Out of My League:: A Rookie's Survival in the Bigs

by Dirk Hayhurst

I deflated with a long, exasperated exhale at the thought of patrolling the streets in my grandmother’s

ark-like car-asaurous. It was a monster of steel and chrome that devoured economy parking like Tic Tacs and swilled down fuel like minor leaguers on cheap booze.

baseball, for all its high drama and patriotism, is a lottery ticket job with few winners and lots of losers.

This was what player interaction was like in spring training: a constantly moving mass of personalities

that bumped into one another like blind tadpoles wearing the same jersey.

As much a survival trait as anything else, there are only so many knock-down, drag-out fights a group of loved ones can have before their hearts become callused,

While it’s certainly one of the most exciting leagues in the game, Triple A can also be one of the most bitter since it’s crammed full of veterans who feel they should be in the Bigs, much the same way prisons are populated by criminals who swear they’re innocent.

Of course, I dared not touch any of it with my defiled rookie hands, lest I be cast out of the plane into some dark, cold place where there was much weeping and gnashing of crab leg–deprived teeth.

“You don’t get married for yourself, you get married because you’re better together than separate.

Families are so cute when they behave.

I’ve learned that the reason a person starts something isn’t always the reason they finish it.