A Day Older, A Day Wiser

Spring Training 2012 Preview

2012-02-04T08:04:00.000-08:00

This offseason, while shorter than usual due to my time in the AFL, has been busy. Like I said before, I've been working at Booster. When I'm not in the office you can find me in one of two other places...Georgia Tech's weight room or baseball field. The staff over there (yes, it's hard for me to say being a UGA fan) is unbelievable! They have hosted about 20 pro guys all offseason to use their facilities. Besides baseball, I have spent as much time as possible with my wife, friends, and family. It's been both busy and restful, if that's possible.

But enough about my "down time". Let's talk about Spring Training!

Most people, even baseball enthusiasts, have some confusion about what Spring Training is actually for or what it looks like day to day. Time to put your learning helmets on because we're gonna take a crash course on Mets Spring Training. Ready?

There is one facility that the Mets use for Spring Training. It's in Port St. Lucie, FL and has been for like 20+ years. Both the minor leaguers and the big leaguers train at the same facility. The Big Leaguers usually do their practice in the mornings then play games (or golf) in the afternoons. Us minor leaguers show up a little bit later (8-9 AM) and don't get out on the field until they are finished. Usually around 11:00 AM. Then we play our games in the late afternoon.

Yes "baseball fan", you were right, pitchers/catchers do report earlier than other position guys. Big League pitchers/catchers report Feb. 20. Big League position guys report a week later so that by the time they get there, the pitchers are ready to throw live batting practice to them. All STEP Campers (the mini camp between big league and minor league camp) report on Feb. 24. Minor League pitchers/catchers report March 6, with the position players following around the 11th.

The first week is devoted to pitchers and catchers getting back into the swing of things. We usually throw 2-3 bullpens before the position guys get there. Once they arrive, we throw our live batting practices to them. The goal of these live sessions are two-fold. First, it's for pitchers to get the feeling of throwing to hitters again. It sharpens your release point and gets your adrenaline flowing again. For hitters, this is usually the first live pitching most of them have seen in months. It's not very competitive, but it reminds us what games will look like.

Besides our 30-45 minutes of actual pitching per day, we do lots (and lots and lots) of drills. Come-backer ground balls. Covering first base. Pick-offs. Bunting. Backing up bases. Practicing and re-learning bunt plays. etc. etc. With over 150 guys in camp this can take hours. It's usually set up in stations that rotate every 30 minutes or so. Position guys do the same thing, but with their own set of fielding and hitting drills, and of course BP every day. After two weeks of drills and bullpens, we begin to play games. We start by playing intersquad games and work our way into playing other organizations. The Marlins and Cardinals share a complex in Jupiter, FL just down the road. We play one of those teams basically everyday. The AAA, AA, A+, and A teams will play each other and rotate between the complexes daily. Needless to say, we know the Miami and St. Louis organizations pretty well by the end of camp.

Now you might be wondering how we get organized with that many players in camp. Here is the mental/emotional pitfall for many Spring Trainers. After the first couple days of camp, the front office guys and coordinators split up everyone into 5 groups and post it (tryout style) in the locker room. One group for each full season team and one for the extended Spring Training group. They always follow up the posting with the phrase "Don't read anything into these groups. They are simply working groups for getting everybody their reps." They're not fooling any one. Everyone knows that there is a reason people are in the groups. Yes, things change over the course of a couple weeks with people getting moved around/released/hurt, but there is definitely a process by which people are sorted. Some guys take these groupings harder than others, especially the ones trying hard to make a full-season club. I was placed in the "extended Spring Training" group my first year and had to make the best of it. These groups will change right up until the last day of camp, when they let you know where you're going this season.

Now I know you're saying to yourself, "There's no way they let you know where you're going on the last day of camp, 3 days before you have to report to your affiliate." Yes, they do. It's not entirely their fault. Because of the volatility of the business and how players progress, they can't make final roster decisions until last minute. We get used to it. It's a trickle down process. If the big league team signs a guy, they have to send someone down to the minor league side. Then from there, Buffalo, Binghamton, PSL, Savannah, and Brooklyn have to make the necessary adjustments as the players come down the ladder. Not ideal, but c'est la vie.

Spring Training is one big chaotic wonderful experience. Getting to play games again, compete, and see all your teammates is something we all look forward to. Regardless of how monotonous it can be 3 weeks in, living in south FL in early Spring is hard to beat.

It's getting close, people! Get ready. You know we are.

Pitching and Soft Bodies

2011-12-11T13:29:00.000-08:00

A bit of truth before we start. I used to be fat.

Now when I say fat, I mean overweight for my age/height. Not P.H.A.T., which would be cooler. In the 9th grade I was about 5'4'' and 170 lbs. Chunky, for lack of a better term (See picture below for reference). Up until my fateful 9th grade year I was very confident in my athletic abilities. Growing up I played just about every sport a boy in Atlanta could. Baseball, basketball, soccer, golf, street hockey, flag football (no real football at my school). If there was a projectile object and any sort of goal, I was playing. Then came JV basketball tryouts. We had a good team the year before, and returned nearly all the starters. There were just enough open spots for about six 9th graders to make the team. I had always fancied myself one of the best athletes in the grade (despite my stature, speed and pudginess). In my mind there was no way that I would fall behind the 6 other classmates and not make the team. I was wrong. I went into the coach's office and was told, in no uncertain terms, that my general body shape was not going to be an asset on the basketball court. I was crushed. Having not made the basketball team and watching Greg Maddux dominate yet another year, I made up my mind that there was only one sport out there for me. Baseball!

I watched the NFL and the NBA. It fascinated me how fast they were and how high they could jump. Watching Michael Jordan was a treat, but I knew that I would never be able to dunk from the foul line (or any line). But David Wells, Greg Maddux, John Wetteland, these guys were shaped like me and they were playing in the Major Leagues. My mind was made up. From that point on, no matter how my body grew and molded itself, I was committed to my one sport. Spring, Summer, Fall I was going to be playing baseball and in the Winter I was going to be wishing for Spring again.

I did grow, eight inches to be exact, from 10th - 12th grade. As I got taller my body relocated some of the love handles...but not all of it. Even after receiving a scholarship to play baseball at Berry College, I was labeled a "soft body" guy. I had a loose arm, a good curveball and repeatable mechanics, but compared to most of the other guys on the team I looked like a chubby kid. Stepping on campus at Berry, the disparity only increased. One after another, my teammates would get in the weight room and throw so much weight on the bench press and squat rack that the bars would bend. Then I got up there and spent 5 minutes taking all the weight off just so that I could lift it off the rack. I was a "soft body", but I could flat out pitch.

Going into my second and third years of school I was determined to redistribute more of the spare tire around my waist in an effort to look the part. I worked hard in the weight room. I did all of the prescribed running, and more. Coming into the spring season of my junior year I was in the best shape of my life. Not an Adonis like some of the other guys, but still not bad. I expected my pitching to follow suit. I was wrong. Between getting lit up at times, having control issues, and developing tendonitis my year wasn't turning out the way I had imagined it would all those days staring into the weight room mirror. My goal to become a "hard body" guy had ended up hurting my performance. Not only was I still soft around the middle, but I was riding the pine because of injury and overuse. It was frustrating, because I still saw the same "soft body" guys doing it every 5th day all summer in the MLB.

I got drafted (by the grace of God) and began working my way through the organization. Strength training was a mandatory thing, but the routine you chose was more personalized than ever before. I could choose whether or not to bench press or do bicep curls. I could focus on mechanics and stretching and maintenance over muscle building. Still the pressure was there from organizational higher ups and the rumor mill that being a "soft body" guy didn't do much for your prospect status. You look at the top prospects from most teams and they look like men. Big, strong, fast, ripped. These guys might be uncoordinated and undisciplined but they sure could fool you into believing they weren't. I read (yes, I read) article after article describing myself and guys like me as dime-a-dozen righties with "soft bodies" and not much of a future. It kinda pissed me off. Just because I was a little pudgy and couldn't throw 100 mph didn't mean you could just write me off as a "long shot at best".

I began to use this frustration as a competitive edge. I had figured out what my body needed to perform at its highest level without breaking down. It might not be the most athletic looking body in the world, but I was going to prove that it could to be effective. I threw 130+ innings last year. Almost 160 this year. I didn't miss a start due to injury. My body didn't break down. I also didn't win a marathon, break any world dead lift records, or steal any bases. I also wasn't beaten to the bag by a runner while covering first base. You see, my "soft body" used to be a stumbling block to getting where I ultimately wanted to go. Some people would claim that it still is, that my chances would be better if I wasn't so fat. They're wrong. God created me with a certain type of body. One that might never show a 6 pack and might always have love handles. But that body is also the one He will use to get me to the big leagues. To keep me healthy and flexible. To keep me one step in front of the runner when covering first.

We come in all shapes and sizes. That's why I love Baseball! None of us have to look or act or pitch or hit exactly the same, but in the end we all have the same goal.

Have fun. Win or Lose. Repeat.

Travel Light & Hope For The Best

2011-11-06T12:51:00.000-08:00

It's getting close to that time of the year. The time when baseball organizations have decisions to make with free agents, arbitration, next year's payroll, and the Winter Meetings. The season after the season, where all the behind the scenes work starts in preparation for next year. For us Minor Leaguers, however, we're narrowing in on the offseason. A time of decision making as well, but on a much more personal level.

Ashley and I have made our offseason home in Atlanta for the last 2 years. We don't own a house or an apartment. We don't have a dog, cat, or any children. We have 2 cars and an apartment's worth of furniture in a storage unit (yes, it's air conditioned...don't worry). Our lives are light in comparison to most people. We aren't weighed down by much, mostly because baseball won't allow us to. It would be great to have a place in Atlanta to call home. A place where our furniture lived and our pictures hung on walls. It would be great to have a place to come "home" to after the season, or a place of refuge for Ashley when my life sends me 1500 miles across the USA in a couple weeks. It would cut down on the post season headache of having to look for 6 month leases (or 3 months this year). Our lives are light, but our burden can be heavy at times.

Some ballplayers have the resources to buy or build. Their signing bonuses stretching a bit further than ours, into the home-owner category. Other ballplayers live light, similar to us, but without a significant other. They move all over the place with their closet in their backseat. The beach one week, the city the next. Moving where the weather is warm enough to play catch. Some work in the offseason and some don't. Some need the money...some don't. Personally, I enjoy working during the Winter months. It keeps my mind and hands occupied while keeping us out of the poor house. Not to mention, when you're doing work you really enjoy it becomes satisfying on a different level. I've worked for a company called Booster Enterprises for the last 2 years, and it truly is fulfilling work. Booster is a fund-raising company that partners with elementary and middle schools throughout the country, helping them raise funds through a character based leadership development program. They get the privilege of interacting with students everyday and helping to build the next generation of leaders. It's rare that a company would take such a vested interest in a personal situation like mine and Ashley's. We are gone for 6 months out of every year playing baseball all over the country, but when we are back in Atlanta the Booster family has welcomed us back with open arms. Not all baseball players who want to work get an opportunity like this. It's a real blessing.

More than finding a home, finding work, and working out, minor league ballplayers use the time ahead to take inventory of their careers. For 6-7 months of the year they grind, day in and day out, trying to play at the highest level they can in hopes of making it to the Show. Once the season ends and the pace of life slows (even just a bit) ballplayers sit back and look at their body of work. How did they play statistically? Where did they end up? What do their chances of making it look like next season? I've said before that most baseball players contemplate quitting about 4 or 5 times every year. I think it's our coping mechanism. The idea that we could hang 'em up at any point keeps the illusion of control close at hand. But when the games stop and there's no competition, the idea of being done playing ball actually begins to take shape. You get a closer look at what it would look like to live in a "normal" life. To have the brick house with the picket fence, 9-5 job, and 2.5 kids. So far in my experience, that nostalgic comfortable feeling begins to wear off around the new year. The itch to play comes back and there is nothing you want more than to get back out on the field. One day that desire will fade, though. It's our job to keep asking ourselves the tough questions and make sure the passion is still there.

So far, so good!

None of us (minor leaguers and major leaguers alike) know exactly where we will be when camp breaks April 1, 2012. There are too many variables between now and then to triangulate which city/team/organization we will play for. If we want to continue to play, we have to face that reality. It's not for the faint of heart, nor the "heavy" lifestyle. For now, we will continue to travel light and hope that we can drop anchor in Queens, NY...sooner rather than later.

Second Half Success

2011-11-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while since I've posted anything. Perhaps it's because we are 165 games into the season (longer than any stretch i've ever played) and it's all we can do to focus on what's going on between the lines. Perhaps it's because I'm not throwing as well as I would have liked thus far, and motivation to write has eluded me. Or perhaps it's because with our free time Ashley and I have been catching up on our favorite TV shows each night (already caught up on The Office, now working on Bones). Whatever the reason, i'm back and It feels good.

I'm 6 outings into the Fall League with an astronomical ERA. The Javelinas are floating around .500 and we've got just about half the season left. Not to toot my own horn, but i'm a notoriously good finisher. Each of my last 4 professional seasons I have finished much better than I started. It might be that my starts were so bad that I could only go up from there...but whatever the reason, now is the time to finish strong once again. If you read some of my old blog posts, you know that I talk to myself. I talk myself into things, out of things, and through some of the tougher things. Halfway through each of the last few seasons I've had a "look myself in the mirror" pep talk. In each of those, I look in the mirror and tell myself that no one will pitch better than me for the rest of the season. It has worked in the past...why not do it again right now?

It's only three weeks before I go home for three months. The time is winding down out here in the desert and I have already learned a ton about myself and my development. But there's more that I want from the AFL. I want to leave with the taste of satisfaction in my mouth. The taste of success that can be carried into next championship season.

Well, I gotta run guys. There's a mirror calling my name and it's not gonna give itself a pep talk!

Colder Weather

2011-10-14T11:36:00.000-07:00

I’m listening to Zac Brown Band’s “Colder Weather” right now wishing that we could get some of that. It’s about 100 degrees today…same as yesterday. I feel like this is really my endless summer. I started the season in Port St. Lucie, FL just as it was getting hot down there. I left St. Lucie and headed to Binghamton, NY just in time to miss the nice spring weather and jump right into their hot summer. As soon as it started to get nice in Bingo the season ended and I headed back home to Atlanta, catching their blazing hot summer’s end. Now I am here in Arizona stretching out my endless summer once again. I love the warm weather as much as the next person, but it’s hot…and it’s been hot for a while now! Oh well, at least there’s no problem getting loose.

Also, not to brag or anything, but our team rocks! On a scale from one to hilarious, the guys in our clubhouse are like a Steve Martin…or at least a Woody Allen. We’ve got a great mix of loud and quiet, but I feel like each guy has something funny to add to every conversation. Usually there is a giant discrepancy between the fun I have in the bullpen and the dugout. One usually trumps the other, depending what team I’m on. Here, however, both are an equally good time. I think I have to chalk it up to the fact that we all just seem to get along so well. Pitchers, Position players, coaches, trainers, clubbies…one giant family. The way it should be!

I’m throwing tonight. All of the other stuff out here is a lot of fun, but tonight is the reason I’m here. The reason we’re all here. Time to have fun doing what I love. Come what may, homeruns or 123 innings, I’m getting to live my dream. It feels good.

Q & A (Answers)

2011-10-07T00:11:00.000-07:00

It's Sunday...our first day off. Usually when I talk about a day off during the season, it's followed by "I really need it!" But this time around in the AFL we get one every week and we only play for six weeks. I can't say I really need it yet, but I'm also not complaining. So, you've gotten your questions in and now it's time to see if I can answer some of them.

How's your arm feeling this time of year? Since this is your first time pitching in the Fall League, are you super tired? Or is it just something to get used to?

It's been a long season. 140 games. 130 innings for me. 6 full months with less than 10 days off all season. Surprisingly, however, my arm feels really good. I think once you've been in pro ball for a couple years you learn what you need to do to keep the old gunslinger feeling ready. Some guys refuse to carry anything with their throwing arm (grocery bags, ball buckets, even their gloves). Me, I take care not to "waste bullets" playing catch too often or during BP. Other than that, your body has been doing it long enough to simply take care of the rest. Then again, ask me in 6 weeks and I may have a different answer.

Can you possibly imagine really living your life in NY AND playing for the Mets?

Can I imagine living in NY? Honestly, some days I have a hard time imagining myself living anywhere else. I'm from Atlanta, GA and I call it home. I also love big cities, so the prospect of getting to live in one of the greatest cities in the world really gets me going. Where I would live in the city is still up for consideration. Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Upper East Side, Manhattan. Times Square. Chelsea. I guess we'll see. Can I imagine playing for the Mets? Yes. I mean, of the two teams in the city (not naming names) I think ours has the most character.

Do the Met’s coaches tell you specifically what they want you to work on or what you have to improve on or how much more you need to progress to make it to the next level? or do they keep you guessing to some extent or does your intuition tell you?

Lots of "OR's" in that sentence. Let's see if I can clear it up. To some extent, all of the above. Towards the end of the season the coaches told me that I would be coming out here AND I needed to simply keep getting guys out the way I had been doing AND show consistency AND that maybe I had a chance to pitch in Buffalo (AAA) or even in the bigs if I threw well AND it's always a guessing game. Very rarely, if ever, do organizations tell you exactly what they're planning for you or what they will do with you more than a few days in advance. It's the nature of the business we're in. Things change AND they don't like to make promises AND my intuition tells me that isn't going to change any time soon. You're right, run-on sentences are fun!

Is there a lot of pranking or similar hijinks that go on amongst teammates in the minors? If so, what's the best one you've pulled, or the best one that's been pulled on you?

Baseball has a rich history of pranksters, and no place is it more prevalent than in the bullpen. Think about it, you have to sit in a small room for 3+ hours everyday with the same people and an endless supply of bubble gum. It's like the Perfect Storm of pranking. Just yesterday I witnessed two of the better ones I'd seen in a while. The first is what I like to call "the wet towel". With the white towels that they put down in the pen, you can tell if one is soaked compared to a dry one...but if all of them are soaked you can't tell the difference. A few guys soaked all the towels and laid them out perfectly on the bench, then proceeded to take up all the seats except those. Guy walks into the pen, looks around, sees an open seat, plops down, immediately stands back up with giant wet spot...prefect execution. The second is an oldie but a goodie. With our endless supply of gum also comes an endless supply of potential "Hat Bubbles". This is when you blow a giant bubble and stick it to your teammate's hat without them noticing. Executing it is hard enough, but the real fun comes with trying to convince them go play catch with the outfielder in between innings so that the fans can see it. It get's a laugh like a quarter of the time.

Bull Durham is one of my all-time favorite movies, and one of my favorite scenes is when Costner is teaching Robbins about his cliches on the bus, and the news comes out that he's been in the show. Do you guys get as excited as they seemed when you have a current or former MLBer with your team for a while?

Honestly, anything that is a break from the normal everyday grind is a welcomed distraction. Not to say I don't absolutely love my job, but sometimes things just need a little shaking up. This year I had the pleasure of paying alongside Jose Reyes and Jason Bay. 2 class acts! When they show up everybody plays like they don't really care. Like they're just another teammate. But the truth is, we are all looking out of the corner of our eye to see what they do, how they carry themselves, what they're "really" like. We ask them questions and see if we can get them to tell us a story or two. This year, at the end of Jason Bay's rehab stint, he was giving away some of his equipment to the guys (which is like Santa Clause on Christmas for us). He asked anyone if they needed an extra pair of pants. A teammate of mine piped up, saying "Yeah, I could use some." Jason tossed them in his direction with a smile, then my teammate said what all of us were thinking upon receiving a gift from a Big Leaguer..."Does this mean we're best friends?"

Any word when anthony rendon will join the fall league?

I'm going to assume that he is one of your favorite players or plays for your favorite team. Truthfully, I have no idea who he is. I bet he's a nice person. I'm sure he is, in fact. However, I seem to have misplaced the memo that the league commissioner sends me personally every week stating in great detail every transaction (past and future) that has been/can/will be made. If I find it, I will let you know for sure!

p.s. I joke. It's a bad habit. I'm trying to quit. Thanks for your question.

Also, are clubhouses as crazy as they seem in the movies? I've always been fascinated with players having personalities outside of the game because organizations always seem to try to smother that and turn the players into robots so they don't say anything stupid. That's why guys like Nick Swisher and Brian Wilson always seem so cool, because they have independent thoughts, which you clearly do as well.

Firstly, thank you. I can't say I'm on the level of Swish, Wilson, or Wilson's beard, but I do enjoy showing everyone that all of us are real people. Clubhouses aren't, by nature, crazy. As in any working environment, it is the people who make the place what it is. Baseball players tend to be kind of eccentric, so the clubhouse tends to reflect that. There's always music playing. Rap, Rock, Pop, Country, Reggaton, Salsa, Merengue. There's usually some sort of sports event on the TV...unless there's a top 100 countdown on VH1 (like the top songs on the 2000's right now). As far as interviews and social media go, players have been informed on how to not sound stupid or embarrass themselves or the team. Does that always happen? No. Like I said, we're all humans and we all say/do stupid things from time to time. It's the few of us that can make that into a full-fledged persona (and Taco Bell ad) that make the rest of us seem so vanilla. Thanks Brian Wilson's beard.

This was fun! Let's do it again some time. How about next week? It's a date then.

Q & A

2011-10-06T11:51:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody,

Just wanted to give you guys the opportunity to ask some questions. We will have stories of our Fall League experience to share with you, but I’m sure there are many things you’re curious about that we might not get to cover. We can think of this as a little “Mailbag” session. You can ask questions and i’ll pick the best 4 or 5 to answer each week in a post.

You can ask your questions a couple different ways…

1) Comment on this post with your question if you don’t mind everyone seeing it, or comment on the AFL Prospects Blog post here.

2) Ask a question anonymously via the “contact me” tab.

3) Come out and see a game. Flag me down. Ask away.

I’m looking forward to answering your questions and hopefully giving you a little insight into our lives here in the desert.

Baseball In The Desert

2011-10-04T21:44:00.000-07:00

The dry air had parched my lips. It’s a different kind of heat out here. Different from the wet Atlanta air I’m used to. Weatherman said we were in for a dust storm, mixed with some rain. Sounded kinda eerie if you ask me. Looking past the left center wall, the flags were stiff, blowing the wrong direction (if you’re a pitcher). Line ups were announced. It seemed as if every batter hit .35o with 25 homeruns this past season. Everyone was either a Top Prospect, just had the best season of their lives, or both. And there I was, standing on the bullpen mound awaiting my first Arizona Fall League game.

People warned me of the thin air. How the ball flies in the desert like nowhere else. People quoted statistics of how many of the hitters I would face make it to the bigs within a couple years. They read the characteristics of the Fall League like a resume. Bullet points of impressiveness that would “prepare” me to be out here, as if I were preparing for an exam. To some extent they were right. This is a test. I have never in my baseball career faced hitters consistently as good or polished as I will out here. I will be tested on all facets of the game, and stretched beyond my previous innings total for a season. Those facts are undeniable. However, I don’t look at my opportunity here as an exam. I look at this next 6 weeks as a privilege.

I have been given the privilege to play alongside and against some of the game’s best rising stars and the opportunity to count myself among them. Not everyone gets this chance. Very few, in fact. To be anything other than extraordinarily excited would be a tragedy. One thing I am looking forward to the most is meeting the other guys. Every organization is represented here, so I get a chance to, not only play against, but meet and become friends with guys from all over baseball. I’m sure those will be bonds I can carry for the rest of my playing days and beyond. I’m closer to my goal of pitching in the big leagues than ever before. It feels good.

So there I stood, chapped lips bent upwards in a smile. Who would have thought on April 1 that I would be pitching here on Oct. 4? Not many. But I’ve come to know that baseball has a way of bringing the unexpected to pass.

Strike one, first hit, first run, first walk, first game…in the books.

Continue to AFL Prospects Blog to read more

2011 in Ballpark Pics

2011-09-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

I just landed here in sunny (hot) Arizona. "They" say it's a dry heat...still not sure who "they" are, though.

