My Life in Baseball

[pedrotn]

Well, I guess this Tib's fault but I decided I would try and do a dynasty report. I am going to take a slightly different spin on it than his as I am going to try and intergrate reality and ITP up to a point. I have taken my baseball experiences and used them as the background as I work up through the minors to hopefully the MLB. Only it will be all fictional major leagues and minor league players. But the structure of MLB will be the same.
I have simmed through the first season in the minors so I know what happens up to that point but after that who knows. Hopefully I wont burn out in the minors or have a short career but if it does I guess thats farther than I would have gotten in baseball on my own. The character will have my first name with a fiction last name. So say hello to Peter Terrill.

Also I am not very good at going back over things I have written so you will get it in the raw. If there is something that needs to be changed let me know and we'll work it out.

[pedrotn]

My Life in Baseball

Chapter 1:

The Unexpected Call


To tell you the truth I really wasn’t expecting a call on draft day, reason being I didn’t think I was the type of ball player any pro baseball team would want. At the end of my college career I was a 6’1’’ left handed pitcher who had been used in every role you could think of. Most of my life I had been a middle reliever but due to injuries and other people just not being very good I ended up starting and closing as well. Not to mention the fact that I played for a small division 3 college in south <st1:state w:st="on"><st1 ="">west Virginia</st1></st1:state>. In fact I had full plans of going to work with my father in a financial management business in northeast <st1:state w:st="on"><st1 ="">Tennessee</st1></st1:state>. I was getting married in October and my regular life was about to begin.

So because I wasn’t expecting a call I was no where near a telephone that day. I was actually on the field. I had signed up to coach the 13 – 14 year old traveling team back home and we were in Knoxville that day at the State Championship. Now when I was on the field I never had a cellphone with me. I always hated it when a coach seemed to busy to be paying attention to the game. So as my team was winning the State Championship I slowly built up 25 missed calls on my cellphone that was lying on the front seat of my Jeep.

The first through eleventh calls were from my fiancée Kate whose messages were a mixture of pleasure and frustration. Twelve through twenty were from my parents all with desperate messages to pickup and that they had great news. The last five were from various baseball buddies that also got the news before I did.

After listening to all the messages I called Kate to find out what was going on as none of the messages had actually said what had happened. There had been a few “You lucky bastard’s” and “I can’t believe this – call me” type messages but none had said that the Florida Marlins were trying to get in touch with me. I actually thought as I was listening to the messages that Kate might be pregnant, thank god she wasn’t.

When Kate picked up the phone I said:

<o =""></o>“What’s going on babe?”

“You got drafted baby.” Kate replied with a scream of joy. I literally sat down.

“Why?” That was the only thing that I could manage to get out of my mouth as my head tried to wrap itself around the idea.

“I don’t know but this guy named Bruce Cortinas called and said that he was with the Marlins and they wanted to talk to you.”

“This doesn’t make sense babe are you sure it’s not Taco pulling everybody’s leg?”

“He sounded pretty serious to me, he left a number why don’t you call him now and give me a call back.”

“Ok babe, give me the number.”

<o =""></o>Sure enough Bruce Cortinas was with the Marlins, he was the scouting director. He explained that the Marlins had drafted me in the 5^th round, with the 132^nd overall pick. He also explained that a check was in the mail for $50,000.00 made out to me if I agreed to sign with them.

<o =""></o>
“Sir can I ask you a question?” I managed to get out before Cortinas hung up.

“Sure son, fire away.”

“Why did you draft me, I mean I didn’t know a scout had even come to see me, much less talked to anyone about playing in the minors.”

“You mean your coach didn’t tell you I was at your last game?”

“No.”

“Well I guess that this would make you pretty surprised then wouldn’t.”

He continued on to tell me that he had been there to scout the other team. Thomas Meeks played for them and he was the #4 prospect in all of division 3. It just so happened that I struck out Meeks three times that game.

It was a throw away game as our team was nowhere close to theirs and it was 12-1 before I got in, in the second inning. Fortunately it was also a bitter rivalry that had gone one-sided in recent years so they left their best players in to run up the score. I finished off the game and only let in 1 more run we lost 13-3. It was probably the best I have ever pitched in my life. It was also what I thought would be my last time to lace up my cleats as a player.

