SURPRISE, Ariz. — The groundwork for Joc Pederson becoming a Texas Ranger was laid last September, when Rangers president of baseball operations Chris Young sat with Arizona Diamondbacks general manager Mike Hazen. The two men were discussing the divergent paths taken by their teams. After meeting in the World Series the year before, the runner-up Diamondbacks had gotten better. The triumphant Rangers had gotten worse. Young was trying to figure out why.

Part of the difference, Young recognized, was Arizona’s young players had improved while Texas’ group had stagnated. Hazen kept referencing the influence of Pederson, one of the eldest players on the roster, a part-time designated hitter with an outsized influence on less experienced players such as Corbin Carroll, Jake McCarthy and Pavin Smith. A lightbulb flickered for Young.

“I thought, ‘We’re missing some of that right now in our group,’” Young said.

Three months later, after Pederson inked a two-year, $37 million deal with Texas, Young received a message from Hazen: “He’s going to transform your offense.”

Pederson was the biggest addition for a franchise with an estimated $223 million payroll, a front office geared toward aggression and a roster with championship aspirations led by manager Bruce Bochy.

On the field, Pederson does mostly one thing, using his left-handed swing to crush right-handed pitchers. Not many were better at that than he was in 2024, when he slugged .531 with 22 homers and a .923 OPS against righties. His 151 wRC+ ranked 10th in the sport among hitters with at least 400 plate appearances. It is away from the diamond, though, where Rangers officials hope Pederson can be transformative.

At 32, Pederson acts as a baseball-centric combination of the Pied Piper and the Cheshire Cat, a font of wisdom and a source of insouciance for those trailing in his wake.

“People just gravitate to him,” said San Diego Padres senior advisor Logan White, who drafted Pederson for the Los Angeles Dodgers in 2010.

Seven topsy-turvy seasons in Los Angeles provided the foundation for Pederson’s perspective. His fashion sense led to middle-aged men wearing pearl necklaces during Atlanta’s 2021 World Series run. He gifted the San Francisco Giants’ support staff with customized black and orange Air Jordan 1s. When Carroll was floundering last summer, Pederson set him up with his personal hitting coach.

“As far as treating people behind the scenes, clubhouse guys, young guys coming up to the big leagues for the first time, he’s basically the best I’ve seen with that stuff,” former Giants president of baseball operations Farhan Zaidi said. “He treats people really well — and he treats people really well when no one’s looking.”

Pederson can do all this, in part, because he did not become the player he once thought he might become.

“A lot of superstars, it takes a huge toll on your mental, physical, emotional body to be able to post for 162,” Pederson said. “I’m like right in the next tier — I don’t play for 162. I’m more accessible. Teams you go on, it always seems like, ‘Oh, he’s the best player. That’s his team.’ But rarely does it ever work out like that.”

Pederson carries himself with a blend of self-confidence, self-deprecation and self-awareness. To connect with teammates, he relies upon his wealth of experience, his generosity with time and money, his sneaky sense of humor. After a fantasy football dispute in 2022 led to former San Diego outfielder Tommy Pham slapping him, Pederson established a new peak for droll athletic comedy when he told reporters, as an explanation, “I did send a .GIF in the group chat that was making fun of the Padres.” At his introductory news conference with Texas, he heralded the demise of the Houston Astros’ hegemony in the American League West. “They’ve put together a nice little run,” he said. “It’s coming to an end.”

To make that boast a reality, the Rangers will rely on a resurgence from their homegrown core and a boost from Pederson. Those two hopes are intertwined.

“Some people want to be a—holes to the young guys,” Pederson said. “I don’t get down like that.”

As the winter unfolded, Rangers officials chatted with Corey Seager, who had teamed with Pederson for six seasons in Los Angeles. Seager, the $325-million shortstop, is an insular presence who dislikes rah-rah speeches and can usually be found before games silently sharpening his swing in the batting cage. Marcus Semien, the team’s other nine-figure infielder, has a similar fixation on his craft; he has played in at least 159 games in every full season since 2018. “How many players can truly relate to being Marcus and Corey?” Young said. Pederson, as became clear to Young in conversations with Seager and others, could fill that void.

“Every team needs that kind of guy, who can keep you light, keep you flowing,” Seager said. “Especially in the down times. He doesn’t get down.”

The down times outnumbered the good for Texas in 2024. The ferocious offense from 2023 turned feeble. Postseason hero Adolis García slumped all year. Third baseman Josh Jung broke his wrist in April. Evan Carter, who starred as a 21-year-old call-up the year prior, suffered a season-wrecking stress reaction in his back. The group finished the season ranked 23rd in slugging percentage, 23rd in OPS and 23rd in weighted on-base average. The team ended up six games beneath .500, a backslide that puzzled Young, Bochy and the rest of the front office.

