It is the experience that every Minor Leaguer does his best to avoid, but for the majority, is one that is inevitable: showing up to camp for another day of the grind when you see that your jersey and pants are gone, with a note taped to your locker that tells you to see the Farm Director. Some players know it is coming, while others are blind-sided by the news. I was somewhere in the middle; I had embraced the concept that I had to make room on a roster for myself to last another year in the organization, but limited opportunities during Spring Training had me thinking that this could be the time. After a brief meeting with Abe Flores and a few goodbyes to teammates and some coaches, I packed up my locker and started to think about what I would be doing during my newly freed up weekend.
What now? What does a catcher with three years of professional experience and a Master’s degree do when he is told his services are no longer wanted? The easy answer seems like it would be to settle down and get a job that pays a little better than a Minor League salary. However, I am hung up on the fact that I invested an exorbitant amount of time and energy into preparing for this season, and I am not quite ready to give it up. Granted I am violating the first rule in strategic economic decision making (sunk costs don’t count, which is another post in itself, but probably one that will not explored in this blog) with this rationale, I feel like not playing this season would be a waste.
So, I am left trying to find another affiliated team to get signed by, or try to find a gig on the Independent League circuit. In the meantime, it looks like I will be back to work at the tax office, resuming my part-time job at H&R Block. Hopefully, I will be able to trade my dress slacks for some baseball pants in the coming weeks.