Tom Filkowski

In 1978, my rookie year with the Royals, I spent hours every day under a hitting coach named Charley Lau. He'd already built a reputation as one of the best hitting minds in the game. George Brett and Hal McRae were his students before me, and both went on to have Hall-of-Fame-caliber careers. That season I was a mess in the batter's box. Some weeks I felt like I'd invented the game. Other weeks I couldn't have hit water falling out of a boat. After one hot stretch, I won the American League Player of the Week award, which came with a Bulova watch, the league insignia on the dial, my name engraved on the back. At the ceremony, about a month later, right before I walked onto the field to accept it, Charley put his arm around me. "I'm proud of you, Clint," he said. "Always remember, there are two types of people in this world: those who are humble, and those who are about to be. You've been both. Remain the first one." I wish I could tell you I learned that lesson once and never needed it again. I didn't. I've had the ego kicked out of me more than once since 1978, and each time it gets replaced with a little more humility.