<o =""></o>Cortinas had been there and had been impressed. He explained that their farm system was short on left handed pitchers and even shorter on junk ball pitchers that just get people out. He went on to say that he gets to pick on odd ball player each year to pick in the draft after the 3^rd round and he had decided on me. With a quick “I won’t let you down,” we end our conversation with him telling me that one of the Florida minor league managers would be in touch when I had been assigned.

<o =""></o>
Now I would keep my cellphone with me.

[Jazzmosis]

Good so far - keep it up!

[GCCWolverine]

Excellent start. Keep up the good work. I'm a big fan of Tib's, and this is looking very promising.

[pedrotn]

Here is Chapter 2. I dont know exactly how this part of the story got to be this long but it did. I was going to be almost beginning the season at this point but I wanted to skew a little bit I guess. I hope you guys like it.

[pedrotn]

Chapter 2:

Bat Bag

<o =""></o>
It wasn’t long before my cellphone was ringing. This time it was John Hesser. <o =""></o>

“Mr. Terrill?” asked a gravely voice.<o =""></o>
“Yeah that’s me.”<o =""></o>
“I’m John Hesser, with the Marlins; I believe Bruce let you know I would be giving you a call.” <o =""></o>
“Oh, yeah, he said one of the minor’s managers would be giving me a call.”
“Well that’s me son. I’m the manager of the Carolina Mudcats.”<o =""></o>
I guess I didn’t say anything because I was confused so he prompted me.
“Son you there?’<o =""></o>
“Yes, sorry.”<o =""></o>
I knew the Mudcats; I had been to a few of their games while I was in college. <o =""></o>
They were the AA affiliate of the Marlins. This had to be a mistake I couldn’t be going straight to AA I was nobody, an odd ball pick, in the fifth round no less.

“I need to you to meet me here at the ball park in a week can you handle that?”

“Yeah not a problem but I think you’ve made a mistake, I was picked in the fifth round.” I still unable to really allow myself to believe I would be starting in AA.

“Well normally you’d be right but we are short on pitching in the system right now so management has decided to send all you college boys straight to AA.”

“Ok Coach, I’ll be there.”

“Be on time, of your ass will be in A ball.”

That was how our conversation ended.

My mind had gone on autopilot as I was driving up the interstate back to the house and I was almost home by the time we hung up. When I got to the house everyone was out in the front yard and there was a big banner strung between the two big oak trees. Everyone was there, Chad, Taco, Woody, and Jay from my college team and the whole gang from high school ball.


The party flew by and by the time I went to bed my back was sore from being slapped on the back and my hand felt like it had been crushed under a tank it had been shook so many times.

Kate and I laid in bed talking all night. We hadn’t expected this and we had a lot to talk about. The plan had been for Kate to move down to my hometown but if I was going to be off playing ball she wasn’t sure she wanted to move to <st1:city w:st="[/img]Carolina</st1:City">. At least she knew my folks but in <st1:city w:st="on">Carolina</st1:city> she wouldn’t know anyone. In the end we decided that she would live in <st1:city w:st="on">Roanoke</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">VA</st1:state></st1:city> with her mom and I would rent a place with some other minor leaguers while I was in the minors. We still were going to get married fortunately the date we had selected was after the season was over.

<o ="">

I was driving down the highway to<st1:city w:st="on">Zebulon</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">NC</st1:state></o>, the home of the Carolina Mudcats, before I knew it. I didn’t take much with me. I had my baseball bag one suitcase with my clothes, and one box with my computer and few other odds and ends past that I figured I wouldn’t need much.

I arrived at the park around noon on the first on March and was met at the gates by Sam, the gate keeper. He asked for some id and I showed him some. Sam was an older balding man with a beer gut and the look of a man who had spent many days in the stands of a ballpark.

He said “Welcome to the minors Mr. Raber, Skip is waiting for you and the other rooks in the dugout.”

“Other rookies,” I asked “are there many of us coming straight here?”

“Well it’s you, and two other guys that got drafted, then a few pitchers that the club picked up after the draft was over.” Sam replied as he pointed the way to the dugout.

“That Japanese kid, Kojiro Juro, the club drafted in the first round, I hear he has nasty stuff. Doesn't speak a word of English though.”