Owner Ray Davis was unlikely to authorize massive free-agent additions after doling out nine-figure deals in recent years to Seager, Semien and starting pitcher Jacob deGrom, who has pitched in nine games and undergone a second Tommy John surgery since signing a five-year, $185 million contract. The largest expenditure for Texas this winter was a three-year, $75 million deal to bring back starter Nathan Eovaldi. Young still sought to change the composition of the lineup and alter the chemistry in the clubhouse.

The adjustments started in December with the acquisition of Miami Marlins infielder Jake Burger. Two weeks later, Texas dealt first baseman Nathaniel Lowe to Washington. Burger replaced Lowe at first base; Pederson took Lowe’s place as a source of left-handed-hitting thump.

Burger and Pederson punished fastballs in 2024 at about the same value as higher-profile sluggers such as Bryce Harper and Max Muncy, according to Sports Info Solutions. The Rangers identified the duo as crucial in a division that includes excellent fastball purveyors including Seattle’s trio of George Kirby, Bryan Woo and Logan Gilbert, plus Houston’s Framber Valdez.

“In our division, you’ve got to be able to hit righties,” Young said. “And you’ve got to be able to hit fastballs.”

Pederson does both. He also offered a relatability that Rangers officials thought might benefit youngsters such as Carter and outfielder Wyatt Langford.

“Not every player can be Joc Pederson,” Young said. “The fact that he views himself as more similar to most of the guys on the team, and not the superstars, speaks to his character.”

On the day before the Rangers’ first official workout, Pederson wandered through the clubhouse with a team-issued beanie cocked halfway up his forehead. On his third loop through the room, a visitor inquired about his meandering.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” he said. “I’m just trying to find my way. I’m just trying to find my way.”

He grabbed his iPhone and realized his immediate purpose.

“No,” he said, “I have groundballs at first at 9:30 a.m.”

Pederson did not take the field once for the Diamondbacks in 2024. He likely will fill a similar role for Texas. He has gained weight and lost speed since his days in the Dodgers minor-league system, when team officials dreamed about him becoming a five-tool player in center field. He was a multi-sport star at Palo Alto High in the Bay Area, the No. 1 wide receiver on a football team that also included future six-time Pro Bowler Davante Adams. He fell out of the early rounds of the MLB draft in the summer of 2010 because of worries about his willingness to sign.

“The word on the street was $1 million, or he was going to go to USC,” said Logan White, the former Dodgers scouting director.

With Pederson still available in the 11th round, White took a flier. He suspected Pederson was bluffing. One of White’s part-time scouts, Larry Barton Jr., hounded him about getting Pederson to sign. “This guy’s going to be the next Freddie Lynn,” Barton said, as White recalled. As the deadline approached, White upped his offer to $600,000. He called Pederson to make one last pitch to sell the teenager on the Dodgers.

White’s intuition was correct. Pederson did not want to attend college. But the offer was still less than he sought. He asked White for a minute to think. Pederson put down the phone and grabbed a coin. Heads meant college, tails meant pro ball. “Tails never fails,” he said. The story, when White eventually heard it, left the longtime executive flummoxed. “To this day, I don’t know if it’s true or not,” White said. “Knowing Joc, it would not surprise me one iota.”

Pederson zipped through the minors. He was 22 when he debuted in 2014. A year later, he made his first All-Star team. But his performance cratered in the second half and he spent most of the Dodgers’ National League Division Series loss on the bench. As the years passed, his defense in center field degraded and left-handed pitchers picked him apart. He became a platoon player deployed mostly against righties, a designation that frustrated him. As the Dodgers set a franchise record for victories in 2017, Pederson was demoted late in the summer. He shrugged off the insult in time for October. In a rollicking seven-game defeat to the Houston Astros, Pederson hit three home runs and slugged .944.

He did not understand it then, but he was banking experience that would connect him with future teammates. “I’ve been in the ‘best player in the game’ category when I got called up to getting benched after being an All-Star,” Pederson said. “I’ve been sent down and then almost won the World Series MVP. I’ve done a lot of things where I’ve been at the top and the bottom.”

As a young player, Pederson felt welcomed into the clubhouse by veterans such as Carl Crawford and Adrian Gonzalez. He often carpooled to Dodger Stadium with Clayton Kershaw when Kershaw wasn’t starting. Pederson also grew accustomed to winning. He never missed the postseason as a Dodger. He excelled against elite pitchers on the October stage, whether it was swatting a game-tying dinger off Max Scherzer in a 2016 elimination game or taking Tyler Glasnow deep in the 2020 World Series.

