Joe Torre managed Derek Jeter for 12 seasons. Together, they won four World Series and six American League pennants. His lasting impression of the Yankees captain runs far deeper than any of his 3,000 hits. As told to Joel Sherman.
Trust. Above all else, this is the word I associate with Derek Jeter.
I trusted him more than any other player I had managed. I trusted him to be prepared mentally and physically every day, and to prioritize winning above all else. I trusted him to say the right thing, when talking to a teammate or the media. I trusted his instincts and his calm under the greatest pressure. I trusted he would never tell me if he were hurting, even when he was because he thought the right thing for the team was to play.
“I’m all right,” is all I ever heard. So I just stopped asking about his health.
The groundwork for all of this trust came instantly; my first year managing the Yankees and his rookie season. Derek began the 1996 season at 21, but he was beyond his years in wisdom.
Before we had even established a relationship I appreciated his sense of himself and his place. After I was hired, I said he was going to be the starting shortstop. But he always said he would be given the chance to be the starting shortstop. Smart.
There was a game on Aug. 12 that year at Comiskey Park. Our AL East lead was slipping. There was a lot of tension around the team. The score was 2-2 in the eighth and Derek was the potential go-ahead run at second and Cecil Fielder, our cleanup hitter, was at-bat and there were two outs. You do not try to steal third unless you are 100 percent certain you will make it.
Derek tried and was thrown out. I was livid. Not in my wildest imagination did I think he needed a stop sign there. I was mad at him, mad at myself.
I threw a towel in disgust. I told bench coach Don Zimmer I would wait until the next day to talk to him. But after the bottom of the inning, he came to the bench and wiggled between me and Zim. He knew he had screwed up and this was his way of being accountable. No denials. No excuses. I tapped him on the head and said to get out of here. He had done something bad as a rookie and enhanced his value in my eyes with how he handled it.
But that was Derek.
He didn’t play well when we lost Game 1 of the Division Series in 1996 to the Rangers. I had to remember he was just a rookie and I was in my office thinking about what I might say to him the next day. He popped his head in before leaving and told me to get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow was the most important game I had ever managed.
He defused the situation and showed he was totally ready to play and certainly didn’t need a pep talk from me. He got three hits the next day and scored the winning run in the 12th inning.
Again, that was Derek. You trusted him. You looked down the bench in a tough time and just locking eyes with him made you feel that matters would get better. By late in his rookie year, veterans were actually looking to him for leadership; such was his comfort with the Yankee cauldron.
When it comes to Derek, maybe I am always looking through rose-colored glasses. But I am just very proud of that relationship. He embodied everything a manager wanted in a player, and not just with his great skill.
What more can I say about managing him than I trusted Derek Jeter.