Off-season work

I recently wrote a story about St. Louis area minor leaguers. I described some of their offseason jobs: some were painting wrought iron fences, some were giving pitching lessons, most were working a couple of jobs to pay the bills.

I've talked to buddies around the country and have heard of guys working at Lowes, at Mexican restaurants, delivering pizzas, and doing handyman jobs. In a piece last year, I even talked about a buddy who delivered Jimmy John sandwiches using a bike with no breaks.

Applying for these jobs is always odd. You go in, ask for an application, and have to write down "San Francisco Giants" for your previous employer. If you're lucky enough to get an interview, the manager will ask why the hell you need a job if you're a professional ballplayer. But that's only if you're lucky enough to get an interview. Some won't even consider hiring you. They assume you'll want too much money, you have no job skills, or you won't really want the job. And then of course you have to tell them you'll only be able to work for three or four months.

A couple of friends get around this by not even saying they're ballplayers. They tell employers they're college students seeking part-time employment. They claim it makes life a lot easier for them.

What am I doing this off-season? A number of things besides writing this drivel. I've begun giving pitching lessons (a minor league staple), but lessons have been slow. I've also been selling a few pieces of writing (thanks Baseball America), but as others will attest, it's much easier to get published than to get paid. After getting fingerprints taken, paying for a background check, obtaining a TB test, requesting transcripts, and making numerous phone calls, I'm on the sublist at three different school districts, but I've only been called to sub four times in two months. (This is better than a teammate in California, who spent $300 getting certified to sub and still hasn't been called.)

I need to buy a few more Christmas presents, but funds are limited. I could always crawl to my wife and beg for money, but I feel so useless doing that. In fact I already purchased a couple of items for her, but it simply reminded me of a line from "Rounders" (where KGB tells Mike that he's paying him with his money.)

Maybe I'll just make some Christmas gifts. I went down to the basement a few days ago and found old catching gear, cardboard boxes, a few pieces of plywood, and an old microwave. I'm in the process of making a radioactive cardboard catcher. I'm not sure who I'm giving it to, but I think someone will appreciate it.

Links from Winter Meetings

I've made a few "Suitcase Chronicles" entries from the Winter Meetings. Here are a couple of links:

"It's Raining Men" (my initial impression of the Meetings--a caucasian bratwurst fest):

http://www.baseballamerica.com/today/prospects/prospect-diary/2009/269254.html

"Willie Wonka's Baseball Factory" (Thoughts of wandering around baseball's trade show):

http://www.baseballamerica.com/today/prospects/prospect-diary/2009/269265.html

And lastly, this isn't from the Winter Meetings, but it's an article written by Matt Nestor of the Columbia Daily Tribune. Matt's a great writer and is always fun to talk to:

http://www.columbiatribune.com/news/2009/dec/11/minors-far-from-the-show/

I should have one more article regarding the Winter Meetings (sitting through the Rule 5 draft), and then I promise to diversify a bit. See you soon!

Expectations for the Winter Meetings

Oh, the Winter Meetings.

Yes, I’m attending (hopefully writing something for Basebll America). Indianapolis is only a few hours from St. Louis, so I’m riding over with my agent (Nick Brockmeyer). Since I’ve never been to the Winter Meetings, I’m not sure what to expect, but here are a few thoughts:

Everyone tells me that the Winter Meetings are a circus. Since people are generally honest, I take them at their word. So instead of a hotel convention center, I’m expecting a giant tent for the entire event. (Probably the same tent used for the State Dinner Party, only this time I will be the one crashing it.) Mr. Selig will arrive riding an Indian elephant—perhaps sporting a flowing robe and giant turban, riding atop the elephant with back straight and arms crossed. Scantily clad, masked dancers will accompany him, and bongo drums and rhythmic chants will scream in the background. He’ll slide down the elephant’s tail, be fed grapes from the hand of a dancer, and pronounce the beginning of the games. All the while I’ll be eating a corndog.

Mr. Boras will play the part of a lion tamer. Journalists will watch his every move as he grapples with one GM after another (the lions). They’ll emote “oohs” and “aahs” as he lures the cats closer. They’ll wait for that inevitable false move, where the cats will pounce upon him and eat his intestines like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park. Yet the mistake will never come. He’ll defeat every one of them, step on their heads, and then gloatingly answer questions while the cats purr in the background.