It has been a long, sometimes arduous, journey this season. Ashley and I have been lots of places, seen lots of people, and watched lots of baseball. I have a few pictures of the parks I've played in.

Hammond Stadium: Ft. Myers, FL

Jackie Robinson Ballpark: Daytona, FL

Easter Egg Hunt: Jupiter, FL

Captial Stadium: Akron, OH

NYSEG Stadium: Binghamton, NY

Gerry Uht Park: Erie, PA

Hadlock Field: Portland, ME

Fenway Park: Boston, MA

It really is a unique lifestyle. I move (at the least) every six months, leaving behind friends, family and on occasion even my wife. And all in the pursuit of a game. I get to meet new people and see places I wouldn't otherwise see. I eat crappy meals, sit on excruciatingly long bus rides and make a lousy paycheck. All in pursuit of a game. Now I'm here in Arizona, on a stage alongside some of the best ballplayers the world has to offer. Am I nervous? No chance! Like I said before, it's all in pursuit of a game.

Control What You Can Control

2011-09-20T06:05:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at the locker room dining table, pen in hand, contemplating my pitching goals for the year. Our pitching coach, Phil, had challenged us to make a list of 5 goals for the year. He stressed the importance of having tangible milestones to continually look towards through a long a grinding season. Being a goal oriented person myself, I relished the opportunity. I thought of every possible goal. Wins, ERA, WHIP, K/BB ratio, Innings Pitched, etc. etc.

My List:

1) Win 10 Games

2) Throw 150 innings

3) Walk less than 38 guys (last year's total)

4) At least 9 k/9 innings

5) Not miss a start due to injury

I walked up confidently to the coaches office to turn in my goals that were inked in my best (still pretty mediocre) handwriting. Coach took a look at them, looked back up at me in his "are you sure about this?" look, and set the paper back down. Taking out a red pen, reminding me of my English 101 critiques, he marked out # 1, 2, & 5. He then said something so profound, yet so simple. "Control what you can control. Don't try to control things you have no control over." He was aware that I was not in control of the amount of wins I got, how often I pitched, or the health of my body. Those things were in someone else's hands for the most part, so to set goals based on things out of my control was setting myself up for disappointment.

This was not a new concept for me. Through my years as a hard-headed Berry College Viking, my pitching coach, Josh Hopper, tried to explain that very same thing in words that I would understand. Being a cocky college pitcher I always wanted to throw a no hitter every time out on the hill. I figured if I wasn't shooting for perfection then I was selling myself short. Hop (as we affectionately called him) wasn't interested in throwing no hitters, or throwing 95, or anything I deemed "cool". He was interested in throwing strikes...period. His philosophy, similar to my minor league coach, was that you could only control a few things on the mound. 1) Your tempo on the hill 2) How long you hold onto the ball to control the running game 3) Fielding your position 4) The pitch selection, and 5) The pitch itself. Everything beyond that was out of my hands as a pitcher. Whether it was a strike or not. Whether it was hit or not. Where it was hit. Whether a play was made or an error was committed. Whether a run was scored. Whether a game was won or lost. All of that was completely out of my control once the ball left my hand. So for me to concentrate on anything beyond making the best pitch I could with the most conviction I had, was once again setting myself up for disappointment.

I wish I could say that the issue of control was only a baseball thing. The truth is, however, we all struggle with this idea of trying to control things we cannot. In this day and age job security is anything but secure for most people. We do everything we can to retain our current positions, hoping that at the end of the day we've done enough to stay put. We worry, lose sleep, make secret resumés. The things we can't control end up controlling us. The same process takes place in the minor leagues.

Clarity is a prized commodity in the MiLB. The vast majority of us have so little of it, that tomorrow itself is a surprise. Guys get moved up and down with a simple changing of the wind (or pulling of a hamstring). You hear locker room conversations constantly about which guys are probably going where, and if they do, what that means for the rest of us. I tend to call them the Locker Room GM's. Up until the middle of this summer, I was the worst of them. No one hypothesized more about what might happen, discussed what could happen, or debated what should happen more than myself. I didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, it was MY career so shouldn't I be interested in what direction it was heading? The perspective (Ah Ha moment) came this summer.

When I got moved from Port St. Lucie, FL to Binghamton, NY my wife was stuck in Limbo in Atlanta. The plan was for me to pitch only a week or two in Binghamton then return to FL. Well, after a couple quality starts I began to wonder if they were gonna send me back. Every day Ashley and I contemplated the variety of scenarios that would either send me back or leave me pitching in AA. Things out of our control were beginning to control our mindsets, our perspective, and our marriage. Time went by and I kept throwing pretty well. I stayed in Bingo and Ashley finally made her way to meet me in NY. Unfortunately, the struggle with control didn't stop there. As things between the lines began to improve, the question of offseason plans became our focus. If I was chosen to play Winter Ball then we wouldn't be able to have our Atlanta apartment for 6 months, and we would miss our friends, family, and favorite restaurants. Life was getting complicated before it actually even happened, and it was all our own doing.

Ashley and I were sitting in the car on the way to Philly during our All Star Break. Exhausted from our worry and nervous over things still on the horizon, we hit our breaking point. Ashley leaned over to me, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Let's just leave our stuff in storage. Let's forget about the what if's and just drink the punch!" Looking slightly amazed at my wife's revelation, I said "ok!" We decided then and there that whatever life threw at us (baseball included) we were going to look at it with fresh eyes. What earlier in the summer looked like hindrances to our normal way of life, now looked like exciting opportunities that few people ever get. It came down to exactly what both of my coaches had said. "Control what you can. Don't worry about the rest." We couldn't control where we were asked to go, how long they wanted us to be there, or what we got paid to do it. The only thing we could control was our perspective. The power we had to look at our baseball life as a deterrent to the life we wanted or as a gateway to a life we couldn't imagine. We shook hands in the car and agreed that from this point forward we were "all in." Ashley took a picture to commemorate.

Fast Forward.

I was selected to go play in the Arizona Fall League for 6 weeks this fall. It was kind of the perfect answer to our previous worries. We would be playing winter ball in one of the most prestigious leagues in the baseball world...and we'd be home for Thanksgiving, Ashley's birthday, and Christmas. It looks like I have a shot to be added to the 40 man roster this fall, but that's out of my hands, so it's out of my mind too. Ashley and I had a great last month to the season! I pitched in Fenway, played with Jose Reyes, and threw my first professional complete game. We picked apples and pears in our back yard, drove back home through a hurricane, and made it out better on the other side. Most importantly, we had fun. Pitching became fun again (maybe for the first time since high school). Marriage, which was so hard earlier in the summer, became exciting again. And worries got flushed down the drain.

I'm not saying life isn't gonna be hard again. Nor am I saying that I will never worry again. We're human. And it's life. But I like where we are now, and I like the direction we've chosen to head in. Life brings enough challenges our way every day, there's no need to worry about the ones we bring on ourselves.

Thanks Phil. Thanks Hop. I know it took long enough, but I'm starting to get it!

Fenway Park: Futures at Fenway Game

2011-08-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

It's not every day that you get to pitch a game at historic, Fenway Park. Actually, it's never for most people. Until the other day, I was "most people". I had never pitched in front of more than 9,000 people (Brooklyn opening day, 2009) in my life, and I assumed that pitching in a big league park was reserved for...well, big leaguers. Yet somehow, in the craziness of this season, I was given the opportunity to pitch the Futures at Fenway game.

Every year, two of the Boston Red Sox affiliates (usually AA Portland and AAA Pawtucket) play a game at Fenway Park as a treat for Red Sox nation to see their future Sox and for the players to get a taste of the Bigs. This year the B-Mets drew the game against Portland. Exciting! I realized that this game would be a good opportunity for Ashley to visit friends in Boston and to catch a game at Fenway, even if I wasn't going to be pitching. You see, I made the assumption that in a starting rotation stacked with 2 former Big League pitchers and 3 other top prospects, I would be at the end of the queue for this rare opportunity. Plans were set in place anyway. Ashley would be in Boston for that weekend, and I would be at Fenway. Again, exciting!

I tend to make declarations mid-season. Each year for the last 3 seasons I have looked myself in the eye and said "nobody will pitch better than you the second half of this season." It worked the first couple times I did it, so I figured why not do it again this year. Post all-star break this year I had actually thrown really well. Well enough to merit a start in Fenway? I assumed not.

Two weeks away from the big game, all the starters began to do the math in their heads. "If we are on a 5 man rotation then that would mean _____ would start". "If we decide to stick with a 6 man, then that would mean...McHugh?" Sure enough, the calendar was working in my favor. A week away, I waited for the coach to let me know I was in luck. The day grew closer and there was still no word from the coaching staff. So, casually, I walked into the coaches' office and said (in my best nonchalant voice) "So what does the rotation look like this week?" The pitching coach turned around in his chair and with a smirk on his face said that I had Saturday...I had Fenway.

We could talk about all the buildup to the game. The 8 hour bus ride from Bingo to Portland. The 2 hour bus ride from Portland to Boston, wherein our bus broke down a mile and a half from the park. The make-shift locker room that we shared with the opposing team. Walking around the park for a couple hours. But all of that pales in comparison to actually toeing the rubber at Historic Fenway Park. I don't consider myself a baseball historian by any means, but a student of the game? Absolutely. I know about Fenway. The oldest Major League stadium in the country. Pesky's pole. The Lone Red Seat. The Green Monster. I know about Fisk's homerun that he waived fair in the '75 series. Ted Williams going 6-8 on the last day of the season to ensure his .400 batting average. And, last but not least, "The Babe" pitching and hitting in his (pre-Yankees) uniform.

Roughly 25,000 strong, the stadium was filling quickly. As I began warming up on the same plot of ground as so many that had gone before me, I felt confident. If they could succeed here, why not me? It was, in fact, just like any other start this season. It was the 3rd time I had faced the Sea Dogs, each time pitching better than before. I was coming off one of my best starts of the year, and it was my turn. Taking a deep breath and relaxing my shoulders, I threw my first warm up pitch. Right down the middle. I was really there. I was really pitching at Fenway Park. The noise was no longer a factor. The mystique of past heroes died away. It was me and the catcher. Time to go to work.

6 innings later with a two run lead I exited the game. It wasn't a sense of relief, nor accomplishment, that I felt. For the first time in my baseball career, I felt like I belonged. I had thrown in a big league stadium, in front of a big league crowd and performed well. The ghosts of Fenway past seemed more like comrades. I felt closer to the Bigs than ever. It was short lived.

After chatting with my wife, dad, and a few friends, it was time to get on the bus...again. 2 more hours, another bus malfunction and we were back in Portland, ME. Afternoon game the next day, then another 8 hours on the bus back to good ole' Bingo. Life was the same on the outside. Yet, nothing could take away the confidence and assuredness that I got from toeing it up next to The Babe and succeeding.

I don't pretend to know what the future holds for me and my baseball career. I don't know if I will ever have the chance to pitch at Fenway again. But for a brief moment my wife, my father and I got a glimpse of where I could go. What I could do. We came face to face with the reality of why we put in all the work. It felt good, natural even. At the very least, it was a story I shared with those closest to me, and one that I will continue to share with my kids and grandkids. I think we forget, in the day to day grind, that we are building a life's worth of memories here. This was one that I will never forget.

It's A Game Of Feel

2011-08-15T12:57:00.000-07:00

It's a battle that every baseball player fights, and one that most of us have lost from time to time. Baseball, unlike football or basketball (but surprisingly similar to golf), is a game of feel. The way a ball leaves your fingers, or the way a bat feels clutched both firmly and loosely in your hands at the plate. The tenuous transfer of a ball from glove to bare hand. No matter how fast you can run a 60 yd. dash, how high your vertical is, or how many times you can bench 225 lbs., the "feel" of the game can be lost in the blink of an eye.

As professional baseball players, we are keenly aware of this struggle. All of us have seen someone get the "Yips". You know, when a guy can't seem to throw the ball 50 feet without airmailing it or skipping it 37 times. Or when a guy will literally swing at anything thrown within a mile radius of home plate. Everyday we set foot on the field there is a thought, crammed into the depths of our sub-conscious, that replays the phrase "I hope I haven't forgotten how to do this." It's a fragile thing, this baseball game. So in order to preserve our abilities we have adopted strict routines and absurd rituals (superstitions if you must) to shelter us from the harrowing reality that "feel" comes and goes.

Guys will go through the same stretching routine everyday. They will eat/drink the same concoction if it will get them closer to .300. Hitters will tighten their batting gloves exactly 5 times before heading up to the plate where they will execute the same practice swings before every pitch. Pitchers will pick up the rosin bag on their way counter clockwise around the mound, pat it twice and toss it to their right, clean the rubber and lick their fingers, all before delivering the first warm up pitch. These are just examples, but you get my drift. Personally, I have a few idiosyncrasies of my own. I will only turn gloveside when receiving a ball from the third baseman. I will wipe away the trail of dirt that my foot makes in front of the rubber after each pitch. I won't ever pick up the rosin bag...only touch it while it's resting on the ground. These started out as fidgets. After some success, though, they turned into superstitions. After enough time passed they turned into habits, which eventually bloom into routines.

Are baseball players superstitious? Yes. But more than anything, we are men of routine. It is our coping mechanism. Nothing is more important in the game of baseball than confidence. In a game so constructed around failure and the volatility of success, the ability to remain confident in the face of adversity is what sets players apart. I am sure that the most critical catalyst to confidence is a personalized and repeatable routine. For every routine that is visible on TV or on the field...Nomar's toe taps and glove tightening, Fidrych's antics on the rubber, Heath Bell sprinting in from the bullpen, Big Papi's spit and clap, Ichiro's Samuri-esque bat salute...there are countless more routines that go on behind closed doors. All of which serve to keep the "feel" of this fragile game firm within our grasp.

It's a funny thing how someone can lose it so quickly. How a hitter, after 500 at bats, can fall into an 0-40 slump. Or how a pitcher can throw so well for 4 innings and implode the following inning. Most of us have been playing this game since we were about 5 years old. Thousands upon thousands of throws, swings, grounders, pop flys. At some point you would think that muscle memory would take over, but there's a barrier to that...Us. I can go out and throw well 4 or 5 starts in a row, then in a mid-week bullpen throw a few pitches that "just don't feel right". After making a few small adjustments something else begins to feel a little askew. No worries, I can just make another adjustment and be fine. After 50 pitches I can make so many minor adjustments that I begin to feel lost in my mechanics. Focusing on when my hands are breaking, how high my leg is going, where my foot is landing. My muscles want to take over and do what they know how to do, but my mind won't let them. It's a slippery slope, and a self-induced one at that.

To eliminate the possibility of falling into that abyss, I have a bullpen routine. 32 pitches, good, bad, or indifferent. No more, no less. It's enough to feel comfortable on the mound again, but not enough to let me confuse myself. Hitters are the same way. Batting practice is 4 rounds with a certain amount of swings per round. If it's a bad round, it isn't enough to frustrate you too much. If all the rounds are bad then you just get to come back and do it all over again tomorrow. Setting limits on our routines protects us from ourselves, which in turn produces positive results more often. It's inevitable that "feel" will come and go. As ballplayers, we can only hope that our routines will see it stay longer than its gone.

Radar Guns

2011-08-11T11:07:00.000-07:00

It's a conditioned response. The ball leaves the pitcher's hand striking the catcher's mitt, and before the echo of ball-hitting-mitt dies out heads all around the park turn and search for it. Perhaps it's hidden in the electronic maze of the scoreboard or camouflaged next to an advertisement. It might take you a minute or two to find it, but it's usually there. That damned radar gun.

Believe it or not, there was a time before the radar gun existed. Players, coaches, and fans alike would watch every pitch intently. The way it came out of the hand, the plane that it traveled along on its way home, the swing a hitter put on the ball, and the sound it made as it reached its destination. These were the only indicators of what kind of "stuff" a pitcher had. Whether it was 85 or 95 mph, a fastball was judged on its effectiveness and not only its velocity. Hitters would use terms like sneaky, deceptive, or just plain hard. I've heard coaches say that if they were playing in today's game they would never have gotten drafted. Their fastball never topped out as hard as most pitchers today, but they could pitch and get guys out. That mattered more.

I remember going to my first college showcase. Coming from a small high school where I was rarely, if ever, put on a gun, it was intimidating seeing 15 radar guns held high as I threw a bullpen session. Feeling like I threw well, I finished my bullpen expecting to talk to some of the big school coaches. No one budged. I then went over to look at a piece of paper that had been posted on a cork board near the locker room. It had 4 columns. Fastball, Curveball, Slider, Change-up and velocities for each. No fastball of mine topped 90 mph. Right then and there I realized my chances of playing SEC baseball were slim...to none. It was a bad feeling knowing that I had performed well in games, thrown all my pitches for strikes, and was probably heading to and NAIA or D2 school.

I made it through college, gained a couple mph, and was fortunate to get drafted (I like to think it was more on God and my ability to pitch and less on my 92 mph fastball). However, that was just the beginning of the radar gun circus. In pro ball, as I said earlier, there is a public gun at almost every park. It usually sits in plain sight for every Joe Schmo to see and judge. It's a shame, but if a guy goes out there now and throws his fastball 86 mph people snicker and use names like "poo baller" or the more polite, "crafty". I would be a hypocrite if I said that I never do that too. I can feel it in my bones. The pitch comes and my head, despite how hard I try to keep it still, turns to find the radar gun so that I can present my judgement of said pitcher. It's a disgusting habit. I'm trying to quit.

Don't let me trick you readers into believing that there is no value to having radar guns. They can be useful for many things. If a guy throws a cutter it can be effective to see the speed difference between that and the fastball since both stay on the same plane. Guns also serve, in some cases, to indicate injury or fatigue. Though not always, pitchers will sometimes drop velocity to protect their arms in nagging pain or in physical fatigue after a large workload. But the reliance on the radar gun as an indicator of future success makes the basest of assumptions and generalizes them out unfairly. For the slower throwing pitcher it creates a chasm over which he must leap to get to the major leagues. He must show "extra" ability to command and develop pitches because his fastball just won't cut it by itself. True statement, but incomplete. The fact is, even the flame thrower won't be able to make it on that pitch alone. He too must develop and learn how to pitch. This puts unreasonable pressure on him too. Simply because he has been given the ability to throw hard does not negate the fact that he must learn the nuances of pitching. Unfortunately, he usually must do so at higher levels, often exposing him to failure and waning confidence. You see it all the time.

More so than all of that, however, is the sheer annoyance of hearing "how hard was that one?" 85 times a game. I feel like we, as players especially, have lost the ability to watch a game the same way. We've forgotten how to appreciate a BP fastball in the mid 80's, or a mediocre fastball thrown to a good location on a downward plane. That's pitching, folks!

Ok, seeing this on a radar gun is kind of amazing, but let's get real. You're not going to see that very often. I vote that we fight our modern game instincts and our neck rotations, and watch one game without looking at the gun once. See if you find out anything new. It might surprise you.

Charting

2011-07-25T10:40:00.000-07:00

If you've ever been to a minor league baseball game, chances are you've seen us out there. We're the ones who look conspicuously out of place 5 rows behind home plate. Sitting there with radar gun held high and clipboard in hand; we are charting.

Usually comprised of 2-3 starting pitchers from each team, this unit is charged with profiling each game (pitch by pitch) for their respective clubs. For us, it's the day 3 and 4 pitchers. Allow me to explain...

Day 1: Your start

Day 2: Flush run

Day 3: Bullpen, Chart

Day 4: Play catch, Chart

Day 5: Day before start, Play catch, In the dugout for game

Day 1: Start...again

We keep a chart for our pitchers and a separate one for our hitters. Every single pitch and velocity is accounted for. It's a tedious job, but we make the most of it. It is meant to give us a different angle to watch the other teams' hitters while also giving that day's pitcher a study guide for the next time he faces that team. There's not much to it, honestly. But the chart itself isn't the main focus of what I want to talk about...it's the atmosphere.

They stick you right in the middle of the "regulars". You know, those baseball fans who are at EVERY game, who know EVERY player by name, and who have something to say about EVERYthing. Don't get me wrong, these are the people who love baseball. The people who make our jobs worth it. They also just happen to make charting a game much more interesting. These aren't your normal hecklers. They don't get hammered and scream obscenities at the teams, rather they are the nay-sayers. They watch a team from beginning to end of a season, picking up on all the routines they fall into. For instance, if a team commits an error, you will probably hear "Oh, here we go again!" or "It was just a matter of time." They love the team, so it hurts them that much more when we fail to bring home a victory.

Then there are the "other" scouts. Those guys who bring their briefcase, stopwatch, and radar gun to scout the prospects from each club. You can always tell these guys apart from the rest of the bunch by their outfits. Some sort of lightweight sport material polo shirt, pleated khakis, white tube socks, and running shoes. The accessories vary from case to case. Sometimes you'll see them throw on a full-brimmed gardening hat, or a pair of fancy Oakleys or Ray Bans. I've even seen the occasional suspenders. No lie. If not given away by their attire, then you can always spot them by their "elevated" knowledge of the game. I mean, it is their job to watch and dissect baseball games, but do I really need to hear about it after every pitch?

"23 years I've spent around this game. I've seen the best and worst players to ever play the game...In Person! I've worked for 9 current GM's in the Major Leagues. I've scouted 10 first round picks. I think I know the difference between a curve ball and a change-up. And that, son, was a curve ball."

It was a change up.

There is also a set of rules that we, as charters, have to follow. There is no eating in the stands (unless it's seeds). There is no listening to music while charting (unless it's the national anthem or Cotton Eye Joe). You are not to sit next to your girlfriend, parents, or spouse. And you are to wear a collared shirt and pants. We take liberties with all of the rules here, but especially the last. I think most charters will fall into one of two categories when it comes to our wardrobe in the stands. We either do the bare minimum to pass while cutting a few corners. Like, an old polo shirt, some ratty cargo shorts with a hole right below the butt pocket, and a pair of flip flops. Or, my personal favorite, when a guy throws the charting rule book completely out the window. This is the guy wearing the v-neck Affliction t shirt with 3 chain necklaces. His hair standing surprisingly upright in the summer heat (perhaps you can see the gel dripping off his sweaty head). He is wearing, shorts? or pants? Ok, let's call them Capris just for explanation's sake. If you can't see him, you can smell him. His partner in the ratty cargo shorts lucked out because his B.O. smell is completely overshadowed by guy #2's pungent cologne. Armani? probably.

No matter which camp we are in, all of us are back there for the same reason. Putting in our work and paying our dues, so that hopefully one day soon, someone else will do it for us.

Happy Charting everybody!

The Concept of Home

2011-07-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

It was 10:45 and I had slept through 2 alarms already. Not that there was any real hurry. I mean, I was in a Holiday Inn Express in New Britain, CT. I always tell myself that I'll get up for the free continental breakfast...I never do. I rolled out of bed in my (purposefully) pitch black room and decided I better try to get something to eat. Throwing on my fake Ray Ban Wayfarers and some athletic shorts I began the trudge down the hill to the restaurants. Passing McDonald's, Wendy's, KFC, I came to a favorite of mine, Dunkin Donuts. I walked in, alone. Sat down, alone. And ate my bagel and donut...alone. It got me thinking of my favorite coffee spots back home; back in Atlanta. Octane, the cool hipster hangout with coffee, beer, and local art. Java Vino, my meeting place with my guys on early Monday mornings. Even the local Starbucks by Ashley's mom's house. The one with the deck overlooking little Lake Lucerne. God, how it made me miss home! Thinking about it, though, home was a very transient thing for us at this point. In fact, all minor leaguers struggle with this concept to an extent. Allow me to explain.

Since I made the decision to play professional baseball I've had 13 different mailing addresses, not to mention the 6 different home ballparks that things get sent to as well. There's a list now. A list of every Bill/account we have to notify every time we move, so that we can continue living a semi-normal life. Right now, Ashley and I still have mail coming to at least 4 of those addresses. So which one do we call "Home"? Is it the one that we most recently lived in, have a deposit on, have bills in our name there? Is it the one we live in now, where we pay rent, have a lease, and a bed? Is it our parents' houses? When we aren't in our own apartments we are usually there. Couldn't that count? The point is, there is no such thing as a "home" for us right now. We are migrant, transient workers who call home wherever it is that we lay our heads.

