Trust the Process
The general manager for the Philadelphia 76ers has uttered that phrase many a times. Some of their players have bought into it, including their prized pick, Joel Embiid. I don’t know if their fanbase truly trust the process, but the Sixers seem to be on the upward trajectory, so perhaps “the process” is working. With Ben Simmons and the aforementioned Embiid, they have a great core that should bear fruit in coming seasons.
I don’t know if the “trust the process” phrase was uttered in Houston, but for anyone remotely into baseball, you would know that the Houston Astros captured the World Series last night by defeating the Los Angeles Dodgers in the seventh game to take home the championship. Game seven wasn’t all that thrilling, but man, the series as a whole was a firecracker to watch. The duel in game one; the home-run fest in the extra innings in game two; the back-and-forth three-run homers in game five-the series was absolutely phenomenal to watch. I can claim that I did not have a rooting interest in either teams, but I’ve come to realize that even if I’m watching a sporting event where I’m not deeply invested in either teams, I will tip toward one side, so I eventually root for one team or another. On top of that, I know too much about sports, so I can’t go into it saying I’m unbiased and unassuming.
Anyway, the Astros’ story has been one that’s been bubbling for close to a decade. While still in the National League, the Astros were in the World Series in 2005, facing the Chicago White Sox. Houston was swept handily. Shortly after that, with some of their veterans getting older, the team started to decline. A few years later, MLB decided to throw them over to the American League to create an even number of teams for both leagues at fifteen. I’m not entirely sure why they did that, but I think it was to balance the divisions since the NL Central had five or six teams, while the AL West only had four. Anyway, whichever league they played in doesn’t really have a bearing on anything.
That said, the Houston Astros sucked. For three straight seasons, from 2011 to 2013, the Astros lost more than 100 games. Like, even if you’re reading this and know nothing about baseball, just the thought of losing over 100 games in a season sucks. But yes, for three straight seasons, the Astros would lose two-thirds of their games.
The silver lining in being that terrible, though, is that you get a nice, first-round, first overall pick in the draft the following year. Because your team sucks, you get first dibs at the fresh batch of bright-eyed college or international stars who are eager to try their hands in the major leagues. Problem is, draft picks aren’t a guarantee-just because a college kid was setting the college baseball world on fire doesn’t necessarily translate to dominate success in the major league. But usually, unless a draft pick turns out to be a complete bust, a high pick tends to at least be serviceable.
But that’s the method that the Astros front office took. A scorched earth, raze the land, and start from the ground up approach. Thing is, we can now all praise the “trust the process” and the years of major sucking because they have won a championship, and hindsight is 20/20. This World Series was hotly contested, between the two arguably best teams in baseball this season. A pitch here or there could’ve easily changed the outcome, and the Dodgers could’ve been the 2017 World Series champs. They played seven games, but that seems arbitrary. Had the series been nine games, it could’ve gone different. Had it been more, it could have swung either way.
But I don’t want to take away what the Astros were able to accomplish. They had a plan, put that plan in motion, and ultimately reaped the ultimate reward they were chasing. Likewise, while the Dodgers came short this season, they are built to do well in the years to come. Ditto these Astros.
But I am going to question the process. And while not the process per se, I am going question the strategy behind the process, and the message that the front office is conveying.
The NBA season tipped off about two weeks ago, and I sit here in the Bay Area, where the Warriors are the defending champions. With the team still heavily intact from last year, they are the odds-on favorite to win it all again this season. Call the Warriors whatever you like: they’re a dynasty, a super team, a juggernaut. Yeah, they may be all that. Yes, if you follow the NBA, you’re well aware of the dominant force that is the Warriors today. But if you’ve been watching the NBA for more than just the past five years, you’ll also realize that prior to the relatively recent ownership change, the Warriors were a cellar-dwelling team for a good part of a couple decades.
