Jim Leyland's Baseball Hall of Fame career came down to a man not afraid of his emotions
Here’s my favorite Jim Leyland moment.
Because it says so much about him.
It’s got some heart-warming emotion — Leyland was quick to tears.
It’s got some surprise and plenty of fun — Leyland could be hard-core serious, but he had another side, featuring a childlike mischievousness as he cracked jokes and loved life.
It’s got all kinds of layers, from Leyland’s love of Detroit to his bond with his players. Leyland was able to connect with everybody, from superstars like Barry Bonds and Miguel Cabrera to the last guy on the bench.
And it illustrates some of the reasons why he will be inducted in the Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday.
The moment happened on Sept. 25, 2013, after the Detroit Tigers clinched the American League Central for the third straight season.
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Leyland was doing a TV interview, the emotion pouring out of him.
“I want to say thank you to our fans,” Leyland said through tears. “I’m so proud of you.”
His eyes were bloodshot. His nose running. Tears welling.
“For what you’ve done for our ballclub,” he gasped. “And what you’ve done for me since I’ve been here.”
He sniffled. His face twitched with emotions. The appreciation real and genuine.
“And I just hope,” his voice caught, so he started over. “I just hope you feel like you are getting your money’s worth.”
That part was never lost on Leyland. He came from humble beginnings. Born in Toledo. Raised in Perrysburg, Ohio. The son of a factory worker. Spent seven years playing in the minor leagues, but never got above Double-A. And toiled for 11 seasons coaching in the Tigers' farm system. That long slow-motion journey through the shadows shaped every part of his being. Shaped everything he would become.
“We try to entertain you,” Leyland continued, talking directly to the fans in that TV interview. “You keep coming out — I can’t tell you what you mean to us. It’s like a sixth man.”
Just then, a player flashed into view. It was outfielder Torii Hunter, a passionate, highly respected nine-time Gold Glove winner. He scooped up Leyland like somebody picking up a sack of potatoes.
Leyland just went with the flow — that was the child in him. Leyland wrapped his arms around Hunter, like a youngster getting carried off to bed, and Leyland broke into a smile.
Hunter carried him toward the Tigers clubhouse.
Around a corner.
Through an opening covered with plastic.
Into the celebration.
Hunter started jumping up and down.
So, Leyland started jumping up and down.
Guys were screaming, and somebody poured champagne over Leyland’s head.
“Hey!” Leyland screamed, like he was in a night club. “Hey!”
And then, well, he started to dance backward — Skip is doing the moonwalk!
He kept dancing, fingers in the air, as he scooted backward, slipping through the doorway, letting the players have their moment, comfortable to recede into the shadows, past the sheet of plastic and disappeared into a crowd, drenched with sweat and champagne.
Someone would later call it the world’s worst moonwalk.
So be it. That hardly mattered.
Leyland could care less.
Because Leyland was Leyland.
Genuine and authentic.
A true character wrapped in countless layers.
And here is another one.
Under all that emotion, Leyland was a fierce competitor.
And that brings me to Alan Trammell’s favorite memory of Leyland, and it’s another reason why Leyland is going into the Hall of Fame.
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A keepsake in Lakeland
“The first thing I think about Jim Leyland is the Ty Cobb picture down in Lakeland,” Trammell told me earlier this month. “Jim wore spikes for many, many years when he managed.”
One day, Leyland was ticked and threw his spikes in the coaches’ office at old Joker Marchant Stadium.
“It kind of caromed off those cinder blocks,” Trammell said with a laugh. “And it happened to cut Ty Cobb right in the neck, right in the cheek.”
They taped the photo back together, and it still hangs in A.J. Hinch’s office.
“It's been passed down,” Trammell says. “They've kept it because everybody knows — that’s Jim Leyland.”
Yes, that’s Jim Leyland — fiery and emotional, tough as heck, a great baseball man.
There’s another way to appreciate Leyland, too — another way to view those layers: Strictly by the numbers.
