Oakland's "A"-List

Confucius once said, "Find a job you enjoy, and you'll never work a day in your life."

Paul DePodesta '95 might disagree.

"I love where I am right now," he says. "But it's pretty hard work."

DePodesta is the assistant general manager of the Oakland Athletics and one of several recent Harvard graduates who have found front-office careers in Major League Baseball. His new Baseball Operations Assistant David Forst graduated from Harvard in 1998 after a storied Crimson career at shortstop. Along with Michael Hill '94, director of player personnel with the Colorado Rockies, DePodesta and Forst have established themselves in an industry that is very difficult to break into, especially at a young age.

"I'm really excited," beams Harvard Coach Joe Walsh, who coached Forst and Hill at different points in his successful five-year stint with the Crimson. "I've got close friends in professional baseball who have worn the Harvard uniform. It's a great tribute, both to the program and the school."

The Oakland duo warrants particular note because of the organization they work for. Out west, the two are involved in the ongoing construction of a project that rarely succeeds in sports: a small-market team that should contend for years to come.

Going DeP'

Even though DePodesta considers himself "easily the junior member" of the A's organization, make no mistake: his post is one of both great influence and mammoth responsibility. The duties of an assistant GM vary by organization, but DePodesta's job description overlaps with General Manager Billy Beane's in many areas. The 27-year-old plays a prominent role in the execution of trades, free-agent signings, and the negotiations behind both.

"You realize quickly that you take it a lot more personally at this level," DePodesta says of both the on-field action and the behind-the-scenes transactions. "It's not like when you're a fan sitting at home."

DePodesta's age may raise eyebrows, but another surprise is his high status in baseball having never played for a varsity team in college. He pitched on the JV squad for a season before disaster struck at the end of his freshman year.

"I blew out my shoulder," DePodesta remembers. "I never had surgery on it, but I was pretty much done. I was able to play recreationally, and it didn't stop me from playing football."

DePodesta did letter in football while at Harvard for three years before stress fractures in his legs shut down his football career as well.

"I played under Coach [Tim] Murphy and really enjoyed it, but my first love was always baseball. I knew that I wanted to be involved in the game somehow."

He attended the general managers' winter meetings and began to float his resume around, and he remembers the hardship of trying to find work in the business.

"Baseball was on strike when I graduated," DePodesta recalls. "It's always tough to find work in baseball, but that made it even more difficult."

Eventually, DePodesta came across an opportunity in the Cleveland Indians' organization. The available internship in Player Development would have him chart the Major League games for scouting purposes. DePodesta jumped at the chance, and he soon was on his way to the Indians.

"It was a lucky thing more than anything else," he acknowledges. "There was a lot of incredibly fortunate timing involved in getting here. You don't have a lot of turnover in this business, and a lot of qualified people lose out. I just hit the jackpot."

If getting his foot in the door was a matter of fortuitous timing, then making his way through the baseball ranks was a matter of skill. Within two years of making van runs to pick up players from the airport while getting paid almost nothing as an intern, he was named Advance Scout for the 1997 and 1998 seasons. He wrote scouting reports for each regular and postseason series, performed the background work for various roster moves, and oversaw the Indians' professional scouting system.

After the 1998 season, DePodesta was named Special Assistant to Cleveland GM John Hart, but he was on the move again before the paint on his nameplate could dry. In November of that same year, Hart called DePodesta into his office and told him the A's had called to ask permission to interview him for the Assistant GM position.

"It shocked me," DePodesta remembers. "Especially considering my age [25 at the time], the fact that I didn't know Billy, and that I had just been promoted in Cleveland."

DePodesta was hired after a brief interview with Beane and another A's official.

His current job is somewhat complicated by the unfortunate financial constraints that define who wins and loses in professional sport. The Oakland franchise lies on the smaller end of baseball's salary scale. With an estimated 2000 payroll of $32 million, the A's rank 25th on the list of Major League Baseball's highest spenders. When compared with the robust $93 million George Steinbrenner and the Yankees will attempt to buy another World Series championship with this year, one might expect little to come of the management's efforts.

Yet the results have been refreshingly positive. Oakland finished second the AL West last year with an 87-75 record, and contended for a playoff spot until the final two weeks of the season. They have put together a core of young talent led by a triple-crown threat in first baseman Jason Giambi, a potentially dominant young hurler Tim Hudson, and several power hitters including outfielders Matt Stairs and Ben Grieve.