I guess it’s best to start at the infamous Chris Mullin jersey retirement night, when new owner Joe Lacob was booed during halftime. For the uninitiated, the team had just changed hands not too long before that incident, and the front office dealt away fan favorite Monte Ellis for the injured center Andrew Bogut. Fans weren’t happy, and displayed that in full force when the owner tried to address the crowd. It was a very awkward situation, and I remember it vividly watching it live.
While I too liked Monte, I actually liked and understood the trade. After years of Nellie-Ball and being undersized, having a solid big man (not by the name of Andris Biedrins!) sounded like a solid move. Moreover, after decades of ineptitude from the front office (which Bill Simmons conveniently listed in a great Grantland entry) this seemed like a new regime that wanted to put forth its own plans.
Fast forward a few years, and thanks in part to that trade (and other shrewd moves by the front office), the Warriors were champions after a forty-year drought. How was the fanbase reacting then?
Again, this is hindsight speaking. We can all praise that move, or the ownership and how their thinking is ”light years ahead”, or marvel at the Warriors’ current domination. But it easily could have turned out differently.
While the Warriors are a success story, I’ll now talk about the Athletics and about Billy Beane and his “process.”
Last year, Billy Beane, while admiring how the Astros had built their team, said that he could not rebuild like the Astros, referring to the scorched earth technique they took in losing tons of games to garner top draft picks. His rationale was that with the low payroll that Oakland trots out, if the team were to lose over a hundred games for a few seasons, that would decimate the fanbase and cause a huge strain to revenue. I don’t know whether I buy that or not, but that was his rationale for what happened during the 2014 season.
But if you’re a fan, maybe you do buy into Billy Beane’s philosophy. After all, in 2012, when the Astros were losing 106 games, the A’s had a magical season where they won the division on the final day of the season against the Texas Rangers, entered the playoffs when so-called experts expected them to lose upward of 90 games, and pushed the eventual World Series runner-ups in the Detroit Tigers to five games in the first round. If I asked you whether you’d prefer your team to enter to playoffs, or lose 106 games, I think the vast majority (if not every single person) would pick the former.
But after three consecutive years of making the playoffs, only to be bounced in the first round, the A’s are not currently a good team, losing more games than they win. They may not be losing over 100 games, but chances are good that if you’re going to watch a game, they’re more likely to lose than to win.
Beane is now changing his approach, claiming that he is committed to a full rebuild. No more constantly trading up-and-coming talent for new prospects that might bear fruit in years to come, he’s now saying this because there’s a new stadium on the horizon, and he wants to put a competing team on the field when the new stadium opens in about five years. Those are some big shoes to fill.
Here’s my biggest issue with all of this: Fans don’t ever have a say. Beane can say he’s committed to a full rebuild. The 76ers general manager and front office can tout “trust the process.” People can tell fans to have faith and to believe. But through it all, a fan absolutely has no power whatsoever. In the coming months, Beane can have another fire sale, trading away all the good, young talent that has been amassed, and claim that the new batch of incoming players will signify a championship caliber team in seven years to come. I can hate the trade, but then what? I guess the only thing I can really do is to say I won’t support the team, but the team is still going to trot out on the field to play ball. I can close my wallet to the team, and refuse to pay any attention, but the Oakland Athletics are still going to exist in some form.
I’m not necessarily advocating that fans have a say in the internal workings of how a team is assembled. I am of the belief that an organization’s front office has much better resources to make informed decisions than the general public. You can go watch or read Moneyball and see that Billy Beane put together a formidable team from scrap heaps, and no armchair general manager will be nearly as successful.
But between being completely powerless and a no-holds-barred democratic approach, there has to be more than just “trust the process.” If the Philadelphia 76ers make the playoffs, their front office can tout the process as working. If they happen to win the championship a couple years down the line, that will be the ultimate approval of the process. But if they languish, and constantly come up short like how the Los Angeles Clippers have played, what then? How is the front office supposed to spin the process then?