With that I pulled my Jeep into the parking lot and grabbed my bat bag with my gear in it. Most of my stuff was beat up. I had my Wilson A2000 that I loved dearly but had begun to deteriorate. I would have to replace it. Then there was my catcher’s mitt. Yes I had been a catcher in high school and college, granted it was as a bullpen catcher but I had learned more catching other people than I had from all the books I had ever read about the art of pitching. There were my cleats which I would replace; I always got new cleats at the start of a season. There were a few pearls, I always had one on hand to use in the bullpen, a pair of batting gloves with holes ripped in them, and some Theragesic and Advil for those rough days. Finally there was my most prized possession, my personal fungo.

Now most people would laugh at that but pitchers don’t have much to do during most practices but one thing they are always asked to do is hit groundballs to the infielders during batting practice and fly balls to the outfielders during infield practice. I had used team fungos and the random bat up until college when I decided on a whim to buy my own. I never looked back. It was a black beauty, long and thin and when the ball came off of it with a crack it was pure music. I probably could hit better with a fungo than I could with a regular bat. I had hit thousands if not tens of thousands of groundballs and Black Betty had been there for most of them. That was the main reason I had a bat bag rather than a pitchers bag.”

[Tib]

Good so far. I'll be reading.

[sljchung]

Originally Posted by pedrotn

Chapter 2:

Bat Bag

“That Korean kid, Kojiro Juro, the club drafted in the first round, I hear he has nasty stuff. Doesn't speak a word of English though.”

That name sounds more like Japanese than Korean to me.

Korean names, like Chinese names only has 2-3 vowels, e.g. Chan Ho Park (p.s. his name is actually called Park Chan Ho because Chinese/Japanese/Korean all say surname first, then the given names).

The name here, Ko-ji-ro Ju-ro is a quite typical Japanese style as Japanese letters are a-i-u-e-o, ka-ki-ku-ke-ko, sa-shi-su-se-so, etc.

Just my 2 cents...

[pedrotn]

You sound like you know betterthan I do. I didnt have my notes with me when I wrote that part. I will change it then check to see what ITP says he is from. Thanks for the help.

[pedrotn]

Originally Posted by Tib

Good so far. I'll be reading.

You honor me Tib. Thanks for stopping bye.

[Faroo6]

looks good so far.

ps Tib you can't keep changing your avatar on me.

[Jackie-O]

Great start! I will enjoying reading the rest of your Dynasty.

[pedrotn]

Chapter 3:

It Begins

I headed from the parking lot straight towards the field. It was a beautiful stadium, much nicer than the field I had played on in college. I walked through the players’ entrance but ignored the entrance to the lockers. The entrance to the field was right down the hall and it beckoned me on. I turned the corner and there it was. <o =""></o>

There is something about the way the sun shines on a baseball field. It gives it a magic hue. The sun was just coming up over the left field wall and the dew from the previous night glistened on the outfield grass. I took a deep breath as I took my first step into my professional baseball career. <o =""></o>
<o =""></o>
I noticed that the coach was talking to a few people so I decided to make a detour on my way to report in. I set my bat bag down on the edge of the baseline and slowly strolled over to the mound of dirt that at its peak was sixty feet six inches away from the shiny dish where my battles would take place. Pitchers get a special view of a baseball field. They are the only ones that can truly see the entire field, because of their elevated position. As I stood in my office I took it all in. I wanted to get out here as soon as possible. <o =""></o>

“Son, what the hell are you doing?” the scratchy voice of Coach Hesser called from the steps of the dugout. <o =""></o>

Broken from my day dream of glory I turned around to see that the people Coach had been talking to had moved on and now it was only me and Coach on the field. <o =""></o>

“Nothing,” I could already tell that Coach was not one of those people who understand the majesty of the pitchers mound. <o =""></o>

“Get your ass over here then.”<o =""></o>

“You Terrill?” Coach grumbled as I neared the dugout. <o =""></o>

“Yes Sir.” I always called my coaches sir. My high school coach had run us if we didn’t and since then it had become an unbreakable habit. It was once that served me well, as I avoided the smartest label that easily could have fallen on me if they coaches could here what I said in my mind. <o =""></o>