Some guys get the privilege of living at home with their parents in the offseason. I say privilege because that residence isn't likely to change any time soon. They can buy stuff, keep it there, and not worry about paying for it to stay there. They can come back after the season and pick up exactly where they left off. It's not everybody, but it is a privileged few. Then there are those guys who live light. They carry a few bags full of clothes in their car and drive wherever they want to for the offseason. They usually end up staying with "buddies" in some city and workout/party there for a few months til it's time for the season once again. They have very few string attached anywhere and that's the way they like to keep it. Then there's me. I am married...very very happily I might add! So I don't have to think about one residence at a time. I have to think about 2. Where I lay my head at night is usually taken care of either in the form of a hotel or whatever place I can find a room in during the season. My wife, however, doesn't get that option. In order to preserve sanity and foster the remnants of a "normal" life, she has stayed at home during Spring Training the last couple years. She has been responsible for packing up/cleaning/moving out of our offseason apartments. Not just moving it, but putting it all in a storage unit that we pay for during the season. After I find a place for the season, she then comes to wherever I get assigned and lives there with me in our season home. This is still far from ideal, because we are away from friends, family, and local coffee shops. We're away from "home". But how about we throw a wrench in the situation and see what happens to this concept of home.

About a month and a half into the season we were going to head out on an 8 day road trip. Seeing this as an opportunity for Ashley to get home, see friends, and get some work done for her small business, we decided that she would go back to Atlanta and stay with her mom for the road trip. We got to the last day of the road trip and were excited about seeing each other again! Then the news came...I'm going to Double A. Great news, right? Sort of. On one hand we were excited that my career was moving forward and that we could see progress. On the other hand, it meant that Ashley was stuck in limbo between Atlanta, St. Lucie, and Binghamton. The fact that you never know how long you will be in one place didn't help either. I could've be there for one week, 2 weeks, or the rest of the year...you never know. So we decided that we would wait and see if I was staying or not before she packed up (again) and moved to a new home (again). One week turned into 2. Then 4. Then 6 weeks! Every time we thought "ok, we can move now" something else popped up and the reality that it might not be a good choice pushed back our timeline. This past week she finally got up here. She had to fly because she's going back to Atlanta in a couple weeks and driving 1000+ miles in two weeks just didn't seem like a good plan. So there we are, at a house in Binghamton, with no car, none of our friends from Atlanta, and no family. We felt pretty "homeless". But we have each other.

It's not always enough to simply be together. It doesn't change the fact that our stuff is in storage, or that we have a week at the end of the season to find another apartment in Atlanta. It doesn't change the fact that we've seen each other for a whopping 16% of the time since Spring Training. And it definitely doesn't guarantee that we won't have to move again before Sept. 7th. But as of right now, it is the closest thing we have to "home". You begin to realize that this concept of home can be easily attained by putting down physical roots, buying a house, getting a 9-5 job, and playing ALTA tennis. But there is something deeper and more permanent that you can do to realize what home is. You can invest your life in another person, so that wherever you go and whatever you do "home" is never more than a phone call away.

Good Guy Syndrome

2011-06-21T08:17:00.000-07:00

There is no such thing as a good guy. For all of you economists out there, i'll shorten it to TINSTAAGG.

For my entire life, and especially my baseball career, I have been incorrectly labeled a good guy. I didn't drink until I was 21. I didn't smoke any sort of legal or illegal things until recently (still nothing illegal, just my tobacco pipe). I was not quick to start fights or arguments, raise my voice or throw a punch. In fact, I prided myself on the premise that I could be friends with just about anyone. I tried not to be intentionally hurtful to people and understand where they were coming from. A lot of this was from the way I was raised (Kudos to my parents for that), but still a lot of it came from a different place.

Somewhere inside of me was a need to be liked and accepted. This probably stems from being a middle child (yes, i'm aware of the stigmas associated). I was kind to people because of the prospect of them being kind back. I didn't drink, smoke, or fight because it wasn't legal for me at the time. It's almost as if not doing those things afforded me some sort of compensation to do other "less bad" things more often. In the end, it seemed like I was still on the good side of the spectrum. But i've realized as of late (and why I'm writing this) that there seems to be a self-fulfilling prophecy that goes along with this kind of mindset.

The truth about life is (Get ready for it!) bad things happen to people. Friends, family, spouses, neighbors, that guy on the bus; they all let you down at some point. No one, not even the best person, is perfect and incapable of falling short of expectations set on them. This was a problem for me. I spent so much of my time and effort being the "good" guy, that when things didn't go my way (and trust me, they didn't) I wash shocked and appalled. I kept telling myself over and over, "Why did this happen to ME. I'm trying so hard to do everything right and other people just keep screwing me over." Woe Is Me!!!!

I believe I would've been content to stay that way for a long time. But Alas, I could not.

In any and all situations Good Guy Syndrome forces the first thought you have to be about yourself. All other thoughts revolve around that one central thought. Because you spend so much time thinking about yourself (doing things right and making people happy), you lose the reality that the world doesn't revolve around you and your problems. For me, I had to see it in another person for me to realize this tough fact. I saw a person do bad things. I mean bad things that anyone would call bad. But for some reason, instead of calling it what it is and moving forward; they seemed to take 2 steps back and justify why the bad thing happened. As if justification in their wrongs would bring them back closer to "good" status. I saw that and finally realized what I had felt for so long. "I'm that guy!"

I had been trying so hard to do things right for so long. There was this persona...a "good guy"...that I had to live up to. The only problem is that I couldn't do enough good things to keep bad things from happening to me. And every time a bad thing happened it started this cycle of self-pity all over again.

-My job is unfair right now. I work so hard to do things the right way at work, but no one seems to care about that.

-My marriage is hard. I put so much work into making sure that we're doing well, and for whatever reason I just can't catch a break.

-My friends don't care about me as much as they should. I'm the best friend in the world to them and they can't even repay me with a little of their time.

-etc., etc., etc.

These images of my reactions started to play in my head as I realized my disease. It wasn't that I was unusual, or that my situations were worse than everyone else's. It was that when something happened to me, my first reaction was to wonder how that effects me and why it's not fair. It was exhausting!

So I was telling Ashley all of this the other day, relishing in the freeing truth that there is no such thing as a "good guy". I don't have to live like the world is against me. I can just keep doing things the best way I know how and understanding that life isn't always going to go exactly how you planned. I think the better test of a man and his "goodness" is how he can respond to the tough situations that will fall on him. No more self-pity, no more "Woe is me!!", no more disillusionment. I am not a good guy. Who needs all that pressure? I'm just Collin. And I'm ok with that.

Winning and Losing: Part 2

2011-06-15T10:53:00.000-07:00

Freedom.

There's something about this word that evokes emotion out of a man (or woman. I'm not sexist). We cherish the idea of freedom in this country. Freedom of press. Freedom of speech. Freedom to bear arms (thanks NRA). For whatever reason, we cling to this as our inherent right...To be free. But how many of us truly live in this reality?

As I was talking about in my last post, I've gotten a new sense of what it means to play baseball. To be free from the self-induced and outside stresses that make the game into something it was never meant to be. It's a refreshing realization that I'm hoping seeps into every aspect of my life. But i'll ask it again...How many of us really embrace the freedom we have in our lives? Jobs become something more than they were intended to be. Whereas you might have started working because you liked it and you felt like a part of something bigger than yourself. Perhaps now it's just a means to an end. A way for you to make some money and afford those vacations you've wanted. Think about it this way...if you work 8 hours a day 5 days a week 50 weeks a year, that's 2,000 hours a year. Can you look at that and say "I'm satisfied/fulfilled with the way i'm spending those 2000 hours?"

The idea of taking away the power Winning and Losing has over us isn't just a baseball concept for me right now. It's a HUGE part of my Marriage. I like to be right and I hate being wrong. Very similar to winning and losing, no? I do whatever I can to make Ashley happy and satisfied, hoping that my "score" is moving in the right direction. I figure if I can rack up enough good-husband points then she will be happy, and I will have won at marriage. Big Mistake. You see, I'm not very skilled at racking up good-husband points. And even if I was, the number I need to win keeps getting higher and higher and I keep falling more and more behind. Where's the freedom in being married like that? I've realized that the freedom comes, not in doing enough things to keep her happy, but in knowing her on a deeper level everyday. You see, when you take the time and effort to know someone more deeply, you figure out what makes them tick. Not flowers, candy, mushy letters (although those can be good things); But really seeing them. Taking time to remember they exist. Asking about their emotions. Listening. Being spontaneous when possible, not just when convenient.

I believe that these last few weeks have been hard for a reason. They've shown Ashley and I that baseball is a game. Our marriage is not. Winning and Losing happens, but who cares. God is good and gracious even though we can be really thick-headed. And that life is too short to worry about things out of your control. Who knows what will happen in the next week. I could be moved across the country...again. I could be released and head back home. I could get hurt. There are too many variables to make an accurate prediction on anything in Minor League baseball. But I know this; When it's over and I can look back at my career, I won't see how many championships I won or games that i've lost. I will see the relationships I formed and how I grew as man and as a husband.

That freedom is oh-so-satisfying.

It's not about Winning or Losing...

2011-06-13T20:11:00.000-07:00

While talking to my wise and deep thinking wife, Ashley, the idea of winning and losing came up.

I am a winner...or at least I want to be. I don't like losing in just about anything in my life. Making good grades was important to me, not because I wanted to go ivy league or anything but because I wanted to be better than all the other kids at it. Playing sports was not something that me (nor my family) took lightly either. I loved to play sports; baseball, basketball, soccer AND especially ping pong. My older brother and I have played ping pong since I was 7 and he was about 12 or 13. He used to absolutely wear me out. He'd beat me constantly. 7-0. 11-1. left handed. while eating a sandwich. You name it, he'd beaten me that way. But I remember the one day when I was about 13 that everything changed. We got down to the end of a close match, the time in the game when he would typically turn it on and beat me with his eyes closed. But that didn't happen this time. On this occasion I won! I remember the bewildered look on his face and the shock at what I had done...and the fear that he might hit me or throw the paddle at me or something. I'm pretty sure we just put our paddles down and went back upstairs, but it was a big moment for me. It had made me realize that I could win..and that I liked winning. After that I began playing my younger brother in ping pong and beating him the same way I'd been beaten earlier. I won. I got used to winning. I liked it.

As baseball started getting more serious (high school, college, pro ball) so did my need to win. I "wanted" to win a state championship in HS. I "really wanted" to win a national championship at Berry. But since beginning pro ball my "want" had turned into more of a "need". I no longer simply wanted to win, I felt like if I didn't win, if I didn't progress, then my life of playing baseball would be kinda worthless. That all of the work I'd put into this game would be for naught. I could feel myself getting less and less satisfied with playing the game, and more dependent on winning the games and improving my status in the organization for fulfillment. I still loved pitching, but it had become so diluted with this need to win that it was a vague remnant of what I loved doing when I was growing up. This needed to be remedied...

Ashley has told me this before. That I have a weird need to be the best at everything I do. I need to be the best worker, best son, best pitcher, best husband. She said that simply being good at all of those things isn't good enough for me. It's kind of true. I saw it as a good thing. I mean, if being great (better than anyone else) is a bad thing, I couldn't see it. It pushed me to work hard. It made it hard for me to let my guard down, keeping me from potential bad decisions. It made me keep to a higher standard. However, this standard was both unrealistic and unfocused on God. It was a line in the sand that I had created and was constantly erasing and redrawing after each failure. Ashley would ask me "why don't you let someone else be the best in the world at something?"

The last few weeks, as I mentioned earlier in the blog, has been tough. I've come to a lot of realizations about myself, my marriage, and about the way I play baseball. The reality of the fleeting nature of baseball careers has become really evident to me lately. I don't know how many days I have left to play this game, and to spend it worrying about whether my time in it has been a success or failure, a win or loss, isn't doing the game (or my life) justice. All this to say, I pitched the other day and it was something I haven't felt in a long long time. I felt completely happy and content to be simply pitching. Not worried about winning or losing. Giving up runs or throwing shutouts. ERA or WHIP. Just enjoying the act and art of pitching.

And guess what...I threw really well. I don't know exactly where I heard it first, but I think it's a pretty true statement. It really isn't about winning or losing. It's about how you play the game.

Learning Curves

2011-06-08T19:59:00.000-07:00

I'm two weeks into Double A (not going to refer to it as AA anymore. Apparently there's something else that has dibs on that abbreviation). I've seen the great things about it and I've seen the challenging things about it. Let's start with the good...

The food is way better. Not that it's that difficult to be better than the food I've had in the past couple years, but it's a step in the right direction. We don't just have spreads after BP and after games, we have snacks. There's pudding, granola bars, ramen noodles, fresh fruit, oatmeal, coffee, powerade, spaghettios, juices, etc. I know this doesn't sound like a lot (it isn't) but for those of us who are used to only PB&J, it's nice. The service is much better as well. We have clubbies, both home and away, who give a damn about you. They have apparently realized at this level that they are getting paid to serve the players...and they get rewarded nicely for it. Clubhouse dues are steeper, but the bump up in service makes it well worth it. In general, you are treated more like adults than at any level previous. It's kinda refreshing. On to the challenging.

The hitters aren't necessarily that much more talented, they're just more seasoned. They've seen pitchers for a couple years longer and have a better approach at the plate. They're not afraid to get to two strikes and make you work. They hit the ball more consistently because they choose their pitches more cautiously. It's no longer just one or two guys in a line up who can hurt you. It's a big league type line up with speed and power. All that to say, I pitched pretty well against my first Double A lineup. I didn't over do it and I didn't try to change what I do well. I just did it better. The second time out I faced the other challenging aspect...umpires.

The umpires aren't bad. They still miss calls and they still can be inconsistent, but they keep a tighter strike zone. As the hitters have seen more pitches coming through the ranks, so have these umpires. They move up just like we do and hone their skills in the same fashion. My second outing I nibbled on the corners and got burned. Ball one. Ball two. Whereas in Low or High A I could usually get away with one of those pitches if I was consistently hitting that spot, here I was getting what I deserved...behind in the count. When I get behind in the count (as i mentioned earlier) the hitters get that much better. I gave up 4 er in 4.1 innings on 90 pitches. As I mentioned on my Twitter account, there is a learning curve here. I can see what I need to do to be successful, now I must simply execute. Easier said than done, right.

Minor league baseball is still as challenging as ever. The travel is hard. Long bus rides in cramped seats. Day games after extra inning night games. Hotel beds, your bed, back to hotel beds. Sore backs. Being away from your significant others...Ashley. It's hard. Fun, but hard. I still have no idea how long I will be up here for. I could pitch great and get sent back down, pitch bad and stay here, or any other combination of pitching and moving. It's in God's hands, not mine. It's hard to relinquish control over my career, but it seems to be the best option every time I do. We can adapt. We always do. But someday it will be over, and so far I can say I've given it my all. In the end, that's all we can ask for.

The Grass is Always Greener in AA

2011-05-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

I know that it's been a while since I posted last. I also know that I said I would try to be better keeping it up. 0 for 2.

Daytona: Jackie Robinson Ballpark

Anyway, It's been a roller coaster to say the least. This last week especially. Ashley left to go home to Atlanta as we left to go on an 8 day road trip to Tampa and Daytona. We had already lost our last 2 heading into the road trip, so we decided to keep that train rolling and lose 7 of our next 8. Losing sucks, but that's not the half of it. I can stand losing if we play well (more specifically, if I pitch well), but that's not the story of that road trip. We played pretty bad. Pitched inefficiently, hit anemically, made errors...it was rough. So we came home from the road trip ready to see our own beds, play in our own (non wind-aided) ballpark, and get back to playing well. And that's just what happened. We played the first 2 games against Dunedin like the team we are supposed to be. It was good to get back on track. But I digress...

As for me personally, it was a long long road trip. I got the start against Tampa in game 2 of the series. I threw 4 innings, 98 pitches. For any of you doing the math...that's not good. I gave up a few runs and we lost the game. It was my 3rd or 4th consecutive outing where I just didn't perform that well. I felt good. I was striking guys out. I felt "inspired" out there. But I just couldn't get the job done all the way. The first day of the Daytona series our pitching coach Phil Regan came to me and let me know that I would be moving to the bullpen for a while. "A while" in minor league terms ranges from "until tomorrow" to "you're never starting again". So that was not exactly comforting news. I threw in the bullpen that night. 3 innings, 3 runs...ugh To top it all off, Ashley was back in Atlanta for another 3 weeks and I was needing my best friend now more than ever. We talked on the phone, but I was ready to see her again. We had decided that she was gonna come down a couple days ago, a little bit early from her trip home...we needed it! I was excited about it and so was she. We got done with our second game back home and I sat down to eat just like I do every night. After winning the game the atmosphere was light in the clubhouse and our victory song was playing. Then I heard it...

"Is Mac gone yet?"

"No, he's right here."

"Mac, come see me in my office." Pedro said.

My heart dropped. The only thing that I could deserve at this point was a plane ticket to Savannah and a pity pat on the back. I walked in to see our pitching coordinator, pitching coach, and Pedro our manager sitting in the office. I knocked sheepishly, hoping that maybe no one would hear me and I could just slip out like this never happened. They heard. Pedro motioned me over, put his arm around my shoulder and said "You're going to be heading up to Binghamton."

WHAT!!??

They told me that I was pitching the second game of a double header on tuesday up there and then staying to help out in the bullpen for "a while". They told me that since I could pitch out of the pen and start, I would be an asset to the team up there. This was unexpected to say the least. My goal for the year was to end up in AA. It's May 30 and I'm already here. The grass isn't literally greener, in fact it's not as nice as PSL. But it is nice to see progress in a job where progress isn't always linear. Did I deserve it? Probably not. But you can be damn sure that I plan on taking full advantage of the opportunity. God works in strange ways. Well, strange ways to us. I'm sure they're perfectly normal ways to Him.

My new (old) house in Binghamton, NY

So here I am in Binghamton, NY. AA ball for the NY Mets. It's kinda surreal. Tomorrow it gets very real. More to come on this...much more.

Month One Recap

2011-05-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

Our game of cards on GetAwayDay

We're officially into the 2nd month of the 6 month-long season. It's kind of amazing that it's only been a month, what with all the winning...then losing. Yeah, we started out 17-2 and have skidded to a 4-8 record over our last 12. Not only has the team been on a roller coaster of sorts, but so have I.

I began my season with 2 solid 5 inning efforts giving up just 2 earned runs. Since then I've given up a few more (17 to be exact). What's changed, you say? To be honest, I'm not sure anything has. In fact, I feel better now about my stuff and my delivery than I have all year. I guess you have to chalk it up to baseball being baseball. "You win some. You lose some. Nobody's perfect."

It's such a cliché, but it's true. As ballplayers, we can't afford to get wrapped up in how good (or how bad) we're doing. The season is too long, the game is too difficult, and it's all just too damn unpredictable. We do our best to control the outcomes that are within our realm of control, but you just can't control everything. Talking to Phil Regan, our pitching coach, he said just that. "Mac, you can't control everything. I know you want to...just listen. All you can control is what pitch you wan to to throw, your delivery, and how the ball comes out of you hand." He was right. I can't control the flight of the ball through the air. The air exerts its own force on the ball to make it do something unique. I can't control how the catcher catches it. He's the one wearing the mit. I definitely can't control what the hitter does, whether he hits it over the fence or misses it by 2 feet. When I focus on the things I can control the game seems to slow down. It becomes easier and it allows me to focus more intensely on what I am doing. Mono e mono. Pitcher vs. hitter. The battle of good vs. evil. Ok, I'm a bit biased. Not all hitters are evil...just the ones in the lineup that day.

So let's chalk up the first month to a learning experience. Or a warm up. Or whatever. It's over and now it's time to get back to work. You know what they say. April showers bring May shutouts. Or something like that.

Andy Hull, Manchester Orchestra, and Me

2011-05-05T09:34:00.000-07:00

Ashley and I have been listening to Manchester Orchestra's new Album, Simple Math (listen to it here). It's good...really good. The album has depth, it's kinda hard to listen to, and it makes you stop what you're doing to just enjoy it. All good things when it comes to making an album. But it got me thinking about Andy, the band's front man, and his journey to where the band is now.

As a kind of chubby (ok, very chubby) 8th grader, I made friends immediately with the new kid from Toronto, Andy Hull. His dad and mine were both former pastors, we both played basketball, and we both had a love for music. We hung out over at his house and I got to listen to him play guitar renditions of Weezer...I sang back up. Even then, however, I knew that he was gonna be famous. He had that je ne sais quoi. He didn't really care what anyone said about his ego or his music, he just kept doing it...and it kept getting better. It's almost as if, despite his propensity to be an asshole, people fell in love with his music and, more specifically, his on-stage persona. Andy knew what he wanted to be. Everyone did.

At that time, I was playing JV baseball for Providence Christian Academy. I pitched, slowly. I ran, slowly. I played, rarely. As confident as Andy was in his music, I was equally self-conscious in my baseball abilities. Playing in the Big Leagues (Hell, even playing in college) seemed like a distant dream. After my 8th grade year I began to develop a little bit physically and as a ball player. I began throwing harder. I pitched in my first varsity game. I gave up my first varsity home run...on my first varsity pitch. Ouch! Andy and I began to drift into distinctly different groups. He started his first band (East on Autry, I think) and I started playing ball more competitively with the thought of actually playing in college somewhere. I got my scholarship to play at Berry College and Andy got his record deal and released his first album. I know that you can't really compare careers in such different areas, but it always felt like Andy was one step ahead of me.

I played in college, I played in Cape Cod, I started getting some hype. I felt like I was on my way to being famous (my not-so-secret desire). Then I looked around to see what Andy was up to. They had released their album to solid reviews, toured around around the country, around Europe, around Australia. They were getting good press and bad press...but they were getting it none-the-less. They were recording their second full length album. I heard some of the tracks, they were really good. I saw a couple of their shows. Andy was contagious on stage. His energy was palpable and his ego was very very visible. He spit on a guy in the crowd for talking. He was an ass, people loved it. Everything inside of me wanted to dislike the band. Andy and I weren't friends anymore. My new girlfriend, Ashley, was on the outs with him and his friends. He was beating me to famous. I hated it. But I couldn't help it, the music was too good and Andy was too interesting to me.

I got drafted in '08. I was now a pro ballplayer and on my way to the Bigs (it's a longer road than I originally thought). I got married to Ashley. Things were looking up! Andy got married too, they got their own record label, he released a solo album, I heard him on the radio for the first time. Ugh. Yet still, when any of my baseball buddies heard the band and asked about them, I always talked about them being old high school friends of mine. Do we talk still? No. Are we actually friends? No. But there was something about Andy and the band that made me want them to succeed. Maybe if they succeeded it meant that I would follow close behind. Whatever the reason, I was their biggest promoter in Minor League Baseball.

Now Andy and Manchester have released their 3rd full length album, their best yet in my opinion. I'm in High A with the Mets. Andy seems to have mellowed out a little bit, matured in his song writing, and still puts on a killer show. I think I'm learning how to pitch a little bit more and I'm closer than ever to being in the Bigs. He's famous, I'm not. But honestly, I couldn't be happier for him. I remember those days when he would play his Fender in the basement with the dream of selling out venues all over the world. He's accomplished that. His attitude, while off-putting at times, never accepted the idea that maybe it just wouldn't work out. He was focused, intense, and passionate about doing what he loved. As much as I wanted to hate him, he's inspired me to be better at what I do. Who knows, maybe one day we can be friends again. Maybe when we're both famous, sitting on our yachts, drinking and remembering when we were mere commoners (thanks for that reference Royal Family), we'll be friends again. Who knows.

Either way I want to take this opportunity to say...Thanks Andy. Best of luck. And this new album is great.

Week 2 in the Books

2011-04-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

If you saw my tweet from the other day then you know that this is the time of year where a ballplayer's body is fighting itself...hard. Our minds have gotten into the routine of playing/throwing everyday; unfortunately, our bodies (or maybe just mine) is still lagging behind. Between sleeping on different beds 3-4 days a week, riding on a bus for hours at a time, lifting/throwing/running, my whole body is feeling very very middle-aged (no offense to you actual middle-agers).

