ARLINGTON, Texas -- The most unappreciated manager in the Texas Rangers' 43-year history resigned Friday afternoon.
Ron Washington provided few details in a three-paragraph statement, leaving his departure shrouded in mystery.
The Rangers did say drugs weren't involved, which is important based on Washington's history. In the statement, Washington said he needed to handle a personal matter.
General manager Jon Daniels refused to divulge any more details, though he did say the club had been having conversations about the topic for several weeks.
Whatever was bothering Washington, he kept it quiet. Even his closest confidants in the organization were surprised by his resignation.
On Friday afternoon, players and coaches were told to gather in the clubhouse for a team meeting. Washington addressed the team and spoke passionately.
It was an emotional session that didn't last long.
Then Washington left. Just like that. After seven full seasons plus 140 games, leaving Tim Bogar as the Rangers' interim manager.
You'll miss Washington now that he's gone.
You can't second-guess his gut anymore. Or credit everyone but Washington for the triumphs while blaming him for the losses. The perfect manager doesn't exist, but Washington and his unorthodox style did better than most.
All you have to do is look at his record -- 664-611, even with this season's horrendous 53-87.
The players will miss Washington more -- and not just because he was one of the few people who could use a certain 12-letter curse word as a noun, verb and adjective multiple times during a single conversation.
They'll miss him because he arrived at the ballpark each day with the same toothy grin and positive energy whether the Rangers led the division or were 31½ games behind the Los Angeles Angels, as they were entering Friday's game against the visiting Seattle Mariners.
If players wanted to talk to Washington, all it required was a short walk down the hallway and a knock on the door to give him enough time to spray air freshener so the smell from a recently lit cigarette wouldn't offend.
Once inside, players didn't always like what Washington had to say. He demanded accountability, and excuses were forbidden.
He believed in real talk because that was the only way to ignite change.
Washington was a fringe player in the big leagues, a dude who never hit more than five homers in a season and had a career batting average of .261.
Washington lasted 10 years because, as a player, he did all the little things that helped teams win games. As a manager, he expected his players to do the same, which is how a first-time big league skipper helped a franchise that had been largely irrelevant for its first 38 years get to the World Series in consecutive seasons.
He's the winningest manager in franchise history.
Along the way, he beat Joe Girardi and the Yankees in the playoffs. Jim Leyland, too. And he defeated Joe Maddon twice.
And if Nelson Cruz hadn't misplayed a fly ball in Game 6 of the 2011 World Series or Neftali Feliz hadn't blown a save, then Washington would have a championship.
Washington was a terrific manager because he understood how to get players to maximize their talent.
Some required pep talks; others needed butt-kickings. At times, he'd give players opportunities to succeed in situations where they usually failed. Imagine a player's adrenaline rush when he delivered -- and even if he failed, the player appreciated the opportunity.
How many big league managers would read Scripture with Josh Hamilton before games to make sure he was ready mentally to play?
Washington did. Many times.
Hamilton's greatest success occurred in Texas because Washington is one of the few managers willing to subjugate his ego to coax the best from a player -- even if it meant letting him take an afternoon nap in his office.
Rangers left-hander Derek Holland said Washington was like a dad to him. Pitching coach Mike Maddux said he loved Washington like a brother. Third baseman Adrian Beltre said Washington helped make him a better player.
Each man said it with a somber tone and hollow eyes. You could see the shock in their expressions.
No one saw this coming.
Washington changed the baseball culture in Arlington, something that everyone from Billy Martin to Bobby Valentine to Johnny Oates failed to do.
The Rangers were a glorified beer-league softball team from the time the club moved from Washington in 1972 until, as fate would have it, Washington took over in 2007.
In one season, the Rangers went from a station-to-station club that needed three-run home runs to win to a team scurrying around the basepaths, wreaking havoc on the opposition.
Washington believed the more ways a team could win, the more it would win. At their apex, the Rangers could win with pitching, defense, power and speed.
Don't forget, this franchise had one playoff win, total, before Washington took over.
The Rangers won 90 games four consecutive years before this season's debacle.
Unless the Rangers play considerably better, they'll become the third team in major league history to lose 100 games the year after winning 90.
Only the uninformed would blame the manager for this wretched season. Study the rotation and the lineup. Injuries have clearly compromised these Rangers. As constructed, this team would struggle to win in Triple-A.
Washington will be back in the big leagues soon, either as a manager or a third-base coach.
These Rangers are at a crossroads. Daniels will make his second hire as GM.
It'll be difficult for him to do better than his first.