Oakland's ability to build an exciting team without the financial resources available to most contenders has earned the A's Baseball America's Organization of the Year award for the past two seasons.

DePodesta credits another baseball man with Harvard roots with a lot of the team's success.

"Sandy Alberson, Billy's predecessor at GM, was the key to what's been done here. He knew that with the exploding salaries, it would be necessary to build from within. He put a lot of emphasis on scouting and development."

Alberson, who is now Major League Baseball's Executive Vice President for Baseball Operations, is a Harvard Law graduate.

"Billy continued to use his approach, and it shows in the way things work here," DePodesta observes. "We have an incredibly cohesive scouting and player development system. Part of what I do is oversee a lot of the farm system, but ours is outstanding to the point where it takes care of itself. Everyone is thinking the same way."

While it has distinguished itself over the past few years as one of the best-run organizations in baseball, Oakland also has acquired a reputation for being the most laid-back. The 38-year old Beane and his staff are renowned for being as jovial and easygoing as the young, boisterous squad they have put together.

DePodesta laughs off the comparison.

"It is probably a different atmosphere here, but we take our jobs as seriously as anyone else," he says. "I'd say we're casual, but not relaxed."

At Harvard, DePodesta just missed the dawning of the Walsh era, having missed the Harvard coach's tenure by a year. But the two have gotten to know each other well, and Walsh appreciates the degree to which DePodesta maintains his Crimson ties.

"He's very loyal," Walsh says. "I remember a couple of years back when we beat UCLA, and he emailed me saying, 'Thanks, Coach. You just made my week.' He keeps track of what's going on here, and cares a lot about the team."

Reckoning Forst

Walsh did get to know Dave Forst quite well during his playing days at Harvard, and fondly remembers the time the two shared at the beginning of the program's recent resurgence.

"He was as good a player as we've ever had here," Walsh recalls. "As shortstop and captain, he had a way of actually making his teammates better. That's a very hard thing to do in our sport; it's easier to think about something like that happening in basketball or hockey. But if you were on Dave's side, you knew that he expected a certain amount of you, that he wouldn't accept anything less."

If you were one of Forst's teammates, you grew to expect the very best from him. After sitting out his freshman year with a wrist injury, he became a fixture during his three remaining years at O'Donnell field.

Forst was a sure thing at shortstop and grew to be just as automatic at the plate, batting .407 and setting a team record with 67 hits in his senior year. He was an All-Ivy selection in his senior year, and was voted a third-team All-American by the College Baseball Writers Association of America.

However, the accolades and big numbers that accompanied Forst's success are secondary in Walsh's mind. "The special thing about Dave is that he had passion that you can only find in so many players," Walsh said. "Watching him out there, you could see that he didn't want to leave. He played every game like it was his last."

Forst credits his great career to Walsh. "We were 10-25 my freshman year," he remembers. "And a lot of the thought surrounding the team seemed to be that baseball was just something we did on the side. Coach Walsh came in and turned the program around. He immediately brought back a winning attitude and a love of the game."

Forst's own love of the game stopped him from following the traditional Harvard grad's route, as he opted to put off conventional job aspirations to try to prolong his baseball career.

Forst played minor league ball in the Frontier League for two years, becoming a fixture at short for the Springfield Capitals. He sat in dugouts that make Harvard's dugout benches look like luxury boxes. He endured twelve-hour bus rides from North Nowhere to East Hickville. He was occasionally hosted by families in the towns he visited, as he made barely enough cash to keep him going. And he cherished every minute of it.

"It was awesome," Forst says of his time with the Capitals. "I had two great years there. I loved being on the road. I loved having a roommate. I loved being around other guys who love the game."

But eventually, Forst realized that his playing days would come to a close. In search of a way to stay close to the game, Forst contacted Boston Red Sox manager Dan Duquette, asking about future openings in the organization and for general advice.

"Mr. Duquette read my letter and remembered seeing me play in the Beanpot at Fenway my senior year," Forst recalls.

In that game, Forst had gone 4-for-4 with two doubles off Fenway's famed Green Monster in left.

"He had Kent Qualls, the Director of Player Development, call me and offer me a position at Spring Training as a non-roster invitee."

Forst had a superb spring in Fort Myers, batting close to .300 and playing almost every game. However, he could still sense that the end was near, and his fear was confirmed on the final day of Spring Training. A Red Sox official informed Forst that he had been the team's final cut.