Heading into free agency, Pederson said he eschewed more lucrative offers to sign a one-year, $7 million contract with the Chicago Cubs for 2021 because the club offered him the chance to play every day. He hit better against lefties but he missed the thrill of contending. A lifeline emerged when the Braves acquired him that summer to mitigate a season-ending injury to Ronald Acuña Jr.

Pederson became a part-timer again. He found he did not mind it, as long as the team was winning. He thumped righties. He lightened up the clubhouse with banter and outlandish fashion statements. After he got attention for wearing a pearl necklace on the diamond, Truist Park sold replicas for $5. He added a second World Series ring to his jewelry collection that October.

Pederson’s jewelry choices sparkled a fan phenomenon. (Daniel Shirey / MLB Photos via Getty Images)

The experience crystallized for Pederson how he wanted the rest of his career to unfold. He might never become a perennial MVP candidate. But he could embrace his place within a clubhouse hierarchy and aid those around him.

“I’ve played with so many people who are like, ‘I need to be playing. I need to be playing over this guy,’” Pederson said. “Where they’re just haters, and the word gets around. Like, ‘Oh man, you should hear what f—ing so-and-so’s saying on the bench, he’s just hating on [his teammate] because he’s not in there.’ That’s not it. There are a lot of guys who are like, ‘Oh, I should be playing,’ this and that. And it’s like, ‘This is why you’re always on a f—ing losing team.’”

On a trip to St. Louis last April, Hazen was chatting with Arizona manager Torey Lovullo about the trajectory of Jake McCarthy, a first-round pick in 2018 who had yet to establish himself. Lovullo offered a reason to feel encouraged. The manager had noticed how McCarthy was leaning on Pederson.

When Arizona signed Pederson to a $12.5 million deal for 2024, team officials were uncertain about his potential role in their clubhouse. Pederson had posted an .821 OPS during his previous two seasons in San Francisco, but the team struggled during those years and his pregame predilection for the Filipino card game Pusoy as the 2023 season capsized aggravated some within the Giants orbit, as The Athletic reported. Zaidi, who had bonded with Pederson during their shared time in Los Angeles, remains steadfast in defending his former player. “In the clubhouse, he really cared,” Zaidi said. “He developed connections with the staff, the front office. He really took after young players.”

As McCarthy started to stabilize, Hazen recognized Pederson might have more to offer than 400 useful at-bats. Hazen began referring to him as “our assistant G.M.” Pederson was invited to pregame meetings with Hazen, Lovullo and the two actual assistant general managers, Mike Fitzgerald and Amiel Sawdaye. “He knows everything about baseball,” Hazen said. “Like, the whole league. So he has an opinion on all the players. He knows everybody. It was valuable insights.”

Lovullo leaned on him, too. “You crush pitchers for us,” Lovullo would tell Pederson. “That’s what you’re here for. But if you have anything left in your tank, can you help out?”

Pederson could relate to players clambering for a foothold. “You talk to him and there’s no ego,” McCarthy said. “He talks to you as an equal.”

He could also relate to struggling stars like Corbin Carroll. After winning the National League Rookie of the Year award and finishing fifth in the MVP race in 2023, Carroll scuffled through last season’s first half. After the All-Star break, Pederson invited him to hit with Marlon Byrd, a 15-year veteran who has moved into private coaching. Carroll connected with Byrd on July 29, as the Arizona Republic reported last year. Across the rest of the season, Carroll posted a .931 OPS.

On the Diamondbacks, Pederson brought levity, thump and guidance. (Norm Hall / Getty Images)

Pederson paid Byrd to fly to Phoenix for every Diamondbacks homestand in 2024. The two will continue to work together this season. As he has bounced from team to team, Pederson explained, he has come to appreciate the stability of a coach familiar with his approach and his mechanics. He tries to blend that with the information offered by the team’s coaching staff.

“I’m going to do my thing,” Pederson said. “I’ll take in your information, and I’m going to filter it and see what’s good. I’ll do that with every coach. You do that with everything. You read something online: ‘Shohei Ohtani just got traded.’ You would look at the source. ‘Hmm, let me filter this. Does it seem right? Eh …’ You can’t listen to everything people say.”

That perspective is the hard-earned product of more than a decade in the majors. Pederson does not like to advertise himself as an instantaneous clubhouse leader or a vibes guru or a sage for rookies. But reputations spread quickly. Before the Rangers position players were even required to report to camp, Carter sought him out for what Pederson called “conversations about growing, as a human and as a baseball player.”

Pederson did not want to say much more about those conversations. He can be evasive during interviews, uninterested in revealing insight into his psyche. But at the end of a conversation this spring, he offered a parting quip to a reporter that conveyed what mattered to him.

“Don’t make me look like a jackass, all right?”

(Top photo: Lindsey Wasson / Associated Press)