For over 20 years, I traveled the country pursuing a lifelong dream of becoming a Major League Baseball player. In 2015, I was drafted by the San Francisco Giants, and for three years, I bounced around the minor leagues living a lifestyle that few are familiar with. Smelly bus rides, locker room pranks, bench-clearing brawls, and a whole lot of fast food. For an entire season, I wrote an email blog so my family could feel like they were riding that bus with me. Over seventy pages later, I have a library of stories that give a humorous and authentic peak into minor league baseball. With the MILB season cancelled, I decided it was time to share these stories publicly.
Disclaimers:All text in italics below are original excerpts from my Bullpen Banter installments. They are original diaries from my time in minor league baseball. They were likely written from a phone while driving through the Appalachian mountains, so there will be typos and poor writing. I have adjusted the names of people in the article to protect their anonymity.
Entry #1: 4/12/17- Minor League Chronicle
Three years ago, I found myself scuttling down the road in a greyhound bus. It was my second full year in professional baseball, and I had just been sent to my minor league assignment in Augusta, GA. With a childlike fervor, I was excited to start my path to the big leagues.
To keep my family updated, I crafted my first installment (originally named the Minor League Chronicle) on a late bus ride back from Charleston. We were just returning from our first road trip. It had not gone well.
The Charleston River Dogs stadium. Taken right before batting practice
Hi Everyone,
Welcome to the Minor League Chronicle! This started as an email for grandma and grandpa, but I enjoyed putting some of my memories in text, so I am considering making this a frequent thing. It helps pass the bus ride. Who knows!
Anyways, as for what has been going on…
We stink. Like really, really stink. While we have a few good players, right now, we do not really do anything really well. Through our first seven games, we have struck out 10+ times every game, and on 4/12, we struck out 18 times in one game! We have been yelled at a lot.
Fun anecdote here. The night before our game on 4/12, a higher-up in the SF Giants gave us a long lecture on striking out. He said he didn’t care if we lost the game or hit 27 grounders, but he wanted us to put it in play. No strikeouts! Welp, the next day, 18 of our 27 outs came from strikeouts. Let’s just say the post-game meeting went poorly…
With all of this being said, we have some fun guys, and we are making memories. We bussed to Charleston for three games. Upon arriving at the Sleep Inn north of the city, Marcus Taylor (my road roommate) and I went to our room to find a toxic smell. Honestly, I think something died in the shower. Luckily, we were able to switch rooms, but the second one had mysterious marks and stains everywhere. We settled on just keeping a few lights on, so we could not see much. Classic Minor League’s. Luckily, the hotel featured a close McDonalds, Cracker Barrel, and Waffle House, so we had plenty of food options!
Two additional notes:
1. The stains on the wall were alarmingly high. I remember having absolutely no idea how one could ever create stains so large, so high on the walls. No idea on how, what, or why, but it was quite gross.
2. Minor league accommodations are not very nice. If you land near a McDonalds, Cracker Barrel, and a WAFFLE HOUSE, then you have hit the minor league gourmet lottery. That $20 of daily meal money can go pretty far on a dollar menu.
Charleston has an old stadium, but they sell a lot of tickets! On the first night, it was bark in the park, so there were a million dogs. A drunk college guy must’ve felt inspired, because he spent two innings behind the bullpen endlessly barking at us. He would alternate between a deep bark, and a small dog bark. It was quite funny, actually.
I am not using “barking” as a euphemism here. He was actually barking like a dog.
Minor League Tip #1: always wear a sweatshirt over your jersey so hecklers cannot identify you!!!
On the second night, we finally won our first game, and my cousin was able to escape her rigorous Navy training to come watch a game. Super thankful for that, and it was really good to catch up.
On the third night, we got smoked. The highlight of the game was one of our relievers named Jose Ortiz. He caught a foul ball in the bullpen. Usually, we give the ball to a cute kid nearby and everybody is happy. Jose, however, held onto the ball and overlooked 20+ 8–12 year olds. Finally, he flagged down a 20 yr old girl in the stands to give it to. Unfortunately, the little boy in front of her thought Jose was calling him. When the little boy walked down too, he passed the ball directly over the kid’s head to the girl. Our bullpen got booed, and I honestly was scared that we might get attacked over the last few innings. It was a reaaaaallly reaaaaally bad look. Thanks Jose!
That is the basic summary! Other than those stories, the endless debate in the locker room is whether you would rather have the power to fly or to teleport! We have spent hours discussing the details (i.e. Flight speed, number of passengers, number of teleportations per day, etc). Would love to hear what you all would choose.
To end the debate, submit your answer here. For the sake of argument, you cannot bring someone with you while you fly, and you can only fly ~80mph. For teleporting, you get tired, so you can only teleport a short distance a few times a day, and for long distances (cross-country or international), once a week.
Also, a kid on our team revealed his theory on black holes and worm holes. Needless to say, it made 0 sense, and our minor league locker room will not be producing any astrophysicists.
Three years later, I think I can confirm. 0 astrophysicists.
Thanks for reading! Or at least, thanks for pretending to read it! We are still bussing back from Charleston, but I hope we are back around 2am, so it is not too bad!
Minor League Stats:
Logged Bus Hours: 29
PB & J sandwiches: 14
Jeff Burke