“I’m glad you decided to join us. You need to sign these papers before you can practice and practice is in an hour. If you need the training room is connected to the locker room on the left. My office is on the right.” <o =""></o>
<o =""></o>
I signed the contract and returned it to him, then headed towards the locker room. The locker room was an open room with lockers going around the walls of the room and a large open space in the center. The red carpet and black walls gave the team colors away and a large grey “Mudcat” head was encircled by a red C on the one wall that held no lockers. On the left of the logo was the a sign saying locker room and the right had a small sign that was slightly crooked and said Coach Hesser. After looking for a bit I found my locker. They were in number order and as I approached my locker my face spread in a grin. 41 – Terrill was written on masking tape above my black locker. It wasn’t my number from college but it ending in a 1 and strangely enough it was appropriate. <o =""></o>

In high school my number had been 1 until my senior year when I outgrew it and became 11. In college I was 31 because as a freshman we got the low numbers and I was lucky to get on that ended in 1. I had 31 on all my stuff at that point and when 1 and 11 had opened up I was too attached to 31 to give it up. As I had advanced in ball so had my number and 41 would be no different. <o =""></o>

There were three uniforms hanging on wire hangers in my locker. Two game uniforms and one for practice. We had white pants for games and grey from practice. There was a black tee shirt for practice with my name and number on it, a red sleeveless jersey with Carolina in black letters written across the front, which I assumed was for road games, and a white home jersey with Mudcats written across the front. I donned the black and grey and then as I lifted my head saw the most important part of any baseball uniform the cap. The Mudcats had three hats which confused me. They had a black hat with a red bill for home games and a red hat with a black bill for away games. There was also a white hat with a black bill that was labeled Sunday’s. They actually had a hat for Sunday’s. <o =""></o>

I finished suiting up and made my way over to the training room. Normally players avoid the training room like the plague but I knew that I would make it my home. Preventative medicine was the key to keeping my rubber arm rubber. If pro ball was anything like college ball I was going be throwing a lot and I wanted to know who was going to keep me limber for the full season. <o =""></o>

<o =""></o>The training room was empty except for a Latin player on the far table with headphones on and his arm wrapped in a heating pad. <o =""></o>

“What can I do for ya” a scrawny tall guy with a Mudcats polo shirt on said as I walked into the room. <o =""></o>

“I just need to get a stretch and a heating pad before practice.” <o =""></o>

<o =""></o>The guy’s name was Kelton and damn was he funny. Kelton stretched my arm and joked around while I sat with a heating pad on my arm. A few of the other guys came in to get ankles taped and other minor treatments. <o =""></o>

<o =""></o>Kelton didn’t tell jokes so much as he was just a sarcastic ass, which suited me fine. We would spend most of the first moth of the season going back and forth with jabs that had both of us laughing by the time I left the trainers table each day. <o =""></o>

When I got out onto the field I was sent down to the bullpen along with all the other pitchers. A short white guy with a red beard and a muscular frame was there to greet us. He introduced him self as Coach Mark Dewey. He was the pitching coach for the Mudcats and he knew his stuff. He had been a closer for the Pirates and a steady reliever in the pros for 5 -6 years before becoming a minors coach. He still wanted to be back in the show and would train with us as if management might give him another chance. <o =""></o>

He went had everyone introduce themselves for the benefits of rookies like me. There were eleven of us. The starters: Juro, Richard Zirkle, Frank Brigance, Bakazan Ichizo, and Leo Jennings. The relievers: me, Stephen Gregory, Alvaro Franco, and David Thompson. It was a pretty eclectic group and no one with any experiences over AA. <o =""></o>

<o =""></o>Dewey explained to us what was expected and that were to head over to Three of Clubs gym after practice to meet our strength coach and get our workout schedule. We then split into pairs and loosened up. I was paired with Gregory a 20 year old left hander who had been signed after the draft and also sent straight to AA to fill out their pitching needs. He had pitched at a D1 AA school and seemed to be pretty good. We hit it off pretty quickly as we joked around until Dewey called us all back over. <o =""></o>

He then sent everyone out into the outfield to shag fly balls and called us over one at a time to throw a bullpen. When it was my time up it trotted in from right field and re-stretched my arm. <o =""></o>