I know that my body will adjust and get itself back on track, I'm just hoping I can hold out until then. Unlike high school or college ball where every game is the most important game and you prepare like there's no tomorrow, in pro ball you have to prepare like there's 140 more games to go. You learn to take days off from throwing or abbreviate your conditioning program where you can. Not because you're lazy or don't feel like working that day, but because you know your body better than anyone else. You know what the threshold is for your muscles and joints and you can't push the envelope everyday without risking the rest of your season. I've always known how to play hard...it's something you learn at an early age. I've had to learn, however, how to play/train smart.

On a semi-related note, we're now 10-2. On a totally unrelated note, it's awesome to have Big Leaguers in the clubhouse. We have a couple with us this week, Jason Bay and Ronnie Paulino. Both are total gentlemen. They treat us like equals, with respect. They joke around with us, play ping pong with us, and buy us dinner every once in a while. I can understand the temptation for guys like that to come in and feel like it is below them to get involved with the team, so I really respect these guys for being down-to-earth...real people, not just Big Leaguers. I'll take this chance to thank them both again for the killer post game spreads and thanks for setting a great example of how to play the game with class.

Also, just thought I'd throw in a picture of my frightening wife. The noodle sword and noodle mase at Target kept us entertained for exactly 3 minutes...Well Worth It!!!

First Week in the FSL

2011-04-13T20:16:00.000-07:00

Matt Harvey pitching in Ft. Myers this week

We made it through the first week of the Florida State League season cruising to a record of 6 -1. We've been pitching really well, hitting the ball decently, and winning...duh. I'm no rookie when it comes to getting out of the gates fast. In Brooklyn (2009) we started out like 23-2. In Savannah last year we started out in first and led the division most of the 1st half. This year, maybe i'm getting over-confident, but I kinda expect to succeed early and often.

We've all heard the old adage "good pitching beats good hitting." Well, it's true. If you don't give up runs, you give your team a chance to win each night. If you give up a bunch of runs it makes it immensely harder for hitters to play from behind. We've been holding the opponents to very few runs, freeing our hitters up to play loose...and score runs. The trick is to keep this going for an entire season. I've seen success early, but i've also seen droughts somewhere in the middle of each season. They happen. They key is to minimize them and spread them out over the long season. If we can stay healthy, I think we have a good chance to do just that.

I'm in a weird funk right now in my bullpens. I can't seem to get a good rhythm making the usually easy side sessions down right frustrating at the moment. I keep watching guys on TV and my teammates go out there and make pitching look so easy. I think to myself "why can't I just go out there and do that?" It's one of those weird mental things that goes along with pitching. I'll get over it and figure it out. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Come back sinker...please!

Bound For South Florida

2011-04-01T17:03:00.000-07:00

I made the St. Lucie Mets opening day roster for 2011. I guess it's kind of a formality for most people who were told that's "probably" where I'd end up, but for me there's no such thing as a formality in Minor League Baseball.

Everyday we are fighting for a limited number of spots on both the Major League and 4 long-season Minor League rosters. We can be moved around at will...like chess pieces. We get paid less than minimum wage for the hours we put in. We are commodities that can be traded for other commodities or simply discarded without any heads up. There is, what we like to call in the economics world, scarcity.

All Spring Training I have been doing everything I can possibly do to ensure myself of a spot in the St. Lucie starting rotation. I knew full-well that there were more starting pitchers than rotation spots and that I was relatively low on the "prospect" totem pole. At the same time, I know that I can compete with anyone, so I wasn't surprised when I got the nod for the 5th starting spot down here. I was very pleased, don't get me wrong! But not surprised.

For me, the most important mental aspect of baseball is confidence. We have to believe that we are capable of whatever is placed in front of us, even if we never get there. The reality of the situation is that not all of us will get there, and not all of us who get there will stay there. But we have to be ready if the circumstance presents itself. I was fortunate today that the opportunity presented itself. There were many guys who had prepared just as hard as I did that didn't get the spot they wanted. It is now my responsibility to capitalize on the chance I've been given.

I'm looking forward to it!

A Spring Training Battle

2011-03-30T17:30:00.001-07:00

I threw again today. It may very well be my last outing before the season gets up and running on the 6th. I was slated to go 4 innings if my pitch count allowed. I went all 4 in 46 pitches.

Looking at the line of the day (4 inn. 1 hit. 1 run. 3 BB. 1 HBP. 1 K. 8 groundball outs) you might be able to make some sort of judgement about the outing. Perhaps I was effectively wild? Maybe I was getting squeezed by the umpire yet still making good pitches? The truth is, I was all over the place.

My fastball was uncharacteristically wild, cutting on occasion and sinking out of sight on others. That's usually a good thing...if you know when it will happen. I didn't. I threw 3 balls to the backstop including 2 more in warmups. My curveball was decent at times and my change up got me a couple of weak swings, but my saving grace today was my newfound Cutter. I was able to throw it early in counts and get groundballs , late in the count getting my one punchout, and hang it over the heart of the plate for my lone hit. It was a tale of two outings...the line was good, the performance was shaky.

Pitching coach Ricky Bones said to us in a meeting last week that "if you have 30 starts a year the breakdown will look like this. 5 where you're untouchable. 5 where you can't get your own grandmother out. And 20 where your stuff is average, forcing you to battle for a W or roll over for an L."

Today was one of the starts in the middle. These are the days that define a season, a career even. You get 20 games every year where you are in a dog fight for pitch 1 to 100+. I didn't have great stuff today. In fact I would venture to say it was downright bad at times, but I was determined to make it through my 4 innings and give my team a chance to win this Spring Training game where they weren't even keeping score. I did my job and I was proud to do it. My bullpen session in a couple days will be my chance to refine and adjust, but on the hill in the game you aren't working on things...you're getting people out! I'll throw better in the future, but for today I did all I could.

This might be one of those weeks for you. You know, if you get 52 weeks in a year 12 will be great, 12 will be terrible and out of your control, but it's the other 28 weeks that you have the choice to make it good/bad. Don't let this year be a losing season for you. Go out and battle through the hard weeks and relish the good ones...This makes the bad ones that much more tolerable.

Stick Your Landing

2011-03-28T13:33:00.001-07:00

When I think of the phrase "stick your landing", I think of Kerri Strug in the Atlanta Olympics. She flew through the air, twisting and turning off of the vault, and landed perfectly on a broken ankle. She stuck it when she had to.

We use this phrase in pitching, too. When a pitcher finishes his delivery and lands out over his front leg, the best case scenario is to stick that landing and let your back leg fly over and land right next to it. Ideally landing you square to home plate. Some pitchers do this well. Greg Maddux. Kenny Rodgers. Chris Carpenter. Some pitchers don't.

Bob Gibson threw harder than most people ever have, but it wasn't always graceful like mad dog. He twisted and turned and when he landed he had so much momentum that his back side flung his entire body of to the first base side of the mound. He still managed to get guys out though. I'm not Bob Gibson. Although my landing has a tendency to be wild and exaggerated just like his, I would be better suited to stick my landing and improve my command. Don't worry...I'm working on it.

This made me think of life in those terms. Am I content to stick my landing when it comes to the decisions in my life, or am I always trying to get a little bit extra out of every situation, sending my life flailing out of direction? When I try to overthrow it doesn't do me any good. I don't throw any harder, I have worse command, worse movement, and find myself in a bad fielding position afterwards. Isn't that kinda what we do in life. We try for that extra little bit of money or temporary satisfaction only to sacrifice certain things. Deep fulfilling relationships. Loyalty. Rest. Love. We go go go and find ourselves in a bad position when life hits something back at us. Gaining something temporary has not only been futile, but it has also forfeited us the chance to make the play and get the out. I mean, isn't that what pitching is all about...getting outs?

Let's all do ourselves a favor. Slow it down. Be content with what you've been blessed with. Stick your landing. Make the play.

Who Cares?

2011-03-26T16:55:00.000-07:00

I didn't throw so well today.

Who Cares?

1) It's Spring Training. 2) I've been throwing really well up until now. 3) Bad conditions. 4) IT'S SPRING TRAINING.

There are a couple things to work on when I get to the park tomorrow...just like there is everyday. So I threw badly today. Who cares? Let's try it again tomorrow.

Spring Training Outings #1 & 2

2011-03-22T18:30:00.000-07:00

So I have waited until now to post on my first outings of Spring training. It's not that I'm superstitious, it's just nice to have a larger sample from which to make some observations.

Let's set some scenery for my performances thus far. After the position players got here on March 12 they split us up into four groups. There are 4 long season teams...four groups...you get where I'm going. I was placed in group 2 with most of the AA guys and a few guys slotted for A+ ball this year. In my mind it was pretty clear that I was in the latter category. Still, it was nice to be around some of the older guys in camp and become a sponge. I worked out and threw my bullpens and Live BP sessions with the AA group. I felt pretty good about that.

Onto the actual performances.

2 bullpens. Good command. Good level of effort (no bullpen should be more than 75% in my opinion). Decent action on my pitches, but who cares...it's early.

2 live BP sessions. First time throwing to minor league hitters (I threw to HS hitters before i got to ST. A big thanks to my Providence guys). Anxious to see how hitters would react to my stuff. I was better than I expected to be. Nothing makes you feel better than throwing to hitters who haven't seen live pitching in 6 months. Collin (1) - Hitters (0).

First outing. Against the Florida Marlins AA/A+ team in Jupiter, FL. I have been working on controlling my nerves by controlling my breathing. Long deep breaths. Focus on something small. I took the hill for my first 2 innings of the Spring remarkably calm and confident. My performance reflected the same. 2 innings. 0 runs. 1 hit. 0 BB. 2 K's. I threw all 4 of my pitches for strikes and attacked the hitters early. Oh, and my arm felt good not great.

Second outing. Against the St. Louis Cardinals AA team again in Jupiter, FL (they share a complex down there). This was a true AA team. I have now been bumped to group 3, or the A+ team. They created a 5th group for those players who will be in Extended Spring Training (woof...), so some players got bumped down from each group to more accurately reflect Opening Day rosters. As expected, I was moved to the A+ group. No bitterness. Only contentment. Anyway, it was nice to still pitch against AA hitters even if I wasn't in their group anymore. I had 3 innings this outing and was throwing after my buddy, Brandon Moore. He went his 3 and it was now my turn. 3 innings. 0 hits. 0 runs. 1 BB. 1 HBP. 1 K...Sorry 'bout it.

I'm two outings into camp and feeling very confident in my ability to pitch. More than that, however, I feel very content in the place God has me. He's been teaching my the importance of resting in Him and trusting where I cannot see the end...it's called Faith. I don't claim to be good at it, but I am getting more comfortable with it.

Isaiah 26:15 - "You have enlarged the nation, LORD; you have enlarged the nation. You have gained glory for yourself; you have extended all the borders of the land."

Rosa and I

2011-03-13T15:47:00.000-07:00

Her name is Rosa.

She has been cleaning my room at the team hotel for the past 3 years. She's seen my dirty underwear. She's dusted under my hidden stash of Kit Kat bars. She's cleaned my throw-up sheets after a particularly rough night that first year. We have a special bond.

Rosa is from Havana, Cuba, loves the color pink, and LOVES the midday Spanish soap operas on univision. She speaks a little english and I speak even less Spanish, so we use a lot of sign language (not the real kind, but rather the universal ones like eat, clean, and throw-up) and spanglish. She wears big horn rimmed glasses and has a haircut that is a throwback to what I imagine Havana was like in the 20s. Wavy and shiny, always shimmering with a fancy looking brooch.

Today we saw each other for the first time this ST. We walked by each other going down the hallway. I'm sure each of us were thinking the same thing, "Do you think they remember who I am?" After a moment of courtesy smiles, she broke the awkwardness. She let out a big "Ooooooo!!" It kinda scared me, but I couldn't help but smile and say "Hola, señora!" I was expecting her to reply similarly and continue on her way. She didn't.

She cozied over to me in the middle of the hallway speaking softly to me in Spanish that I didn't understand. It sounded nice though. She put her tiny little arm around me and gave me a hug, not out of necessity but because we've shared some things. I like to think it's because I took the time to get to know as much about her as I could my first year, but it's far more likely that she's just a sweet woman.

Any woman that has seen my dirty undies and vomit sheets and can still give me a hug is OK in my book! Thanks for everything Rosa.

Getting Bumped

2011-03-10T13:29:00.000-08:00

We had our first torrential downpour today. It lasted all of 20 minutes, but with the ferocity that Florida rains are known for the fields were drenched. Thankfully my group was done with our work for the day (minus a couple sprints, but who's gonna cry over that). Unfortunately though, some of the pitchers that were scheduled to throw their first live BP session got bumped.

To the untrained ear that might not seem like much of anything, but to a pitcher that's the sound of setbacks. As pitchers we are both blessed and cursed to be able to throw only once every few days. We can't take BP everyday like hitters. We can't catch 20 bullpens a day like catchers. We only get a certain time period (usually a very slim window) to get our "work" in. On non-game days that means simply picking up a ball and playing catch. On game/bullpen/live BP days, though, you hope beyond hope that everything will stay on track until you get your throwing in. Clouds start to creep in, the normally warm florida wind grabs a chill, and you know that your time is running out. There's a whole line of pitchers ahead of you who get to throw before you. Their palms aren't sweating, why would they be? They're going to be fine. But not you...you take the mound as the first drop of rain settles on the brim of your cap. Telling yourself it's nothing, you shake it off and continue your warm-up throws. The misty precipitation turns into beads, which turns into drops, which turns into sheets of rain. You scramble back to the clubhouse with the rest of the camp thinking "Damn, almost made it." In reality, you got bumped. You threw just enough not to be ready to go again tomorrow, but not enough to go on your regularly scheduled rest.

One time isn't that bad, you get back on your rotation after a week or so. But, if like so many of us, it happens multiple times during ST, you could conceivably lose an entire outing. You could've gotten pushed back so many times that you actually get a week behind. Which means one or two less outings than the next guy. In a world where we "work" only once every five days, losing an outing is miserable...not a death wish, but disheartening for sure.

On a bright note, I'm throwing tomorrow and it looks like 0% chance of rain. Funny how that happens. Thanks God!

Soreness

2011-03-08T14:59:00.001-08:00

My legs hurt.

It's not that I didn't work out or prepare for Spring Training. In fact I prepared well, pitched well in my first bullpen, and out-ran most of my teammates in conditioning yesterday. It's just that you can't replicate standing around in spikes for 5 hours a day in the Florida heat, while you're sitting in your living room in Atlanta. I spent my last week in Atlanta spending time with my wonderful wife, not preparing my feet for the pounding that ST brings. Therefore, my legs hurt.

The great thing is that everyone is in the same boat. We're all shuffling around the hotel moaning and groaning with each step. Inevitably things will get easier. We'll get more used to the long days, and the fatigue will slowly melt away. My goal is simple...pitch well. Despite all soreness and distractions that could be used as a crutch for not pitching great, there is no excuse. There are roughly 80 pitchers fighting for 48 long season roster spots, and you can be sure no one is going to simply give one to me. I have to earn it just like everyone else.

So my sore legs may hobble my stride down the hall but they won't hobble my chances this season.

Hello Again

2011-03-05T18:32:00.000-08:00

I just got into town...Port St. Lucie, FL. Mets Minor League Spring Training 2011.

It's always interesting to me to see how ballplayers react to seeing each other for the first time after an entire offseason. Presumably life has been relatively the same for most guys. Same routine. Same hometown. Same haircut (baseball players tend to stick to what works for them when it comes to hair).

But it's very possible that things could've changed drastically. More than one guy got engaged over the 6 month break. Some have had surgery, moved across country, gotten a new car (usually bigger or gaudier). However, baseball players tend to gravitate toward what they know. Meaning that most guys greet each other for the first time the exact same way they said goodbye the year before. It's a handshake and a bro-hug. "Hey man!", "What's up bro?", "Que paso?", "Tranquilo!".

It's all the same. It's all familiar. That's the way we like it. It allows us to let go of all the baggage that builds up over an offseason and simply do what we know best. Play ball!

Spring Training Crash Course

2011-03-03T09:18:00.000-08:00

Spring Training for us Minor Leaguers (pitchers and catchers) is just on the horizon...literally. Like tomorrow. I've been getting a lot of questions over the past month about what Spring Training is like.

"Who all is down there?"

"What team are you gonna be on this year?"

"Are you going back to Savannah again? I mean you liked it down there right?"

"When will you figure out where you're going?"

etc., etc., etc.

I think a Spring Training crash course is in order. Allow me to expound.

Spring Training (abbreviated ST from now on because I'm not a good typer) is roughly one month long; spanning from March 5 to April 3. The Mets ST complex is located in Port St. Lucie, Florida. It's 45 minutes north of West Palm Beach on the Atlantic side. 2 hours north of Miami for a South Beach reference. They've been there for over 25 years, every spring. At our complex we have 5 full size ball fields situated in a group behind the big stadium (where our High A team plays during the season). We have 2 smaller fields consisting of just an infield and pitcher's mound that we use for drills. There are 20 bullpen mounds scattered throughout the complex and 10 batting cages complete with pitching machines in each. We have a large locker room/training room/weight room/cafeteria for the 180 or so minor leaguers at camp, and the Major League guys stay in their locker room over at the big stadium.

The Big League guys do their workouts in the morning before 11, presumably so that they can play their games in the early afternoon. In reality though, they get their stuff done in the mornings so that they can play golf all afternoon and maybe catch some fish at the local ponds. Rough life. We do our workouts after them, usually about 10:30 to 4:30, in the heat of the Florida midday. You can usually count on a 15-20 minute rain shower somewhere in that time slot. We get our work in, eat lunch, and then come back out to play games in the afternoon. If we're not playing that day we usually have to watch the other games and do some sort of pitching chart for them. If we get to leave early...GOLF!! You can usually get 9 holes in if you leave at 4:00, but if you leave at 2:00 then 18 holes is a definite possibility.

We live in one of a few places. Either in the Hotel that the organization puts us up in, the condo complex just behind the hotel if we're big shots, or in our own apartment if we're married/really big shots. Yes, I'm married, but since my wife isn't coming down until the end of ST I'm living in the hotel. Trust me, it's easier than trying to find an apartment on our own for a month, then doing it all over again once the season starts. Truth #956 about the minor leagues: MOVING SUCKS.

So what team am I gonna be on? Believe me, If I knew I would tell you. The fact of the matter is that no one really knows what team they will be on until the day they post the rosters the last day of ST (kinda like in High School tryouts). You can try to guess where you'll be based on how you did last year, how you did during ST this year, and how you stack up against the competition, but the hard truth is no one knows for sure. People get hurt, traded, released, and retire. Any one of these things along with plenty more excuses have a ripple effect all the way down. If a big leaguer gets hurt then a AAA guy will replace him, then you need someone to replace the AAA guy...you get the progression. So I can say with about 0% certainty that I should start out in St. Lucie playing for our High A team this season, which is one level higher than Savannah where I played last season. But I guess we'll see.

All we can really do is play hard, try to stay healthy, and realize that God is the only one in control of this roller coaster. I truly believe that I will play Major League baseball, whether this year, the next, or a few down the road. I'm in good hands. That's enough for me now.

I'll keep posting from ST starting on Sunday. Like it or not, you're gonna get a first hand look at what it's like down there. Buckle in.

New Gloves and Old Gloves

2011-02-25T12:40:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was one of those days that you love as a baseball player. New Stuff Day!!

Whether it's the smell of fresh glove leather, picking stuffed tissue paper out of the toes of new cleats, or even a brand new pair of (unworn and therefore un-smelly) sliding shorts, getting new stuff does something to us. As a minor leaguer especially, there aren't a whole lot of perks, and the separation between you and Mr. Big Leaguer is quite vast. But not on this day...on this day both of you are on the same level. The orange Nike shoe box is just as bright. The gloves are just as pleasantly unbroken-in. Whether, like me, your stuff gets in before Spring Training so that you relish it on your own, or they get sent straight to your locker at ST so that players all around you crane their necks to get a peek at your surprise, it's quite a rush.

My new glove got in yesterday. Wilson A2000. Same model as last year's mit, just shinier and less pliable. I'm gonna be honest, I bought last year's glove because I saw Greg Maddux wearing it in a braves photo magazine. Nostalgia, I guess. Anyway, I've come to realize that this glove makes all other gloves obsolete. It's the perfect weight (not too heavy, not to light), perfect length (11.75 in.), perfect color (All Black), and the perfect fit because of it's adjustable dial. It's got a great pocket that neither you nor the hitter can see through. The brilliant yellow "W" on the front shines having yet to see dirt, pine tar, or opposing hitters. It's untested in the battlefield, but if it's anything like its older brother...it'll do just fine.

Last year's model broke in almost instantly. It fit my hand like, well, a glove. A week into ST last season and the old guy was ready for game action. A real trooper. He gave up a couple home runs and saw more than his fair share of strike outs. Year before that I had a real gem of a glove. It was my first mit with my name embroidered on the side. I was excited to get my hand in it (insert inappropriate comment here). Unfortunately, it was no more than 2 weeks into the season that it began to fall apart. The lining began to separate from the inside stitching and the pocket grew too deep.

I was afraid that every throw would come straight through the webbing and hit me in the mouth. I had to put him down. My first year in Pro ball I was still using the Wilson A200 that I used in College. I couldn't part with it. It saw me get a scholarship, get drafted, and get my first pro hitter out. I still use it every once in a while, but the leather has gotten so stiff that it cracks a little bit more every time out.

We all remember our old gloves. I remember my first glove. Dark red and black. 12 inches. smushed together like a pancake. Run over with a car. Rubbed with shaving cream. Anything that would get it to close just right. I'd put a ball in it and put it under my mattress at night. I'd throw a ball into it constantly until someone in the house would tell me to shut up. It was kinda crappy, probably about $25 from the local Sports Authority, but it suited me just fine. I think deep down inside every ball player wants to grow up and show all his old things to his children and grandchildren. I can't wait to whip out these 4 beauties and start telling the stories.

"There was this one time. I was just 20 years old. Nervous as I could be..."

Who Do You Wanna Be?

2011-02-21T14:32:00.000-08:00

As a baseball player (or any professional for that matter) I think we have to choose what kind of ballplayer/person we want to be. If I truly believe that i'm going to be a big leaguer, I have to prepare myself for that day by figuring out who I want to model my game and myself after.

As I mentioned before, I'm watching the Baseball documentary by Ken Burns. I think i'm through 1930, so I have a ways to go, but so far I've encountered some of baseball's greatest talents and personalities. Guys with nicknames like Tug, Rube, The Christian Gentleman, Iron Horse, and of course, The Babe fill the pages of Baseball's lore. It seems like these men perfectly encapsulate some aspect of America. None of them are perfect, but neither is Uncle Sam.

John McGraw was manager of the NY Giants through the first decades of the century, and made sure his team played smart/small ball. It wasn't exciting, but it was effective. He always said, even though the owner's wouldn't allow it, that he'd hire any black player who had more talent than his white counterpart. Christy Mathewson was a mild mannered pitcher on McGraw's team all those years. The only thing that rivaled his great talent was his great big heart. No ballplayer, even the notoriously hard-ass Ty Cobb, had a bad word to say about Mathewson his entire career. He died after breathing poison gas in Europe while serving his country in WWI. Georgia native, Ty Cobb, was a dirty player by just about every standard imaginable. He was a racist. He deliberately injured players on the other team. He once beat up a handicapped person in the stands. He was a real ass. But he was, statistically, the best hitter the game's ever seen. He wouldn't stand to be second in anything. Respectable. There is story after story in the annals of Baseball about men who stood out in a crowd. Will I stand out in the crowd? What will I look like if I do?

I was thinking about it and I want to be a little bit like all of them. I'd like to be as old-school as McGraw, as genuinely well-liked as Mathewson, as dedicated as Cobb, as durable as Gehrig, and as big (figuratively) as Ruth. There's something timeless about these men and there's something timeless about this game. I know I won't be everything that they were, but it's nice to have something to aim at!

