Gardner WebLog

So here’s another list-type blog, since I haven’t done one of those in a while…This is what most people would be surprised by if they were a ‘fly on the wall’ in a minor league clubhouse.

TOP TEN MINOR LEAGUE CLUBHOUSE SURPRISES

1. Most people would be absolutely appalled at the showers.  Ours is small, cramped, with the same non-slip flooring that we have in the dugout—I don’t know if it’s ever been cleaned.  Strange things grow in the corners, and simply wearing shower shoes doesn’t seem like a sufficient barrier.  For some reason, though, after the first week of the season, nobody really notices it anymore.
2. There is random stuff everywhere.  We basically live in this place for six months.  If we get back from a road trip really late, some guys will just sleep there—you have toiletries, a shower, and clean clothes.  There are piles of luggage from guys who have been called up or down, random lost items, and in our case, a rotisserie chicken cooker that someone bought in April.  Weird.
3. Clothing is optional.  We’re all guys, and before the game, it’s pretty warm in there, and so walking around in underwear (or less) is perfectly acceptable.  This, however, is a habit that requires breaking after the season ends…
4. Pre-game naps.  As the season wears on and the days become hotter, pre-game naps become an essential part of the routine.  It’s not odd to see no less than 8 players asleep on the clubhouse floor between BP and the national anthem.  As long as they get out to their positions by the first pitch, they’re fine.  Hey, we play every night…
5. Baseball players are obsessed with their shoes.  Quick tip: moms and dads—gone  are the days of spending TONS of money on expensive shoe cleaners for those new red cleats, bought “because the REAL Phillies wear them”…I have no experience with this particular example, I just made it up…er…anyway, our clubhouse manager has two cans of “Scrubbing Bubbles,” a fancy name for bathroom cleaner, that when applied to leather cleats, makes them look brand new.  Seriously, try it.  Before the game, everyone has to clean his cleats.  Some players do this with astounding intensity—think Macbeth—“out, out damn spot,” etc.  (double points for a Shakespeare reference in a minor league baseball blog…count it.)  Even the starting pitchers who know they aren’t playing will clean theirs.  Some guys say that they play better with clean cleats, others say that it’s just a good habit to get into.  I like doing it because I look at my feet a lot—sitting in the bullpen.
6. A clubhouse is actually that—a club’s house—so most of them have at least one TV and a couple couches.  I don’t know, but I was surprised by this when I showed up in
   Salem, it was kind of cool sitting there before work outs, watching ESPN, and then going out and playing baseball in a stadium.  We’ve got a sort of separate sitting room area with a TV up on a stand and a few couches—not really clean couches, but they still work.  Occasionally wars will start over whether or not the TV should be turned to a Spanish speaking station or not, but usually the Latin players will watch the TV in the training room—just as nice, but our trainer is Japanese, so his options are limited as well.
7. The smell.  Each clubhouse has it’s own, distinct smell.  Even visiting clubhouses smell unique.  Salem’s clubhouse was the best-smelling, I think because the clubby sprayed the carpet with Febreze, thus masking it’s true stench/odor.  Augusta’s was a cooler, damp smell, not mildew, but getting there.  In San Jose, we’re definitely near mildew, and heading towards a combination between bleach and old shoes.  I guess you could call it the ‘clubhouse cocktail’ smell…
8. Pants stretching.  This might be pushing it in terms of what you’re interested in, but these days the cool thing is having long baseball pants that go all the way down to your cleats.  In order to get this ‘look,’ you have to stretch the bottoms of your pants, so that you can put them over the tongue of your cleats, stuck there with spray adhesive available in the training room.  To get your pants longer and ‘stretchier,’ you have to put them on, then cuff them up all the way above your knee, and then walk around for a while.  Then you’ll get the perfect fit.  Just watch a major league game and you’ll see the new ‘over the cleats’ style of pants.
9. Ok, this is getting long…number nine is the mirror.  I have a locker close to our mirror, and I have to dress early, because as game time nears, the mirror area is overrun.  You’re not done dressing until you’ve checked out the look you have going—hat straight, eye black perfect, jersey tucked in correctly (wrinkles in the back, like a dress shirt), pants over the cleats, and shiny spikes.
10. One cool thing we do is play the same song in the clubhouse after every win.  I don’t even know what song it is, but we put it on really loud on the clubhouse stereo when everyone’s coming in after the game.  It’s like a 5 minute post-game party, then the song ends, you dress back into your ‘civy’ clothes, and go home to get ready to do it all over again tomorrow, including the shoes…