“Ok Terrill lets see what Cortinas has sent us this year.” Dewey quipped as I got ready. It sent me for a spin. Was I supposed to be a lab experiment or a joke? <o =""></o>
<o =""></o>
I settled into the mound with a quick swipe of my foot across the dirt in front of the rubber and zoned in. I always had the talent to completely ignore things around me while I pitched. I threw a couple of half ass practice pitches to get the feel of the mound and then settled in to start my bullpen.<o =""></o>
<o =""></o>
“Just a few fastballs to start kid then we’ll go from there.”<o =""></o>

I nodded without turning to look at him and focused in on the mitt 60 feet away. Only the mitt everything else blurred out of focus. I stepped to the side and brought my leg up, drove it back down and towards the plate and brought my arm through the slot. The ball left my hand and I knew it was a strike. It sailed right across the outside corner with a little tail that had taken it there from the middle of the plate. I popped up please to receive the ball back from the catcher. <o =""></o>

“Jimmy?” Dewey asked to a guy I hadn’t noticed behind the bullpen.<o =""></o>

“82.”<o =""></o>

“Good Lord is that it.”<o =""></o>

The conversation finally included me when Dewey asked if I was messing around or if that was it. I told him that I was a control guy and that I topped out around 85. <o =""></o>

“You’re kidding me right.”<o =""></o>

“Nope never had much use for speed I guess.” I replied confident that speed was overrated. <o =""></o>

“Well Bruce liked you so you must have something but I’m telling you now Hesser is a speed guy and if you ever want to see that mound you better not screw up when your out there in front of him, because he doesn’t have much patience for junkers like you.”<o =""></o>

The rest of my bullpen went well. I hit all my spots with my fastball and progressed into my off speed stuff just fine. My true skill had always been my off speed pitches. I threw a couple of curves that dropped of the table and a couple of nice slicing sliders. My changeup was really working and dropped out of the zone 4 out of 5 times. <o =""></o>

I spent the rest of the practice running. It was Dewey’s belief that running prevented and fixed sore arms. <o =""></o>

[GCCWolverine]

Um...does anybody else see a ton of tongue smiley-faces in there?

[pedrotn]

I am trying to copy and paste from Word and everytime I do something different happens - this time it was miley faces I just havent gotten them erased yet.

[cknox0723]

Originally Posted by pedrotn

“Well Bruce liked you so you must have something but I’m telling you now Hesser is a speed guy and if you ever want to see that mound you better not screw up when your out there in front of him, because he doesn’t have much patience for junkers like you.”

Hmmm...pressure, pressure. I like.

As for the smilies (which are all gone now), my only advice is to write out the posts in Notepad if you're going to write it out beforehand. If you uncheck 'word wrap' in Notepad before copy-and-pasting it over here, no trouble whatsoever.

Keep it up!

[Tib]

You have some nice turns of phrase here, Pedro (I'm going to call you Pedro until you stop me).
This is a nice image:

Originally Posted by pedrotn

I settled into the mound with a quick swipe of my foot across the dirt in front of the rubber

and

Originally Posted by pedrotn

"Hesser is a speed guy and if you ever want to see that mound you better not screw up when your out there in front of him, because he doesn’t have much patience for junkers like you."

Again, a nice little put-you-in-your-place, reality check, "junkers like you" thing happening here.

Keep writing. My only criticism is you have some spelling and syntax errors happening. Nothing a read-through wouldn't fix. Here's an example:

Originally Posted by pedrotn

It was Dewey’s belief that running prevent and fixed sore arms.

I think you meant "running prevented and fixed sore arms". Little errors like this are like hiccups in the story: they're not a very big deal, but they can be annoying after awhile. Correctable mistakes like these can take away from otherwise powerful passages.

Otherwise, good job so far.

[pedrotn]

Well I;m sorry to those few who have been reading this but my life in baseball has died. My Computer crashed while the game was running and I lost all my stats. I dont feel like trying to fix it so its just going to die. For the inquiring minds that wont to know. Peter made it to the majors mid way through his 2nd year. He was made closer of the AA team mid way through his first season then promoted to AAA. He then was made closer of that team at the end of the first year. He was called up to the bigs and was doing real well as a middle reliever. He was 1-1,1,3 - holds. An era below 3 and had pitched 30 some odd innings after being called up in August. He was on a realy deep pen so the playing time was limited but he did well when he got in. I guess this will be the end of my dynasty writing. I wasted too much time keeping notes on this one and it really is annoying to have lost all that data.