After I exit the main event, I’ll dodge knife throwers, sword swallowers, unicyclists, jugglers, and fire-breathers. These will be ex-players mixed with people who have never touched a baseball, all of whom will attempt to parlay their circus tricks into jobs. Some will be dressed like accountants; others will be dressed like people who spent the last 10 years on a baseball field. All will be looking for that “glamorous” job that pays little and asks for 70 hours a week—the much sought after “foot in the door” that allows them to pass around a business card with a baseball on it. All the while I’ll be eating a funnel cake.

I’ll step outside of the job fair and will immediately find people hawking beads and lotions, which they claim will heal every pain that I have never had. They will be made of titanium or tellurium or some other magical metal or metalloid, and I will be told that if I don’t immediately pay $20, I’ll probably break a leg while dodging a unicyclist. This will be the trade show, and I will find twelve lords leaping, eleven ladies dancing, ten pipers piping, nine drummers drumming, eight maids milking, seven swans swimming, six geese laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS…sorry got off track (listening to too much Christmas music already). Anyways, I’ll be talked into buying some sort of magic oil and will throw down my funnel cake and drink the entire bottle at once. I will immediately transform into some version of the Incredible Hulk (the Lou Ferrigno version, not Edward Norton version), pick up a baseball, and hurl it approximately 332 miles per hour. Two seconds later I will die with said funnel cake at my side.

And that is how my trip to the circus will end.

Sadowski signs with the Astros

I apologize for not writing in a while. I'm trying to actually make a little money right now, substitute teaching and giving pitching lessons, so my wife stops yelling at me. (Just kidding about the yelling. Well, sort of.)

So, Ryan Sadowski. Briefly known to Giants fans as "The Dude" or "The Big Sadowski." Always known to me as "Dow" or "Best friend in the organization." He came out of nowhere to start his career with 13 scoreless innings. Then groundballs started finding holes, a few walks crossed the plate, and a Ben Hur chariot race rounded the bases.

Giants' brass, and fans, quickly dismissed him. In a whirlwind of a season, he was promoted to the big leagues, experienced success, experienced setbacks, was demoted to the minor leagues, taken off the 40 man, cleared waivers, and became a free agent. I'm exhausted just typing all of that.

After entering free agency, he drew interest from several teams. He decided to sign with the Houston Astros. The deal is a minor league contract with an invite to spring training.

It's no surprise the Astros were interested in him. After all, he dominated their lineup in his second start. In writing about it in a "Suitcase Chronicles" entry I said the following:

I watched as he threw sinker after sinker, plowing through the Astros lineup, making guys like Berkman, Tejada, and Carlos Lee look as if they belonged on the South African WBC team instead of an MLB team.

I have no doubt that Dow can pitch again in the big leagues. I'm obviously a bit biased since he's such a great friend, but the guy has the stuff. When he's healthy, I'd pit him against any back of the rotation starter in the big leagues. He's probably not as good as his first two starts, but he's definitely not as bad as his last couple. The truth is somewhere in between. Now he's entering a phase of his career where he is likely to become a journeyman. And this can be difficult.

Journeymen are usually not loyal men. They are mercenaries earning a paycheck. They travel from team to team, sometimes playing for several organizations within a single season. They might spend a few months in Korea or Japan, maybe even make an appearance or two in Mexico, before again traversing the United States. They make few great friends in the game, instead making a plethora of acquaintances.

I played with such a fellow this year by the name of Josh Phelps. Signed by the Giants in the offseason to add depth to the first base position, he was sidelined most of the year when one of his rotator cuff muscles decided to stop working in spring training (you can't trust a nerve). He's a great guy, even if he's a mercenary. In the last six years, he's played with Toronto, Cleveland, Tampa Bay, Detroit, New York (Yankees), Pittsburgh, St. Louis, and San Francisco. That's eight organizations in six years.

Each year he has to learn a new set of teammates and coaches. He enters spring training knowing not a single soul. New to the organization, he competes for a spot. His contract isn't guaranteed, and he could be released at any moment. When this happens, h searches for a new team and new set of teammates. It's a recurring process.

But Josh is a great guy. He's laid back yet serious, works hard but doesn't push the limits too far. He enjoys the game but views it in a realistic way. He shows little emotion. He no longer enters the clubhouse with the fervor of a redneck at his first rodeo, but he earns a decent living by hitting a baseball, and he appreciates that. He has played parts of 8 seasons in the big leagues, appearing in a total of 465 games. Each year he grinds away part of the season in the minors, hoping to put up enough numbers to appear in a few more major league games.

