MiLB LIFE: Extended Spring Training

I find myself in Baseball Purgatory. It's not Spring Training. It's not the regular season. It's not even a plane ticket back into the real world job market. Nope, it's Extended Spring Training - and both the length of my stay and my next destination are unknown.

When Spring Training ended last week and team rosters were published, my name was nowhere to be found. As teammates and friends began to pack their bags for greener pastures, I stayed put. I was a man without a team - and Spring Training was far from over.

There were about twenty of us left behind. A few days later, forty more guys who hadn't been invited to Spring Training showed up.

Suddenly, it was day one all over again - the introductions, the meetings, the drills. As my friends prepared for the start of a 140-game season, I was beginning Spring Training all over again.

As discouraging as it is to be in Extended, I do take comfort in a simple phrase that has served as consolation to millions before me: "It could be worse." It's true. I'm healthy, I didn't get released, and I'm living in a city that is far nicer than any town I'd be playing in had I made a roster. It could be worse.

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: "The Manager Wants to See You"

"The manager wants to see you." These words mark the beginning of the end.

The second this sentence is aimed at you, you're a dead man - and everyone knows it. As you make your way toward the manager's office, you creep closer to the end of your baseball career with each step.

The phrase casts a hush over the clubhouse. For that moment, everyone feels vulnerable. You could be a first-rounder in the middle of an all-star season, but in that instant, you can't help but fear you will be next.

Regardless of your relationship with the player in question, you feel awful. He may be your direct competition for a starting job or a promotion - his release may ultimately translate into more opportunities for you - but for the moment, that's not important. This is a kid who has spent his whole life playing baseball, just like everyone in that clubhouse - and today, the game he loves is being taken away from him.

MiLB LIFE: First Day of Spring Training [Part Two]

*In case you missed it, check out MiLB LIFE: First Day of Spring Training [Part One]

After an early wake-up, an extensive physical, and a hearty breakfast, it's time to do what we all traveled thousands of miles to do- play some ball.

8:30 AM - Cages Open

After hanging around the clubhouse, catching up with forgotten faces, and digesting my heaping pile of eggs, it's finally time to swing a bat. I head outside amongst a crowd of clones- all outfitted with the same new gear head to toe, bat in hand- as we make our way to the cages for "optional" early work.

Once outside, we are greeted by a row of eight batting cages, all set up to serve a different purpose. For the next half hour we work out the off-season kinks in our swings through tee work, flips, and soft toss- elementary cage drills focused on perfecting your bat's path to the ball.

There's some definite rust on the old swing, but for the moment I'm just thrilled to be outside. Baseball is a game that rewards repetitive practice, so although I may not feel great right now, I have no doubt everything will start clicking again soon after consecutive days of countless swings and hard work.

I look at this half hour as a chance to simply get back into baseball mode, put the bat on the ball a little bit, and really just get excited about the start of Spring Training. After months of swinging indoors, this Arizona sun is feeling mighty nice. 

MiLB LIFE: First Day of Spring Training [Part One]

After six months of waiting, the day had finally come.

I arrived at the Arizona hotel at 9:00 PM on Tuesday night experiencing a rare combination of exhaustion and excitement. I had spent the bulk of my day in airports, planes, and shuttles and had finally reached my much anticipated destination.

I lugged my bags upstairs and was eager to do nothing more than immediately test the sleepability of my hotel bed. But as desperate as I was to get some rest, I was even more anxious to awake from that slumber and begin the opening stages of my season. Spring Training was just a night's sleep away- actually, it was even closer than I expected.

"DO NOT EAT OR DRINK AFTER MIDNIGHT TONIGHT. THE BUS LEAVES AT 5:45 AM. PLEASE PEE IN THE CUP IN THE MORNING."

I found this team-issued memo sitting on my night stand, accompanied by the aforementioned "cup," of course. Day one was coming, and it was gonna be a long one.

MiLB LIFE: The Dip Police



I've never seen the Dip Police. I've never witnessed one of their raids, never felt their wrath.

I spent the majority of my Rookie season doubting such a tobacco task force even existed. I assumed the whole mythical concept had been dreamed up by the league offices as a way to deter the use of chewing tobacco and dip among minor leaguers. Scare tactics, I thought.

Not to mention: guys going around the country, popping into MiLB stadiums every night to inspect the players on the field- determining whether or not they had anything underneath their lip, or tucked between their cheek and gums? Seemed pretty far-fetched to me.

Nope. They're out there. And they're watching your every move.

I've heard legend of epic Dip Police invasions and searches- most of which I'm assuming are fabricated, or at least grossly exaggerated.