Blog Features for 2011

2011-02-06T10:05:00.000-08:00

online survey softwarePlease take my survey now

My First Bullpen Of The Decade

2011-02-04T10:59:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I forget how easy pitching really is.

I mean, the physics of it are pretty complicated, and trying to get people out consistently can be fairly challenging. But the fact of the matter is, pitching in and of itself isn't about those things. It's about throwing a 9 oz. leather encased cork 60 ft. 6 in. over a 5 sided piece of rubber that is 18 inches across.

It was the first time I've thrown off a mound in 5 months, so I was expecting rust...lots of rust. I was expecting it to go as smoothly as peeling a wet sticker off of a new plate. It would be difficult and leave behind traces of that gross sticky paper (or in my case, gross sticky thoughts of inadequacy). The thought was deep down in me that maybe I have forgotten how to pitch. That 5 month off would erode my skills to the point of my high schools practice companions. The truth is, however, it wasn't like that at all. It was more like taking a large flimsy magnet off the fridge (weird analogies today, i know). You just grab it and it comes off smoothly like nothing was ever there before.

Toeing the rubber was as normal as anything i've ever done. My delivery, while not flawless, was smooth and natural. As stated before, the goal of pitching is to throw strikes, and I threw about 75% strikes without even thinking about. Or maybe BECAUSE I wasn't thinking about it. Us pitchers tend to make things more complicated than they ought to be. Honestly, the only thing I was thinking was "don't make a fool of yourself in front of 30 high schoolers."

I didn't.

Onward and upward. Hopefully into some warmer weather. I'll keep you updated.

Baseball: A Film by Ken Burns

2011-01-15T13:21:00.000-08:00

How I've never seen this before is beyond me. I considered myself a Baseball enthusiast, but up to now I didn't know squat about the true history of the game. If you've ever seen a Ken Burns documentary, then you know the feeling you get when watching. Even the first episode of the riveting documentary chronicling the history of the game made me feel like an expert. I'm not an expert...but Ken made me feel like one.

A couple of interesting points that I was unaware of (yes, I took notes):

- On the first baseball team (Cincinnati Red Stockings) the players made $1400/ yr. That was 7 times the average american salary. Right now the MLB minimum salary is 9 times the average.

- The first real organized baseball game between two professional teams was June 19, 1841 between the New York Knickerbockers and the New York Atlantics. This was 141 years, to the day, before I was born.

- "King" Kelly may be my favorite baseball player of the 19th century. He was the archetype for the next 100 years of baseball player bravado.

- My favorite new quote about baseball, "In baseball, the best man is he who plays best." - Fleet Walker.

I'll keep you updated on my experience over the next 9 discs.

My 2010 Pre-Game Playlist

2011-01-13T13:33:00.000-08:00

As Stated in my Mike Diaz Interview, i'm not a man of superstition...more like compulsiveness. I listened to the same 5 song playlist exactly 1 hour before each baseball game that I started. Let me run down the list for you:

- Passion Pit: "Make Light", Manners

This band rocked my universe this past year. The album just makes you happy...no other way to put it.

- Phoenix: "1901", Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

Ok, so everybody has heard this song. A lot! I was a late follower of the band, but that didn't keep me from making "1901" my walk-out song this year, too.

- Acceptance: "Take Cover", Phantoms

Older album that I can't seem to get over. Catchy rock anthems from beginning to end, but "Take Cover" is the one song to rule them all (I've been re-watching the LOR trilogy).

- Manchester Orchestra: "Shake It Out", Everything To Nothing

Led by my high schoolmate, Andy Hull, this band has been a part of my pre-game listening experience since early college. They released their 3rd album Everything To Nothing and it has been in the CD player ever since. Andy and I haven't talked in a while, but he can be sure i'm still listening.

- Gustav Holst: "Jupiter: Bringer of Joy", The Planets Suite

You didn't think that I could get through a playlist without throwing you a curveball (sorry, it was too easy). I love Classical Music. I think it's genetic. Anyway, this is my favorite piece from my favorite classical composition. It's 6 minutes of, well, JOY! For whatever reason it gets me in the right frame of mind to pitch. Listen to it and tell me you don't feel like you have sparks shooting out of your fingers afterward.

I need new suggestions for this coming season. Bring 'em on. If they make the cut then you will get credit for it publicly. Isn't that what we all want in the end?

Winter Doldrums

2010-12-06T06:40:00.000-08:00

I'm in the middle of my winter training, and while everyone's getting ready for the holidays, I feel stuck.

What I love about being a starting pitcher is the 5 day routine that repeats about 35 times throughout a season. I've talked before about how pitchers (baseballers in general) are creatures of habit. Well, it's hard to stick to a routine knowing that you won't get on a mound for 5 months after the season ends. There are workouts, conditioning, more workouts, 9-5 job, early morning workouts, social get-togethers, and night workouts. There's only one problem with all of that...I don't really enjoy working out.

That's pretty much heresy in the baseball world, but it's true. I don't like lifting heavy things, running long distances, or having an elevated heart rate for more than about 10 minutes. It's probably why I chose baseball over, say, track. I love baseball, but these winter doldrums make it hard to stay motivated. All I really want to do is eat, sleep, and watch good movies these days. Anybody on the same page?

Still, I know that looming on the horizon there is a whole beautiful baseball season just waiting for my "in shape" body to tackle. I guess it's time to get this body "in shape"...ugh.

On a brighter note, Christmas is right around the corner and Christmas music has been ringing in my ears, over the sound of the treadmill. Our tree is up & lighted, and BuzzyCraftery christmas cards are flooding mailboxes everywhere. Perhaps the cure for this cold winter is just a little holiday cheer.

...and a couple extra sit-ups.

Off season dynamics

2010-11-07T13:56:00.000-08:00

Alas, baseball is over for the next 5 months. (That's what you think...)

In reality baseball as we know it never stops. It's a year-round journey to continually improve your game, your body, and thus your chances. I always give myself a break from the end of the season until sometime around the world series. This year, as my 9-5 work has increased, my break lasted until the end of the Fall Classic, which means I'm already behind. Most ballplayers these days train day after day, in season and out, just to get that tiny competitive edge that separates them from the rest. Every team makes changes over the off season whether it be international and domestic free agent signs, late draft signees, or in the Mets' case, front office turnover. All of these factors make it increasingly more difficult to feel secure in your status within the organization. Guys take on physical trainers, stick to rigid diets, and work on their skills because the reality is that no one is safe.

I try (in reference to my last post) to keep some sort of balance between real life and baseball life. The line between the two gets pretty hazy sometimes though. Expenses necessitate that I have a full time job to support my wife and I, but baseball necessitates that I train 5-7 days a week. There are only 24 hours in a day, and finding time for everything seems like a puzzle (I hate puzzles).

Believe me, I know that right handed pitchers who throw what I throw are a dime a dozen. I know that there are guys who get picked up every year with better stuff than me. But I also know that the Bigs are filled with guys like me; guys who make a living (a pretty good one at that) getting guys out consistently with that same stuff. I just finished a season where I threw more innings than any other season, stayed healthy the whole way through, and learned more about myself as a pitcher than ever before. As much as I want/need to throw harder & get faster, better, stronger (thanks Kanye) I have faith in my abilities. Three years into it, I know what my body needs and what it's capable of. Not to say I'm slacking off or content with where I am now, but I'm not pushing it. I'm not gonna blow out a knee doing agilities every day, nor peak too early by starting a long toss program in November. I plan on being methodical about my improvements. As Josh Hopper (college pitching coach) said, "don't work harder, work smarter." Drinking one extra protein shake or doing one extra crunch will not get me into the Bigs any sooner, but staying healthy and sticking to my routine will.

March 6th I will be ready, not a day sooner nor a day later. As for now, I gotta go eat...maybe I'll mix in some vegetables. Don't wanna get sloppy.

Balance

2010-10-31T08:30:00.000-07:00

It's my natural inclination to take life issues and find a baseball connection. My wife, Ashley, makes beautiful analogies that are complex and very helpful (when I understand them) in communicating her points. I, however, make ridiculous references to pitching all the time. This one might actually have some value though...

When pitching, there are certain points that you have to hit in your delivery to throw the ball where you want. There is a small step back, then balance. Bring your knee up towards your chest, then balance on one leg. Foot down towards the plate, hands break, balanced power position. Hips turn, arm swings through, weight shifted onto front leg, balance on one leg again. Release ball, back leg swings through, finish with body balanced and facing the plate. Repeat a

s necessary.

Balanced is what we have to achieve in our delivery and balanced is what we are trying to keep the hitter from being at the plate. Pitching might as well be one big tight rope act. We try to balance our way through 9 innings flailing our arms wildly in the attempt to simply make it through unscathed. Oddly enough, my life seems to share some of those same qualities.

As I've grown up there have been more and more things which I have to keep balanced in my life. When I was 8 there was baseball, basketball, playing with friends, and school. When I got into high school there was baseball, girls, friends, and school. Now that I am married there is a whole new set of objects that I have to balance in my life...and at times it can be a real struggle. One of the big things that I was unprepared for going into marriage was the new decision making process. Before, I was making decisions based on my own well being, but still taking into account my girlfriend's feelings. Now that my girlfriend is my wife, I have to make every decision for 2. There is no "well I hope she can just deal with it." Every time I choose to do or not do something there are real consequences for another person. Balancing these consequences is no easy task, no matter how much you love and care about your spouse.

As throughout my whole life, one of the things on my balancing scales is Baseball. The same question still rings true "how much am I supposed to care about this game?" For any of you out there who have been doing something you love for years and years, taking inventory of how much it means to you can be hard. To look yourself in the face and ask "why do I love this and how much is ok?" can be really difficult. It takes balance. I had to ask myself that question when I was getting ready to propose to Ashley. Did I love baseball enough to drag her through the ups, downs, and arounds that minor league baseball has to offer? Did I love Ashley so much that it wasn't worth it? These are examples of balance that creep into every aspect of life.

My comfort in the situation is wherein my balance lies. I love God and He loves me. He created a world around me that, minus our development, is the most balanced thing in the universe. He created scientific processes that are as symmetrical and balanced as life gets. He created our bodies to live in this perfectly suited environment, on this perfectly positioned planet, but why? I believe that He wanted us to see balance all around us as an encouragement that it is possible. In my life, i've seen it first hand. If my priorities push my relationship with the LORD to the background then I become imbalanced, running around frantically trying to even the scales but never quite getting it right. When I seek the LORD first, though, things begin to move by themselves into the right positions.

Tight rope walking becomes much easier and you'll be surprised at how often the ball goes where you want it to go.

Bobby Cox

2010-10-13T13:04:00.001-07:00

As per one of my friends, Jared Jones, I will attempt to answer the question of "what defines a Major League manager?"

In my job i've been staring at a computer screen for the last 2 weeks, looking at numbers, manipulating them, analyzing them, and repeating. I figured this topic would give me a reason to use my skills for awesome. Or at least interesting.

I took all 16 Big League managers in the National Baseball Hall of Fame and looked at their stats. I looked at similarities and differences in their stats and compared them in the context of their managing era. My results are pretty interesting if you care anything about Bobby Cox and his legacy in terms of the history of the game.

Of the 16 Hall of Fame managers 2 are below .500 in their winning percentage, 2 are above .600. The rest of them are between .500 and .600. Bobby Cox ended his illustrious managing career on monday in Atlanta with a record of 2504-2001, which is a winning percentage of .558. He ranks 4th all time in wins as a manager which sets him up nicely for a place in Cooperstown. The top 11 managers in terms of wins are in the HOF except 3...Tony LaRussa, Bobby Cox, and Joe Torre. Nice company, huh? Cox is the only manager to win 14 consecutive division titles from 1991-2005. His pitching rotation during that stretch was the object of envy for nearly every team in the game. They ran Maddux, Glavine, and Smoltz out there three out of every five days giving them a pretty good chance for success. To this day teams (i.e. the Mets) would die for 3 aces in a rotation...hell, give us just 1 healthy one to start.

Honestly though, what we all remember about Bobby is his prolific ejections record. In September of this year he passed John McGraw for the all time ejection title. Unlike McGraw, however, Cox isn't known for being a hot head (as referenced in the last blog post). Most of his 161 ejections have been in defense of his players, which has endeared him to team after team in the Braves organization. Chipper Jones has never played for another manager in his entire career, and most of us young Atlantans have never known anyone before Bobby. What will we do now that he's gone? Go Mets?

I leave you with a quote from Bobby Cox to Jeff Francoeur in response to the question of what to do after being ejected...

"I’m like, ‘What do I do?’ He said, ‘Go have a couple cold beers and get in the cold tub or something and relax. And then you’ll probably have to write a $500 check. Or you can do what I do, write a $10,000 one and tell them when it runs out, let me know'."

Why Manager? Why Not Coach?

2010-10-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

Last night in the Twins/Yankees ALDS game I saw something pretty normal, but with new eyes. Ron Gardenhire was sitting back in the dugout, calm and collected as usual. Man on first 2 outs. The count was 1-2 to Lance Berkman and Pavano was on the hill. He was 1 strike away from pitching seven innings of 2 run ball and leaving the game tied. Having set Berkman up perfectly, Pavano and Mauer called for an inside fastball. The pitch was thrown on the black at the knees with some sinking action that caused it to catch the plate. Catcher, pitcher, and second baseman start walking to the dugout...BALL! Fans begin to boo as Pavano cocks his head to the side and stares at the home plate umpire wondering what else he could do to get that pitch. As happens so often, next pitch double. Scores the man from first and breaks the game back open. This is where it gets interesting.

Instead of the pitching coach going out to the mound to settle the pitcher down, Gardenhire himself gathers the infielders at the mound and talks. Talks some more. Talks as much as he needs to until the homeplate umpire has no choice but to break it up. The meeting adjourns and players scamper back to their positions, but not Gardenhire. He follows the ump back to home plate jawing in his ear the entire time. Everybody in the park knows what's about to happen. "You're outta here!!" Gardenhire loses it. He gets toe to toe with the homeplate ump and lets him have it. All the rage and frustration of the whole team flows out of him like a river and leaves the umpire in no doubt of his opinion. Almost triumphantly Gardenhire walks back to the dugout and into the clubhouse hoping that his little act would inspire the troops to victory.

Then and there it dawned on me how managers aren't coaches. If this was the pitching coach and he got tossed, the pitchers would be at the mercy of another less specialized coach for the remainder of the game. Same goes for the hitters. But a manager isn't firstly a coach. His first duty is to manage the egos, emotions, and expectations of his 25 players and handful of assistant coaches. For Gardenhire it wasn't a matter of whether the team would be able to go on without him in the dugout, it was what do the players need to "feel" like they can win. If it means not being able to put on a hit-and-run in the 8th inning, most big league managers will choose motivating their team over strategy. They are managers first and foremost. Just like in the corporate world, Big League managers do what is best for the team as a whole over what is best for an individual. Perhaps it wasn't the best for him to get thrown out of a one run game in the late innings down by a run, but if it means the team as a whole gains any confidence at all it will have been worth it.

Bobby Cox, Jim Leyland, Joe Torre, Mike Soscia, Ron Gardenhire, etc. All of these guys are relatively docile in the dugout until they know their team needs a defender, a champion. They manage the game, the team, the players, the coaches, the ups and downs, the good and bad. They're a calming effect until they need to be a lightning rod. It didn't work last night for the Twins, but I finally saw the merit in trying.

a YEAR older, a YEAR wiser

2010-10-06T09:37:00.000-07:00

It's been a crazy week, or three. My wife and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary over the weekend in beautiful Seattle, WA. I've started (restarted actually) my offseason job which is taking about 40 hours a week to do effectively. We've been getting things unpacked from storage boxes, breaking down the boxes, and unsuccessfully trying to find places to hide the boxes in our apartment. On top of all of that, we hosted a babyshower (pictures soon to be up at Ashley's blog buzzy craftery) for my brother and sister-in-law. In between breaths we have been driving all over Atlanta trying to see all the friends we missed during the season. So all in all it's been tiring...fun, but tiring.

Let's start with Seattle. The Pacific Northwest in October might not seem like an ideal anniversary destination, but let me assure you that IT IS! Neither Ashley nor I had been to Seattle in our travels, so we decided we're young and adventurous...why not. The flight is not the best. 4 hr. 30+ min. but the cookies and ginger ale made it bearable. BTW can you buy those cookies anywhere else? so good. Anyway, we landed and checked into The Hyatt at Olive8 in downtown Seattle. Great view of the Paramount Theatre from our window and a cozy bed to boot.

We spent the next 3 days eating ourselves into and out

of multiple food comas and walking around the whole city to make room for more delicious food. My highlight was Elliot's Oyster House where we ate complementary crab cakes and creme brulée as bookends to our delectable salmon. The best part about Seattle, though, is the people. They get my vote for nicest people in America. From the vendors at Pike Place Farmer's Market to our cab driver everyone we ran across was so inviting and friendly. If you have any urge to visit Seattle, do yourself a favor and just do it (channeling NIKE).

All of this was to celebrate our first year of marriage, which is the real treat. Being married is great. I can see how people could grow to dislike it if they get easily weary of conflict or if they would rather just be single. For me though, being married to Ashley is better than any alternative reality I could want. She's loving, talented, hard when she needs to be, but sweet almost always. We teach each other continually about life from our own perspective, and because of that we are becoming more well rounded people. Also, she's my best friend and the only person I would want to spend every second around...so that helps.

My offseason job is pushing me to the limit almost every day. This is not a bad thing. After a baseball season where you go along everyday doing the same thing, I relish the opportunity to come here and be thrown into the heat of issues that need solving. I spend most of my day putting out fires, but there's such a rewarding feeling when you find a way to put it out before it consumes whichever project your in charge of. I feel needed, and that's always nice.

We moved to Midtown West (close to Howell Mill Rd. and Collier Rd.). Apparently there are a bunch of cool new bars, restaurants, and shops being built down there, so we are looking forward to being trendy again. Time to break out the cardigans and V necks. I think I hear my Converse calling. A possible roadblock to this is Dave Ramsey. The Financial freedom guy (nerdy bald guy with glasses) has inspired Ashley and I to start using a cash system. I see this going less than perfect, but we'll see.

If we have not hung out with you and you feel spurned by us, fear not. We wanna see all of you and soon! Drop me a line (or another phrase than means contact me) and let's hang out.

Closure

2010-09-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

The season is over and life has shifted. My wife and I have moved from baseball 24/7 to "real life" again. Quite literally, too. We've moved from Savannah, into Ashley's mom's house, then into our apartment in near Collier Hills, Atlanta. I've loaded my car (my compact sedan...of course) full of boxes, furniture, TV's, gardening tools, clothes, and a Brita Water Filter (I just can't find it). For a solid week I drove around with my life in my car...my baseball life that is.

I live two distinctly different lives every six months. My baseball life is not 9 to 5. It's more like 2 to 11, which wreaks havoc on normalcy. It means I sleep in, eat at weird times, and spend more time at home (things close at 11). Baseball consumes life in nearly every aspect. Relationships that once had broad bases are boiled down to "how's ball going?" or "So, when you getting home?". You lose dinner dates because of extra innings and breakfast dates because of workouts. Life becomes one never-ending game (140 innings long). It's easy for me because I love it. It's not easy for everyone else because it takes no prisoners, asks no permission, and leaves a trail of tears (not a Native American reference) for 6 long months.

So it's good to be back. Back into the 9 to 5 swing. The life where dinner really does come before 8 and where people hang out after their jobs. I like a life where the only roommate you have is your best friend (no offense baseball roomies) and your stuff is really yours. I have a job just like the summer only this one doesn't consistently make me sweat more than most people. I miss playing ball and could honestly do it for another 6 months. I don't, however, miss the life it forces me to lead and the life it forces Ashley to bear.

Yet I'll blink and it'll be back, so I'm not worried. We had 6 good months, broke up, and now I've finally got some closure in the relationship...but we can still be friends.

SALLY League Playoffs 2010

2010-09-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

"Hell boys, we're here anyway. We might as well win it!" - everybody

Today is the first day of our divisional playoff series against the Greenville Drive. It's a best out of three series, wherein we have to drive to Greenville, SC to play the first game, then drive back the same night and play two more in Savannah. Pretty damn literal if you ask me.

At this point in the season you've already played 140 games in 5 1/2 months...that's a grand total of 10 off days. Not only that, but you've had to play in a league that is notoriously the worst in the country for traveling (avg. drive time of 6 hrs). To top it all off you've played 70 home games in Savannah, which is a great city, but also the hottest place on the planet in the summer. Mentally, physically, emotionally...we're tired. But this is the playoffs, and what doesn't kill you gets you a nice shiny ring on your finger.

Now I've heard it said by some who don't understand the game that we are a bit "light in our loafers" for spending all this time and effort on jewelry. Let me make this clear to anyone who might subscribe to said opinion. It isn't about the jewelry. It is about pure unadulterated competition. It's about doing something that most professional athletes never get to do. It's about dog-piling on the mound after the third out in the last inning of the championship game. It's about champagne (well, sparkling cider...still some young'ns around) being popped in a clubhouse that has seen so much defeat everyday for 6 months straight.

It's about finishing knowing you couldn't have done any better. In an industry where you have no control over your future, all you can do is try to be the best wherever you are. That's what a ring represents. Not a couple diamonds and a logo, but a memory. Something no one can ever take from you. This is what we're after.

Pitcher's graveyard

2010-08-31T11:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a day where nobody wanted to pitch.

The game was a 14-9 slugfest accented by 35 combined hits. That's just short of two hits per player. It started from the top of the first where we homered to grab the lead 2-0. They came right back in the bottom half and tied it up 2-0 with four hits of their own. In the next inning they kept pouring it on, scoring 7 and bringing the 2 inning time lapse to 1.5 hours. Ouch.

On these days pitchers are kinda like fish and the hitters are shotguns...we're trapped in a barrel. You get the picture. The starter doesn't get a choice, he has to go out and try to get one out at a time. It feels like everything you throw up there gets hit. If it's a good pitch it finds a hole. If it's a bad pitch it finds the bleachers in left. The bullpen is sweating it down there and not just because of the heat. They know that the hitters are locked in, and they hope that when the phone rings they're name isn't called. It's not like college where someone steps up in Herculean fashion and says "I will stop the bleeding." Some days you just bleed out until the game's over. Yesterday was one of those days. We finished the 3 hour and 45 minute battle bleeding and bruised, but still breathing.

There are no post game blow ups. No grand speeches. Everyone just saunters into the clubhouse with the same glazed look on their faces. We made it out defeated but alive.

Skip says "Shower up and eat fellas. We'll get em tomorrow." Perhaps we will, but can we at least try to keep it under three hours.

Baseball In Vogue

2010-08-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

Today is day one of my new look blog. It needed a bit of a face lift I think. It was getting boring to look at, you know. It's kinda like all of us, every once in a while you just need to get dressed up for no reason whatsoever. At least you can look in the mirror and say "Well that's not boring."

I suppose I should take this opportunity to talk for a bit about baseball player fashion. I try to stay away from it because, well, it's not too interesting. Guys tend to wear the same things partly because of rules and partly because of imagination deficit. The organizational rule used to be collared shirt and pants to the ballpark. It was, I suppose, enacted in order to make us look professional. It took the variables out of the fashion equation so the organization knew what they were getting. However, it also proliferated the theme of treating us like children instead of men like we are. So in this new regime things have been worded differently (if not to the same end). The player's manual now reads "players must arrive at the park and leave in professional attire." Holy Loophole! Guys now arrive at the park in all kinds of outfits. Latin players wear what seems professional to them, Southern boys do the same...both quite different.

For instance, a tight Affliction t shirt and athletic shorts is stylish to some people and style=professional, duh. To others a tucked-in polo shirt, levi's, and sunglasses on a frat strap are professional. The beauty of it is that you can't get busted for it anymore. You can literally wear anything and talk your way into it being "professional". A wife-beater and cargo jorts can be professional as long as you've gelled your hair enough and have a big fat gold chain showing...and a clean pair of kicks.