This is the lifestyle that Dow is entering. Simply by gaining a bit of big league time, his prospects have improved. He will now be earning a decent wage even as a minor leaguer. Hopefully he'll earn another chance at the big leagues, and Korea and Japan are still possibilities. His future is still less than certain, but it looks brighter than it did a year ago.

Dow is about to go through another change. He's getting married in a couple of weeks, and I can't wait to see him.

A few links--health care and Darren Ford robbed

First, here's an excerpt from an Op-Ed I wrote for USA Today:

If baseball and health care were thrust into a formal logic argument, it might look like this:

All those who are rich have health insurance. All professional baseball players are rich. Therefore, all professional players have health insurance.

The above argument might be valid, but it's not true. The majority of professional baseball players are minor leaguers, and we certainly aren't rich. More important, hundreds of players lost their insurance earlier this month.

Some will love me for this article; some will hate me. Hopefully it's worth a read.

Also, continuing on health care, here's an article a teammate emailed me about the head coach of SIU-Carbondale's baseball program. He's undergoing various cancer treatments. It serves two purposes. First, it is a warning to other players, as it shows what can happen when a person abuses smokeless tobacco for their entire life. I touched on players using tobacco waaay too much in a previous Baseball America mailbag. Second, it shows the difficulties that some people have in obtaining needed cancer treatments in today's health care system.

Lastly, one of my teammates was robbed recently!! Apparently Darren Ford, who was just added to the Giants' 40 man after a great season, was working at his offseason job at a Chevy dealership (ironic that Chevy even hired a guy with the last name of Ford). He drove to make a deposit and was robbed at gunpoint. D-Ford is a good dude. He's lightning fast and a great center-fielder. I'm trying to reach him to get his thoughts and make sure that everything is okay.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!

Pizza and Fried Chicken: Minor league staples

"Tough to eat healthy when your post-game meal is fried chicken every night."

The quote is from one my teammates. We were recently talking about the difficulties of eating healthy in the minor leagues. We often have this discussion, but we had a specific prompt this time: Pictures of our personable teammate, Pablo "Kung Fu Panda" Sandoval, working out.

I first saw the pictures on Facebook. Pablo doing abs with a med ball. Pablo on a treadmill. Pablo grimacing on a leg press machine. Pablo chopping wood, running through snow, and doing pullups in a barn. (Wait, that's Rocky). Then came the story by the SF Chronicle regarding "Camp Panda." More of the same pictures, and details of Pablo running up mountains--Camelback specifically--in a single bound.

My anonymous teammate sent me the link to the Chronicle's article. We both agreed that we loved seeing Pablo work like this. He's an impact player. His energy is contagious, he loves the game, and he can flat out hit.

We delved further into the situation. Specifically, my teammate asked me a question: Why did they wait until he was an established star to worry about his weight? Why didn't they worry about it years ago, when he was already at 240 pounds but short of 270? Why don't they do more to help minor minor leaguers improve their diets? (Okay, that was more than one question.)

I tried giving an answer. They want to save money? They don't care about players until they reach the major leagues? They weren't good answers.

In my upcoming Baseball America story on salaries (yes it does exist--crossing fingers--should be out in 2 weeks), I touch on this subject, but I'd like to expound upon it here. It's not easy to eat healthy in the minor leagues. Often choices are limited. And often budgetary resources are limited.

There is a fairly easy solution to this problem. Most guys arrive to the field each day around 2 pm. They eat a snack. They eat a full meal around 5:30 after BP. They eat again after the game. This is over half of their daily caloric intake. It's probably close to two-thirds. Why not ensure that these calories are good calories?

A slight effort is made by most teams. Nutritionists give a 15 minute talk in spring training, and guidelines are given for clubbies. But these clubbies are operating on a budget. Players pay dues for the "spread," and an effort is made to keep these dues low. With little money to spend and rushed for time, the result is often quick, easy, and cheap food. The junk food brims with the normal trifecta--fat, sugar, and sodium.

I have to admit I like eating Doritos once in a while. And who doesn't like the occasional corndog? But these shouldn't be staples of pre-game meals. We're playing baseball, not watching a tractor pull at a state fair.

