The Big Leagues

Have you ever dreamed what it would be like to be in the majors? It is awesome! When you are walking into work you smile because you know you've made it to The Show. The grass is a more perfect green then that of the first crisp dollar bill you made as a child, the bats have a shine like a brand new car, and the stands can appear to be filled with an ocean of people on any given night.

Bump. Your face kisses back and forth off the cool glass of a bus window. You wake up. You were just dreaming while aboard your bus from Long Island, NY to Waldorf, Md. Google Maps sets the destination at roughly five and half hours. Startled, you jump and realize this is independent minor league baseball. This experience is humbling, hard, and exhausting. The minors isn't a place to brag about, it is the most trying but the most necessary work that any up and coming player has to endure. The grass can be worn thin from company softball games in the outfield. The bats and balls have to be counted at the end of a day to cut costs as if you had to turn them back into your high school athletics department. The front office has to brainstorm 24 hours a day in order to have a promotion to attract people back to support a team with more turnover than the turnstiles that align the entry gates.

Keep dreaming that dream. The Big Leagues. The ability to have your name associated with, if even for just one moment, the likes of DiMaggio, The Babe, Cy, and my personal hero Michael Jack Schmidt.

Why would anyone ever give up on their dreams? I applaud those who are dealing with the long hours in minor league stadiums year round to hopefully at some point take leap out of the Delaware River and into the Ocean that is the Big Leagues.

-Chris Reed