So our bullpen is looking a little sparse these days.  Our set-up man had to have some pretty serious surgery done on his teeth/jaw because his face hurt so bad he couldn’t pitch, another guy’s knee is banged up, one lefty has strep throat, and that leaves only a few of us to man the pen.  It’s like the injury plague has struck or something.  Luckily our starter went six + tonight, and the pen only had to wear 3 innings of relief.

We were joking about the World Cup the other day, wondering why, instead of playing extra innings to resolve a tie game, baseball didn’t end in a home run derby after 12 innings or so?  I mean in soccer they give it another 30 minutes of play, and if there still is no clear winner, they go to penalty kicks.  I think if a baseball game is knotted after 12 innings, they should wheel out all the BP gear, each team sends their best three homerun hitters to the plate in succession, and they hash it out with the long ball!  Fans would stay till the bitter end, and players would be able to showcase their power.  It’s an idea.

Extending this another step, maybe baseball should have a halftime.  Could we just stop the game after the 5^th inning and regroup in the clubhouse?  I could use a cold drink and wet towel to soak my face after 5 hard innings of waiting on the edge of my seat in the bullpen.  Or what about an inning by inning ‘hot spot’ on the field—a spot where if the ball lands there, it’s an automatic triple.  Maybe I’m just getting a little bored with the game.

After watching almost 90 successive games this year, I think that each game is decided in three or four key plays.  Most of the time, these are offensive—runners on base, and someone hits an extra-base hit, scoring multiple runs.  Other times it could be a key sac-bunt that moves a guy over, then a passed ball, and then a sac fly.  I would count all that as one play.  Or maybe the key play could be a defensive one—striking out a hitter with bases loaded and one out—a tough situation for a pitcher, but not as tough with two outs.  I’d say a key double play can end a potential rally as well.

Going back over games, these ‘crystallizing moments’ of each game will come out.  If a team can manage to win 3 or 4 of these plays in a single game, they’ll most likely win.  Few baseball games are decided in the last innings—you’ll disagree, but I say that you remember those late inning wins or losses better than the 8 to 2 drubbings, so it’s skewed.

This is not to say that a team should give up in the 7^th if their opponents have already had ‘the big inning,’ scoring 3 or 4 runs ore something.  They should instead focus on creating a winning succession of plays or a rally that could be the crystallizing moment that wins the game.

One other thing—most of the time, these major plays are not solo home runs, or even two run bombs.  Home runs, statistically, are rally killers.  Think about it.  You’re down by three in the 8^th inning.  The first guy walks, and guy behind him bunts him to second base, so you have a runner in scoring position with one out—a good situation—a rally situation towards the end of the game.  If the next guy comes up and hits a homer, you score two runs, but then again you’re still down one run with nobody on base.  After two quick outs, the inning is over.  If instead, the guy hits a double, scores one run, then the next hitter singles, and the pitcher walks a few guys because he’s getting tired and rattled, you’ve got a rally going that could win the game.

Just a couple thoughts about baseball that we were discussing tonight.  It would be interesting to actually go back and track whether this actually is the case.  If not, I’m just a relief pitcher, I just throw the ball, haha.

