'You Don’t Have to Be in the Big Leagues to Be a Big Leaguer'

Hardships, obstacles, and adversity can harden even the kindest souls. It’s easy to fall into the trap of asking, “Why me?” But for former Baltimore Orioles manager Dave Trembley, those challenges have been a source of profound grace, gratitude, and perspective.

At 73, with over thirty-five years of coaching experience across nearly every level of baseball, Trembley embodies the essence of servant and transformational leadership.

“I think it’s about how you establish relationships with people,” he reflects. “There are four things they want: they want to know if you can help them, make them better, if you care about them, and if they can trust you.”

From the outset of this conversation, it was clear that Trembley’s purpose extends far beyond the baseball diamond. He shows up in life with a mission to help others succeed, both on the field and in this game called life. As he humbly puts it, “Whatever I can do to help. It’s a privilege for me to be here, and I’m thrilled to help.”

The Daily Coach spoke with Trembley about his journey from a small-town upbringing to MLB management, emphasizing the value of prioritizing processes over results, balancing analytics with human connection, and fostering trust through respect to drive performance.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Coach, we're grateful for you doing this. Tell us about your childhood and some key lessons from it.

I grew up in a very small village in northern New York State, about 110 miles north of Syracuse near the Black River and St. Lawrence River. It was a mill town with fewer than 3,000 people, where most worked in the mills. There was one high school in the area.

My mother and father raised my older brother, my younger sister, and me. My father worked in a paper mill for 45 years. We played sports based on the season—football in the fall, basketball in the winter, and baseball in the spring and summer at the local park. I attended high school there and played three sports. Afterward, I went to the State University of New York at Brockport.

In college, my advisor, Dr. Dorothy Harris, gave me a lifelong motto and lesson: framework of reference. She explained that if you want to teach or coach, the best foundation is experience. Over the years, this principle has guided my living and leadership.

Baseball has taken you across the globe, and you spent over two decades coaching in the minor leagues. How did you stay driven and focused throughout this time?

Well, I think, number one, you have to have a passion for what you want to do. You need to find something you truly enjoy. You must be willing to learn and understand that whatever you do, it's not about you—it's about the people or the occupation you serve. I've always seen myself as a caretaker. I don’t think you need to be a big leaguer to be in the big leagues. You can be a major league person, coach, teacher, advisor, or leader, regardless of your status or title.

My passion, and what kept me going, was the game and the drive to help just one player or person. That gave me the incentive to keep going. It’s never felt like work for me. I think a lot of people feel trapped in what they do, but I never felt that way. I never thought, "I have to get to the big leagues." You get out of it what you put into it.

Make no mistake—people will test you, and you’ll face challenges. Many people with goals and aspirations give up too soon when they hit bumps in the road. But if you truly have passion and understand it’s not about you, you keep going. You keep going because it’s the right thing to do.

Reflecting on your time as manager of the Baltimore Orioles—through the triumphs, challenges, and eventual dismissal—what key leadership and personal lessons did you take away from that experience?

First and foremost, you have to be very grateful for the opportunity. To manage at the major league level—only 30 people get to do that. The opportunity doesn’t last forever, so you have to make the most of it. You must understand the game is for the players and the fans, not about you. You’re a caretaker of the game, there to leave it better than you found it, to contribute and make it better for the next generation coming along. I think that’s what we did.

Andy MacPhail, the GM for most of my time there, was very clear about my goals and objectives: to develop young players, restore credibility to the Orioles, and do things the right way. I believe we accomplished that.

The lessons I learned came after the fact. You learn patience, perseverance, and positivity. You learn to work with 25 players, set standards and expectations, respect them, and support what they’re doing. You try to make things better for them.

The way I was dismissed was tough. We were flying back to Baltimore after playing the Yankees, and a ticker on ESPN announced, “The Orioles have fired manager Dave Trembley.” That was hard to process, but you do it. You don’t feel sorry for yourself. It’s about how you act. You avoid negativity, and I think that’s helped me get more opportunities afterward. People are looking for good teachers, positive role models, and mentors. I believe young people need that.

With the Orioles, you inherited a roster in a rebuilding phase within the highly competitive AL East division. What advice would you offer to leaders facing similar challenges—taking over teams or organizations with limited resources while competing in high-pressure environments?

