This story was excerpted from Adam Berry’s Rays Beat newsletter. Subscribe to get it regularly in your inbox.
PORT CHARLOTTE, Fla. -- Talk to enough people about Corey Dickerson, the Rays’ new first-base/outfield coach, and you’ll often hear a similar point: He really doesn’t have to be here.
Dickerson enjoyed a productive 11-year career in the Majors with 10 years of service time. He made tens of millions of dollars in salary. He’s 36 years old. He has a family. If he wanted to kick back and enjoy retirement rather than returning to the grind of a long baseball season, well, he earned that.
But talk to Dickerson for even a few minutes, and you’ll quickly learn something: He really wants to be here.
“I just found out early in life that I really don't think you can get true joy -- I don't care what anybody says -- unless you serve other people and you use your skills or tools or thoughts to better somebody,” Dickerson said. “You can do that as long as you live. My value isn't just getting a hit. My value is, how can I help someone else?”
Dickerson’s passion has been evident in his first Spring Training as a big league coach, and the Rays -- from the players he works with on a daily basis to coaches and front-office staff -- are raving about the job he’s doing in the outfield.
“From my point of view,” manager Kevin Cash said, “he’s been incredible.”
When the Rays hired Dickerson in December, it was somewhat of a surprising move for a few reasons. First, he had no professional coaching experience. Dickerson turned around the Jackson (Miss.) Academy high school baseball program in 2024, but that’s a long way from the Majors.
There’s also this bit of awkwardness: Transactionally, Dickerson’s last interactions with the Rays were being designated for assignment on Feb. 17, 2018, then traded to the Pirates five days later.
Dickerson was coming off an All-Star season with the Rays, and he’ll admit he was “very upset” and “bitter” in the immediate aftermath. So, how did he wind up back with Tampa Bay, working with the people who cut him loose eight years ago?
That experience played a part.
As Dickerson recalls, Erik Neander -- now the club’s president of baseball operations -- asked him to stop by Charlotte Sports Park before going home after he was DFA’d. Neander hopped in Dickerson’s truck and explained not only why they made the move but how they felt about Dickerson as a person.
That stuck with Dickerson, and they remained in touch from then on.
“Him just being honest with me gave me peace, even though I still felt like I played the next year with that chip,” Dickerson said. “For him to even have to communicate that to me or feel like he should, I respected it.”
When the Rays were kicking around ideas about how to replace first-base coach Michael Johns, now the Nationals’ bench coach, they kept coming back to Dickerson.
They already knew how hard he worked as a player. They saw how he improved his outfield defense in Pittsburgh, going from below average to a Gold Glove Award winner in left field. They heard how he emerged as a veteran presence. And they watched him dive headfirst into the myriad responsibilities of a high school head coach.
“That's what you need as a coach, the high level of care for the work and what's required, all of the experimentation to find a way to lift up his own game,” Neander said. “Combined with that servant mentality, those are the most important attributes to being an effective coach.”
There are some aspects of the job Dickerson still is learning, like managing workloads and some analytical evaluations, but the mentality was there all along.
“A lot of coaching -- what people don't understand -- is serving,” Dickerson said. “You're giving yourself to another person or a bigger cause than yourself.”
Putting aside how Dickerson shags fly balls in batting practice like he’s getting ready to play that day -- and still looks like he could -- the Rays believe they’re benefitting from having a younger voice on their staff. He last played in the Majors in 2023, making it easier for him to relate and communicate with players.
“I don't sugarcoat things. I tell them what they have to and need to get better at so they're viewed as a better player,” he said. “I think sometimes that can be lost, and players find out after the fact. … Every correction or any information I give them is for their benefit and not mine.”
Outfield prospect Jacob Melton (Rays’ No. 4 prospect) noted Dickerson “understands some of the nuances of the way the game's going.” Outfielder Jonny DeLuca called him an “incredible influence” with “the same passion for the game as all of us.” Veteran Jake Fraley said Dickerson’s advice, down to details like bracing his core before each pitch, has been “unbelievable.”
Dickerson’s own story of self-improvement resonates with speedster Chandler Simpson, who is still working to refine his outfield defense.
“Somebody that, I've heard, wasn't a great outfielder in the beginning and willed himself to being a Gold Glove [winner] is definitely something that I'm trying to be on the path to doing,” Simpson said. “It's definitely good to have somebody to be able to mentor you like that.”
If you want to see the impact a coach can have, look no further than the Rawlings glove Dickerson has worn every day in camp. There’s a gold patch on it recognizing his Gold Glove Award, and there’s a name written in gold: Kimera Bartee.
Bartee was the Pirates’ first-base/outfield coach who played a key role in Dickerson’s defensive transformation in 2018. When Rawlings sent Dickerson four custom gloves the next spring to commemorate his achievement, he shared one with Bartee, who suddenly passed away in December 2021 at the age of 49.
But Dickerson isn’t wearing that glove as a reminder of their work on the field or a message about the value of coaching. He wears it as another reminder of why he wants to be here.
“A lot of times in my playing career, you get caught up in showing up, and you're just so diligent with your work that you don't get to walk outside and really, truly be grateful for where you are,” Dickerson said. “Because it can be over, just like my career was kind of just over, and it's not like you can just go walk into Yankee Stadium again. It's kind of like, it's just over.
“So, that’s what K.B. reminds me of: Just be grateful for every day.”