A Padre is Born

After finishing my season at Stony Brook I managed to get a vacation before beginning my professional career. I got an astonishing four days off!  I got to be home long enough to do laundry, have a barbeque with friends and family and pack, again. On Sunday morning I left Toronto with my dad and we drove to Buffalo so I could catch my flight down to Arizona, where the Padres minor league home base is. The complex is also their Spring Training home, and is located in Peoria, a short 35 minute drive from Phoenix.

I had two flights, one from Buffalo to Charlotte and then from Charlotte to Phoenix.  Naturally, since moving across the country and into professional baseball isn't stressful enough my first flight was delayed. Twice. This meant that there was "nadda chance" as the agent at the gate told me, that I would make it in time for my flight to Phoenix.  We checked every airport in the country that has service to Phoenix and the only available tickets were on flights that would get me in between midnight and breakfast time the next morning.  So, I waited on my delayed flight, got to Charlotte and waited on Stand By hoping that any one of the first four flights that was booked solid would have a no show.  The next flight to Phoenix, after the one I missed, had two no shows.  I was second on the Stand By list.  I guess this year I've got some sort of horseshoes because normally I'd be number three with only two available spots. 

Yup, that is some serious dessert.  Hot, dry and complete
with authentic tumbleweed!

I arrived in Phoenix and was met by Terry,
a Padres official who grew up in Eugene, Oregon and spent his whole life there before moving to Arizona ten years ago.  He drove me from the airport to the team hotel which was located on Paradise Lane. I like the name, and it has that kind of Paradise feel to it considering the ballpark is about two blocks down the street. 

I went to check in and got my first glimpse of a miscommunication in pro baseball.  Now having played at Stony Brook the last three years I'm sort of used to last second texts or information that doesn't quiet trickle down to everyone it's supposed to reach.  However, this was the first time in my life as a pro.  I wasn't on the check in list.  Since Terry had just dropped me off before leaving I had to call him, to call Ricky, the man who runs everything down here, who would then have to call the hotel to get me a room.  It was sorted out pretty quickly and soon enough I was in my suite. I grabbed a quick dinner and watched Arizona take a one game lead in the College World Series championship series.  I headed back to the hotel and fell asleep for the first time in what felt like a gazillion hours.

My first professional locker. Pretty
empty considering I don't even have
a pair of pants yet.

My first pro jersey!
Pretty cool to see my
name on a uniform.

Monday was my first full day in Arizona, and I was hoping to get my physical exam done so I could start practicing with the Rookie Ball team, the Peoria Padres.  That never happened. I ended up just walking over to the complex to meet Ricky and check in.  I arrived and the whole team, plus some higher level minor league guys were all milling about the clubhouse decked out in navy padres team issued gear.  I was lead into the athletic training room where I met Ricky.  He showed me my locker, and took me to meet our equipment managers who gave me my Padres dri-fit shirt and shorts, a pair of navy socks and a hat.  I threw it all into my locker and was off to meet the manager, Jim Gabella.  He welcomed me to the organization and explained that while my paperwork gets finished that I will be staying in Arizona to work out with the Rookie Ball team.  I will be included in all pre and post game activities but I won't be able to play.  He told me that at 4:25 I was to be outside on the practice field to watch their daily workout.  I left the office and went back to my locker to move in.  I hung up my dri fit shirts, and put my glove, shin guards, sunglasses and other equipment into the various compartments.  It was then that I realized that I actually had a jersey! In my locker was a navy San Diego Padres jersey with my name stitched across the shoulders and a number that would no doubt strike fear into the eyes of any opposing pitcher, 54.  I couldn't have cared less about the number, but for some reason I felt it necessary to touch the jersey.  I ran my hand across the crest on the front, just to make sure it was a dream or some sort of sick rookie joke.  I stared at the name and number on the back for what felt like forever as I waited for 4:25 to roll around.

We share our minor league / spring training complex with the
Seattle Mariners.  Each team has its own practice fields and
the main stadium is shared.

I watched at practice as the pitchers did their fielding practice.  They were split up between to the two infields with the middle infielders on one field and the corner guys on the other.  On one diamond pitchers were working on taking grounders and throwing to second base, and on the other pitchers and corner infielders were working on communication on bunt plays.  Half way through practice the groups switched and the drill repeated itself.  The coaches seemed to really love what they were doing, and had fun with the guys.  It reminded me very much of working with Benny and Brownie last summer in Orleans.  I felt more at ease as I saw that this was "just baseball," as one of the instructors explained to me.  After PFP was done we all headed back to the main practice diamond for batting practice.  I stood behind the cage (we call it a turtle for its turtle shell shape) and watched the 4 groups hit.  I was surprised to see Jeremy Hermida, a guy who I have watched in the big leagues taking BP with the Rookie Ball squad.  He is down here rehabbing an injury and so he just jumps in, hits and then heads inside to get treatment, shower and leave.  It was a very cool dynamic to have major leaguers mixed in with kids who just finished high school this month, and former big leaguers who are now minor league instructors.  We went inside, grabbed a snack and then headed out to the game.  The game was sort of secondary as I tried to talk to the guys and make a few new friends. We lost 7-2 to the Angels, in a game it seemed we were never really in. 

Tuesday, Travis' first day we were scheduled in to get our physicals.  Ricky drove us out to the doctors office and dropped us off. We were given an EKG, had our blood pressure checked and a litany of other tests. The doctor told me I passed, and to go and wait for Travis in the lobby.  When we were both finished it was off to the complex to make it all real.  We were lead through the Major League clubhouse up to the front offices an into Juan Lara's office.  Juan walked us through what all of the contract's pages meant, and after initialing once and putting my signature on a solid line (lunchbox letdown kids, its not actually a dotted line!) it was official, I was a San Diego Padre!

After years of practice, I finally had something important to put my autograph
on.  What a cool feeling it was seeing my name and information on a contract
that had San Diego Padres logo's and headings!