Lessons from the Coolest Manager in Baseball

What Dusty Baker taught me about leadership, curiosity, and the power of small moments

Seeing Dusty Baker back in the dugout leading the Nicaragua baseball team in the World Baseball Classic brought back a lot of memories. It also reminded me how fortunate I was to spend time around him early in my career.

From 2016–2017, I had the opportunity to run the Advance Scouting operation when Dusty managed the Nationals — an experience that gave me a front-row seat to watch how he led a clubhouse, a staff, and an organization every day.

Dusty Baker is unequivocally one of the coolest humans I know.

The way he carries himself. The smile. The toothpick. The swagger. The stories. He has more coolness in his pinky than I have in my entire body. If you need more examples, there’s an article in The Athletic with what feels like endless anecdotes from his former players — and the thing that stands out most is that almost none of those stories are actually about playing the game.

But beyond the style and presence, Dusty taught me a lot about leadership and how to build the right environment.

This offseason, I was gifted the book The Culture Code by Daniel Coyle. As I read it, I kept thinking about Dusty. Page after page described leadership behaviors I had watched him model every day — creating a sense of belonging, giving people a voice, listening to understand, and asking questions instead of monopolizing the room.

One moment that always stuck with me came during the start of our second season together. Dusty asked me a question that caught me completely off guard.

He asked why the Nationals had struggled to sustain success. At the time, we had a pattern of winning the division and then crashing out the following season.

He never shared his opinion. He simply wanted to hear my thoughts as someone who had been part of the organization through the ups and downs.

I later learned he asked the same question of others as well. It wasn’t reserved for a select few or higher-ups — he genuinely wanted perspectives from people across the organization.

What stood out even more was that later that year, after the Nationals clinched their first back-to-back division titles in franchise history, he referenced something we had talked about during that conversation months earlier.

It was a small moment, but it stuck with me.

Dusty didn’t ask questions to test people. He asked questions to learn.

Purposeful Meetings

Dusty ran some of the most efficient pre-series meetings I’ve ever been a part of.

The goal of the meeting was straightforward. He wanted the coaching staff to flush the previous series. Whether we had swept an opponent or gotten crushed, the meeting was a signal that we were moving on and turning our focus to the games ahead.

He also insisted on having the meetings regardless of how comfortable our position might have been in the standings. At the time, we were often in first place by a wide margin, but Dusty made it clear he never wanted the staff to underestimate anyone. Every team deserved our full attention and preparation. But in many ways, the meetings were less about the opponent and more about the standard we held ourselves to.

There was no confusion about why we were there.
The conversation stayed focused on what mattered.
And no one’s time was wasted.

But what made those meetings so effective was the way Dusty approached them.

Leading with Curiosity

Dusty led with questions.
People felt comfortable sharing.
Every voice mattered.

Not once in the two years he managed the Nationals did he have an adverse reaction to someone sharing an opinion. He might ask a follow-up question. He might reference something from his experience with a player that ran contrary to what was said, but never as an absolute. He never made someone feel like their perspective was wrong.

He created an environment where people felt comfortable speaking.

We’ve all been in meetings where the leader shows their hand immediately — through a facial expression, checking their phone, or shutting someone down mid-thought. When that happens, people stop sharing.

Dusty did the opposite.

He made it safe for people to contribute.

Beyond the Uniform

Dusty also had a unique way of connecting with players.

In almost every city, he would bring food into the clubhouse from a restaurant that he thought would mean something to a specific player — something from their hometown, their culture, or a place he knew they loved. It was a small gesture, but it showed that he paid attention. He understood the person behind the uniform.

It was his way of building a connection that went deeper than a fist bump in the hallway, a quick high five, or the routine “How’s the family?”

Those moments told players that their manager saw them as people first.

The Final Lesson

When Dusty was let go despite leading the Nationals to back-to-back first-place finishes, he called every single member of the staff to thank them.

Every single one.

Not just the stars.
Not just the coaches.
Not just the executives who might help him land his next job.

Everyone!

He expressed genuine appreciation for the work people had done.

It was a simple gesture, but it said everything about the kind of person he is.

What stuck with me most about Dusty wasn’t the tactics or even the results. It was the environment he created. The best leaders understand that their real job isn’t to have all the answers — it’s to build spaces where people feel safe to think, speak, and contribute.

Purposeful meetings.
Curious questions.
Genuine appreciation.

None of it is complicated, but it requires intention.

And when I think about why Dusty Baker is one of the coolest humans I know, it isn’t the toothpick, the fashion, or the stories.

It’s the way he makes people feel when they’re around him.