There's the kid who got bagged for merely having little dip crumbs on the floor around his stall; the player whose tin was found in a heap of garbage after thorough inspection of the clubhouse trash can; the guy who got nabbed for having BreathSavers in his back pocket during a game- a circular container that simply looked like a can of spitting tobacco; and perhaps my personal favorite, the kid who got fined for having boxers with a Skoal logo on them hanging from a hook in his locker. 

MiLB LIFE: Housing



"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.

MiLB LIFE: How Long Until You're in the Bigs?



Brian Mazone, the oldest active minor leaguer with no MLB experience, turned 34 last season.


Professional baseball is extremely complicated. Unlike other major sports, even the highest MLB Draft choices are not expected to make an impact on their organization for at least a few seasons. While some football, hockey, and basketball draftees are being named all-stars in their first year as a pro, baseball players often spend years in the minors developing their skills and waiting for their opportunity. And while some wait years, others wait a lifetime.

The majority of professional baseball players will never play a major league inning. There are no guarantees when you sign that contract- you are simply being offered an opportunity to earn a chance at your dream. And, quite frankly, the odds are not good.

When you take a look at any organization, there are more than 150 minor leaguers all vying for a handful of open Major League roster spots- not in the organization, but in the entire league.

Baseball is a sport that regularly sees guys take their playing days into their late 30's, even their 40's. While such older players may be a rarity in other sports, longevity has certainly proven more attainable on the diamond. These long careers result in a minuscule turnover rate, producing a very small number of opportunities every season.

COLLEGE to PRO: Slumping

After years of trying to fight it, I've recently given in to the idea that slumps are simply a part of baseball. There's no avoiding them and they hit you when you least expect them- no one is immune.

I've seen guys follow career days with 0 for 20 stretches. It's amazing- and it happens overnight. How can you go from being so relaxed and confident, to literally feeling helpless in the batter's box? Yesterday you couldn't miss the barrel, every ball was hit hard- today, you'll take a foul tip to reassure you that your bat doesn't have a hole in it.

But that's baseball- it's a game of failure, and even Hall of Famers made an out more than half the time. It's a player's mental toughness- his ability to bounce back from failure- that will dictate how his career goes. And in the minors, the mentally weak do not last long.

In college, when the occasional slump reared its ugly head, I always had enough on my plate to distract me from whatever lack of success I was experiencing at the moment. Go to any college in the country and you'll find your fair share of distractions- most of these can hurt your game, but sometimes in baseball, a distraction is just what you need.

MiLB LIFE: Explaining My Profession to Non-Baseball Minds



DJ wasn't always the money-making, actress-dating, ring-winning machine he is today.

I love talking baseball with people who know the game. It's a topic that never gets old for me, and, if prompted, I always enjoy sharing my own insight and experiences on a life-long passion that I'm now lucky enough to call my job.

"What position do you play? When do you report to spring training? What level will you start at this year?" These are some of the questions I face regularly, and I'm always appreciative of the person's curiosity. I realize I'm lucky to do what I do - to be a part of the decimal point percentage of young baseball players who get a shot at their dream - and I'm proud to share my story with anyone interested.

But as cool as I feel while talking baseball with those in the know, I feel ten times less accomplished - less worldly, less established, less intelligent - when discussing my career with those without a baseball mind.

"You play baseball? For a living? Ohh, so you know A-Rod! Oh, how cool! When do you play on ESPN?"

MiLB LIFE: Bus Rides

Minor League Baseball and bus rides go hand in hand. Bus rides are an inevitability of Pro-ball, resulting in some people even referring to MiLB leagues as Bus Leagues. You board the bus, you pick a seat, and you drive to your next game- it's up to you how you want to spend those next two, five, eight, fourteen hours. Just hope you're not next to the fat kid. Or the smelly kid. Or the loud kid. This is gonna be a long ride.

Regardless of length, I start every bus ride the same way. I board the bus about fifteen minutes before our departure time- early enough to have a wide variety of seat locations to pick from. I usually walk about two-thirds of the way down the aisle toward the back, selecting a seat to my right (the left side of the bus if facing the windshield). I aim for a seat exactly two rows behind a TV monitor, a distance I've found to be perfect for optimum viewing pleasure. I make sure no one has already laid claim to that seat, and then I unload all my goodies.

A bus ride is only as enjoyable as the things you bring with you. For instance, my bus ride survival kit looks something like this: latest issue of Men's Health, copy of Mind Gym (or whatever book I'm reading at the moment), iPod and headphones, Subway footlong or peanut butter sandwich, protein bar, pack of Stride gum, G2 Gatorade, water, family size bag of pretzels, sweatshirt, and, perhaps most importantly, a pillow.