Sitting on the bus with my ipod on to drain out the sound of other players talking on their cell phones, flipping through a magazine and half paying attention to the DVD playing in the background, I have to wonder what it must have been like to play on a team 30 years ago when none of this stuff existed.  Well, except magazines…

Were the teams closer-knit as a result of their having to interact socially with each other on long road trips?  At no other time is our team physically closer to one another than when we’re on the bus, but I think it’s when we speak to each other the least.  Those who aren’t attached to their ipods are talking on the phone, and anyone else is watching the DVD playing on the bus’s entertainment system.

On the way back from our last trip to Southern California, the bus was having issues, so our driver turned the movie off, came on the loudspeaker and said, “Well boys, headquarters told me that we need to turn off all the extra electronic equipment in the bus if we’re gonna make it home, so night-night!”  All the running lights turned off, and we were in the middle of I-5, doing 75 mph with nothing to do.  Someone started a game of categories, which got old, because that’s what we do during games, not after them.

Then, someone suggested that since the lights were off, we make a covert excursion to the back of the bus.  Why not?  Well, we couldn’t just go back there, we had to make it like we were Navy SEALS and have call signs and everything.  One guy started army-crawling rearwards, trying to scare a fellow player sitting in the back, and was taken prisoner by the back of the bus ‘rebels.’  Five minutes later, all hell broke loose.  We were in full ‘manhunt’ mode.  They launched a counter attack, and we snagged one of their guys.  Thankfully, our man who’d been taken prisoner was an athletic center-fielder, and he hopped over about ten bus seats back to safety.  Meanwhile, we’d bribed our own captive with magazines and candy, and he didn’t want to go back.

The funniest part of this whole situation was that it all seemed so fun, but looking back on it, we were a bunch of 23 and 24 year olds playing around like 10 year old kids.  Our third baseman speared someone running full speed down the center aisle!  It was awesome.  None of the coaches even woke up, and the bus driver was too worried about whether the thing would make it back to
San Jose.

These weird episodes where we all lapse back into childhood make it fun, and keep the mood light.  Nobody’s making money, few are moving up, but we’re winning games and every once in awhile get to act like we’re 10 years old again. 

It’s fun to write funny stories about minor league baseball and its players, fans, and coaches, but this time I want to describe one aspect of baseball that isn’t fun—failure.

In a game where the greatest hitters get out 70 percent of the time, dealing with failure on the baseball field is a vital part of learning the game.  I think this is even more important in the minor leagues, where players who have dominated their whole careers may start to struggle against better competition as they move up the professional ladder.

Baseball has been described as the endless pursuit of fundamental perfection.  If everyone on the field executes the fundamental actions required of them, their team will almost always win.  This means fielding all ground balls, not walking people, bunting men over from first to second, stealing bases in stealing counts, picking runners off in stealing counts, and so on.  Having a superstar on your baseball team doesn’t mean as much as it might in football or basketball.  Nine fundamentally sound players will beat eight slackers and a superstar every time.  When teams fail to execute, they lose.

Failing in baseball is also infinitely more frustrating than in other sports.  Shortstops can practice fielding ground balls until their legs give out, and then get a bad hop the next day and blow the game.  Hitters can spend hours in the batting cage, and then face a pitcher the next day with a curveball that drops off the table and strike out.  Pitchers can have the best ‘stuff’ in the world, but they still have to put the ball in the strike zone for hitters to hack at—and good pitches get hit all the time.  To be able to control so many facets of the game, and practice those fundamentals so extensively, and then fail, is unbelievably frustrating.  This is why pitchers punch water coolers, hitters break bats over their knees, and coaches flip out on umpires all the time—these are all methods of dealing with failure.

No matter how calm, collected, and mature you are, the feeling of walking a hitter when you know that since you were 13 years old you’ve been able to throw strikes from a mound 60 feet away will invariably enrage you.  I guarantee it.