The Hall of Fame totals
He hit .219 in the minors, striking out more than he walked — but that gave him a true appreciation for the guys he would manage. It gave him great insight into how hard this game can be, as well as an unique window into the greats.
How special and talented they truly are.
But obviously, that batting average didn’t get him into the Hall of Fame.
Shoot, it didn’t get him to Triple-A.
No, these are the numbers that got him to Cooperstown:
Leyland managed in the big leagues for 22 seasons with the Pittsburgh Pirates, Miami Marlins, Colorado Rockies and Tigers, winning a World Series with the Marlins in 1997.
He racked up 1,769 victories, which ranks No. 18 all-time.
His teams appeared in the playoffs eight times, which ranks tied for 10th all-time.
His teams won three pennants (tied for 25th all-time).
His teams won 44 postseason games, the seventh-most for any manager in history.
He was a three-time Manager of the Year — twice with the Pirates and again with the Tigers in 2006.
And those stats, a reflection of an amazing career, is why this old-school, spike-throwing, chain-smoking, story-telling, World Series-winning, moonwalk-dancing manager will be inducted into the Hall of Fame on Sunday.
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Preparing for history
“We chat all the time, you know, we pick up the phone and call each other and just talk baseball,” Trammel said. “He's nervous as hell. I've told him so many times, he's gonna be great. He can ace this thing. He's gonna get through it. And he's gonna do it with flying colors.”
Always prepared, Leyland has watched videos of almost every induction speech, just to learn how others have done it.
“Well, anxious, humbled, obviously, but anxious, a little nervous,” Leyland said earlier this month. “A little nervous about the speech. To be honest with you, because a lot of the Hall of Famers, I've watched almost every Hall of Famer speech, and a lot of them are emotional, I'm kind of an emotional guy.”
Kind of?
Yep, he could understate things, too.
“I hope I can keep that to a minimum,” Leyland said. “But a lot of those guys got emotional. So I'm not going to be embarrassed about it. I'm sure I'm gonna be a little emotional, but I'm really anxious, and I can't wait for it to happen.”
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A magical touch
“What makes Leyland so special?” I asked Dave Dombrowski in Florida, back in February before the start of spring training.
“He's a very outstanding baseball man, right?” the former Tigers president said. “But there’s a lot of outstanding baseball men.”
Dombrowski and Leyland went to three World Series together — one with the Marlins, two with the Tigers.
“He is somebody who came to come up through the system, so he understands the nuances of all of his players,” Dombrowski said. “He respects the game so much. He supports his coaching staff. He is a blue-collar worker, through and through. He's not afraid of managing and doing anything that he thinks will give you an edge, and he's on top of everything.”
Dombrowski was just warming up, just getting to his big point.
“But if I had to say one thing, I would say it is the way that he relates to his players,” Dombrowski said. “And he can be rough and tough and jump a guy, but yet they know that he loves them. They all love him.”
Here’s what I found interesting in those comments.
Dombrowski didn’t talk about game management. Didn’t talk about how he used his bullpen. Didn’t talk about how Leyland put together a lineup.
No.
Dombrowski knows the secret to winning, and it starts with relationships.
And that is why it is so telling that Hunter carried Leyland into that 2013 celebration.
It’s why Bonds calls Leyland a father figure.
And it’s why Cabrera looks at Leyland with so much love and respect — you can see it in his eyes, not to mention their hugs.
“Jim has a heart of gold,” Dombrowski said. “And he's emotional as can be. Tears come to him easily. But that's him. He's real like that.”
Leyland, of course, is quick to credit Dombrowski for their success.
“We went to three World Series together, so it was pretty good,” Leyland said in spring training. “It was a pretty good run together. And I'm gonna mention him in my speech, obviously, I think he's one of the top executives in the game over the last 40 years. He's been one the best executives, without any question about it, and, in my opinion, a future Hall of Famer.”
But that’s another one of Leyland’s superpowers. Another one of his layers.
Being humble. And giving credit to others.
And truly meaning it.
Going down in history with Sparky?