MiLB LIFE: Clubhouse Rules

Every organization is different, and each has their own unique set of rules. Coming up through any minor league system, you become accustomed to these rules- they become second nature. They are guidelines that everyone must follow, and as strange as some may be, no questions are asked. We follow these rules blindly, all while hoping to some day break free from such oppression and make it to the Show, where you basically do whatever you want because, well, because you can- you're a Big Leaguer.

But as we struggle to climb the ranks, we still fall under minor league jurisdiction. Now every team demands its players be on time, work hard, and abide by the different daily schedules and appointments- but they also each have their subtle clubhouse rules: rules that make the MiLB experience slightly different for every club.

For example:

No Cleats in the Clubhouse: This rule is a mainstay in most clubhouses, and almost everywhere it proves effective for maybe the first week. The idea is to keep from tracking dirt and mud into the clubhouse, but taking your spikes off outside and walking around in your socks is surprisingly annoying- unfortunately for the clubbie manning the vaccuum, this rule almost never stands the test of time.

Dress Code / Collared Shirt: Every time you make your way to the ballpark, regardless of the time or reason, you have to wear a collared shirt. They want their players looking sharp and professional, which I can actually appreciate. (Hilarious in Rookie Ball seeing the surfer dude from California who brought nothing but t-shirts and wife beaters react to hearing this rule- harsh, bro.)

MiLB LIFE: Being the New Guy

Being the new guy is never easy. Whether you were traded, signed late, got moved up or bumped down, the process is all the same. From my experience, it usually takes around one week for a new player to become fully acclimated and feel like part of the team- but boy that is one long, lonely week.

The minute you walk into the clubhouse you're under the microscope. Your new teammates size you up as whispers about what position you play and which round you were selected in swirl around the room. You are a threat to several players in that clubhouse- you are now their competition for daily at-bats and future opportunities. Not to mention you are totally wrecking the flow of a clubhouse full of players that have spent the bulk of a season together- everyone knows each other's quirks and habits, they're well aware of their pet peeves, and they all have their own routines that ultimately contribute to the overall team routine. 'Hey man, that's Johnny's seat.' - 'Franky hates when people touch his glove' - 'Hey hold up, Sandy always hits first in our group.' As the new guy, you know none of this. You will inevitably mess something up on day one and step on a few toes along the way- all part of the process.

The team trainer is your new best friend. He welcomes you, gets you squared away with a locker and uniform, and gives you the full tour. But once the pleasantries are over, you're on your own. There will be a few guys who come up to you on their own and introduce themselves, and instantly you think these are the greatest guys in the world. I try to be one of these guys- a simple handshake and an exchange of names goes a long way for a kid feeling out of place.

MiLB LIFE: Fat Camp

Came to Spring Training out of shape? Nothin' Tony Perkis can't handle.

Think you can get away with that belly just because you hit a few homers? Welcome to Fat Camp. Now this term may not be universal throughout the entire Minor League system, but I'm sure each organization has their own version of this institution. It's simple really- show up to Spring Training with a belly? You're in Fat Camp. Gain a certain amount of weight during the season? Boom, Fat Camp. Start showing a decrease in your endurance or conditioning level? Go see that strength coach right over there and he'll get you set up in, yep, you guessed it: Fat Camp.

Now Minor League Fat Camp is not the fun and games depicted by Gerald Garner and company in Heavyweights- no go-karts or dances; no pranks or tomfoolery. Fat Camp is simply a series of additional exercises that players considered by the organization as 'out of shape' must do on a regular basis until they reach a target weight. For some it's a kick in the ass- a reminder to put down the fries and booze for a minute and lose those few extra pounds they've  added over a string of late nights. For others, it's a challenge to get in shape for the first time in their lives- they've always been big, but they've always known how to hit or pitch so they've always gotten by without having to change.

Then there's the one or two guys who look at Fat Camp as an inevitability- these are the lifetime members. Sure it's a pain in the ass to have to do more cardio than every one else, and at times it's embarrassing, but this is pizza and beer we're talking about here! These guys simply add the Fat Camp regiment to the rest of the team workouts and go on living their lives as they always have- same laziness, same diet, same slow speed and big belly. These kids are an enigma to me- so you know you're fat, the team knows you're fat, and it's proven that by applying yourself to better health you'll likely be more effective on the field and live a longer life? Yeah, I wouldn't try to change either. Sounds stupid.