Therefore, one major way that great players stand out from all the others is the way they handle failure in the game.  If you have a .300 batting average, 7 out of 10 of your at-bats will end in failure, and you’ll walk back to the dugout unhappy with your performance.  Some guys try to focus on the positives (I hit a breaking ball behind in the count hard, it was just right at somebody…), focus on the past (I’ve already got one hit tonight, so I’m ok…), or focus on the future (forget it, I’ll have three more at-bats tonight).  Other guys accept at the outset that they will fail, and expect it when it comes, so they aren’t disappointed.  And still others flip out, throw stuff, and expand the vocabulary of young kids sitting within earshot of the dugout during games.

When I was 12 years old, I popped out to left field in a little league all-star practice.  A practice!  I was so mad at myself that I kicked first base hard enough to break a toe in my foot, and I couldn’t pitch until later in our tournament.  In some ways I guess I’ve learned to better deal with failure since then, but now and then that same 12 year old comes back and I lose it over this game—because it seems so easy, and messing up sucks!

Tonight I threw one inning, walked two guys, made a fielding error, and let three runs score in a close game.  When I walked off the field, I wanted to put my head through the cement dugout wall.  If anyone remembers the spring training post on pitchers being athletes and making fielding errors, you’ll understand my disappointment with myself for that one…  Tomorrow though, I’ll show up, put my cleats on, and start the process all over again.  Not because I know I’m going to succeed—I make very well pitch again and do just as poorly—that’s baseball—but I have to go out there and put myself in the best position to execute fundamental baseball when I’m pitching: throwing strikes, fielding ground balls when they’re hit, and ultimately getting guys out.  The process of working out, practicing mechanics, and getting better can only give me a better shot at success.

I love baseball because when you do well, you know that you were more perfect than the other guy.  Being on the less perfect side of that equation isn’t fun, but while you’re there, learning the process and how to deal with failure in baseball will ultimately get you closer to perfection a lot sooner.

The all-star break was awesome, because I didn’t have to be at the field every day at 2.00, and also because I was somewhere different each day at dinnertime!  Actually sitting down to eat dinner at the normal, agreed-upon, human time is a luxury that we miss during the season, since 6.00 pm is an hour before most games start, and we’re all well into our somber pre-game rituals by then.

It was funny returning from the break, because you could see what most guys did by how sunburned their backs were.  Most of the guys on the team headed up to
Sacramento, where a few of our players live in the off-season.  With only a few exceptions, everyone got really burned—in a few cases blisters and nasty peeling accompanied their sun ‘tans’—but everyone had a good time. 

We all are on a never-ending quest to get rid of our ‘farmer’s tans’—a nickname that I don’t think we deserve since our jobs in no way produce anything of real agricultural sustenance—but ‘baseball player tan’ just doesn’t have a ring to it…  Some guys look like they’re wearing shirts even when they’re not because their forearms and necks are so dark.  Wow, last entry was waxing, this entry is tanning…what am I talking about here…?

Even though the break was only for three days, when we came back for our first post-break game on Thursday, it felt like the beginning of a new season.  For the pitchers, this was sweet.  Our arms felt great, legs fresh, and attitudes back on track to dominate in the second half.  The hitters, who are far more streaky and superstitious, the break was three days away from batting practice and seeing the ball.  One guy came up to me after BP and said he felt like a little leaguer again.  “I couldn’t see anything in there, man,” he said after a less-than-inspiring round of BP.  Then, to show you how fast hitters bounce back, he hit a home run in last night’s game.  Hitters.  What victims.

One last observation.  In minor league stadiums, every day from July 1^st to July 4^th  counts as Independence Day.  After a fireworks ‘extravaganza’ last night in Modesto, we’re getting another one tonight in San Jose, then two more I’m sure Sunday and Monday night, as well as the REAL fourth of July show back home on the actual day of Independence.  Just as certain as death and taxes is that if they’re shooting fireworks at a minor league stadium, people will show up from miles around.

Happy 4^th of July season!