Axel Kohagen

The whole "you have to be there" argument is too simplistic. Imagine applying that idea to religion, astronomy, or medicine.

If you're a Twins fan, you've questioned Ron Gardenhire's ability to manage. Even if you didn't question it before 2011, you do now. After a catastrophic season, any reasonably minded baseball fan would wonder if the man leaning on the dugout fence is going to fix his team or make it worse. If you're a fan like me, you're not in the dugout with Ron Gardenhire. Gardy has never coached me, nor has he attempted to coach me. I can analyze his performance based on what I see on television and read about online, but that wouldn't give me enough information. The debate regarding managing skills might be informed by applying communication models to the task. Specifically, David H. Olson's Circumplex model offers a framework for discussing how managing skills might be understood and evaluated. Olson's Circumplex Model (you can see what it looks like at this website - http://faculty.plts.edu/gpence/PS1012/images/circumplexmap.jpg) suggests there are multiple ways of being a happy family. Families develop problems in the areas of cohesion and adaptability. As families create more balance, they add stability. There's a tremendous amount of research and analysis on Olson's Circumplex Model, but I'm trying to avoid being overly academic. There are some interesting overlaps between Olson's views of families and managing a team. For example, Olson's view of cohesion applies directly to managing a baseball team. A team with low cohesion would be a team without connections, and a team with high cohesion would do everything together. Similarly, teams with low adaptability would resist change and teams with high adaptability would be chaotic and always changing. There may already be research further connecting the Circumplex Model to athletics, but I have not researched this idea at this time. Following this logic, the worst managed teams would combine deficiencies on both axes. A rigidly enmeshed team(low in adaptability, high in cohesion) could be a team where change is fought against and players are expected to do everything together. A chaotically disengaged family (high in adaptability, low in cohesion) would have difficulty even finding a team identify. Where do managers fit in? For Olson, fixing these problems is aided greatly by communication. The better the manager communicates through problems, the more easily teams would find balance and be able to accomplish goals. How does this relate to Gardy, and for other MLB managers? I don't think it offers easy answers. Most of team problems in adaptability and cohesion would not be the problem of one manager, but would be a joint effort of the manager, the players, the management, the players who are no longer with the team, the town, team, etc. Instead, a good manager should be aware (on some level) of these axes. I suspect a manager could do positive work with a team even if he couldn't consciously identify these differences, but I think greater conscious awareness of these problems would be helpful. Most importantly, it seems good managers communicate well. This is no bombshell, and it's still difficult to analyze when you're not involved with the team. If this article does offer anything to think about, it would be watching the axes of adaptability and cohesion during a manager's tenure. If the symptoms improve or stay stable during a manager's time on the bench, it may be a sign there's a steady hand on the reins.

If you're a Twins fan, you've questioned Ron Gardenhire's ability to manage. Even if you didn't question it before 2011, you do now. After a catastrophic season, any reasonably minded baseball fan would wonder if the man leaning on the dugout fence is going to fix his team or make it worse. If you're a fan like me, you're not in the dugout with Ron Gardenhire. Gardy has never coached me, nor has he attempted to coach me. I can analyze his performance based on what I see on television and read about online, but that wouldn't give me enough information. The debate regarding managing skills might be informed by applying communication models to the task. Specifically, David H. Olson's Circumplex model offers a framework for discussing how managing skills might be understood and evaluated. Olson's Circumplex Model (you can see what it looks like at this website - http://faculty.plts.edu/gpence/PS1012/images/circumplexmap.jpg) suggests there are multiple ways of being a happy family. Families develop problems in the areas of cohesion and adaptability. As families create more balance, they add stability. There's a tremendous amount of research and analysis on Olson's Circumplex Model, but I'm trying to avoid being overly academic. There are some interesting overlaps between Olson's views of families and managing a team. For example, Olson's view of cohesion applies directly to managing a baseball team. A team with low cohesion would be a team without connections, and a team with high cohesion would do everything together. Similarly, teams with low adaptability would resist change and teams with high adaptability would be chaotic and always changing. There may already be research further connecting the Circumplex Model to athletics, but I have not researched this idea at this time. Following this logic, the worst managed teams would combine deficiencies on both axes. A rigidly enmeshed team(low in adaptability, high in cohesion) could be a team where change is fought against and players are expected to do everything together. A chaotically disengaged family (high in adaptability, low in cohesion) would have difficulty even finding a team identify. Where do managers fit in? For Olson, fixing these problems is aided greatly by communication. The better the manager communicates through problems, the more easily teams would find balance and be able to accomplish goals. How does this relate to Gardy, and for other MLB managers? I don't think it offers easy answers. Most of team problems in adaptability and cohesion would not be the problem of one manager, but would be a joint effort of the manager, the players, the management, the players who are no longer with the team, the town, team, etc. Instead, a good manager should be aware (on some level) of these axes. I suspect a manager could do positive work with a team even if he couldn't consciously identify these differences, but I think greater conscious awareness of these problems would be helpful. Most importantly, it seems good managers communicate well. This is no bombshell, and it's still difficult to analyze when you're not involved with the team. If this article does offer anything to think about, it would be watching the axes of adaptability and cohesion during a manager's tenure. If the symptoms improve or stay stable during a manager's time on the bench, it may be a sign there's a steady hand on the reins.

Thank you very much. I hope it's clear I know being a "common" major leaguer is still being superhuman. Maybe I need to ask myself this question: Is my desire to hero worship ballplayers going to make watching the 2012 Twins more or less enjoyable? I don't know, honestly.

We used to bike to the Denver, Iowa, Kwik Trip (before it became Kwik Star) to buy baseball cards. I'd prop my dirt bike up on its kick stand, ignore it when it fell over anyway, and scramble into the store to buy packs of Topps and Donruss baseball cards. I didn't really know baseball at the time, so every card boasting a name I'd heard of was pure gold to me. I thought I had a pretty sweet collection going until my friends told me all I had were a bunch of commons. I couldn't even pretend like I wasn't hurt. Last night, listening to Gleeman and the Geek's "Episode 28: My Twin the Car," my stomach flipped over with the same kind of hurt. This nausea had nothing to do with the efforts of Gleeman or Bonnes, who put together another excellent addition of their podcast. Instead, the sickness came from realizing the 2012 Minnesota Twins seem to be largely fillled with Donruss commons. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to cheer for the Donruss commons sporting a "TC" on their hat. After 2010, it just seems like there should be more to cheer for on the team.

We used to bike to the Denver, Iowa, Kwik Trip (before it became Kwik Star) to buy baseball cards. I'd prop my dirt bike up on its kick stand, ignore it when it fell over anyway, and scramble into the store to buy packs of Topps and Donruss baseball cards. I didn't really know baseball at the time, so every card boasting a name I'd heard of was pure gold to me. I thought I had a pretty sweet collection going until my friends told me all I had were a bunch of commons. I couldn't even pretend like I wasn't hurt. Last night, listening to Gleeman and the Geek's "Episode 28: My Twin the Car," my stomach flipped over with the same kind of hurt. This nausea had nothing to do with the efforts of Gleeman or Bonnes, who put together another excellent addition of their podcast. Instead, the sickness came from realizing the 2012 Minnesota Twins seem to be largely fillled with Donruss commons. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to cheer for the Donruss commons sporting a "TC" on their hat. After 2010, it just seems like there should be more to cheer for on the team.