Thursday, September 23, 2010


The season is over and life has shifted. My wife and I have moved from baseball 24/7 to "real life" again. Quite literally, too. We've moved from Savannah, into Ashley's mom's house, then into our apartment in near Collier Hills, Atlanta. I've loaded my car (my compact sedan...of course) full of boxes, furniture, TV's, gardening tools, clothes, and a Brita Water Filter (I just can't find it). For a solid week I drove around with my life in my baseball life that is.

I live two distinctly different lives every six months. My baseball life is not 9 to 5. It's more like 2 to 11, which wreaks havoc on normalcy. It means I sleep in, eat at weird times, and spend more time at home (things close at 11). Baseball consumes life in nearly every aspect. Relationships that once had broad bases are boiled down to "how's ball going?" or "So, when you getting home?". You lose dinner dates because of extra innings and breakfast dates because of workouts. Life becomes one never-ending game (140 innings long). It's easy for me because I love it. It's not easy for everyone else because it takes no prisoners, asks no permission, and leaves a trail of tears (not a Native American reference) for 6 long months.

So it's good to be back. Back into the 9 to 5 swing. The life where dinner really does come before 8 and where people hang out after their jobs. I like a life where the only roommate you have is your best friend (no offense baseball roomies) and your stuff is really yours. I have a job just like the summer only this one doesn't consistently make me sweat more than most people. I miss playing ball and could honestly do it for another 6 months. I don't, however, miss the life it forces me to lead and the life it forces Ashley to bear.

Yet I'll blink and it'll be back, so I'm not worried. We had 6 good months, broke up, and now I've finally got some closure in the relationship...but we can still be friends.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

SALLY League Playoffs 2010

"Hell boys, we're here anyway. We might as well win it!" - everybody

Today is the first day of our divisional playoff series against the Greenville Drive. It's a best out of three series, wherein we have to drive to Greenville, SC to play the first game, then drive back the same night and play two more in Savannah. Pretty damn literal if you ask me.

At this point in the season you've already played 140 games in 5 1/2 months...that's a grand total of 10 off days. Not only that, but you've had to play in a league that is notoriously the worst in the country for traveling (avg. drive time of 6 hrs). To top it all off you've played 70 home games in Savannah, which is a great city, but also the hottest place on the planet in the summer. Mentally, physically, emotionally...we're tired. But this is the playoffs, and what doesn't kill you gets you a nice shiny ring on your finger.

Now I've heard it said by some who don't understand the game that we are a bit "light in our loafers" for spending all this time and effort on jewelry. Let me make this clear to anyone who might subscribe to said opinion. It isn't about the jewelry. It is about pure unadulterated competition. It's about doing something that most professional athletes never get to do. It's about dog-piling on the mound after the third out in the last inning of the championship game. It's about champagne (well, sparkling cider...still some young'ns around) being popped in a clubhouse that has seen so much defeat everyday for 6 months straight.

It's about finishing knowing you couldn't have done any better. In an industry where you have no control over your future, all you can do is try to be the best wherever you are. That's what a ring represents. Not a couple diamonds and a logo, but a memory. Something no one can ever take from you. This is what we're after.