Managing the Impossible

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Released at the A Ball level, Minaya left for Tuscany, where he played baseball, taught himself Italian, "and learned to drink Chianti and Brunello di Montalcino with my meals." He also, he says, "learned political tolerance. I'd read three or four newspapers a day: the socialist paper, the communist paper, the paper of big business. It really opened my mind." Small wonder then that his old boss Sandy Johnson says of Minaya: "Omar is comfortable talking to the President of the United States" -- George W. Bush owned the Texas Rangers when Minaya was there -- "and he's comfortable with a street vendor in the Bronx. It's his incredible ability to relate and to take people on their own terms." Back from Italy, Minaya started looking for work in baseball and scored an interview with a scout, who recommended him to Sandy Johnson. What did Johnson see in Minaya? "I saw myself," Johnson says. " I saw a hardworking kid who loved baseball and wanted to succeed badly."

As assistant general manager for the Rangers, Johnson was looking to hire someone to comb the rich but scattered Latin American market for the team talent. The day after he and Minaya first met, Minaya was sent packing to the Dominican Republic on a midnight flight in the company of a more senior scout, John Young. Within days, Young was reporting back: "Sonofabitch wants to sign everybody." Johnson laughs, recalling, "I let Omar make his mistakes. There are two kinds of scouts. Signers and nonsigners. The great scouts are signers. They like players, and they're aggressive as hell."

Minaya agrees: "To be a good scout, you cannot be afraid. For every major-league player you sign there are going to be eight guys who end up working in a bodega. I got a whole bunch of guys I signed working in bodegas today." But he also has Sammy Sosa, whom he found in San Pedro de Macoris.

Made the Rangers' Latin American scouting coordinator in 1989, he was promoted to director of professional and international scouting in 1994. His big break, though, came in September 1997 when he was appointed assistant GM of the Mets and wound up contributing greatly to the team's success -- especially when his boss, Steve Phillips, was suspended after a tabloid-fueled discovery of marital infidelity. In Phillips's absence, Minaya was key to making several trades that brought players, such as closer Armando Benitez, who helped take the Mets to the World Series in 2000.

But Minaya's career stalled in Flushing. Always hanging over his head was the question of whether he could administrate. "I'd have spit piss and vinegar if I was Omar and was being held back by that bull -- ," says Sandy Johnson. "But, lucky for him, he's calmer than I am."

And then along came Bud Selig, who probably didn't care if Minaya could administrate: This was only supposed to last a year. But Minaya was determined to make it the best year, the most thrilling year he could -- defying the experts and even the Expos' biggest boosters. And that's what happened. Even in June, the team, which did have a nucleus of talented young players, was still contending in the National League East.

A confident delegator who leaves on-the-field decisions to his manager, Minaya focused on supplying Robinson with as much talent as the budget allowed. In July, the rookie general manager decided to take his biggest gamble. With his team still hot in contention, he went for the Hollywood ending, executing the season's most celebrated and unexpected trade -- sending three young players to the Cleveland Indians for pitching ace Bartolo Colon.

"Omar comes to me and says Cleveland is offering us Colon. What do you think? What do I think!" Siegle hollers. "Gotta get him. But then Omar tells me what they want. They want our best kid player, Brandon Phillips, and two other good players. I say, 'Naw, we can't do that.' And Omar looks at me, and he says, 'We're doing it." What Minaya was confronting is the push-pull between short- and long-term decision making that every executive faces; investing in a young prospect is like putting a ton of money into R&D behind a promising new drug or new product. It looks great on paper, but one day you discover the shortstop can't hit or the drug doesn't suppress the gene after all. Minaya chose to seize the moment.

The key to the deal was convincing Cleveland to take on the contract of aging first baseman Lee Stevens. Eager to get their hands on Phillips, a can't-miss prospect at shortstop, the Indians agreed to take Stevens and his big salary. As a result, Minaya not only came away with one of the best starting pitchers in baseball, he also managed to do it without adding to his payroll. Not bad for someone with no administrative experience.

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