Being a fan of anything is irrational. Maybe I’ll blindly smile and drink the Kool-Aid and trust the process, whether it be for the A’s, Warriors, Raiders, or any of the teams I support and root for. Because at the end of the day, what else can I do?
Just believe. Trust the process.
I don’t know if the “trust the process” phrase was uttered in Houston, but for anyone remotely into baseball, you would know that the Houston Astros captured the World Series last night by defeating the Los Angeles Dodgers in the seventh game to take home the championship. Game seven wasn’t all that thrilling, but man, the series as a whole was a firecracker to watch. The duel in game one; the home-run fest in the extra innings in game two; the back-and-forth three-run homers in game five-the series was absolutely phenomenal to watch. I can claim that I did not have a rooting interest in either teams, but I’ve come to realize that even if I’m watching a sporting event where I’m not deeply invested in either teams, I will tip toward one side, so I eventually root for one team or another. On top of that, I know too much about sports, so I can’t go into it saying I’m unbiased and unassuming.
Anyway, the Astros’ story has been one that’s been bubbling for close to a decade. While still in the National League, the Astros were in the World Series in 2005, facing the Chicago White Sox. Houston was swept handily. Shortly after that, with some of their veterans getting older, the team started to decline. A few years later, MLB decided to throw them over to the American League to create an even number of teams for both leagues at fifteen. I’m not entirely sure why they did that, but I think it was to balance the divisions since the NL Central had five or six teams, while the AL West only had four. Anyway, whichever league they played in doesn’t really have a bearing on anything.
That said, the Houston Astros sucked. For three straight seasons, from 2011 to 2013, the Astros lost more than 100 games. Like, even if you’re reading this and know nothing about baseball, just the thought of losing over 100 games in a season sucks. But yes, for three straight seasons, the Astros would lose two-thirds of their games.
The silver lining in being that terrible, though, is that you get a nice, first-round, first overall pick in the draft the following year. Because your team sucks, you get first dibs at the fresh batch of bright-eyed college or international stars who are eager to try their hands in the major leagues. Problem is, draft picks aren’t a guarantee-just because a college kid was setting the college baseball world on fire doesn’t necessarily translate to dominate success in the major league. But usually, unless a draft pick turns out to be a complete bust, a high pick tends to at least be serviceable.
But that’s the method that the Astros front office took. A scorched earth, raze the land, and start from the ground up approach. Thing is, we can now all praise the “trust the process” and the years of major sucking because they have won a championship, and hindsight is 20/20. This World Series was hotly contested, between the two arguably best teams in baseball this season. A pitch here or there could’ve easily changed the outcome, and the Dodgers could’ve been the 2017 World Series champs. They played seven games, but that seems arbitrary. Had the series been nine games, it could’ve gone different. Had it been more, it could have swung either way.
But I don’t want to take away what the Astros were able to accomplish. They had a plan, put that plan in motion, and ultimately reaped the ultimate reward they were chasing. Likewise, while the Dodgers came short this season, they are built to do well in the years to come. Ditto these Astros.
But I am going to question the process. And while not the process per se, I am going question the strategy behind the process, and the message that the front office is conveying.
The NBA season tipped off about two weeks ago, and I sit here in the Bay Area, where the Warriors are the defending champions. With the team still heavily intact from last year, they are the odds-on favorite to win it all again this season. Call the Warriors whatever you like: they’re a dynasty, a super team, a juggernaut. Yeah, they may be all that. Yes, if you follow the NBA, you’re well aware of the dominant force that is the Warriors today. But if you’ve been watching the NBA for more than just the past five years, you’ll also realize that prior to the relatively recent ownership change, the Warriors were a cellar-dwelling team for a good part of a couple decades.
I guess it’s best to start at the infamous Chris Mullin jersey retirement night, when new owner Joe Lacob was booed during halftime. For the uninitiated, the team had just changed hands not too long before that incident, and the front office dealt away fan favorite Monte Ellis for the injured center Andrew Bogut. Fans weren’t happy, and displayed that in full force when the owner tried to address the crowd. It was a very awkward situation, and I remember it vividly watching it live.
