It was time.
You’re going to read plenty the next few days about Dayton Moore’s firing. Columns documenting the Royals’ failure to develop players since the 2015 World Series, notably pitching. Hot takes about his stubbornness and loyalty to not only people, but also an outdated philosophy. Blogs on signings that didn’t pan out and hurt the franchise for several years. Look-at-me tweets about Moore being too thin-skinned for a man in his position.
There’s some truth in many of those statements. At the end of the day, though, John Sherman fired Moore because he didn’t win enough and lost A LOT in the last five years. While I agree with Moore’s dismissal, I’ll leave the deeper dive on that topic to others and share why I’m going to miss him.
A CHANCE MEETING
It was June 26, 2014. My stepdaughter’s 12th birthday. I worked late that day and called my wife on the way home to ask what kind of present I should get Molly. “She’s been talking about learning to play basketball lately,” she said.
I ended up at Dick’s Sporting Goods in Leawood, rushing quickly through the store to buy a basketball. As I walked toward the cash registers, I did a double take. “Is that Dayton Moore? What the hell is he doing at a Dick’s Sporting Goods during baseball season?” I said to myself.
Even as an introvert, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet the general manager of the team I’d loved since age 5. I walked up to him and politely said, “Excuse me, are you Dayton Moore?” A great opener. “Yes, yes I am,” he replied. “I just wanted to thank you for bringing winning baseball back to Kansas City,” I said.
Now, winning baseball at that point was barely winning baseball. The Royals were 40-37 and still weeks away from an incredible 16-month stretch that included two pennants and a title. Nonetheless, they had their first season above .500 in more than a decade the previous year.
“Thank you,” said Moore, who was there with his son, Robert. “I really appreciate you saying that.”
Not wanting to invade his privacy or time with this son, I hurriedly said, “I just wanted to say thank you and don’t want to take up any more of your time. Have a good night.”
As I turned to walk away, Moore immediately said, “What is your name?” We ended up speaking for several minutes. He asked why I had a basketball, and I explained. As a father, he said, he appreciated that. Robert needed spikes for his cleats, hence the unplanned trip to the sporting goods store. I learned that his favorite player was Omar Infante (I’ve often wondered how awkward it was when Moore told his son that he released Infante a few years later).
Moore thanked me again, and a firm, respectful handshake ended the conversation. That’s what I’ll remember about him.
A BIG GESTURE FOR A SMALL ONE
A little less than a year before that encounter, my wife and I were at The K. I can’t even remember who the Royals played that night, but it’s an evening I’ll never forget.
Toward the end of the game, we heard commotion a row behind us. A young lady had way too much drink and lost her dinner, and portions of that had somehow ended up in the sodas of the family behind us, including two young boys attending their first big-league game.
“We’re in town from Western Kansas and wanted to take the kids to their first game, and this happens,” the father said to us. “It makes you think about coming back.”
I didn’t want this to the be a lasting impression of Kansas City for the family, so I went to the concession stand and brought back sodas for the boys. A few minutes later, the director of ballpark operations arrived to check on the family. After several minutes with them, he sat down next to us and thanked us for buying the drinks (we assume the family told him).
“I would like to give you a couple of tickets and invite you to batting practice,” he said.
We resisted, of course. Two sodas does not equate to that kind of experience. He insisted until we agreed. Two weeks later, Shana and I were on the field watching batting practice, and our seats were 15 rows back (far better than our typical seats in the upper deck).
I tell that story because I think it says everything about the way Moore treats people. That’s what I’ll remember about him.
LASTING MEMORIES
Let’s be honest about being a Royals fan from 1995 through 2012. It sucked. It was especially bad in the late 1990s through the mid-2000s, when Moore arrived. The highlight during that stretch was an 83-79 team that had no business winning that many games with the likes of Ken Harvey, Desi Relaford and Aaron Guiel.
The other memories from that era aren’t good: Harvey throwing a ball off Jason Grimsley’s face, Kerry Robinson climbing the wall for a ball that bounced in front of him on the warning track, Esteban German taking a flyball off his face, and a Chip Ambres error that keyed a 19-game losing streak.
To say Kansas City was hopeless would be a gross understatement. That all changed in 2013 when Salvador Perez, Lorenzo Cain, Eric Hosmer, Mike Moustakas, Yordano Ventura, Wade Davis and others came into their own. A year later, the Royals sliced and diced their way through the playoffs before losing in seven games to the Giants. In 2015, Kansas City ended decades of misery by winning it all.
What I remember about 2015 is cutting a trip to the Grand Canyon short so we could get back to car and listen to the last few innings of a game. I remember the incredible comeback in Game 4 against the Astros and Kendrys Morales’ home run in Game 5. I remember sitting in the upper deck for Game 1 of the ALCS. I remember the seventh inning of Game 2 of the ALCS. I remember Cain’s mad dash and Davis’ balls-of-steel effort in the ninth.
I remember sharing Game 5 of the World Series with my wife, shouting and jumping when Davis got Wilmer Flores looking. Above all, I remember my late father calling me every five minutes during Game 5 as the Royals rallied in the ninth and piled up five runs in the 12th.
Those memories and stories don’t happen without Dayton Moore. Yes, it was time. But let’s not forget the time he gave us.