JUPITER, Fla. — Twenty-three years ago next week, team morale at Cardinals spring training took a hit when clubhouse and fan favorite super sub Joe McEwing was traded to the Mets for reliever Jesse Orosco.
The move filled a baseball need for an embattled bullpen. But the cost was a painful bruise. The Cardinals started missing McEwing before he could start his trip to Mets camp in Port St. Lucie, and the feeling was mutual.
"I told Joe one of the toughest parts of this job was to tell a player he's been traded, especially someone who is so well-liked and has been a Cardinal his whole career," then general manager Walt Jocketty told the Post-Dispatch back then.
"Not a happy day," then Cardinals manager Tony La Russa summarized.
"He's the nicest ballplayer I've ever met," said then equipment man Kurt Schlogl.
Had you told then 27-year-old McEwing that he would wind up back here at the age of 50 as the Cardinals bench coach, who this week delivered a soul-stirring message to the team, he would not have believed you.
Or, perhaps he would have said the odds would have been about as bad as a former Taco Bell regular who got, "Can't Do It" tattooed across his shoulder becoming a pescatarian who mediates multiple times per day.
And yet, both unpredictable realities have come true for McEwing.
It's funny, isn't it, how things can both change and remain the same?
Jupiter, for example, looks wildly different to McEwing, far more developed than when he departed for the second chapter of a playing career that spanned nine seasons before his transition into coaching. Other things, like the crispness and intent and excitement of a Cardinals spring training, have remained almost exactly the same. Every day, when he walks out of the Roger Dean Stadium clubhouse, McEwing makes a point to touch the plaque dedicated to Cardinals icon George Kissell that keeps watch on the wall.
"I know he's here," McEwing said. "I know he's around. Everything that comes out of my mouth on the teaching side is from his mentorship. He's like, on my shoulder when I teach."
McEwing is the same and different, all at once, too.
As a player, he was a caffeinated live wire who bounced off walls. The Cardinals signed him as a 28th round draft pick in 1992 as the 783rd player selected. His bonus totaled less than $10,000, but it was more than enough to prove wrong a high school guidance counselor who told him to get serious when the 5-foot-10, 160-pound McEwing said his dream was to play ball. That dismissal and others inspired the ink. Can't do it? Watch this.
"I always used it as motivation," McEwing said. "Chip on the shoulder. But then, there comes a certain point in your life when, you don't need that chip anymore, and it's served its purpose. That's where the self-growth of getting outside your comfort zone and continuing to learn about all life's experiences is where I have grown, on and off the field. It comes with a different wisdom, a different power of communication, and an ability to be vulnerable to everything around you. Not being afraid to show your vulnerability, I've worked extremely hard on that over the past couple years."
McEwing, the bench coach, is calm, cool and collected, with majestic gray hair and hip, clear eyeglasses to match. His friendly demeanor is underscored by a sense of Zen. He talks about making decisions from a stance of stillness and calmness. Daily, he makes his mind slow down through meditation. He's been practicing it for years now.
"You see things differently," he said. "Way differently. You appreciate and you are grateful for a lot more little things that you could have overlooked before. It has helped me in every aspect of my life."
McEwing still has plenty of fire. It's just powering another furnace. He burns to prove others right instead of his doubters wrong. His first pledge to manager Oliver Marmol, who now holds the job McEwing once interviewed for back in 2011, was that he arrived with no hidden motive.
"I want to be part of something special," McEwing said. "I'm not here for the next job. I'm not a climber. I just want to be a piece of the puzzle."
Perhaps he is becoming a super sub all over again? Remember, he's not here if former Cardinal Matt Holliday had not pivoted out of the bench coach job shortly after accepting it this offseason. President of baseball operations John Mozeliak deftly pivoted to McEwing, another former player, but one who offered substantial major league coaching experience. McEwing's contract with the White Sox had ended. He was telling himself to stay calm and trust the next right thing to present itself when the Cardinals finally called him back to the camp they once sent him away from.
"A really, really good fit," Marmol said. "We work extremely well together."
This week, Marmol asked McEwing to address the team. For a manager who questions the sometimes tacky narrative surrounding motivational speeches, Marmol knows and respects messaging. Part of his job is picking the right messenger to deliver powerful ones.
"My hope was that, by hearing Joe speak about some of the experiences he's had away from here, and then being back here, that they understand there is something special here, and that it is different," Marmol said. "For him to be able to pinpoint what is the difference, it was good for that group to hear."
With a tear or perhaps two shed, McEwing told players a reunion story more than two decades in the making.
He urged them not to take their time here for granted, as someone who knows firsthand how quickly time here can end.
It resonated.
"It's more than a logo on the shirt to him," said Adam Wainwright, who was in the room. "It was home. The way things are done in this organization, he really holds dear. It came from the heart. It was special."