Earlier this month, Trammell was in Detroit for meetings before the MLB draft and he was in Comerica Park, looking at the retired numbers.
The Tigers will retire Leyland’s No. 10 on Aug. 3.
And Trammell was trying to imagine where they will put Leyland’s number on the wall.
“I was trying to figure it out,” Trammel said. “They're gonna have to make a place for Miguel.”
Yes, that’s obvious. Cabrera is destined to get his number retired, too.
So, Trammell looked at a space that is available — near Sparky Anderson’s No. 11.
“Next to Sparky might be fitting,” Trammell said. “Jim Leyland and Sparky Anderson, side by side. I don’t know. I'm just thinking out loud.”
It’s an interesting point.
And it actually puts everything into perspective.
Leyland and Sparky — No. 10 and No. 11 — side by side.
Both Hall of Famers.
Both icons in Detroit.
Truth means everything to him
Since he got the Hall call, I talked with Leyland several times.
I’ve had one-on-one conversations with him, as well as been a part of group interviews.
And I learned something about him.
I always knew that he was close with Tony LaRussa — their friendship goes back decades. LaRussa hired Leyland in 1982 to be his third base coach for the Chicago White Sox.
But I didn’t realize the important role they played in each other’s decision-making. How they became truth tellers to one another.
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When they were managing, they would talk to each other two or three times a week.
“At minimum,” Leyland said.
They would bounce ideas off each other.
Strategies and tactics.
Like a sounding board.
But it was more than that.
“We always kind of had a relationship where, you know, if you felt like you blew a game as a manager, I would call Tony at two o'clock in the morning and vice versa,” Leyland said. “I would run it by him: ‘This is what happened tonight. This is a situation to come up. This is what I did. What do you think?’
“And the best part of that was, we were always honest with each other. Tony would tell me, ‘Well, I think you messed it up.’ And I would tell him the same thing if we felt that way. So it was great. I mean, we picked each other's brains a lot. We talked a lot about the game.”
Again, that seems telling — above all else, Leyland wanted the truth.
Learning Leyland's true place in baseball
I covered Leyland for years but I have to admit something. When Leyland was managing in Detroit, I didn’t understand, or even appreciate, how he is so revered across baseball. I didn’t grasp how he is so beloved by pure baseball people.
Not until I saw him at a high school baseball game a few years ago.
Leyland was watching some draft prospects on a field at IMG Academy in Bradenton, Florida — and the fact that he still works behind the scenes for the Tigers, checking out potential draft picks, offering his views, and watching Tigers prospects across the minor leagues, tells you how much he loves this game, how much he loves the Tigers, AND how he tries to help in any way possible.
But we’ll get to that in a second.
Because I was so intrigued by how people reacted to him.
First, it was the high school coaches who were there — “Wow, that’s Jim Leyland.”
They had a look of disbelief, like they were looking at a rock star.
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Then, it was the college coaches and professional scouts. These guys are not exactly starstruck — they’ve been around countless former managers and famous people — but they all had a look of reverence, like they were looking at baseball royalty.
“I just want to pick his brain,” somebody said.
In that moment, I truly came to appreciate what Leyland had become.
But he didn’t even notice the adulation.
Nope.
Leyland was too busy watching these kids from behind the chain-link backstop, watching high school prospects take infield. Watching teenaged outfielders trying to hit cuts. And he was studying every motion with the same intensity that he brought to managing an MLB game.
Then Leyland moved to the main stadium. He stayed late into the night, sitting in the stands, watching intently.
The whole night, people stared at him and whispered — “Look, yes, that’s Jim Leyland!”
Leyland just kept watching, trying to find little clues, always taking his job seriously.
Here was a true giant in this sport. Nearly 1,800 wins in the regular season. Three pennants. A World Series winner.
But he was acting like an old-school scout. In the shadows.
Just happy to still be around baseball.
That’s Jim Leyland.
A Hall of Famer in every sense.
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Contact Jeff Seidel: jseidel@freepress.com or follow him @seideljeff.
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Jim Leyland's path to Baseball Hall of Fame had all the feels