While I too liked Monte, I actually liked and understood the trade. After years of Nellie-Ball and being undersized, having a solid big man (not by the name of Andris Biedrins!) sounded like a solid move. Moreover, after decades of ineptitude from the front office (which Bill Simmons conveniently listed in a great Grantland entry) this seemed like a new regime that wanted to put forth its own plans.
Fast forward a few years, and thanks in part to that trade (and other shrewd moves by the front office), the Warriors were champions after a forty-year drought. How was the fanbase reacting then?
Again, this is hindsight speaking. We can all praise that move, or the ownership and how their thinking is ”light years ahead”, or marvel at the Warriors’ current domination. But it easily could have turned out differently.
While the Warriors are a success story, I’ll now talk about the Athletics and about Billy Beane and his “process.”
Last year, Billy Beane, while admiring how the Astros had built their team, said that he could not rebuild like the Astros, referring to the scorched earth technique they took in losing tons of games to garner top draft picks. His rationale was that with the low payroll that Oakland trots out, if the team were to lose over a hundred games for a few seasons, that would decimate the fanbase and cause a huge strain to revenue. I don’t know whether I buy that or not, but that was his rationale for what happened during the 2014 season.
But if you’re a fan, maybe you do buy into Billy Beane’s philosophy. After all, in 2012, when the Astros were losing 106 games, the A’s had a magical season where they won the division on the final day of the season against the Texas Rangers, entered the playoffs when so-called experts expected them to lose upward of 90 games, and pushed the eventual World Series runner-ups in the Detroit Tigers to five games in the first round. If I asked you whether you’d prefer your team to enter to playoffs, or lose 106 games, I think the vast majority (if not every single person) would pick the former.
But after three consecutive years of making the playoffs, only to be bounced in the first round, the A’s are not currently a good team, losing more games than they win. They may not be losing over 100 games, but chances are good that if you’re going to watch a game, they’re more likely to lose than to win.
Beane is now changing his approach, claiming that he is committed to a full rebuild. No more constantly trading up-and-coming talent for new prospects that might bear fruit in years to come, he’s now saying this because there’s a new stadium on the horizon, and he wants to put a competing team on the field when the new stadium opens in about five years. Those are some big shoes to fill.
Here’s my biggest issue with all of this: Fans don’t ever have a say. Beane can say he’s committed to a full rebuild. The 76ers general manager and front office can tout “trust the process.” People can tell fans to have faith and to believe. But through it all, a fan absolutely has no power whatsoever. In the coming months, Beane can have another fire sale, trading away all the good, young talent that has been amassed, and claim that the new batch of incoming players will signify a championship caliber team in seven years to come. I can hate the trade, but then what? I guess the only thing I can really do is to say I won’t support the team, but the team is still going to trot out on the field to play ball. I can close my wallet to the team, and refuse to pay any attention, but the Oakland Athletics are still going to exist in some form.
I’m not necessarily advocating that fans have a say in the internal workings of how a team is assembled. I am of the belief that an organization’s front office has much better resources to make informed decisions than the general public. You can go watch or read Moneyball and see that Billy Beane put together a formidable team from scrap heaps, and no armchair general manager will be nearly as successful.
But between being completely powerless and a no-holds-barred democratic approach, there has to be more than just “trust the process.” If the Philadelphia 76ers make the playoffs, their front office can tout the process as working. If they happen to win the championship a couple years down the line, that will be the ultimate approval of the process. But if they languish, and constantly come up short like how the Los Angeles Clippers have played, what then? How is the front office supposed to spin the process then?
Being a fan of anything is irrational. Maybe I’ll blindly smile and drink the Kool-Aid and trust the process, whether it be for the A’s, Warriors, Raiders, or any of the teams I support and root for. Because at the end of the day, what else can I do?
Just believe. Trust the process.