"I was a little upset at the time," Forst says. "It all came down to numbers. There were guys who had done slightly better than me, and guys who fit in with the team's long-term plans more than I did."

"You knew he wasn't done then," Walsh says of the letdown. "Dave's a self-starter, a leader, a savvy guy who just doesn't want to give up his passion for the game."

Undaunted, Forst continued his campaign to get involved in baseball on any level he could. He wrote. He faxed. He phoned. He asked the advice of anyone he had access to, including Duquette and Qualls.

"Everyone I spoke to was really helpful," Forst says. "You've got to get the most out of any chance you've got. These are very hard jobs to find."

Eventually, Forst sent a letter and resume to DePodesta in Cleveland, but the letter never found him. DePodesta was already on the West Coast. Once Forst did get a hold of him, the fellow Crimson alum was ready to listen.

"At one point, they told me a position had opened up," Forst recalls. "Paul told me that it was only entry-level, but that I should send in a resume and see what happens."

So what was it about Forst that impressed the A's front office?

"Nothing impressed me about Forst at all," DePodesta jokes. "No, in all honesty, this job requires a tremendous amount of passion and dedication. I wanted someone who understood that. This definitely isn't a job for your basic dedicated baseball fan. Since David had been through two seasons of independent ball, he knew what it took to get up and go the ballpark every single day whether you feel up to it or not. You have to want to live it, if you're really going to get the most of the experience."

And the Crimson factor? "The fact that I felt comfortable with Coach Walsh's recommendation and David's Harvard diploma didn't hurt either," DePodesta admits.

Forst began work as Baseball Operations Assistant in January. In this capacity, he performs many of the researching duties that DePodesta had in Cleveland. He also manages a large portion of Oakland's independent statistics base, primarily using a computerized method known as BATS.

"BATS is a program that about eight teams in the majors use now," Forst explains. "A lot of my job is replaying each pitch and charting it on the program. It's pretty important information to have for our research, both for hitters and for pitchers."

For The Love of the Game

The amount of attention that the A's pay to even the most minute aspects of the game should not be surprising considering what the organization has done.

"When I first got here, the first thing I noticed was how many people go into making something like this work," Forst remembers.

"We had one big meeting, and there were so many people at so many different levels on the system. Every one of them was on the same page."

With that unified effort comes a unified approach to building a team. Oakland's hitters share more than just a tendency to be burly, fun-loving, truck driver types. Even those players who hit for a low average tend to draw a large number of walks. DePodesta maintains that the A's abundance of players who know how to get to first is no coincidence.

"On-base percentage is very important to us," he says. "I'd say it shows in our personnel decisions more than most teams. We beat it into players' heads the moment we sign them. It's all part of a baseball theory that we hatched several years ago, and it's a theory that has evolved and that we've gained more confidence in as time has gone by."

The necessity of such inventive ways of winning is clear.

"We don't have a huge payroll," DePodesta says. "So we have to be more intellectual and creative about our decisions than other teams. When I was in Cleveland, most of the decisions people made were just about money -how much do we pay this guy, things like that. Here, we talk more baseball than anything else."

Eventually, the financial issues could catch up with the A's. Free agency will give some of Oakland's young stars to either press the A's for cash or look for more lucrative deals elsewhere. DePodesta recognizes that hanging on to the youngsters will be a challenge.

"We try to make pre-emptive strikes," he says. "We've locked up Giambi and a couple of guys long term. We're looking to remain competitive anyway -we've got a great farm system- but we definitely hope that as our team does better, our resources will increase, too."

One thing that won't change is the amount of strain that accompanies a job in baseball. "It's not for everybody," DePodesta admits. "As it turns out, it's what I want to do, but you have to understand the reality of the position. You have to realize the unbelievable amount of work involved and the level of commitment you have to have, or you'll be miserable."

So once you've resigned yourself to even less sleep and more stress than you experienced at Harvard, how do you go about breaking into the biz?

"Get your name out there," Forst recommends. "Do whatever you can to get your name out. A Harvard degree will always get at least some attention, but after that, you've got to stay motivated. You've got to be willing to make the phone calls."

DePodesta's advice similarly reflects his own experience.

"You have to be willing to take anything that's out there," DePodesta adds. "You can't worry about pay, position, anything. I remember when I got my first internship, and they told me I'd be working 60 hours a week. I thought to myself, 'You've gotta be kidding me!' But that's the way it is here. To work 300 straight days, from nine in the morning to midnight, from February on, you have to have a passion."