I very much appreciate this new freedom. It allows me to express myself in a game where the only distinguishing factor on the field is your number. I take pride in my attire and attempt to stand out when possible. I'm no model, but I a firm believer that if you look good you feel good, and if you feel good you play good (or at least better). You always run the risk of being made fun of for sticking out, but the truth is if you're not sticking out, you're blending in and preparing to get lost in the abyss of the minor leagues. Take your chances where you can find them and don't be afraid to look stupid...but at least try to match.

Dave Bristol

2010-08-24T08:46:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the stands yesterday, charting the game as usual. An elderly gentleman came and sat down right next to me, unfolded his Asheville paper, and pulled out a copy of the lineups. He didn't fit the typical "scout" profile, meaning he wasn't wearing khakis and a hawaiian print t shirt. He kinda looked like my grandpa actually. I introduced myself as always and he did the same. My next question was simple enough, but what he replied with was far from it. I asked "So, who do you scout for?". He replied in a slow country drawl "Son, I'm no scout." Now I'm wondering "why are you here then?" But before I could raise this question he said "I'm Dave Bristol and I managed in the Major Leagues for 20+ years with four different ball clubs." My face dropped. I felt like such an idiot, like one of those people who comes up to me and says "so this is AAA right?" I immediately went red in the face put my hand on his shoulder and said "I'm really sorry sir. As a baseball fan I should've known that." Without flinching coach Bristol smiled wide slapped me on the arm and quipped "Boy, I was coaching before you were a thought in your daddy's head." That's true.

For the next six innings coach and I talked about all things baseball. I picked his brain about the best players he'd ever coached and about what sets players apart in his eyes. "Steve Carlton" he said, "was the best pitcher I ever managed. His slider would start in the middle and hit a righty in the jock. Only problem was he'd swing at it too." We watched a double get slapped into the right center gap and the pitcher saunter over to third base to fulfill his duty backing up the play. Coach whipped his head around and took off his cap as if to say something really serious. He said "Collin, when you back up bases, you run. Don't jog. Don't half-ass it. Get as far back as the park let's you and haul ass there. There is always someone watching you, and let's be honest, there ain't a whole lotta difference between one guy and the next. That could be the only thing you do better than the other guy. So do it."

We got to talking about Sandy Koufax. "Koufax," he said "made pitching nothing more than a physics problem." He said that the old lefty would cut out all the variables that could disturb a delivery, so that he could repeat the simplest form of a pitch every time. From his hand placemet on the ball to his foot placement on the rubber, everything was simple. Coach Bristol asked me to watch his stuff while he went out for a second. Next thing I knew he had placed a book down in front of me and said "read the first chapter." I was torn. I knew that I needed to watch the game and chart, but I was fascinated with this man's knowledge. He could obviously see the struggle going on in my head because he said "I underlined the main parts, I'll make sure the coaches aren't looking." This guy is awesome! Sure enough, I read the chapter and put the book back down saying "I gotta get this book." Coach chuckled and said "Ya, there's no way you comprehended half of it. Go out and buy it. It'd be worth it."

The seventh inning rolled around and the game was tight. Coach began to gather his things to leave. "I got a two hour drive back home. You gotta cell phone?" I pulled my phone out. "Take down my number and give me a call when the game's over. I wanna know who won." So I got his number (i'm married. these are the only numbers i get anymore) and told him of course i'd call him. He shook my hand and said "Well this was fun, Collin. Good luck. You'll be great!"

We lost 7-3. At least we agreed on one thing, though. I will be great.

Physicals

2010-08-23T09:28:00.000-07:00

We have end-of-the-season physical evaluations today. To compound matters, we are on the road and in the worst clubhouse in the league. Preseason physicals are the thorough ones. The ones where you have to turn your head and cough, get your teeth checked by an old crochety dentist, and read the eye chart you memorized three years ago. The physicals today consist of measuring the degrees to which you arms bend (in ways they're not supposed to), checking the tightness of your legs and hips, and making sure you don't have any injuries you've been hiding all season. The only problem with these are...well everything.

Our arms are freaks of nature. They bend and strain in ways that would make any other part of the body scream, but when they are forced to the brink to measure their dexterity they tend to scream too. The day after these physicals is the worst of the year, presumably a punishment for putting my arm through hell. Also, we're baseball players not gymnasts. Our legs are tight. They tell all of us at the end of these things "you need to stretch more". You think? Of course we need to stretch more, everyone does, but do we? No. We sit around on buses and in hotels getting tighter and tighter until the end of the season comes around and we think "I don't feel more flexible". Finally, every player that has ever played professional baseball will tell you that he hasn't been 100% healthy since he was 12 years old. We are always hiding something from trainers and coaches, not because we are trying to fool them, but because we are trying to fool ourselves. The worst thing for a ballplayer is to have to admit to himself that he cannot perform. So day after day we silence these aches and pains hoping they will disappear along with our era. But you can't hide them forever. We come to the field today and the trainers know exactly what position to put your arm into to make you squeal like a teenage girl, then they say "has it been this way for a while now?". Of course our response is all the same "No, that didn't hurt. I'm just a little sore there. That's all".

Equal Rights For Pitchers

2010-08-17T20:24:00.000-07:00

We lost a close one today 1-0. Guy throws 7 innings of complete dominance, gives up a run on the only two hits he gives up and loses. Not that I am weeping for him or anything, I mean it happens to all of us. It happened to me twice in the last month. I threw 6 innings twice each time giving up one run and each time getting a big fat L next to my name...again. Funny how baseball is, though, my last outing I threw decidedly worse than the last couple and got a big beautiful W in the left column. Baseball is, like most companies, an equal opportunity employer. It does not discriminate on the basis of race, creed, or speed of fastball. Every guy that goes out is equally capable of dominating in a single ballgame or crashing and burning at the hands of his opponents. So our guy lost today but in the grand scheme of things, who cares.

Also, planning a trip around a pitching rotation in the minor leagues is useless. It's as unpredictable as lightning and usually as dangerous. I mean that if you (you know who you are) are trying to plan a trip to see a beautiful city and catch a baseball game, plan around the city not the starting pitcher. Yes, We are scheduled to pitch every 5 days, but this rule is like many rules in the english language...it's breakable. We could have a rainout, fogout, power outage, wind storm, riot, fire, or worse. Don't get me wrong, we will play that game, but not necessarily in accordance with the "every fifth day" rule. If we have to play a double header, that means two guys start on one day. Then factor in an off day or a late season promotion...what day am I pitching now? I resume my earlier point. Make your plans around seeing some ballgame, not a specific one. The city is more interesting anyway.

Sunday Fun Day

2010-08-15T09:29:00.000-07:00

So today is Sunday, which means a couple of things. Firstly, it means that we have a "show 'n go". Sundays provide us the opportunity to come to the field without having to take BP, without having to shag (shag means throwing the balls back in when the hitters hit them during batting practice...not the other thing) and without having to run in 100+ degree heat. Day after day we have to come out to the field 5 hrs before the game, stretch , throw, run, fielding practice, and shagging. So Sunday comes along and it's time to relax. Our game starts an hour earlier and we get to show up 2 hours later than we normally do...it's the best. When things in baseball are particularly great ballplayers give them nicknames like "Sunday no run day" "Sunday fun day" or "Show 'n go". They all mean the same thing. They mean that in a season where monotony is an inevitability it's important to appreciate the little things...like not having to run. It also happens to be the day of our Lord, the day of rest, and I can't help but believe God smiles down on Sunday mornings saying "it took you 6 days to go 3-3, and on the seventh you may rest. But it sure would be nice if you could finish the week above .500".

The New Guy Spark

2010-08-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

We got a new player yesterday. A high draft guy from this year's draft. He runs well, covers a lot of ground in the outfield, and can get on base. It's amazing what a little pressure can do to a lineup. All of a sudden we have more outfielders than can play at once, and people realize that in order to get the playing time they want they gotta hit. We won 10-1 in a blow out. We had 19 hits, the most for us in what seems like years.

The introduction of a new guy is like true capitalism in baseball. It throws a new competitor into a small group creating a deficit of playing time. While before you could do just about anything without fear of losing your job, now you have to excel at something. You have to make yourself stand out in a crowd to gain market share (innings and AB's). Maybe that's all we needed to push more runners across the plate.

We also lost a starting and relief pitcher in the last week, meaning us starters are back to the nickname of "ole 5 day"...the way it should be. 6 more outings before the playoffs (barring any more promotions/injuries/natural disasters). Sprint to the finish.

Mornings

2010-08-08T07:05:00.000-07:00

It's 10:00 am. To most of you, this would be a mid morning coffee break. To me it represents a success. For minor leaguers on the road you have to count it a victory to be out of bed before noon. It's not so much that we're a lazy bunch of people, it's simply that when you don't have anything to get out of bed for, you can stay horizontal for a long long time. We are stuck in a hotel, in a foreign town, without a car, without much money, and (for some of us) with splitting headaches...not sure why.

We get finished with our game the night before at around 10 pm. We shower up and get out of the locker room while our hair is still wet just so we can get the most out of those few precious hours of "me" time before we have to go to bed. It's usually around 1 am when we cash it in for the night, meaning a 10 am wake up call should be no problem. With the promise of hot coffee and a blueberry muffin I was, in fact, no problem.

Ball Four: how I walked the leadoff hitter

2010-08-07T21:30:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Ball Four by Jim Bouton, which chronicles his career through the minor and major leagues. It's a mix of baseball humor (both tasteful and crude) and stories about the game told from inside the game...kinda like what I hoped this blog would be. He just does it way better than I do.

6 innings, 4 hits, 1 run (unearned), 2 walks, 7 k's. This might not seem like a lot to someone, but this is a pitching line. A pretty good one I might add. It was mine from the other night (not tooting my own horn) and it felt good to look at it the next day considering all of the problems that I had that night. I walked the first batter of the game, again, worked from behind in the count all night, and only threw 4 changeups the entire evening. Now while that is typically the recipe for a mediocre, if not worse, pitching performance I managed to work my way into that gem of a line. At the end of the night that's all a pitcher wants, a good line. While it is nice to talk about development and getting better, what really gets us going is seeing that the hard work is paying off in visible numbers. 0 earned runs. Let's keep this up and maybe I can join all my friends who are already moved up...woof.

I got the loss. 1-0 is how it ended. The only run of the game came on a two base throwing error by yours truly. I read all the blogs the next day (because i'm that lame guy who still needs to feel special seeing his name in the papers) expecting to be praised for a more than quality outing. No. All I got in each write up was that I threw a ball away that plated the winning run. I lost 1-0!! I guess fielding practice is in my future before I get my literary slap on the rear.

Helmet Throws And Other Temper Tantrums

2010-07-22T08:31:00.000-07:00

"Get mad, then get over it." ~Colin Powell

At every baseball game the PA announcer is required to read a statement of liability saying something to the effect of, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please be aware at all times for balls and/or bats flying into the stands at any time during the game." I've seen both happen. I've seen little old ladies eating their hot dogs only to be surprised by a foul ball in their laps. I've seen grown men scramble for an illusive bat that slipped from the batter's hands on a rainy day and landed 12 rows deep. Baseball can be dangerous too. I've had the displeasure to see fans get hit in the mouth with a blistering foul ball traveling 100+ mph, and others fall from their seats in attempting to catch said foul ball. As baseball fans, we get it. Bring a glove, watch the game, don't spill your beer...pretty simple really.

What you don't know is the liability statement we each have to abide by in the dugout. In addition to batted balls and wayward bats, we must also be aware of bouncing helmets, post inning glove throws, not to mention the verbal rampages. Baseball players tend to be like thread on a spool. Every failure winds them up a little tighter until one puts them over the edge and they snap. For hitters it is most typically the helmet throw, sometimes in combination with a bat toss. They stomp into the dugout and you can see it in their eyes. They toss the bat aside as if it's defective and then take the helmet in hand. Finding a perfect spot on the ground and focusing in on it, the world around them seems to go dark. They raise the helmet to the sky cursing the "baseball gods" and send the equipment crashing to the ground in a cathartic explosion. While they are wrapped up in their childish antics, the rest of us just happen to be crowded into the same 20 ft dugout covering our faces and jewels so as not to become casualties of failure along with the helmet.

What really gets to me, though, is the unnecessary blow up. A pitcher throws 7 shutout innings only to give up 2 in the 8th. Not really cause to throw your glove across the dugout and scream obscenities in the direction of the family of four seated in the first row. In the same way, a hitter slaps a scalding liner off the pitcher's foot that bounces straight to the first baseman. Two steps out of the box then right back to the bench. While i'm in the middle of giving some encouraging cliches, I see the helmet whizz by my face only inches from smashing the thing it's made to protect. A player to be named later did just this yesterday, and I kinda lost it. This was the 4th or 5th time i've been threatened by flying helmets this season, and it's just a matter of time until one finds me. I picked up the discarded helmet, brought it back to the player, and slammed it on the bench right beside him. I yelled, "You hit the ball hard! What are you mad about?" I tossed the helmet to the other end of the dug out and told him to put it away like a good boy. Call me dramatic, but my self preservation instinct is unpredictable. Nobody said don't get upset. Everyone has the right to be disappointed. Just do it in the clubhouse, wait until no one is around, and get it all out without endangering anyone. Get mad, but please get over it when my face is nowhere near your helmet.

Get Away Day

2010-07-03T09:16:00.000-07:00

Every last day of each road trip we are forced into the skill of the "get away". Hotels are notorious for making sure their rooms are vacated in time to clean and flip them for their next customers. Sometimes (if you're my dad) you can work your way into a late checkout, but when your a 25+ man baseball team taking up 15 rooms in typically small to medium sized hotels, then your negotiating power drops significantly. We are forced to "get away" in organized chaos.

The night before, our trainer will announce 3 rooms that will receive late checkout. It's like a mini lottery for us. All of us are sitting in the edge of our seats saying "come one lucky number 323...come on!" Inevitably I don't win, and when I don't win I have to follow the protocol the next morning. Here's how it goes.

9:00 am - The maid will come by 2 hours early hoping that she can clean this room early. She bangs on the door until I can muster up some sort of YELP that vaguely sound like "go away".

9:50 am - I realize that I have 10 minutes until breakfast is finished and therefore must make the decision to stay in bed for the next hour or get food. Always choose sleep.

11:00 am - The "head" maid comes by and tells us that if we don't get out in the next 5 minutes she will kill us...or at least that's what it sounds like in spanish, or russian.

11:05 am - Throw all my clothes in my suitcase, assuming that they are all too dirty to bother folding. Make sure that I don't forget my computer, charger, phone, charger, pillow, charger, or toothbrush...or my charger. Move it over to the lucky lottery winner's room where he is still sleeping. Bastard.

12:00 pm - Realize I'm hungry and should've eaten when I had the chance. Find food. Fast food. Stomach ache.

1:00 pm - I still have 2 hours before we leave for the field. I'm officially homeless so I become a squatter in the hotel lobby, praying that the internet works. Facebook, Twitter, blogs, repeat.

3:00 pm - Bus pulls up and we pile in. Now our day actually begins.

10:15 pm - Game ends. Leave for home.

2:45 am - Finally get back home to Savannah. Yikes.

Greenville Drive's Fluor Field

2010-07-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

This is where we're playing for the next 5 games. Amazing ballpark. Fenway park replica stadium. Boston Red Sox Low A affiliate.

Dynamics of a Good Team

2010-07-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

We've only just begun our second half of this season, yet it seems like a brand new team. 71 games with basically the same players, few roster moves, ups and downs, a playoff push, and a pennant...now 8 new guys to replace 8 of the old guard. I'd be lying if I said it is an easy pill to swallow. Not that the new players are in any way inferior to the one who left, but you spend so long developing relationships, that it really does begin to feel like a family. Our manager, Pedro, told us from day one that we are a family. The philosophy still remains the same, we just have new brothers that we don't know so well. In this case the dynamic of the locker room has changed dramatically. We had players who had been in Savannah before, who knew the way things worked there and who genuinely enjoyed being around each other all day. We had Latinos who knew got along with Americans and American guys who knew and liked the Latin players. We trusted each other, and trust takes time to build.

With a new crop of players brings new challenges. The greatest of all of them will be the willingness to open up, to get to know each other the way we all did before. Guys will have their comfort zones and stick close to those who don't threaten them. But like any well functioning family, we must all become comfortable with the group as a whole. We miss the guys who left, they were brothers. This is the Minor Leagues, though, and brothers leave all too often. But the show must go on and we still have to win...nothing changes.

Artistry And The Fastball

2010-06-19T07:37:00.000-07:00

A sincere artist is not one who makes a faithful attempt to put on to canvas what is in front of him, but one who tries to create something which is, in itself, a living thing. - Giorgio Morandi

I've always said that pitching was an art, but not being an artist, I had a hard time completing the analogy. My wife, however, is an artist and fluent in the language of analogies, so when she began the conversation last night with "It's like you're an artist..." I was intrigued.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to pitch for a playoff birth for our team (the first such accomplishment in 14 years for Savannah's franchise). It was a big game for me, I knew it, and I was ready for it...so I thought. I worked out of jam after jam and pitched with runners in scoring position for most of my night. They managed 9 hits off of me, 5 of the infield variety, and scored only twice in 5 innings. After the game I had to decide how I felt about my performance. Did I pitch well? No, not particularly. Did I battle hard? Yes, definitely. Did I go out to accomplish what I intended? I'm not sure. You see, I hadn't set a specific goal for the game., I just wanted to win and pitch well. Here's where the analogy continues.

Ashley said to me that If I don't have a specific goal in mind each time I go out on the mound and only hope that I pitch well, it's like an artist looking at a blank white sheet of paper and saying "Be Art." No, an artist knows the picture that he is trying to create and has specific tools for each aspect of the piece. In the same way, a pitcher must have a specific picture in mind and full confidence in the tools he is using to paint it. So what kind of pitcher am I, in art terms? I am a landscape artist. I don't paint big broad strokes. I'm precise. I'm not a guy who will blow you away throwing 96. I work at 88-91 with a two and four seam fastball that I spot low in the zone. As an artist I have three primary colors (pitches) that i use in combination to paint my artwork. I have Red, my fastball. I have Blue, my 12-6 curveball. And I have yellow, my up and coming changeup. In order for me to paint vast landscapes (7 innings) I have to use all three in combination. A landscape that is all red isn't a landscape at all, and one with only blue and yellow is just a green mess. Most importantly, though, is the painter's ability to call on these colors at will in order to impose his will on the blank canvas. If he knows he needs a bright blue for the sky, but isn't sure if he will get royal blue or navy blue, the sky will be either day or night. Big difference. In the same way, if I know I need a sinking fastball away, and I'm not sure if i will get the sinker or the cutter, the outcome is as unpredictable as day and night. People always say that you cannot control the outcome of baseball. You throw the pitch and live with the results. Well, what if that was not the case? What if you decided to control the outcome of your pitches? You may not get the result you are looking for 100% of the time, but maybe you'll get 80%. And in baseball, 80% of anything is a lot.

So the new goal is this, 7 inn. 5 hits or less, 0 walks, 0 runs. The new idea is being able to throw all three of my pitches at will in any count. I will have an idea of what I want the hitter to do and throw my pitch to make that happen. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will get more groundballs that I've been getting, and giving up less 0-2 hits. Pitching isn't just AN art it IS art. And I'm an artist. Time to paint.

Boom, Roasted

2010-06-11T07:45:00.000-07:00

You probably ask yourselves everyday, "What do minor league baseball players do with their days off?" That's understandable seeing as how we are so interesting and our off days are so few. This last wednesday was the first real day off (one where we weren't traveling 15 hours), and being near the beach here in Savannah we were all on the same page. My wife and I are not necessarily beach people. I'm white like a ghost and Ashley is what we like to call an indoorsy person. However, most of the guys were going down to Tybee Island and we weren't about to be left out. We packed up our Reisenthel satchel with beach towels, food, and most importantly Sunscreen. You see, the last thing our manager said to us before we left for our off day was "don't get too burned to play." As we've already said, my skin is not historically friends with the sun, so I wrestled with the best way to get a nice bronze and still remain playable. Unfortunately for me, I have a wife who doesn't believe in sunscreen and naturally tans in one day in the sun. My conclusion was to put SPF 30 on my shoulders so that I could move them freely the next day and let the rest of my front and back get a "little" sun. In retrospect, this was a bad idea.

We spent 3 hours at the beach in midday laying out, swimming, listening to music, and having a wonderful time with each other...relaxing. The sun, combined with the sea breeze, felt good on my body. I felt good about my health because I was drinking water and lots of it. I thought "I need to stay hydrated so I don't feel bad tomorrow." Little did I know that was the least of my worries. We packed up and came on home salty, sandy, and tired. As I peeled the shirt back from my unexpectedly tender stomach I gasped. I was no longer a ghost, I was worse. Splotchy! I had covered my shoulders in what looked like a child's finger painting. Spots of red and white speckled my maimed body and all I could hear from across the room was hysterical laughter. Ashley was rolling on the floor with her perfect tan and I was standing shocked at my condition. Pedro's last words were ringing in my ears "too burned to play." Was I indeed too burned to pitch in two days?

Come on Folks, let's remember that I'm Scotch/Irish. Our fate is this...Get sun, get burned, turn purple, turn pink, peel, and repeat. This is a pretty quick process so don't worry about me, I'll be ready to go.

Running To Perfection

2010-06-04T09:17:00.000-07:00

Coach: Do you want to run or get hit by a car?

Player: How fast is the car going?

Could this be the year of the pitcher...again? Not since 1968 have we in the baseball world seen pitching performances so good in such a cluster. Perfect games from Dallas Braden, Roy Halladay, and Armando Galarraga (minus Jim Joyce's hiccup) and a no hitter from Ubaldo Jiminez, who also happens to be 10-1 with a 0.78 ERA. So many people have commentary on these guys, but I have a different type of question regarding them. I wonder how much running has to do with all their success? I only ask this because, in my personal baseball opinion, running is the worst part about pitching. I mean we only run about 90 ft total during a game, and if strength is what we are going for...have you seen those marathon runners?? Yet year after year nearly all organizations implement some sort of "flush" runs for their pitchers after they throw. A flush run is a long distance jog meant to "flush" the crap out of your body that your pitching created the night before. I don't like running. It's boring to me. But hey, if these guys are doing it, who am I to argue.

Seen the day after his no hitter in Atlanta in April, Ubaldo Jiminez was running the streets of Atlanta. His 6 mile trek led him through downtown Atlanta, down Peachtree St., and into Grant Park. He threw 128 pitches that day, which was the highest total in the league to that point, so I guess he felt the need to flush a little extra. I'm not sure what the others did after their performances, but I imagine it was some form of distance running (though I did hear that Dallas Braden liked running stadium steps after pitching...yuck). Here's my problem with it all. Running in circles around the field so monotonous, and in Savannah's 90+ degree 100% humidity weather it's almost unbearable.

So in the spirit of Ubaldo, I told our strength coach that I was going on a scenic journey of Daffin Park (the park around Grayson Stadium). I threw my headphones in, put on some Phoenix, and started my run. My goal was to run as close to the trees as possible so that they could be my natural sun block, but the spanish moss was hanging too low and I wasn't in the mood to get chiggers on my face. I kept to the rubberized track next to the sidewalk for half of the trip which led me by the pond and fountain. Now as I'm running by this little pond I thought wow this would be a great place to take Ashley on a picnic. That thought lasted about 30 seconds as I strolled up on two large people taking up an entire park bench and making out on it as if it were their parents basement couch. Kinda ruined the picture i had in my head. On the back side of the pond sat 4 older gentlemen crouched next to their bicycles discussing something. I like to think that they were talking about how irresponsible GM has been and how their boycott of the motor vehicles will catch on soon enough. Who knows. Anyway, the middle part of my run was a blur partly because i left the shade of the oak trees and partly because I was paranoid that someone was following me. I just kept looking behind me thinking "I'm too tired to outrun anyone right now". As I saw the homestretch I knew that I wanted to make an entrance into the stadium like a champion. The center field gate was open and I saw my opportunity. With arms raised and head back I ran through the gate to the sound of riotous applause...in my own head of course. In reality the team was in the middle of BP and nobody noticed my entrance. No worries though, one day I'll flush run down 5th Ave. in NY and maybe someone will say "Hey, there goes Collin Mchugh!"

