‘Tis of minor importance
Some days I wish I were a psychologist so I could dig into the complicated, sometimes desparate, usually frustrating but always fascinating world of Minor League Baseball. I work side-by-side with a couple dozen riveting personal stories, collectively known as the Omaha Royals, the AAA affiliate (top minor league team) of the Kansas City Royals. Every one of the guys on our team, and all the players who come on the visitors’ bus to play against them, have some kind of story.
One thing I love about seeing Minor League games all the time is I know I’ll be seeing a lot of these players in the Majors soon; some of them could go on to be big stars. That’s cool in an “I-knew-him-back-when” kind of way, but what about the other guys, the tortured players who have toiled in the minors for way too long and are hungry for a shot - those are the ones who are deeply fascinating to me.
Every game a starting pitcher throws badly is another five days he’s not going to be a big leaguer. Every hitless game, every error committed is a reason not to be called up. Every time Player B hits a homerun, it squashes Player A’s chances. Every blown lead pushes a reliever further away from the 40-man roster. I figure that kind of pressure has to mount up.
And those are just the guys who haven’t yet made it to The Show. AAA rosters are also littered with guys who’ve had their shot, and for whatever reason have been brought back to the emptier stadiums (In the case of one Iowa Cubs game, a completely empty stadium). How hard is that?
I want very badly to sit down and talk with a particular player I know who fits that scenario. He has spent time in the Majors, and has even been successful for a while, but injuries and a crowded roster have pushed him back into the Minors for quite a while. I have so many things to ask; I figure that kind of demotion has to make a guy question his ability, and if he questions his ability how can he perform well enough to get promoted again? How does a man re-align what he knows about himself when coaches who used to praise his big-league ability now call him into their offices to tell him he’s going back to the minors? So much of athletic success relies on ego and swagger, so what happens when those are deflated?
And what about the guys who are perpetually being sent up and down between levels? How can you focus on your work when your workplace - and public perception of your talent level - keep shifting?
I’m beginning to see that professional baseball is not an easy life. I still think pro ballplayers are incredibly blessed to get to play baseball for a living. But to balance all the demands of the game with a constantly shifting social calendar and weird, artificially inflated senses of self-worth that can be punctured at anytijme by any size of rejection or failure…it’s damn nigh impossible to be normal, much less to be better than normal. And at some point, a lot of guys I see at work might have to admit they won’t make it higher than Triple-A ball. Then what?
See, minor league baseball is more than just the games and the on-field promotions. It’s a continuous human drama full of uncertainty, walls of egotism chipped with periods of self-doubt, more questions than answers. And if I ever get answers to any of these questions, you will be the first people I tell.