Post-game meals are often no better. Again operating on a short budget, fried chicken and Stouffer's lasagna prevail at the upper levels of the minors. In the lower levels, many teams don't even have post-game spreads to reduce the cost of dues. Instead, players are left to find food themselves. On the road, late-night options near the hotel are limited to McDonald's or trail mix from the local gas station. Some players simply order Domino's Pizza night after night.

Certain teams are beginning to take steps to remedy this. The RedSox, for instance, pay for meals after home games for their "A ball" players. The meals are fresher and more nutritious than the normal post-game meal. It cost them around $5 per player--around $150 per night. With 70 home games, it amounts to $10,500. It's not a small expense, but when these players are the future of your organization--not to mention that teams have spent a lot of money on their top picks--it would seem to be a good investment.

Along with a lack of options, the low meal money allotted players complicates matters. Per diem, provided when the team is on the road, has remains at $20. It hasn't increased since McDonald's introduced the Big Mac. (I actually can't verify that.) For a Double A player, over half of this goes to clubhouse dues. Around seven or eight dollars is left for both breakfast and lunch.

In a story I wrote last off-season, I talked about an effort made to raise per diem. General managers wanted to do it. It just needed a vote by owners. Commissioner Selig didn't even raise the issue at the winter meetings.

Minor leaguers recognize that our situation is better than many in the world. We have food while many go hungry. But we're trying to play at our fullest potential, and it's tough to do so when eating junk food.

Players aren't expecting to eat filet mignon every night. They don't want to gorge themselves on crab legs (too difficult and messy, but man they taste good). They just want to have a healthy meal once in a while. Right now that's a wish that's hard to fulfill.

We'll just keep eating fried chicken and pizza. A few of us will actually reach the big leagues. They'll care about us then.

Update: I've had mixed reports on whether or not the Giants give money for post-game meals in the form of reimbursements. Hopefully more teams begin using the method of the RedSox, where they just pay for decent meals! As of now, I've only heard of a few teams doing this. Hopefully the idea spreads.

I also don't want to come across as criticizing the clubhouse managers. Those guys work their butts off! They don't get the credit, or the pay, that they deserve.

Villalona: paying off a family?

I've been in enough seafood restaurants to know when something smells fishy. Tonight I just read something smelling so fishy I would've walked out of the restaurant's door and never looked back.

According to Andrew Baggarly's blog, which cites an AP report Angel Villalona is out of jail. Normally I'd be jumping for joy. A teammate who had been accused of something walked out of jail. I should be happy, right?

Well, I'm not jumping for joy. The judge has apparently accepted a request by the family of the victim to drop the charges. Baggarly states that according to rumor, Villalona "paid $150,000 to the family of the slain man."

I went to the website of Diario Libre, the main paper in the DR, to get more information. They're now reporting that instead of 5 million pesos, Villalona actually paid the family 2 million pesons. They cite the mother of the victim as the source, so it seems pretty solid.

So how much is a peso? Well, I did an online search for an exchange rate and it's around 36.68 pesos per dollar. So at 5 million pesos, the amount would've been $136,314. At 2 million pesos? Try $54,524.

I hate believing rumors, but if this is true, then Villalona just paid off a family for a little over $50,000.

Upon Villalona's arrest a month ago, I posted on this blog about it. Here's an excerpt:

Again, I hope that Villalona didn’t commit this murder, but if he did, justice needs to be served. The thought still reigns as almost incomprehensible, but I have to remember that my teammates don’t grow up in cushy little suburbs in the United States, playing 60 games a year for traveling Little League teams that extort $5,000 for the “opportunity” to play. Instead, they come from a still developing country with a high crime rate, where $5,000 represents more than half of the average household income.

Most of the things I stated in that paragraph remain true. I hope he didn't commit this murder. The guy was/is a teammate, and I got along with him more than well. Not only a huge kid but also a huge prospect, a tremendous amount of pressure had been placed on his broad shoulders. He went through times where he displayed a broad smile and he went through times where he was frustrated. I'd consider him a friend.

But I also believe that justice needs to be served. And how can justice be served if the family is paid off?

The prosecutor states that he wants to continue to pursue this case. Obviously I'm no expert in Dominican law, but without a judge behind him, I'm wondering if he'll be able to bring anything to trial.

I wanted to believe my teammate was innocent. I wanted something to come forward to exonerate him. I wanted to see him walk out of prison a free man. But not like this. This just smells like rotten sushi, and nobody likes rotten sushi.