually reveal itself.”
Joe looked back to the floor and slowly began to nod his head. “You guys, when you’re on and really moving out there, nobody can touch you.” He looked up again and slightly raised his voice, “Nobody can touch you!”
That seemed to get the attention of the few whose gaze remained elsewhere, even John Lackey looked up from his phone and made eye contact with the coach.
“John showed us he can be nails when it matters, and I know it hurts when we get the rug pulled out from under us, but sometimes you got to tip your hat to the other team and say to him, ‘next time, I’ll get ya.’”
Joe stopped talking, and reached into his pocket to reveal a small cloth pouch. He carefully un-wrapped the item inside and dumped it onto his weathered hands. The light hit the object and radiantly glowed from between the hands of the old Angels catcher. “This Ring,” Joe began, “on the underside of this ring, what does it say?”
“We Never Quit!” came the quick, confident voice from Joe’s left. He looked over to see Anthony Rizzo sitting backwards in the folding chair with his elbows folded over the back. Tony gave a quick nod to the manager as his eyes suddenly were emblazoned with a resolve that wasn’t there a minute before.
“That’s right, we never quit.” One side of Joe’s mouth twitched upwards in a smirk as he continued, “That’s true today as much as it was almost one year ago. We. Never. Quit.”
The eyes that were lifeless mere moments ago seemed to find purpose as they stared up at the skipper, a few players began to nod while standing, Wade Davis stood in the corner of the door to the weight room and nodded once in approval through his otherwise stern and emotionless gaze.
“The game tonight is over, it doesn’t matter, and it never mattered. Right now the best ballplayers in the world aren’t celebrating, they are right here, in this room, right now. We know how we played at the beginning of the year, we know what happened when everyone was trying to be a hero, so don’t do it. Every game in this series we’ve hit a home run, we have gone on to lose it, so stop trying to hit home runs! That’s not how were going to beat these guys! One game at a time, one inning at a time, one pitch at a time, keep…your…composure. Errors only kill us if we let it get into our heads, and right now we are losing the battle of the mind that is baseball. We don’t need a weight room speech right now, we need to find our center and feed off who we know we are, and where we have put ourselves for 3 years now.”
Joe held up the ring. “Were going home tonight, and we will be playing in our house, and there is no reason why we can’t show these guys over there why we have one of these and they don’t.”
An audible cheer came up from the Latin Cubs section of the clubhouse, and other players began to smile and chuckle upon hearing their gleefulness.
“We can feed off the energy of our town, and our fans, and just be who I know we can be — the best group of ball players that anyone has ever seen.”
Joe slid the ring onto his ring finger on his right hand, lifted it in the air, and pointing his index finger, he raised his voice. “And the game might be on Tuesday, but we can start right here, right now, and make a choice to do what we know we can do…be a team, play as a team, and win as a team.” He pointed to the ground on each syllable, holding the final words sternly, looking around at the men who stood before him. Shouts of “Yes!” and “Si se Puede!” came from all around the clubhouse as guys stood up, and with smiles on their faces, began to talk amongst themselves with energy and purpose.
Joe walked past John Lackey as he sat in his chair near the hallway to the visiting manager’s office. “Sorry I let you down coach,” came Lackey’s voice from underneath the fishing ball cap pulled low over his eyes. Joe Maddon gave a slap to his shoulder, leaned down, and said, “Get back on that horse, I’m going to need you before this is over.”
Nobody could see it, but John Lackeys face softened under his lumpy 5 o’clock shadow, and he said in a low tone of voice, “I’ll be ready.”
“I know,” said Joe as he squeezed left the bicep of Lackey before slowly moseying down the hallway to the office, “I know.”
Big Ben Martin has been a Cubs fan since he was 3 years old, watching Cubs games on WGN in Kansas City after cartoons were over. Since moving to Texas, his Cubs love has grown to heights that make Texans blush. Self appointed Cubs historian and amateur baseball coach. When not playing the role of loving husband or father of three, he might be found screaming at the TV screen as though the umps can hear him, or as his alter ego Big Cynical Ben @bigbenkc on Twitter.
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