Don't get wrapped up in results. That’s where many people go wrong. When you look back, it’s not all a reflection on the coach, leader, or person in charge—it’s about the process. The process is far more important. You have to focus on the big picture and your purpose for being there.

We had young players. Our job was to develop them. You have to show confidence in them, put them back out there after failure, and keep going. You do your best to prepare your team, but you can’t take it personally. Every day, you have to come in like a salesperson.

As former manager and coach Joe Maddon would say, after the game, you’ve got 30 minutes to process—whether you’re happy or frustrated. After that, you have to get ready for the next day. Preparation and process matter more than results. If you focus too much on results, you’ll burn out. In 162 games, you’ll win 60, lose 60, and the other 40 will make or break your season.

In the long run, your significance to others and the contributions you make mean far more than wins and losses.

The rise of analytics and technology has profoundly reshaped both the sports and business arenas. How did you and your team adapt to stay ahead of these changes, and what advice would you offer to leaders on remaining adaptable in their respective fields?

I think you’ve got to be open-minded. I was the third base coach and bench coach in Houston for a while, and that was really the beginning of the analytics trend. They had a program they wanted to implement. You have to be receptive to information because information is power.

The key, though, is balance. A lot of old-school folks—like myself—aren’t always willing to accept new information. You have to balance all the data and insights from analytics with basic fundamentals. That starts with knowing the players.

In Houston, I was asked, “What are we missing?” I told them, quite honestly, that they needed to consider the makeup and character of the player. You can’t clone players. You have to be willing to change and adapt.

Analytics and all the information are great, but it needs to be balanced with experience. As my old college advisor said, it’s about having a framework of reference, and I think people with experience bring the balance and the humanity to the work.

How did you approach giving feedback to your players in a way that drives growth, builds trust, and inspires high performance?

Understand that most of it comes down to basic common sense. Common sense will tell you a lot. When you make decisions, make them based on what you see. I would always tell our coaches: observe, evaluate, then instruct.

You can’t go in on day one and try to change a player or give them all the information at once. You need to watch them for a while. First, observe. Then evaluate. Come up with a plan, and finally, instruct. When you instruct, do it in small pieces. If you give them everything at once, they’ll think you’re the kind of person who knows it all—and they don’t want that.

You can’t tell people what to do—you have to ask them. In my work with players, I’ll see something and say, “Hey, would you like me to share what I see?” Almost everyone says yes because they want to improve and get better. If someone says no, I’ll back off.

The best teacher is letting people figure it out themselves, but you’ve got to lead them to that understanding.

Mentorship has been pivotal in your journey—can you share the key mentors who have significantly influenced your life?

Legendary Hall of Fame managers like Jim Leyland, Joe Torre, Bobby Cox, and Tony LaRussa are the best because they generously shared their experiences with me. What I learned throughout my journey was more about how not to treat people. I resolved never to follow those lacking integrity, dignity, or respect for others.

One of the best compliments I ever received came from Tony LaRussa. During spring training, we often played the Cardinals. After one of the games, Tony came over and said, "You're going to be okay. You do it right. We see the game the same way: treat players the right way, respect the game, focus on fundamentals, set standards, and maintain expectations."

As you know, there are plenty of people who don’t lead that way, but I was determined not to join that club. My advice to young people and those in leadership positions is simple: do it your way, but do it right. Don’t be in a hurry—stay the course and believe in yourself. When all is said and done, the only question that matters is, "Did I do my best?" Life is all about giving back, not taking.

What advice would you share with your younger self?

Never let anybody tell you you can't do it. Don’t buy that, because people don’t know what’s inside you—your makeup, your heart, your mind. Don’t let anyone tell you, you can’t be what you want to be.

It’s not going to be easy. Nothing in this world is a given. You’ll have to earn it, work for it, and have a plan. Dream big. Don’t settle or set your sights too low. Make your expectations as high as possible and go for it. You’ve got one shot, one opportunity.

Success doesn’t come easy. There will be bumps in the road, times you’ll sit in a hotel room staring at the walls wondering, "What am I doing?" But I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. That’s how you do it: dream big, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, have a plan, and stay honest with yourself and those you lead.

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