I WISH I GOT TO BE THE YANKEES FOR ONE DAY
Ever since I've taken on "COO" responsibilities at the small non-profit where I've worked for the last nine years, I've fancied myself as not unlike a Billy Beane. For those of you who aren't baseball fans or who haven't read Michael Lewis' best-selling book, Moneyball, Billy Beane is the General Manager of the Oakland A's, a low-budget organization that has consistently fielded a winning team for the past few years.
Like a savvy value investor, Beane is able to cobble together a winning team because he sells players that the market overvalues and buys players that the market undervalues. For example, if an minor-league athlete is, well, too athletic, the scouts will like him too much, and Beane stays away from him; but if the athlete is fat or throws funny or can't run, but all he can do is play ball, Beane wants him. Because he knows that in baseball, it's not a Mr. Universe contest: fat, funny-throwing, slow players, while cheap, can consistently beat over-priced studs who may or may not have as much baseball talent.
Now I'm obviously not suggesting that my employees are fat, throw funny, or run slow. But I do feel like Beane in that I have a third of the Yankees salary and have to field a winning squad. Somehow, I have to find extremely intelligent and driven people who are willing to jump into the fire, be their own secretaries, and work for pennies on the dollar of their true market worth. And, like the rush I'm sure Beane feels when he kicks the Yankees' butt, it is very cool sometimes to look around at work and take pride at the beautiful, magical, special people that are assembled together to say no to the world's treasures and say yes to important economic development work and urban innovation.
But sometimes I long to be in Yankee pinstripes. (And believe me, growing up rooting for the A's, that is a hard statement to make.) I wish I could afford to pay these great people what their blood, sweat, and tears merit, to surround them with the support staff and physical resources they need to work even more magic. But we serve in an underresourced community, so by definition, we lack resources in comparison to other places not far from us geographically and intangibly. It is a truth that drives us to work where we work, but that makes our work harder too.
I'm glad I'm like the A's, because there's something special about being the underdog, about assembling the fat, funny-throwing, slow guys that no one else wanted, and turning them into champs. But every once in awhile at work, I wish I were the Yankees.
Ever since I've taken on "COO" responsibilities at the small non-profit where I've worked for the last nine years, I've fancied myself as not unlike a Billy Beane. For those of you who aren't baseball fans or who haven't read Michael Lewis' best-selling book, Moneyball, Billy Beane is the General Manager of the Oakland A's, a low-budget organization that has consistently fielded a winning team for the past few years.
Like a savvy value investor, Beane is able to cobble together a winning team because he sells players that the market overvalues and buys players that the market undervalues. For example, if an minor-league athlete is, well, too athletic, the scouts will like him too much, and Beane stays away from him; but if the athlete is fat or throws funny or can't run, but all he can do is play ball, Beane wants him. Because he knows that in baseball, it's not a Mr. Universe contest: fat, funny-throwing, slow players, while cheap, can consistently beat over-priced studs who may or may not have as much baseball talent.
Now I'm obviously not suggesting that my employees are fat, throw funny, or run slow. But I do feel like Beane in that I have a third of the Yankees salary and have to field a winning squad. Somehow, I have to find extremely intelligent and driven people who are willing to jump into the fire, be their own secretaries, and work for pennies on the dollar of their true market worth. And, like the rush I'm sure Beane feels when he kicks the Yankees' butt, it is very cool sometimes to look around at work and take pride at the beautiful, magical, special people that are assembled together to say no to the world's treasures and say yes to important economic development work and urban innovation.
But sometimes I long to be in Yankee pinstripes. (And believe me, growing up rooting for the A's, that is a hard statement to make.) I wish I could afford to pay these great people what their blood, sweat, and tears merit, to surround them with the support staff and physical resources they need to work even more magic. But we serve in an underresourced community, so by definition, we lack resources in comparison to other places not far from us geographically and intangibly. It is a truth that drives us to work where we work, but that makes our work harder too.
I'm glad I'm like the A's, because there's something special about being the underdog, about assembling the fat, funny-throwing, slow guys that no one else wanted, and turning them into champs. But every once in awhile at work, I wish I were the Yankees.
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