Passion by design helps Cleveland Indians manager Eric Wedge thrive

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Terry Pluto

Plain Dealer Columnist

Life is a tough place. Bad things happen to good people. The only way to make it is to work hard, do what you're told, expect no favors. Eric Wedge grew up in Indiana learning many of those lessons from his father, a Fort Wayne truck driver who later became a supervisor for his company.

As the Indians' manager said: "When kids came to our house, he'd tell them that he didn't care what they did at their own house or down the street, we have rules here. And you better follow them."

Tim and Nina Wedge were married in 1963. They moved into their current house in 1965, and they still live there. Eric was born in 1968. His mom is a registered nurse. Everyone was expected to obey their parents, not cause problems at school.

"We were not allowed to be soft," said Wedge. "There were chores, and you did them. You wouldn't even think about talking back."

What if you did?

"You just didn't," said Wedge. As his college coach, Gene Stephenson of Wichita State said: "I never had to worry about Eric's parents coming to me about something. They didn't believe in interfering."

Stephenson was the man in charge, and that man deserved respect. Just as Tim Wedge did when he served as the president of the local Little League in Fort Wayne, and was at the fields nearly every night when Wedge was playing.

Understand that Wedge loves his parents, he treasures growing up in Fort Wayne. He believes they made him the man that he's become today, a 39-year-old who just managed the Indians to 96 victories, tying Boston for the most victories in the major leagues this season. But their impact is not just about winning the Central Division for the first time since 2001, or him being a strong candidate to be the American League Manager of the Year.

It's about making him strong enough to take over the Indians when the budget was being whacked, veterans were traded off and they were destined to nose dive deep into the Central Division. When he was hired in 2003, he knew that it would be at least two years before he could even dream of managing a winning team. But he believed he would handle it. That's because he's used to being the underdog. He is not shocked when things go wrong, and yes, he knows life isn't always fair.

Wedge the hunk

But first, here's something you don't know about Eric Wedge, something he'll never tell you.

It comes from his wife, Kate. They met in 2001 at a T.G.I. Friday's when Wedge was managing the Tribe's Class AAA Buffalo team.

"There was an instant attraction," said Kate Wedge. "I mean, just look at him."

So Kate thinks her husband is a hunk, which is good for any marriage. But there's more. They dated for nine months, then one day he led her up to his room at the Buffalo Hyatt.

Wedge went down on one knee and asked her to be his wife.

She accepted.

Then he pulled out an engagement ring. It was obvious that he had been thinking about this, preparing for it, making sure to cover all the romantic bases.

"We went to the lobby and I told the person at the desk that I wanted the chair where I was sitting when he proposed," said Kate Wedge. "We bought it, and they had it tagged so I knew they'd ship us the right chair. I'm just glad it's not some ugly plaid thing."

The chair is in their living room.

Wedge the dreamer

Just as Wedge recruited his wife, he had to pursue a college scholarship.

Stephenson still remembers the day a videotape arrived at his office from someone in Fort Wayne named Eric Wedge. The coach of one of the nation's top collegiate programs, Stephenson had never heard of Wedge. He had a few minutes, so he popped the tape into the VCR and, "saw a big, strong kid who was a catcher and seemed to have a pretty good swing."

Stephenson had lost two catchers to graduation. He had recruited a player who was drafted in the 11th round out of high school - and decided to attend Wichita State instead.

"I could use another catcher, so I called Eric and offered him a scholarship," he said. "I never saw him play. I based it on the tape. As far as I could tell, the only school recruiting him was Valparaiso."

Wedge's team won a state championship at Northrop High, so he had some credentials. Nonetheless, he was underrated coming out of high school.

"Especially since he came in and started as a freshman," said Stephenson. "He beat out the high school kid picked in the 11th round. He was a leader from Day One. I tell my players that most people have a will to win, but few have the will to really prepare. Eric always had that."

Within three years, Wedge wasn't just a good college player, he was a great one. He was first-team All-American in 1989, runner-up to Ben McDonald for the Rotary Smith Award as the college player of the year. He led the NCAA Division I players in walks and total bases, and was second in home runs and RBI. His team won the College World Series.

The Eric Wedge of 1989 was a power-hitting catcher who could throw and call a game. "He had a chance to be a major-league catcher for a long time," said Stephenson. "If only he had stayed healthy."

From the moment Wedge was picked in the third round by Boston in the 1989 draft and signed with the Red Sox, he had a painful career. "I had eight surgeries," he said. "I never had an off-season where I wasn't rehabbing something."

What impact did this have on Wedge, the kid who had big-league dreams from the moment he was a Little Leaguer under his father in Fort Wayne?

Wedge just shrugs.

"I hate talking about myself," he said.

Wedge the leader

Wedge also loathes the hypothetical. What's the point of thinking of what would have happened had he not had all those knee injuries, the elbow injuries, the endless injuries. He says given all that, he's grateful to get those 39 games in the majors over small snatches of four different seasons in the early 1990s.

