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| "What's up, MTV- I'm a minor leaguer, and this is my crib." |
Three nights- that's all you get. Whether you've been moved up, sent down, or are starting your career, when you first arrive to a new team, the organization puts you up in a hotel for your first three nights- after that, you're on your own.
There you are- plopped down in the middle of a city you've never even heard of, facing a 72-hour deadline to find yourself a place to live. It's even more fun when you don't have a car- that's when it gets really interesting.
My first three nights in Rookie Ball were spent in a Howard Johnson's motel. In addition to being rundown and disgustingly dirty, it was located in the middle of a neighborhood that made you wish there were more than just five variations of locks on the door- the type of place where you fell asleep every night to the soothing lullaby of police sirens. Even at the all expenses paid price of free, this place was a ripoff.
But as terrible as it was, the HoJo was conveniently located about a mile from our ballpark- a blessing really, considering I had not yet met a kid with a car at his disposal.
After walking to the stadium that first day, everyone in my draft class convened and bonded over our frustration regarding the living situation- not to mention, the town in general. As we complained and commiserated, older players who had come from Extended Spring Training and already had a year under their belt were entertained by our innocence and the utter shock we displayed. Welcome to Pro-Ball.
