Five years ago, you had been a manager for 15 years and had never won a World Series. Now you’ve won three, you have the most wins of any active manager and you’re probably going to the Hall of Fame. How is life different? Not much. My wife still tells me to take the trash out. I guess she finds a way to make sure I stay humble.

One thing that’s always mentioned in your bio is that you have a big head. Your hat size is about 8⅛. Is that where all that brainpower needed to win three World Series comes from? There’s a lot of empty space in there too. When I signed with the Houston Astros, they realized they didn’t have a helmet big enough. They had to special-order one. My nickname was Headly. When I was traded to New York and San Diego, I made sure my helmet went, too.

So they’d just repaint it? That thing had coats and coats of paint on it.

When you played for the Mets, their mascot had a big head. That was the joke in New York: You just need to use Mr. Met’s hat.

You started your managing career in the Padres’ organization in 1989. When did you know that this new career could last? Really, the first game of minor-league ball in Spokane, Wash. We were playing Boise. I was nervous, doing the lineup and looking at it five or six times, making sure I didn’t mess up the first one. But it was an unbelievable experience. I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to manage in the major leagues, and I probably would have been fine with that. That’s how much I loved it.