The players get no respect around here. They give you money

When Don Mattingly declared, “The players get no respect around here. They give you money, that's it, not respect. We get constantly dogged and players from other teams love to see that. That's why nobody wants to play here,” he was not simply voicing frustration; he was speaking to a wound as old as human striving. For it has ever been true that wealth alone cannot substitute for respect, and that no coin, however heavy, can outweigh the dignity owed to those who labor with heart and soul. His words strike at the ancient truth that men and women do not live by bread alone—they live by honor.

The players in Mattingly’s lament are not just athletes; they are symbols of all who give their strength, their skill, their very bodies for the sake of a cause, a team, a community. Yet when their reward is reduced to money without acknowledgment of their humanity, their sacrifice is diminished. Respect is the invisible crown that dignifies labor, and without it, even gold turns to dust. Thus, Mattingly’s cry echoes like the voices of soldiers forgotten by kings, or builders unthanked by rulers who dwell in the palaces they raised.

The ancients knew this pain well. Consider the story of the Roman legions, mighty in battle and loyal to their commanders. Many times they returned victorious, only to find the Senate unwilling to honor their deeds, granting coin but withholding the triumphs and parades they craved. And in that neglect grew bitterness, until some legions abandoned loyalty altogether, following generals who promised them not only pay, but glory. Just as Mattingly observed, when respect is absent, loyalty falters, and those who would have stayed turn away.

There is also in his words the sharp truth about scorn and ridicule. “We get constantly dogged,” he said, pointing to a cycle where those who give their best are mocked instead of honored. And worse, others look on and rejoice at their humiliation, for nothing strengthens rivals more than seeing a people devour their own. In every age, the community that dishonors its champions weakens itself, for outsiders grow stronger when insiders are divided. Respect, therefore, is not a luxury but a shield, guarding the unity of those who must stand together.

Mattingly’s lament carries a warning: “That’s why nobody wants to play here.” For where respect is absent, even generous payment cannot buy loyalty. This is a law not only of sport, but of life itself. The worker leaves the company where they feel unseen. The soldier abandons the cause that offers no honor. The friend withdraws from the circle where they are belittled. Money may draw bodies, but only respect keeps souls. Without it, even the strongest team crumbles, the richest city empties, the grandest cause withers.

For us, the lesson is timeless. In our families, in our workplaces, in our communities, let us never believe that material reward can replace acknowledgment of worth. Give praise where it is due. Offer gratitude freely. Speak honor into the lives of those who labor beside you. Remember that what people crave above all is not wealth, but dignity—the knowledge that their efforts are seen, valued, and respected.

Practical wisdom follows: today, find someone whose work sustains you, and thank them with sincerity. In your leadership, give recognition as freely as wages. In your friendships, offer encouragement as generously as gifts. For if you would build loyalty, respect is the stone; if you would inspire greatness, respect is the fire. Without it, no house, no team, no nation will stand for long.

Thus Mattingly’s words, born of frustration, resound as a teaching for all ages: money without respect is emptiness. Let us learn to honor those who strive in our midst, lest we lose them—and with them, the strength that could have carried us to victory.