That's Why It's Called Development

2010-05-25T10:07:00.001-07:00

"I hate baseball. It's dull. Nothing happens. It's like watching grass - no, Astroturf - grow" - Jeff Jarvis

I think what separates baseball from other sports is how frustrating it is. Not to say that basketball, football, golf, tennis, and ping pong aren't frustrating in their own way, but baseball is unique in its ability to thwart success. If I had a nickel for every time I heard the phrase "I hate baseball" from baseball players, i'd be...well, richer than I am now. It's absurd to me that men who give hours upon hours of their lives to a game that gives back so little in return continue to play it relentlessly day after day for 6 months a year. As we've said earlier, baseball is a game of failure. It is a game where you MUST reevaluate what your definition of success is. I think this is part of the problem with us baseball players. We play the game with the same set of standards for success that we did when we were in little league or high school. We suppose (surely don't expect though) that we should hit .350, have a < 1 ERA, and lead the league in "awesomeness". Those expectations are ok when the you're 12. The problem is that now the filter for people who make it through to our level has tightened so that those who make it are just as qualified as you are to make these claims. We have these grand ideas of what we are capable of (and rightly so) but the fact is, we won't all get there all at once. I suggest (via advice from Rick Waits) that we be ok with simply improving. I've heard from more than once great baseball mind that the only way to make it and stay up there is to be content with getting a little better every time you strap on your cleats. If you can improve, even the smallest minutiae, from yesterday then you should consider it a success. "I hate baseball" comes from the disconnect of where we are to where we expect to be. It takes many games and many seasons to be great...ask any hall of famer. Nothing in this game happens overnight. There are very few meteoric rises, and many many more rags to riches stories in baseball. Patience is the key to development. Just like the herb garden Ashley and I are tending to, it takes time, work, and faith that these tiny bulbs will grow into what we expect them to be. If everyday we cursed them saying "I hate herbs", we'd be insane. Everyone knows that plants take time to flourish. Here's a secret...Baseball players do too.

Visiting Clubbies

2010-05-22T10:08:00.000-07:00

"The bases were drunk, and I painted the black with my best yakker. But blue squeezed me, and I went full. I came back with my heater, but the stick flares one the other way and chalk flies for two bases. Three earnies! Next thing I know, skipper hooks me and I'm sipping suds with the clubby." - Ed Lynch

Every team in the Minor leagues has a clubhouse manager. These are the guys responsible for cleaning/maintaining the clubhouse, washing and drying (well, sometimes drying) our jerseys pants and personals, and making sure we have food before and after games. Clubbies (good ones at least) have a much broader job description than just these "chores" however. They are hired by the organizations to take care of us players and relieve us of as much stress as possible. From picking up family at the airport to making sure that I have some sort of alternative to peanut butter (allergies) before games, clubbies are our saviors. Don't get me wrong, though, they aren't our personal assistants. We do our part to make their jobs as easy as possible by putting all our clothes in the right places, keeping our demands reasonable in both price and etiquette, and most importantly tipping well. They usually have a set base price per day that we owe them, but for those clubbies who go above and beyond, players will pay a premium for their services.

What is funny to me, though, is the phenomenon of the "visiting clubby". Just as each team has a home clubhouse manager, they provide the visiting team a clubby as well. These vagabonds are responsible for the enemy's well-being...or ours if we're on the road. They tend to be one of two extremes. They are either completely apathetic people who do the bare minimum for the minimum tip, or they are bad-ass ex-army drill sergeants who do any and everything you need without thinking twice about it. "Sarge", the Augusta Greenjackets visiting clubby, is simply the best. He has been a clubhouse/equipment manager for years in both Hockey (his first and true love) and minor league baseball. He does what you need and surprises you with things you didn't even know you wanted...like Captain Crunch with Crunchberries on an early sunday game. Sarge always has a good story or a funny/kind of inappropriate joke, but he doesn't bother you. He understands that the little extra he puts in pays (literally) at the end of the series when guys get their wallets out. Of course in the big leagues every player makes a lot of money and tips well, but in the minors guys are a little tighter with their wallets. We're not stingy, necessarily; we're just frugal. I will, however, pay for Crunchberries.

I Will Not Go Quietly Into The Night

2010-05-14T08:05:00.000-07:00

“Don't lower your expectations to meet your performance. Raise your level of performance to meet your expectations. Expect the best of yourself, and then do what is necessary to make it a reality.” - Ralph Marston

We just got back from one of our community service days at H.V. Jenkins high school. We have three days overall in their school, spaced out over about a month, the goal being to help them develop a public service announcement (PSA). The reason we are in the school is because the PSA is about exercise, healthy eating, and turning off the TV...three things we are "experts" in. Anyway, I think it's a good idea seeing as how the obesity rate in this country is astoundingly high. The only problem I have with the whole thing is the way it is being organized, or lack there of, by the teachers, administrators, and players. The kids aren't responding to the project and I don't blame them. It's hard to focus on a solution when the guidelines are unclear. We had teachers sitting in their offices unwilling to get involved, administrators sending us into the classrooms with no expectations, and players too "shy" to say or do anything resembling community service. These kids don't even know what a PSA is and yet they are expected to deliver on one in a short time. They are set up for failure, and I hate it.

The typical American loves the underdogs because they are expected to fail and yet they succeed. Circumstances out of their control are against them and yet by sheer willpower they overcome obstacles and come out victorious. What I hate, though, is when people are made to be the underdog when they shouldn't be. Just because the Yankees are the Yankees doesn't mean that whoever they play are automatically the underdogs. If a team is playing better than they are, then they are just as likely to succeed (if not more so) than the Yankees. In the same way, just because these are kids from a low income high school in Savannah doesn't mean they are incapable of making a great PSA. If the teachers get involved, if we manage their expectations better, and if our players take it seriously, these kids can create something to be proud of. They shouldn't be underdogs in this situation, but that's what we've made them.

I waited 7 days this week to pitch. I'm a piggyback pitcher right now which means that I eat the scraps of innings left behind from the starter. Unfortunately for my inning total, our team has three starters who eat lots of innings and I'm behind one of them. I waited 7 days to pitch 2 innings last night. Let's call a spade a spade here, I'm not a starter right now. They may call me a "starter" and I may pitch on a schedule of 5-7 days, but starters don't throw 2 innings. Starters don't come in for mop up work in the 8th and 9th. I'm not pitching my best right now and that's frustrating because my room for error is MUCH smaller than the other starters. If I give up a run one inning I don't get the luxury of throwing 6 shutout innings behind it to clean up my ERA. I get 2, maybe 3, innings to go throw shutout baseball and if I don't get it done, so be it. I can't help but feel like I am being set up for failure just like the kids today. I have no defined role, no set schedule of when or how innings I will throw. I have no management of expectations because, honestly, I don't know if they have any expectations for me. I am a good pitcher, sometimes a really good pitcher, but right they've made me the underdog. The odds are for me to fade into the abyss of our minor league system and vanish as quickly as I came. This being said, I know I have family, friends, and fans who are rooting for me to overcome...who wouldn't, I'm a nice guy. But I refuse to be the odd man out here. I refuse to take lying down, the assumption that I am not good enough to compete with any one of the starters in our organization, or baseball in it's entirety for that matter. I am not an underdog and I will not accept that label, because no matter the hand dealt to me so far, the odds are still in my favor. It's not the pitching arsenal that makes a winning pitcher, it is his ability to take what has been given to him and make it into something more. I have a good array of pitches, but what separates me is my capacity to make it into something special. I have so much more to give than what is expected of me right now. I'm sure some of you out there can appreciate this. If you can, I give you this encouragement: Do not settle for less than you are capable of, and don't let anyone tell you what you cannot achieve. Life is too short to fade into the abyss. Rise to the occasion and don't let anyone write your story for you.

Grayson Stadium in Savannah, GA

2010-05-05T12:05:00.000-07:00

It's kinda rough quality, i know. But i'm working on it.

Playing Minor League Baseball...Priceless

2010-05-05T09:40:00.000-07:00

“It's not your salary that makes you rich, it's your spending habits.” - Charles A. Jaffe

I thought that I would stop eating Ramen Noodles once I got out of college. I mean, they're good don't get me wrong, but I always assumed that I would be able to afford real food. For sure when I got married the days of canned tuna and saltine crackers would be long gone. I didn't account for one thing though...Minor League Baseball.

Each day we are on the road we get a whopping $20 for food!! When I found this out, my first reaction was "I can make that work." Then I realized that $20 really means about $12 after you take out $5/day for the after game spread and $3/day for clubhouse manager dues. So $12...what to buy, what to buy?? I could venture over to the two restaurants nearby to the hotel, but one meal at either of the two chain places and I'm out for the day. So I decide to move to option B. I walk over to the supermarket across the street, hoping to stumble upon a good deal. I walked around the place looking for something filling yet inexpensive. Sandwich meat and bread? No refrigerator in my room. Ramen Noodles? No microwave in my room. Oven pizza? Obviously no oven close by.

As I looked around, my stomach humming a low tune, I figured it was between a bag of cheddar cheese pretzel Combos or a cylinder of Pringles (preferably sour cream & onion). As I made my way down the cracker isle, I was reminded of my Paw Paw and his affinity for cheap yet filling snacks. Moon pies, I thought? Not in Delmarva. Ahhhh yes...just as he would pack lightly for a golf outing so as no to fall prey to the cart girl and her overpriced candy bars. I give you Lance cheddar cheese Crackers. Yum. When life gives you lemons...be thankful, they're too expensive for some of us.

What's Delmarva?

2010-05-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

"A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest..." Proverbs 6:10

Delmarva - Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia. It's a city at the corner of the three states. Technically it's Maryland, but I like to think that it's in the magical space in between them all. In my quest to experience a little piece of the local delicacies of each city...Jumbo Lump Crab Cake. "Crab cakes and football. That's what Maryland does!" It took us 12.5 hours on a chartered bus to get here, only to be informed that we couldn't check in for another 2 hours. So we did what any self-respecting group of 20 somethings would do, we went to the local shopping mall. We walked around aimlessly (the way most mall walkers do) until we could check in and get some sleep.

Not to say I needed sleep after 2 Nyquil and 12 hours of aggravated bus dozing, but it would be nice to bend my knees at least. Some cannot sleep on a bus. I have no such problem. I can sleep just about anywhere and anytime of the day. A blessing and a curse for sure. Whereas I can sleep on a bus, I can also sleep through breakfast everyday in the hotel. However, after reading my daily Proverbs chapter and seeing Solomon's wise council, I decided to try my hand at pre 10 a.m. food. I woke up to my alarm and eyes that wouldn't quite open all the way. Not because I was really tired, but because I had eaten some peanut butter cookies on accident the night before and my reward was red puffy eyes. Where's Ben Stein and his Visene when you need him. Breakfast was a success though. Two cups of coffee and a shower later and these eyes were back to normal and ready to seize the day. Carpe Delmarva!!

Savannah Update...And Life As Well

2010-04-28T10:53:00.000-07:00

"Baseball is like church. Many attend; few understand." - Leo DuRocher

We just finished our 20th game of the season last night. That means we're 1/7 of the way home for the year. Ya, it's a long season. We've managed an 11-9 record up until now and that puts us atop the southern division of the SALLY (South Atlantic) League. We rarely do the spectacular to win games. A lot of good solid pitching efforts both by our starters and bullpen combined with typically adequate defense and timely hitting usually wins you more than you lose. At least that's the case so far with us pesky Gnats. A couple of guys are standing out on the team for their good CONSISTENT play. Wilmer Flores (ss) and Jimmy Fuller (lhp) are playing above their pay grade right now...which isn't too hard to do with what me make. They are hitting and pitching extremely well respectively, so well in fact, that they shouldn't be around much longer. However, even the Old Testament prophets couldn't foretell who goes up and who stays put, so no promises.

Life is good here in GA. The weather is mild so far and the gnats are biting...typical. It rains just enough to rinse the pollen off my car and return it from its early summer jaundice. We get home late, eat late, stay up late, and sleep late. Luckily for me, I have an amazing wife who I really enjoy spending time with and who, in return, doesn't mind twisting her schedule around to spend her time with me too. We watch a lot of TV on DVD (no cable) and she likes to cook a good bit, so we keep ourselves entertained. Ashley got a job the first day she got here (because she's awesome) working at No. Four Eleven boutique in the Design District downtown. On top of doing some great monogramming and custom sewing work there, she also has her business up and running. Buzzy Craftery is her design blog with some great ideas for fun and cost efficient craft ideas. On the blog you will also find her invitation and stationary samples that she has custom designed for people...they're really great work and in your price range. Away from the field I find myself playing some video games (ugh, it sounds terrible...but they're addictive) and trying to keep up with my friends' lives back home via Facebook and Twitter.

Most of all I'm content. I'm playing a game that I love. I'm getting paid (loosely used) for playing it. I get to spend all my free time with my best friend. I work with 30 other men my age who may very well be the funniest/most ridiculous group of men on the planet. And, though their antics can get out of hand at times, I hear some great stories from them. I don't know if I'm gonna get moved up or around this season, but I am not worried about it. God is bigger than baseball politics and his agenda runs deeper than the Mets' farm system. I'm in good hands.

Variations In The Key Of Pitching

2010-04-15T08:46:00.000-07:00

"Show me a guy who's afraid to look bad, and I'll show you a guy you can beat every time." -Lou Brock

Despite our extraordinary egos, we as baseball players are fragile delicate specimens. We spend our whole lives playing a game where, if you're good, you'll get a hit in less than 1/3 of your plate appearances. If your team is great you'll still lose 60 games a year. And as I learned from pitching coordinator Rick Waits, the greatest pitchers of all time felt great and had their best stuff only 10-12 times out of 35 starts/yr. We go 3 inn. with 3 runs and a bomb, and because of the teetering edge that we walk on our coaches and loved ones drone on about "it's only one game" and "hey it's just not your day today" or the worst, "Reality is, it's a game of failure." The truth is that they have to feed us this eyewash encouragement because we have to get right back out there the next day. Get back on the horse even when, figuratively, we get bucked off over 75% of the time. It's not their fault though. We have been trained to thrive on confidence. If our egos aren't fully satisfied then we have already failed. "Reality" is we have no chance.

Well to my credit, I didn't marry one of those lemmings. She will see me after a bad game and, most of the time, just walk up to me, smile, and give me a hug. She doesn't come from a baseball background, so she doesn't understand that I "need" constant confirmation that I am the greatest. In fact, this past week she turned the tables on my completely. I came home from my first outing. Terrible outing. I mean, really bad. I expected the same smile-kiss-hug combo and a nice bed to sleep off the defeat. I got no such thing. She was sitting in the couch almost scowling at me as if i had done something wrong. She let me talk it out; you know, about why I didn't pitch well or what was wrong today. It ended with "you know, somedays you have it and some days you don't...it's reality". At this, she furrowed her brow and quipped "reality is not an option, Collin."

She went on to say that if reality was always an option in our minds then divorce would always be an option. I mean 50% of marriages in end in divorce, why not us? Reality cannot be an option for us. We have sunk time, effort, money, and most importantly, our desire into being the best. If reality says that we probably aren't going to be the best, that we probably won't make it, we have to look reality in the eye and say...Whatever man. I always figured that the key to pitching was having great stuff with great command and never being injured. No, the reality is that the key to pitching is taking reality out of the equation. On the day we wake up to pitch in a game there is no "my arm hurts" or "I feel tired" or "my stuff just isn't what it was the other day". We have one focus; we have to try to be the best. Anything short of going out and being as good as we are capable of being cannot be an option in our minds. This game is 70% mental, that means what we do out on the mound is less than 1/3 of the whole game. Control what you can control. Make your mind a slave to yourself. Discipline your thoughts so that you can and will be at your best most of the time. Will we fail? Maybe. But is that an option for you? Don't let it be.

Savannah Update

2010-04-10T20:55:00.000-07:00

There is no sports event like Opening Day of baseball, the sense of beating back the forces of darkness and the National Football League. - George Vecsey

So it's been a little bit since my last post, but cut me some slack...I had to move, again. Ashley and I are now down in Savannah, GA playing for the Sand Gnats (A- affiliate for the NY Mets). We're three days into the season and we're 3-0 with two shutouts. Nice! However, anyone can read the rundown of stats, scores, etc. etc. at any of the countless blogs dedicated to, well, us. This blog is more along the lines of "tell me something I don't already know."

Ok a couple stories...First, our apartment situation is settled. Finally. It was a three week process of searching though every available piece of real estate in/near Savannah. No one seemed interested in giving a newly married couple a cheap place to stay for 5 months, at least not in a decent area of town. Found a couple places, but was deterred by the phrase "there haven't been that many muggings here." Needless to say we were willing to pay a little more, take on a roommate, and thus maintain our security (so far).

Opening night, baseball aside, was an absolute CIRCUS! They call it Thirsty Thursday, I call it a frat party loosely centered around a ball game. By the second rain delay I'm guessing 80% of the crowd was incapable of walking the first baseline. This includes the two mouth-breathers who openly encouraged my wife to flash me in the middle of our conversation. The night was unlike anything I've experienced thus far in pro-ball, but I didn't hate it. My wife, however, had a different viewpoint and thus a different opinion. She has gotten the cold shoulder from just about everybody involved in this move. Apartment management, furniture company, ticket booth attendant, and abrasive inebriated southerners. She's a trooper though and she's ridiculously talented, which has made getting a job a pretty simple journey for her. She starts monday at a custom monograming and sewing shop...badass, i know.

So I pitch tomorrow in our first afternoon game, and I get the opportunity to start the season with a four game sweep of the West Virginia Power. And I'm sorry to say other affiliates, but we have the best starting rotation in the system. Mando, Jimmy, Mark, B-Mo, Gorski, Whit, and myself. Call it friendly competition, but we all want to win more games than the next guy. "As iron sharpens iron..." you know how it goes.

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: What We Eat

2010-04-02T16:22:00.000-07:00

So we're making our way towards the last couple days of Spring Training and I thought it was important (more like just interesting) to examine what kind of eating habits we as baseball players have formed. Coming off an offseason where I got married and thus ate better that I have in the previous 4 (single) years, I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought that the 10 pounds I gained from Ashley's chicken souvlaki, brick fried chicken, and other great chicken dishes would simply melt away in the heat of Florida...that was not to be.

The Mets take great pride in their emphasis on nutrition. They provide us all of the right foods we need to stay healthy. They cannot, however, regulate the combination of foods we choose to eat. As you see in the photo here, the Mets have roast beef, potatoes, some sort of rice and beans, and vegetables...good food right? Apparently, not unless you smother it in Ketchup (not catsup, ugh).

Breakfast, lunch, late lunch, early dinner, dinner. Sometimes I feel like all I do is eat and play ball. Tough life. We get our dinner catered at the hotel 6 days a week. Creative Catering is responsible for our meals and they typically do an outstanding job. see Alonzo Harris for confirmation.

Anyway, as much as I try to eat right and stay fit, I have my flaws. I hold Coca-Cola personally responsible...with the help of Hot Tamales. Some guys drink protein shakes, I drink soda. Who are we kidding, I'm a pitcher.

A Tale of Two Pitchers

2010-03-24T17:35:00.000-07:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity... - Charles Dickens

Two pitchers, both coincidentally named Collin McHugh, pitched today in Mets Spring Training. One, a fierce competitor with a feel for the strike-zone and confidence bursting with his every move. The other, a frenzy of thought and emotion, unable to locate effectively or consistently...nervous.

Things both of these pitchers had in common:
-Both pitching against the same hitters
-Both competing for a limited number of roster spots
-Same repertoire, same velocity, same situation

Collin "the thrower" threw the first of their three innings of work. From the bullpen to the mound every pitch was analyzed in the search for fixes to whatever didn't feel right. A lot didn't feel right. By game time, Collin was nervous that, on top of facing AA hitters for the first time, his stuff wasn't cooperating with him. Nerves led to getting behind hitters, a leadoff homerun, walk, and double in the first inning. Not good.

Collin "the pitcher" sat on the bench in between innings. Not once did he criticize or analyze the last inning. Not once did he wish he had done something different. He was too busy preparing to PITCH. As he took the mound, shoulders back and chest out, he wasn't worried about the hitters or the umpires or his parents in the stands (sorry guys). He was focused on doing what he does best...pitching. He threw 1st pitch strikes, breaking balls for strikes, and put away strikes. He struck out the side not throwing nasty pitches, but simply throwing strikes. Collin, happy with the second inning, decided a third was in order. More strikes. No runs. Easy, right?

The truth is, yes. It is easy, but only if we operate within what we do best. In order to be a great pitcher, I cannot pretend that I have the dirtiest pitches in all of baseball. To be a great pitcher I must be great at commanding my three average to slightly above average pitches. For two innings I did that today, for one I did not. It isn't perfect and it isn't what I hope to be all season long, but it is progress. Spring Training, while a breeding ground for competition, is also a forum for sharpening ourselves and preparation for the season ahead. Today, by getting better, I came that much closer to the Big Leagues. How do I spell progress? F-A-I-L. Everyone does it, everyone hates it, but those who learn from it are better for it. I know I am.

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: Getting Called Into The Office

2010-03-23T15:55:00.000-07:00

"See that fellow over there? He's 20 years old. In 10 years he has a chance to be a star. Now, that fellow over there, he's 20, too. In 10 years he has a chance to be 30." - Casey Stengel

Today was one of the hardest days of the year. Today was the day that, as baseball players, we realize our career mortality. 5 of my good friends/teammates were released from their minor league duties this morning before i had finished my morning coffee. One after another were called into the office (yes, just like high school) to receive their baseball death sentence. Each one emerged in classic baseball player bravado with their heads held high, chests out...and dreams unfulfilled. Not to say each one of those men didn't give their best every day in hopes of reaching the big leagues, but the truth remains, as Casey Stengel put it, not all of us get there.

We grow up seeing our baseball heroes on the field all spring and summer long playing as if they were born to do it. After watching John Smoltz pitch as a kid I just knew that I, too, was born to play that beautiful game. Year after year I worked on my pitching so that I could get to the BIGS. Little league turned into middle school, high school turned into college, then I arrived at Pro ball with a sense of accomplishment and relief. "I Made It!!" I said. Then just as quickly as I got here, I'm on the chopping block again; earning my way from level to level. Still even as the competition increases, I hold onto the hope that there is a manager waiting to call me into his office to send me up. What I try not to think about, however, is that the same manager is capable and often obligated to call guys like me into the office and say "I'm sorry kid. It's over."

Keep It Simple Stupid

2010-03-14T20:06:00.000-07:00

Dwight: Michael says K.I.S.S. - Keep It Simple Stupid. Best advice he ever gave me. Hurts my feelings every time. - Rainn Wilson (The Office)

It makes sense. The simpler things are the easier they are to achieve. So why is it that Baseball, a simple game in reality, can become the more complicated than my 2010 taxes? I spent the last 2 days researching how to file my taxes this year now that I am married. It took me about 10 google searches and 45 minutes. Simple. Now I am capable of doing something that has put thousands of people (see Al Capone) in jail for not doing correctly. Ironically, today I managed to make a game that 4 year olds play, a game that has been played by millions for over 100 years, miserably difficult.

I threw my first Live Batting Practice today. Simple. You take the ball and throw it across that plate for a strike. No pressure, no game situations, no real consequences, no problem, right? Wrong. I was in my head from the get-go. I was given 25 pitches to live hitters to get a feel for seeing batters before our first game. Overthrow, make adjustment. Off balance, make adjustment. Drop my elbow, make adjustment...I know all the fixes for all the mechanical things I could possibly do wrong. The problem is that when I turn around, i've already thrown 25 pitches and none of them were good because I was always making adjustments for the last one. Complicated.

