Looser Ned Yost leads Royals into ALCS against Showalter’s Orioles

The following story happened on a summer day in Kansas City, but it could have really been a cool spring day in Arizona or a fall day here at Camden Yards. Jarrod Dyson insists it happens often.

Dyson, the Royals’ outfielder, was walking past a row of lockers on his way to early batting practice. As he passed through a doorway, a large, middle-aged man was hiding behind the corner, quietly waiting to leap out and spook the 30-year-old Dyson.

It was Ned Yost.

“Ned likes to hide behind doors and scare people, man,” Dyson says. “That’s something he’ll do in a heartbeat. He’ll hide and jump out when you least expect it. And you’re, like, shaken up a little bit.”

Dyson pauses for a moment, and, well, the next question is obvious. Wait a second, this happens a lot?

“He gets me almost every day,” Dyson says.

There are more stories like this, Dyson says, but one is enough to convey the point. There are really two Ned Yosts, though we usually only hear about one of them. The Yost we know is the prickly voice in the postgame press conferences, the stubborn skipper in the defensive posture, the supposed tactical neophyte who draws criticism on social media and compelled the Wall Street Journal, during this postseason run, to label him a “dunce.”

But what about the other Yost, the one lost behind closed doors, the manager guiding a franchise to its first American League Championship Series in 29 years?

“Skip is a great manager,” third baseman Mike Moustakas says. “He goes out there and he puts confidence in his players. He believes.”

On Friday night at Camden Yards, a once-embattled manager and a once-forgotten franchise will begin the ALCS against the Baltimore Orioles. Across the field, in the other dugout, Orioles manager Buck Showalter will earn the plaudits as the tactical virtuoso, the detail-oriented taskmaster who has transformed an organization with technical precision.

Then there is Yost, a manager whose talents and influence are harder to measure or quantify. The real Yost, his players say, is the one lurking behind that corner in the clubhouse.

“There’s a lot of stuff that you guys don’t get to see,” Dyson says. “He has fun every day. He’s just like us. He likes to stay loose.”

Yost was not always quite like this, of course. During his stint in Milwaukee he was a micro-manager, controlling the clubhouse and doling out strict rules to his players. A disciple of former Braves manager Bobby Cox, Yost explains his early missteps in simple terms. He did what he knew, even if that meant testing the hard-earned faith of his players. Even if it meant robbing players of their individuality.

“When you grow up 12 years as a coach under Bobby Cox, Bobby had strict rules in the clubhouse,” Yost says. “No music, no jeans on the road. You couldn’t wear Oakley sunglasses for the first three years. You had to wear the flipdowns.

“They were just regimented, old-school rules.”

The rest of the story is familiar. Yost’s tenure in Milwaukee came to a sudden end; he was fired during the final weeks of a pennant race in 2008. And when he took over the Royals’ job in May 2010, he vowed to be different. He would be more receptive to his young players. He would try to be more friendly in the public eye. And he did change — to a point.

But after an 86-76 finish last season, Yost realized he needed to transform even more. During his playing days as a catcher, he says, he played with a manic intensity. He was all business, eschewing joy. He was the type of player who wanted to run through a wall each day.

“As a manager, I always tried to push them to be more like me instead of letting them be themselves,” Yost says.

This season, Yost says, he wanted the Royals to be themselves.

The Royals have exuded an unrelenting joy during their postseason run. They come flying out of the dugout at any opportunity. The clubhouse is relaxed and comfortable; their victory celebrations include smoke machines, dimmed lights and, three times so far, spraying champagne.

“I think I came to the realization that these guys are all unique,” Yost says. “They’ve got youthful enthusiasm and they come from a different generation than I came from. For me trying to mold them into something I want them to be, why don’t I just let them be who they are.”

The problem with baseball managers, of course, is that there is no tangible way to know how many games the Royals have won this season because the clubhouse was loose or the players have a true belief in the mission. So perhaps there is no way to judge the Yost we can’t see.

But when a bullpen decision is made in the sixth inning, there is a linear result — success or failure — and something to debate afterward.

“In this game of baseball,” Moustakas says, “it’s tough to always be right.”

Now Yost sits on the brink of the biggest series of his career, the supposed “dunce” matching wits with Showalter, the wizard in the other dugout. For Yost and the Royals, now just four victories from the World Series, the opportunity is there, just around the corner — the chance to defy perception once more.

“I’ve learned that it’s neither right or wrong, most of the time.” Yost says. “You made the right decision, it either works out or it doesn’t work out. And again, the scrutiny, does it bother you? Maybe a little bit.”

This story was originally published October 9, 2014 at 8:29 PM with the headline "Looser Ned Yost leads Royals into ALCS against Showalter’s Orioles."