MiLB LIFE: Big League Picture Day

What you can't see are the mesh shorts and shower shoes that DJ's sporting underneath that stoic pose.

It's the picture you want everyone to see. Family, friends, thousands of screaming fans - if they see it, you've made it.

Yesterday was picture day at the ballpark for all Minor League players. After finishing breakfast, we were instructed to make our way to the media room where a photographer had set up shop. Once we arrived, we were each given a jersey and a hat - a Major League jersey and hat. This was no ordinary mugshot - this was the picture that would be shown on stadium scoreboards if you were to play in a Big League game at any point during the season.

It seemed ridiculous to me. Over the course of the morning, over 100 players lined up to get their mandatory headshots taken. With each player I saw in line, I estimated their odds of making the Bigs by year's end. Most players received an insensative, yet realistic 0.00% - yet there we were, in a line that rivaled the wait at the DMV.

In reality, maybe a handful of players in that line will get to experience a call to The Show this year. Their pictures will be shared with the world - the rest will likely be deleted and forgotten.

MiLB LIFE: Universal Big League Dreams

Every day, minor leaguers of all levels come to the park with the goal of making the Big Leagues in the back of their mind. It's a daily motivator, the ultimate goal, and, hopefully, the big payoff after years spent in Pittsville towns and rundown motels.

But it's not just the players on the field that are dreaming big. Take a look around any Minor League Stadium and you'll see people who work in all aspects of the game doing the same thing- paying their MiLB dues with the hope of someday fulfilling their Major League dreams.

I remember one game late last season, I sat in the dugout having one of those profound moments that could only happen during a baseball game. Our team was up at bat and I had made the last out of the previous inning, so I grabbed a spot on the top dugout step nearest the bullpen and just zoned out.

I looked around at all the fans and stadium employees, peeked up in the booth at the PA announcer and the play-by-play commentator, even checked down the line for the concession stands and the fan shop- I remember thinking, 'this is some production!' But it wasn't any special night, it was simply a Minor League baseball game, just like the other 139 I would play that year.

I thought of how many baseball games were likely going on at that exact moment- hundreds, I thought. Thousands. Ehh, thousands? Maybe.

COLLEGE to PRO: Competition

The jump from college to pro baseball is ridiculous. Pitchers throw harder, guys hit the ball further, and no one, I mean no one, makes an error. I felt so overwhelmed when I stepped on a professional diamond for the first time- these guys were baseball machines!

Ok, ok- absolutely none of that is true. That may be the conception of most players walking into a professional clubhouse for the first time, but it only takes a few minutes of that first Rookie Ball practice- perhaps when the guy you're throwing with air mails you by 10 feet, or when the pitcher fielding grounders watches the ball go through his legs for the third straight time- for you to realize that the guys around you are all human.

Your new teammates are just like you- they were the best players on their college team, and there's something about them- a tool, a quality, a mindset- that enables them to play at the next level- but they're not perfect.

Every first year player makes mistakes- hell, every Big Leaguer makes mistakes. Baseball is a game made up of errors and miscues, but it's the best players and best teams that are able to minimize those miscues. Consistency is what every player strives for in this imperfect game- it's what separates the best from the rest.

Consistency is also what separates pro-ball from college baseball.