I can pitch, my wife told me so tonight. My pitching coach told me after I threw. My parents told me when I was 10. I know I can pitch. But my problem has always been out-thinking myself on the hill. The truth is that guys who simply know they can pitch and do so without thinking about why or how they're so good, succeed more often and consistently. I have to get past "figuring out how to throw correctly" and get to the point where I can "just pitch". We could all use a little of that in out lives. Keep it simple stupids and "just ______".

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: Locker Room Routines

2010-03-13T16:30:00.000-08:00

I've come to the conclusion that the two most important things in life are good friends and a good bullpen. ~Bob Lemon, 1981

Week one of Spring Training 2010 has come to an end and it hasn't taken long for me to remember all the oddities that a locker room full of 180 players contains. I've been really pleased with how things are running this year in the Mets organization. I'm healthy. I'm married. I'm a year older, and thus a year more acquainted with the ins and outs of pro baseball. I've learned how to pitch more efficiently, workout more intensely, and eat less terribly for myself. But there is one thing that I will never (prophetically speaking) get used to. What to do with my down time in the Locker Room.

We have to get to the field quite a while before we go outside to do our work, just in case there are announcements, early work, training room inquiries, etc. It's an inevitability. What is up to our discretion, however, is how to kill time. Some guys like to sit and chat. These conversations typically revolve around the weight and length of the fish they've caught...and the women they've been in the company of. Honestly, baseball players must be some of the best outdoorsmen in the universe based on the stories they re-tell. I, however, was voted least likely to survive a week alone in the wild. So my knowledge of the outdoors is limited to perfect tree planting technique (thanks Trees Atlanta). I, like my colleague in the picture below, prefer to spend my time in pursuit of academia...or reading. Right now I am slowly but surely working my way through Good To Great by Jim Collins, chronicling the rise to greatness of 11 companies as compared to the curse of mediocrity suffered by so many others. I really appreciate how this book relates to baseball and my career in particular. One point it highlights is taking whatever it is you can be the best in the world at and focusing your efforts on that goal. If you cannot be the best in the world at something, it should not be your main focus. For me: Command, Command, Command. I will never throw the ball harder than anyone in the world, but I am capable of having the best command. So that's my goal...have the best command in the world. Ambitious? yeah, but why not.

Jake Ruckle (top), Roy Merritt (left), Emary Frederick (right)

Others enjoy playing a rousing game of cards: Casino, 13, Poker, Uker, etc. These games get loud in all the different languages spoken around the locker room. We've got English (loud), Spanish (loudest), Quebec French, Dutch, and German. People start yelling and you just understand "he must of had a flush..."

All of us ballplayers adapt to the conditions we are faced with day in and day out, and while we may choose different activities and different energy levels one thing remains constant. Whatever your hobby, it's fun to have the guys around.

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: Saying Goodbye

2010-03-05T17:50:00.000-08:00

Don't tell me about the world. Not today. It's springtime and they're knocking baseball around fields where the grass is damp and green in the morning and the kids are trying to hit the curve ball. ~Pete Hamill

Part of being a ballplayer is picking up and leaving. You play 100+ games in 5 months, with the longest stretch in one place being roughly 7 days. Fans wait all year to see big market teams or big time players come into their home ballparks and play. 3 days later their gone. Professionally it's hard. Personally it's even harder.

I got married this offseason...to the girl of my dreams! We planned the wedding around baseball season so that we could delay the inevitable goodbye for as long as possible. 5 months and 2 days later, today was that dreaded day. Sitting in a Starbucks parking lot with Ashley watching the seconds roll by on my watch, my emotions were torn. I have spent the first 5 months of marriage enjoying every second that I get to spend with my wife, trying with everything I have to cherish and remember each moment because I know I will never get them back. However, since I threw my last pitch in early september, the itch to get back on the hill has been working it's way towards the surface. Every ballplayer faces it in pro ball. When we were kids, we played in the spring, summer, and fall then took 2 weeks off for Christmas and were back playing catch before the snow had melted. Now we play every day for 6 months, then we are instructed not play for the other 6. It's hard to take away something so important to a person for half the year and tell them not to miss it, think about it, dream about it. You get so rusty, you start to think, "Have I forgotten how to pitch?" It's like all of a sudden someone took the game away from you and for 6 months you have to fight to get it back. Week after week things become more natural. You see a little getty up on your fastball, your breaking ball starts to bite again, day after day the soreness wears off. March 2, 3, 4...5th!! Report date arrives and you realize "Oh wait, I have to start saying goodbye again." Every few days I have to look the person I love in the face and tell her I'm not coming home tonight, then try to reassure her that everything will be fine and that i'll be home before she knows it.

My wife is strong and independent, but even she gets teary knowing that she must share her husband with a game. But she knows she's married to a ballplayer, and she knows I mean it when I say, "I love you, and I'm gonna miss you...but damn I'm happy it's time to play ball again."

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: Agents

2010-02-28T12:54:00.000-08:00

Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a very unorderly world. If you get three strikes, even the best lawyer in the world can't get you off. ~Bill Veeck

Who out there besides me cannot stand when they hear the name Scott Boras? Seriously, just the thought of him and his multi million dollar player contracts is enough to make me nauseous. He prods and pokes, threatens and chokes, until he has squeezed every dollar out of every organization he runs across. Is he good at his job? Maybe. It depends on what you define an agent's job as. He is good (maybe the best) at negotiating to a stand still, then waiting. He knows that his client is a commodity that has a value, and his job (as he clearly has demonstrated) is to raise that value as high as it can go...not matter the cost.

Personally, my definition of a good agent is someone who can be the middle man between you and some entity (the organization, endorsements, fans, etc.) making the interaction as peaceful and painless as possible for BOTH sides, not just the player's. Unfortunately, my definition of an agent is a dying occupation. Instead of having someone who is proficient in diplomacy, you see agents skilled in strategic warfare, willing and ready to pounce on and kill any unsuspecting prey.

Baseball is a business, I understand. But first and foremost it is a game! I appreciate and respect those within the game who fight to preserve that at all costs. Agents nowadays are widening the gap between players and teams, players and fans, even players and their own families. With the expectations of enormous contracts, teams aren't as willing to keep guys around for long periods of time forcing these players (wives and kids too) to bounce around from team to team begging for whoever will give them that extra 100k. It's an ugly reality. As my good friend Robert Lang put it, "Take a little less. Stay where you are. and win a freaking World Series like they used too." Amen Robert, Amen.

So here's my situation...I'm in single A, I'm not negotiating any contracts, I'm not pushing for arbitration, I'm playing baseball. I am fully capable of calling a Mizuno rep. and negotiating my own equipment deal. I don't need help "wooing" people...C'mon I worked at Booster. And when that time comes for me to sit face to face with a General Manager to discuss the terms of my modest contract, i'll do what everyone else does, Outsource someone who does it better than I do, pay him for his work, then tell him "thanks, I'll call you when I need you again." Having an agent is like having a loud obnoxious bully on retainer for when you need to push someone around in the schoolyard. You know what Boras, thanks, but i'm good on my own.

The Life of a Minor Leaguer: Preparation

2010-02-18T08:58:00.000-08:00

People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring. ~Rogers Hornsby

Where do people get the list? You know, that list of questions that everyone is required to ask upon realization that you play professional baseball. It usually starts out with "So what, are you in like triple A?" No, I'm not in AAA. This is the equivalent of me asking someone starting out in sales, "So you're like VP right?" I'm in single A. There are 7 teams in the domestic side of the Mets Organization: 2 rookie teams, Short Season A, 2 long season A teams (A- & A+), AA, and AAA. So when I say i'm in single A, there's no need to sigh and say "oh...sorry." I'm halfway there, and I'm content.

The latest question from The List is "Where's Spring Training and when do you leave?" Answer: Port St. Lucie, FL. Leaving March 5.

Here's the brief explanation of Spring Training factoids...There are two places where MLB teams hold spring training, Florida and Arizona. It's about half and half of teams in AZ and FL. It's roughly a month long. Big leaguers go 2 weeks before minor leaguers because their season starts 2 weeks before ours. Every year a handful of minor leaguers are invited to Big League camp even though there is very little chance that they will make the Big League roster out of Spring Training. Organizations just want to give them a taste (motivation is important, because the minor leagues kinda suck sometimes). The minor league Spring Training used to be (from what i'm told) longer and more relaxed. It isn't anymore.

It's 28 days to showcase how you have improved over the offseason, improve your conditioning, and hopefully make the team you want without getting cut. It sounds kind of intense, and it is. I love it though! There's nothing like 230 guys competing for 40 Big League roster spots. It's your opportunity (probably the only one you'll get all year) to separate yourself from your teammates in front of all the "decision makers" in the organization. It separates the show horses from the battle horses. You will always have those guys that look good in a uniform, talk coherently and without an accent, and have $500,000 of the organization's money in their bank accounts...but can't play when push comes to throw, hit, run, etc. And then you have your battle horses. Those guys from East Jackson, Nowhere who can't complete sentences without using 5 expletives and "learnt" how to pitch from grandma when they were 5...but God can they compete! They have nothing to lose and the world in front of them for the taking. These are the guys you want with you. These are the guys you want to be (minus the illiteracy). There's something so motivating about nobody really expecting you to succeed. I graciously welcome this chip on my shoulder and plan to use it to my advantage. 2 weeks until I report and I am preparing to "Shock the World!!" (channeling Cassius Clay).

My Preparation. Keep the ball down. Don't overthrow. Stay healthy.

Fame

2010-02-06T15:32:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I might be a junkie. It seems that everything that i've ever wanted to do (i.e. when I grow up) involves being famous. Not necessarily "red carpet" or headline news famous, although that would be cool too, but famous enough for people who shouldn't otherwise know my name or anything about me to say "Hey, you're Collin McHugh aren't you?" First (and still) I wanted to be a Big League baseball star. I wanted to play Major league baseball, but I wanted more than that, I wanted to be the BEST. Call it a fault, but i've always been pretty ambitious. "Okay" was never really good enough for me. I mean, i've not been the best at everything I do, but not for lack of trying. I hate to say it, and I'm kinda bushing as I type, but I'm the guy who (when nobody's watching) will google my name to see if anybody is saying anything about me. No, the answer is most often, No. But that's all just fuel for the fire, my friends. And truth be told, I'm getting closer every day to being Famous.

Most of it has to do with my insanely talented wife, Ashley. She is one of those people that can do, well, anything really. These are the reasons she will be famous before me, allowing me to ride her coattails to the top:

-She can sew

-She can knit & crochet

-She can cook (like, for real)

-She can do calligraphy

-She can draw & paint & design

-She can weld (bad ass)

-She uses Illustrator & Photoshop like a third hand

-She's hardworking, driven, and legitimately good (maybe even great) at all the things above

Anyway, all of this has culminated in her new small business venture, BuzzyCraftery. Check out her Blog and see some of the things she's been working on. She's currently working on wedding invitations and stationary, so if your needs meet her talents, feel free to contact her on the blog, facebook (ashley buzzy mchugh), or twitter (arbuzzy) to get things started.

This woman is going places, and I'm pumped to be a part of it! If your fame fetish is anything like mine, you'll want to get to know Ashley so you can say "I knew her when", and feel that much closer to famous.

America

2009-08-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Living in New York can give you some perspective on things. I'm not talking about some world shattering perspective about the human race or anything, simply about how people interact. I was sitting on the Subway (D train for those who care) on my way back from a concert in SOHO, when I realized that in a short span of time I had seen so many cultures interacting. I was in SOHO, having just walked through Chinatown, eating dinner in Little Italy, while sitting next to a jewish rabbi reading a russian science book. Only then did I realize how much America really doesn't suck. For the last 9 months all i've heard from the media and politicians is how screwed up America has become. How we've let the deficit run wild, the economy spin out of control, innocent soldiers die in a country they have no business in, etc. etc. etc. Well I'm here to tell you not to get all in a fuss. Yes, perhaps we aren't perfect (shocker, i know) but we are far from being nothing more than a money/oil hungry superpower pushing the world around and leaving its people desperate and in disarray. We are a Melting Pot (see 6th grade social studies book fro reference). We have every ethnicity and nearly every country represented inside our borders (hell, maybe even the borders of New York City). And you want to know why...because within these borders lies more opportunity than anywhere else in this world. Because here cultures coexist in the midst of their differences. And here everyone has something to offer everyone else. All Men Are Created Equal...meaning everyone is on a level playing field. No one race or people group is higher than any other, only side by side in search of something special, something everyone comes to America in search of...their own American Dream. I'll never say that America sucks, because for all her imperfections she is and will always be America, The Beautiful.

The Bad Significant Other: A Remedy

2009-07-16T19:47:00.000-07:00

For a long time now I, as well as many others I suppose, have fallen prey to what I like to call "The Significant Other Lull". This Lull is reached usually around the 1 year mark, give or take the level of apathy to which each individual is capable. I, for instance, am remarkably caring and aware for approximately the entire first year minus a few stumbles here and there. But I tend to hit my snag when the initial "make her like me" stage turns subtly into the "she likes me, now what" stage. In this stage, the proper thing to do (and most appreciated I find) is to keep doing the same sweet, thoughtful, and romantic things you were doing in the first place when she didn't like you. Yet we all take this opportunity to go and royally screw the pooch. A typical conclusion of events: fail to remember small pet peeves that you so tediously abided to previously, Valentine's Day (no flowers, no candy, only card), arguments...many of them over who will get the last word. Then throw in a tongue lashing about how you never make the other person feel special any more...skip ahead a month. Now you have three half-finished "romantic" gifts sitting in the closet waiting on nothing more than a couple finishing touches and some postage. Expensive matters more now, because the prospect of living your whole life with this person and having to buy lavish things all that time begins to weigh on the future checking account that you may jointly have one day. All in all, you forget why you do things in the first place and get more and more comfortable with delaying them indefinitely.

Solution.

Simply do things. You don't have to get all fuzzy and googly eyed again, just start to do some of those things that have been sitting in the romantic place in your brain, hybernating for the last 6 months. Every day try to remember who you're doing it for and why it matters. I promise that soon enough you will remember why you spent so much time and effort getting his/her heart in the first place. Caring is contagious, so as a plus, you may even see a little kickback from your thoughtfulness. The Lull cannot end soon enough people, so go get your Significant Other back and stop being so damn stupid.

One of Those Days

2009-07-06T18:54:00.000-07:00

Ever had just "one of those days?" You know, those days where everything you do, say or feel just isn't right. Of course you have, everybody has. Well today was one of those days for me. I wish i could say it was like a Murphy's Law story where everything goes wrong before it all turns around and ends up great. No, it was more of a day that starts out with a lot of promise and slowly bit by bit it gets progressively worse. Here's how mine typically go...

set the stage the night before: Days Inn. Troy, NY. gorge myself on Cheesecake Factory cheesecake. come back to a room that is never quite hot or cold enough all night. don't fall asleep immediately. don't fall asleep eventually. don't fall asleep at all. toss and turn in a a bed where the sheets don't cover your feet. wake up to the phone alarm...7:30 am.

start the day off right, sort of: love my morning coffee. wish it wasn't at 7:45 at a sticky IHOP in Troy, NY. check out of said Days Inn. leave my pillow in room.

get away from normal "big event" routine: maybe you drink a protein shake, give yourself a pep talk, rehearse, etc. I usually listen to music, heat my arm, and pray. Today my ipod died, i burnt my arm with the heat pack (damn thin towels), and sang the national anthem so beautifully to myself that I forgot to thank God after my bullpen.

"big event" goes worse than you foresaw...much worse: 3.2 inn, 5 runs, 8 hits, 1 walk, 1 hbp, 1 error, 1 pitch for a strike in 1 spot, 1 glove throw, 1 expletive, many "tough day" mantras repeated to me, 0 that had any effect.

day that should end there just doesn't: 2:00 deli meat sandwiches (again. 3 days in a row). 4 hour bus ride through New Jersey even though we played 90 mi. north of NYC (enough to make any day worse). crammed van ride through Brooklyn...back seat on the tire. latin music blaring. ipod still dead.

silver lining becomes nothing more than a shade of gray: I love food. peer pressured into a 20 min. walk to Buffalo Wild Wing for dinner. table of 13. no separate checks. don't have cash. order chicken sandwich. no chicken left. order burger. mediocre at best. wish i could've had more beer. too expensive.

you figure out the actual silver lining hidden in the mess: in the midst of my nightmare, I have a fiancee and family that know no other way than to encourage me and tell me "tough day" and "you'll get 'em next time". Im always reminded of the things that transcend crappy days. even really crappy ones.

New York, New York

2009-06-23T08:50:00.000-07:00

New York is the all-around winner in my "world's best cities, so far" contest. The combination of history and culture is unlike anything i've ever seen. Everyday I drive on the brooklyn beltway, and if I turn my head to the right and twist my neck to an uncomfortable angle I can see the Statue of Liberty. Still, every day that I get a chance to see it I hold that painful pose to get a glimpse and a moment of the history that the huge copper monument represents. Millions and millions of people have sailed those waters which connect the rest of the world to the busiest part of it. In my head, I can picture my great great great (insert lineage here) grandfather McHugh sailing from Ireland and setting his eyes on the same green Lady Liberty that I pass everyday, and thinking "this is it...".

New York is busy. Very Busy. I don't think people here are intentionally unfriendly, they just have somewhere they have to be...which happens to be more important than saying hi or thank you. Don't worry New York, I get it. It's kinda refreshing to know that you don't have to have etiquette to fit in. Take note South. But the fact is, you can't afford to have etiquette or be polite, because there are so many cultures here you would spend all day trying to figure out what is polite to whom? People are OK with YOU here. There are crazy people, sane people, loud and quiet, overdressed and naked, long hair, short hair, no hair, fake hair, D&G purses, trash bags, and everything in between. I really believe its the perfect place to carry out Jesus' most important command. Love One Another! You see so many different people everyday that you can't afford to choose who you want to love, you just have to simply (yet so against our nature) love everyone.

I love it here. It feels like I was meant to be here. If you get a chance to come here, don't spend all your time trying to act like you're not a tourist. Conversely, don't spend all your time taking pictures. Just be who you are and take it all in...well as much of it as you can.

Why I Can't Stand Baseball Players

2009-05-06T13:32:00.000-07:00

For all you ballplayers out there (i know you're probably not reading this, but you should be) Do me and everyone else a favor...stop talking about yourself. Stop talking about how great you were in Little League and how I should have seen you against the 12 and under yankees in '01. Stop talking about how many people you struck out in middle school or how many wins you had in high school. Stop telling the story of how you hit a homer in the last inning of the big game or that you hit it off of a future 1st round draft pick. I don't want to hear about how hard you threw that one day or that your team was ranked 3rd in the nation for 5 years in a row. First of all, what the hell rankings are you talking about? The AAU national association of who gives a shit? Also, nobody cares. Nobody cares whether you were your team's MVP or whether you were player of the week 12 times in one year. I don't care if you were a 1st round draft pick or an undrafted free agent. That also means, I don't care how much money you made. You may want to tell me. I know you just can't wait to let me hear how rich you are...save it.

Im over baseball players affirming the stereotype of dumb, cocky, jock. The fact is that so many ballplayers are really good fairly humble people who are just out there doing what they love. However, the only people anyone ever hears are the ones who talk the loudest...usually about how awesome they are.

The Second Best Game in the World

2009-05-03T16:15:00.000-07:00

I love golf.

Golf, next to baseball, is the best game ever. To those who say it's just a game for yuppies who like dressing up in ugly pastels and chasing a little white ball...you're right. I pulled out my seersucker shorts and yellow polo shirt, shelled out 35 big ones and teed it up along side the elderly and wealthy port st. lucie crowd. I don't know what it is about the game that gets me every time. Maybe it's the outdoors without getting dirty. Maybe it's the inevitable golf car racing that occurs as soon as you leave the clubhouse. Maybe it's the 2 balls I have to hit off the first tee to feel like im ready to play (even if they're both 60 yards out of bounds). Very possibly it's the way I find my groove only after 36 ounces of alcohol have been consumed. But without a doubt it's the one shot that you hit perfectly and stick 5 feet from the pin that brings you back. You could miss every fairway, every green, every putt, and every beverage cart lady and still, when you hit that one shot you have to smile and say, "I love this game."

Don't Sweat It

2009-05-02T11:11:00.000-07:00

Next to arguing with an intelligent woman (like my clearly superior fiancee), there is nothing more exhausting or futile in this world than worrying. The fact is, we cannot accomplish anything by worrying. It's a cycle of if's and buts that eventually lead to fear of something that hasn't happened yet. We've all experienced worry in our jobs, relationships (the silent killer), beliefs, etc. But today, even knowing all this, it hit me like a wall rushing up to meet me.

I hate worrying, so I've learned to disguise it as anxiousness or curiosity. I woke up this morning tired as usual (not a morning person) but it was worse than normal. It was that heavy feeling that makes everything and everyone 50x more annoying. All morning I couldn't help but wondering if/when I would ever make progress in my career, all the while mumbling to myself about how I deserve it and it wouldn't be fair if I didn't move up. My worry about things that are out of my control led me to resentment which led me to a sense of entitlement. All that to say...I was a miserable person to be around (you know those people).

Anyway, I brought my bible to the clubhouse yesterday in hopes that I would be motivated to read for the first time in a while. I was sitting at my locker, bible closed in front of me, really just getting sick of myself. I'm usually a nice guy and I really enjoy it, so for me to be brooding emo Collin all morning was eating at me. I had some spare time (shocker, i know) before the game today and so I just started praying. No powerful earth-shaking banter between me and God, just your normal "hey, it's me. I'm struggling here." And so comes the good part. Isaiah 40:31. "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength." I had to take an inventory of where my hope was and where it was coming from. The reason for my worry wasn't that things aren't going as I planned, but that my hope is in some circumstance I made up, not it the One who creates circumstances. And then, just then, my eyes opened up and I was ok. Not perfect, not ecstatic, but really ok. Really content.

My remedy to worry...contentment. Plan of attack from here is to, as Paul McCartney put it (minus its existential origins) "Let it Be."

A Day Older, A Day Wiser

2009-05-01T18:44:00.000-07:00

I'm not a rookie (first of many baseball/athletic references) at the social networking phenomenon. In fact I have pretty much run the gambit of all of the major ones: Facebook, Myspace (though sleezier than once thought), Xanga, Twitter, AIM, etc. Even with all of the social commentary at my fingertips, I couldn't help but explore the first and most honourable of all avenues...the blog.

The title of this blog does not necessarily mean that simply for reading this one will become any wiser (although older is an inevitability. I'll try to keep it brief). It simply means that, in my life, time and wisdom go hand in hand in the same direction. I believe that no matter how unwise (can we find a different word?) one may be at whatever age he/she is, they will get wiser with time. I have 21 years of wisdom instilled in me via, among many others, the Christian Church and my Christian family, college and minor league baseball, music, and Love. All too often the manifestation of my wisdom involves the combination of all the afore mentioned. Today, something about baseball.

Minor league baseball is, for all of its shortcomings, The Great Equalizer. Some may say "you're wrong". Hear me out. I am currently in Extended Spring Training for the New York Mets, and in our clubhouse on any give day you can find no less than 15 different countries represented, 10 different languages, 80 different schools from 60 different conferences, and socioeconomic brackets ranging from "wipe my ass with this 50" to "i've never seen a 50". We've got dads and husbands, only children and one of 12, lefties and righties, innies and outies, black and white and many many shades of brown. We've got first round draft picks and free agent signees each with their own discreet or indiscreet signing bonuses. We have them all in one place fighting for the same 25 major league roster spots. Ok, there are lots of politics, sure, but in the end if you can play you've got a shot. As they say in the poker world (to which i was introduced yesterday to the tune of $240) "All you need is a chip and a chair". In my world it would be better said that "all you need is a jersey and a tool" (not a chainsaw or anything, but 1 of the 5 baseball tools...i'll explain sometime later). I love the fact that, no matter how hard people try, no one person is bigger than the game. No matter where our checkbooks, skin color, language, or "ya, but I know a guy" puts us...we are all in the same boat. The same grueling and wonderful boat that's headed to the Bigs with some of us. The hard part is trying to stay on board the whole time.