Every spring for as long as I can remember, my attention turns to spring training and the upcoming Twins season. As I get older, it also gives me an opportunity to reflect on my career and my time working in the industry. After cancelling the entire Minor League Baseball season last year due to COVID-19, Major League Baseball did a major reorganization of their farm system, paring 160 affiliated teams to 120.
If you are unfamiliar, the Minor Leagues are where baseball players go after high school or college to develop until they either reach Major League Baseball or end their playing careers. Each of the 30 Major League Baseball teams now have four minor league affiliates.
When I was young and dumb, I thought my destiny involved sports. Illusions of any future as an athlete dissipated in middle school, when I realized that I wasn’t faster, stronger or more coordinated than basically anyone. My entire personal highlight reel would consist of three moments: chasing down one line drive in the right-centerfield gap, a torrid hitting streak in eighth-grade summer ball and taking second on a walk when the catcher ambled after a passed ball. Like I said, dreams of being a famous athlete dried up pretty early.
Fortunately, I was wise enough to realize that the big business of sports could support many types of people. Spurred on by a love of simulating Madden, I thought a career in the front office of a franchise could be fulfilling. In my first mass communications class in college two things occurred to me:
- I love to write
- Wherever there are sports, there is media
After a brief, unwise tenure as a sports management/mass communications double major, I settled on a communications degree with a focus in public relations and a minor in sports economics. I hoped to go into broadcast, but was ready for a more realistic role in a PR department. As luck would have it, I found a way to chase my dreams in Minor League Baseball.
One of the first things I learned about pursuing a career in baseball is that you can’t do it from home. I didn’t have the chops to land an interview with the Twins for an internship. I lost out an internship with my college-town Mankato Moondogs to one of my fraternity brothers. I interviewed for a position with the independent league St. Paul Saints, but didn’t get it. My options were to either expand my search or go down a different avenue.
In the winter of my junior year, I started googling collegiate summer leagues. I was not aware that the Cape Cod Baseball League was the premier showcase for college players, but I started firing my resume off to all the teams. If that hadn’t worked out, I was going to do the same thing for the Alaskan Baseball League, and every other league I could find until I found something. Luckily for me, the Bourne Braves were looking for someone to broadcast their games, and they found a campsite where I could live and work part time. I spent three happy summers with the Braves, living in a tiny cabin and trying to build a resume for what came next.
As fans of OiO know, I am hardly an audio technician. While I had the drive and the voice to pursue a career in broadcast, I didn’t have the skill or big picture awareness to put together a good audio sample. After not being able to find a paid position in baseball for the first year after graduating college, I headed to baseball’s Winter Meetings in Nashville to attend a Minor League Baseball job fair.
While I was there, I landed several interviews, but the only offer I received was for an internship with a Double-A team, where the assistant general manager used to summer on the Cape. It was the only team in Double-A without a radio deal, so there would be no broadcast, but it was a paid internship. My dream of working in baseball was beginning.
I packed my bags and moved to Maryland for $800 a month and the opportunity to say I was paid to work for a baseball team. I got exceptionally lucky and the Baysox’ full-time communications manager turned in his two-week notice after the first homestand of the season. Without another viable option, the team was more or less forced to promote me.
I spent four years working for the Bowie Baysox. I learned a lot and eventually interviewed with the Orioles’ Triple-A Affiliate in Norfolk and the Washington Nationals Foundation. I believe that if I had continued to grind away for a couple more years, I would have moved up and would have had a legitimate shot to work for a major league franchise.
I also learned that you can’t have everything in life. The dream of working in baseball meant giving up nights and weekends from April through September. For me, it meant moving away from my friends and family. It means sitting in the stands when it starts to rain and struggling to pull a tarp across the infield. It meant a lot of things both good and bad, but the key takeaway is: it is hard to succeed in sports. It is hard for many of the athletes on the field. It’s hard for the people in the front office. It’s hard for the officials. Almost everyone there is trying to work their way up.
I think that’s why I love Bull Durham so much. Even though the movie is 33 years old, it still captures the heart of Minor League Baseball. While there are your occasional Nuke Lalooshes, phenoms who are just passing through on their way to a prestigious big league career, most of the team is made up of people from all walks of life. The main character, Crash Davis, has had a notable Minor League career and is faced with the prospect of moving on to the next phase of his life.
To me, the movie is a parable to moving on when life doesn’t work out like you hope and expect. Even though technology, the minor leagues and the game of baseball have evolved, Bull Durham still holds up.
The book Where Nobody Knows Your Name by John Feinstein also captures this essence. It follows nine individuals in Triple-A who came to the highest stage of the Minor Leagues from different avenues. The cast includes two managers, an umpire, a former World Series hero and a player who wound up with five different organizations in a five-week period. It does a tremendous job weaving the different threads together and gives an honest, unpolished look at life in the minor leagues. It is arguably my favorite baseball book.
Ultimately, in my fourth season I lost a parent and I decided that I would rather work in an industry I was less passionate about if it meant that I could dictate more aspects of my life – primarily where I lived. I moved back to Minnesota and eventually established myself as a corporate communications professional. I am truly happy working my job and then turning off my work brain to focus on my family and my passion project (you know, OiO!) in my free time. It’s almost a relief to just be a fan again. I’ll just keep shooting hoops in the driveway and insulting my friends so I’m ready if Baseketball ever gets off the ground.
What’s New at OiO
OiO New Game + The Medium
Tom, Joey and Casey have a critical discussion of Bloober Team’s atmospheric adventure game. Listen to the segment.
Episode 34 of Outside is Overrated –WandaWoman
In the latest episode of the podcast, Tom, Phoenix and Billy discuss Wonder Woman 84, The Challenge of the Amazons board game and WandaVision.
Awesome article Dr. Awesome! This was a great read, I had no idea the amount of work it took to even work in the minors! This story would make a fun Q&A podcast.
You know, I never realized how long you spent in baseball before changing your field. I remember being so amazed at how you were able to budget to afford living and some fun on a minor league salary. I also remember some of those lessons learned during your time out East, from working with some difficult leadership to dodging a stream of root beer spouting directly over your head. I’m glad you invested these years in the sports dream. There is no doubt you put everything into it and were able to make the right decision for Tom season 5 and beyond.