"But it had to be disappointing and frustrating for him," said Stephenson. "He expected to play a long time. He never found out how good he could be."

Here's a player from Fort Wayne who had to fight for a scholarship to an elite program, then becomes a star. He did it with sheer sweat, lots of desire, and maybe a few tears he never allowed anyone to see. And his knees went. First one, then the other. Then the elbow. It was always something. He never had any serious injuries in college, he was almost a man of iron behind the plate. Now, it hurt just to squat.

By 1997, he was 29 years old. His body felt 70. His big-league playing dreams were dead, buried and he was not about to dig them up and endure the heartbreak again. It was time to move on, time to "separate," as he likes to say. Yesterday is gone, today is all you have, so make something of it.

"I knew I wanted to stay in the game, and I was preparing myself to manage for the last few years I was a player," he said.

Or as Kate Wedge said, "He really does take lemons and tries to make lemonade."

Stephenson encouraged him. "He really knew the game," Stephenson said. "He had strong opinions. We butted heads a lot [about strategy], but I loved his passion. He thought about the game. He's a natural leader, players listen to him."

The Indians' minor-league director in 1998, Mark Shapiro, had gotten to know Wedge when he tried to sign him as a minor-league free agent. When he heard Wedge wanted to manage, Shapiro called and offered him the Class A Columbus, Ga., job.

"There's something about him, a presence," said Shapiro. "I knew he'd be successful as manager because of his work ethic, his passion."

Wedge the thinker

Kate Wedge knows what Shapiro means by the presence. When she met Wedge, he was 33, but seemed older. It's the same thing most people say about him. It's not just his rugged appearance, but his attitude. He seems to think about things. He tries not to appear surprised. He keeps a lid slapped down hard on his emotions.

"He thinks things out," she said. "He plans."

It seems like some people are born 40, and that's Wedge.

"I immediately noticed that," said Shapiro. "It's why I wasn't afraid to make him a manager [at 29] in the minors, and why I had no concerns when I hired him [at 36] to manage the Indians."

"I don't know why, but people have said that about me since I was a kid," said Wedge. "I suppose I've always felt older."

Maybe it comes from his parents, who taught him there are few shortcuts in life. Or Fort Wayne, where the wealthy are few, a man earned respect by doing the job, keeping his mouth shut, taking care of his family and not wasting much time or money.

Wedge moved up the Tribe minor-league ladder as a manager, making stops at every level. By 2002, he was named the Manager of the Year for the entire minor leagues by The Sporting News.

The placid Eric Wedge you see in the dugout is by design. He doesn't want to seem angry or panicked, he knows the cameras are on him and he "refuses to show my players up by throwing stuff or screaming when they make a mistake." He said "behind closed doors, it's different." He will rip into his team. But that's not for the public to see or hear.

"I knew Eric was going to be a big-league manager when he first came to Buffalo," said Mike Harrington, a veteran baseball writer for the Buffalo News. "You could see it the way he carried himself. He was only 33, barely older than the players. But he was so in charge. I'd never seen any manager like that. He was demanding with the players, I never saw one of his guys not run out a ground ball. He had such confidence."

Wedge the grinder

"When we met, Eric was very focused on his career," said Kate Wedge. "I think what happened with us surprised him. I mean, 18 months after we met, we were married."

Wedge says it's the best move that he's ever made, a smart husband talking. But he seems to mean that. He is capable of working insane hours, but when he comes home, he is dad to 17-month-old Eva.

"He changes diapers, he gets up to see her in the middle of the night," said Kate Wedge. "He gets excited when she calls him Da-Da, or when she sees Chief Wahoo or the Indians on TV and starts saying Da-Da. He loves being a father."

And he will soon be again, as Kate is expecting their second child (a boy) in February.

Mark Lombardi is Wedge's best friend and business partner. They own Strike One Sports Complex, a 40,000-foot indoor facility in Danvers, Mass. He and Wedge started the business in 1992, and Lombardi said it took at least "6-7 years" to turn a profit. He said Wedge refused to become discouraged, how they kept changing their approach to the business, thinking deeper, working harder.

"With Eric, there's a sense that he'd be successful at whatever he wants do to, or he'd almost kill himself trying to get there," said Lombardi. "When he commits to something, he stays committed. Kate has been great for him. They met before they had any money, any fame and she really didn't know who he was. She brings some balance to his life, and I really think that has made him even a better person and manager."

Wedge finished his fifth season managing the Tribe. Overall, he took a team that has been in the bottom 25 percent in payroll for most of those five seasons from 68-80-93-78-96 victories. The big picture is one of gritty, determined progress against the odds.

"This team reflects Eric," said Shapiro. "It's not real flashy, but it's determined. The guys like each other, hang together and finished strong. That didn't happen by accident. Eric had a lot to do with it."