Player's Perspective

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Random Thoughts Vol. 1

By Tim Dillard | May 18, 2017 at 7:58pm CDT

It’s 10:58am on Thursday May 18th, 2017. I’m Milwaukee Brewers veteran MINOR league sidearm pitcher of over fourteen years, Tim Dillard. Of course you haven’t heard of me, but that’s beside the point. I’ve experienced a lot in my middlewhelming career, and have witnessed even more.

11:01am Sometimes I write for MLB Trade Rumors… that is, when I’m not playing baseball, reciting Star Wars, making minute long Oscar-worthy short films, or continually watching Sherlock on Netflix. And I have a beard… so yes, I am extremely wise.

11:04am Though the beard wasn’t always so. In fact, for my first ten years in professional baseball, I made sure I was clean-shaven. I would shave before EVERY game as part of my pregame routine. The reasoning for my “baby face” look was that… just maybe there’d be a scout in the stands, and he might mistake me for a young up-and-coming prospect! So far I have no confirmation this was affective. And when I turned thirty I thought… “Well, I fooled ’em as long as I could.”

11:08am Anyway, I cordially invite you and thank you for going on this random minute-by-minute baseball journey with me! (I misspelled “cordially” four times before googling it)

11:10am I play for the Triple-A Sky Sox, and we’re currently on a road trip in El Paso, Texas. There’s a night game tonight, and then we bus to Albuquerque, New Mexico right after. At the moment, I’m in the hotel just killing time before the maid kicks the door in and asks me to vacate the room. (checkout’s at noon)

11:13am A few weeks ago I was checking out of a hotel in Memphis, Tennessee and I got an interesting text message. It read, “When you get a chance give me a call! -Bobby Bo”

11:14am Bobby Bo? Now, I don’t know about you… but the only “Bobby Bo” I’ve ever heard of is the famous Major League All-Star Bobby Bonilla! The same Bobby Bonilla who played for the Pittsburgh Pirates in the late 80’s and early 90’s! The same Bobby Bonilla who I watched play at Pirate City every spring training growing up in Bradenton, Florida! The same Bobby Bonilla that has one of his broken bats literally sitting in my parents’ garage right now!

11:18am Anyway, yeah… same dude.

11:18am Well I called him back and he totally answered! We talked for, I don’t know… let’s say it was, twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds or so. And I told him how I yelled “hey” to him across a crowded Brewers big league camp clubhouse in 2010, but he claimed he didn’t remember.

11:20am Bobby Bo told me he loves the pointless videos I post on twitter, instagram, and the Infield Chatter app, and encouraged me to continue enjoying the clubhouse and making videos. Bobby Bonilla!

11:22am It was a very cool moment for yours truly because that guy is a household name, and a childhood hero of mine! I have so much nostalgia from those years with him, Barry Bonds, Andy Van Slyke, Doug Drabek, and a before the Braves’ Sid Bream! (come to think of it… not sure where he got my phone number)

11:24am Speaking of heroes, last week, I realized the true hero of the minor league bullpen. And it’s a towel! Yeah you read that right. “It’s always good to bring a towel!” I believe that every relief pitcher should bring a towel with them to the bullpen.

11:26am There are so many uses for a towel: It can act as a cushion for the buttocks… cause you could be down there awhile. If the unergonomical flat metal bench is dirty or wet… wipe it down. If there’s rain in the forecast… it can keep you dry. If it’s, “Kinda hot in these rhinos.”… use it to wipe off sweat. Cold?… bundle up. Don’t want to hold your glove?… wrap it up. Too much red hot or atomic balm… scrub for dear life!

11:29am Just heard the maid knock across the hall… I’m running out of time. Realizing I spent too much time bragging to you my “Bobby Bo” story.

11:30am So yeah, the towel is a bullpen friend.

11:30am You know, one of the luxuries of being a relief pitcher in baseball is that you’re able to watch the game without pressure. The pressure of playing every inning, the pressure of coaching, or the pressure of being a fan. And in this role, I observe many happenings.

11:35am Like those things you never noticed until someone points out… then you see it all the time. For example, how Mark Wahlberg plays the exact same character in EVERY movie he’s ever been in, or how ALL minivans have dents. (just wait… you’ll see it)

11:37am Or like baseball: How in every game, at least one hitter will hit a foul ball between his legs. Or like when time-out is called right before a pitch, the umpire will specifically show who asked for the time-out by pointing at the culprit. (still not sure why this matters)

11:39am But that is what makes baseball so attractive! There are so many things that happen, and you never know what you could possibly witness during a baseball game!

11:40am Years ago when I was too old to play Mississippi high school summer ball, I played “semi-pro” baseball. It was an all-black league before my two older brothers and I started playing. (by the way, I’m a super pale white guy)

11:42am To this day it’s one of the most competitive environments I have ever played in! For me it was baseball in it’s purest form. I experienced so many memorable moments out there that I have yet to experience again.

11:43am We would play on amazing make-shift fields throughout the heartland of Mississippi. Most had bleachers, and some had outfield fences. One field had a giant tree in left-center. And one field had a goat that would stand and balance itself atop a propane tank for the entire game.

11:46am Every weekend was satisfying baseball! And after each game, it was a gentlemen’s celebration! Both teams covered in sweat would shake hands, hug, then sit talking and laughing about the game for hours. We would eat fish sandwiches while some drank brews. Stories would be shared, and legends would grow.

11:48am I remember a shortstop for the Verona Black Sox who would place his cigarette behind second base in-between pitches. And how the play-by-play announcer with a simple microphone and speaker would address my oldest brother Jeff as the “Godfather”. I remember facing two brothers who played for Poplar Springs that could flat out hit! And I had to throw 138 pitches over eleven innings to beat them during the playoffs! (shameless plug)

11:52am Baseball is amazing in so many ways. And there is amazing baseball being played all across this country and in many countries around the world.

11:53am Mathematically, historically, universally, baseball is special. It has it’s own timeline, and brings people together. An incredible game that transcends every barrier the world can conjure!

11:55am There’s the knock… time to checkout.

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Baseball Sayings

By Tim Dillard | April 30, 2017 at 10:50am CDT

It’s 8:02am on Sunday April 30th, 2017. So here’s the gist… my name is Tim Dillard. I’m a pitcher in my 15th professional baseball season, and currently in the Milwaukee Brewers organization with Triple-A Colorado Springs. I think that’s it. Oh yeah, I’ve been married for eleven years, and have three remarkable kids. A few months ago I was minding my own business, when MLB Trade Rumors asked if I was interested in baseball blogging. I asked if I could blog about movies instead, but they said no. So here we are… in the midst of my SEVENTH Inner Monologue.

8:05am Basically what I do is just write down my thoughts while logging the exact time. Not sure what typing in the time, and putting it in bold accomplishes. But I guess after the first time I did it, and nobody told me (to my face) that it was stupid… I just kept doing it.

8:07am Right now our team is in Des Moines, Iowa. Last night’s game against the Triple-A Cubs was postponed due to freezing temperatures, ice rain, hurricane-type wind, and lack of fans. Today we’re supposed to have a day game, but could possibly turn into a night game depending on weather.

8:08am Currently, I’m at the hotel trying to see how much I can type before my road-roomy vacates the bathroom.

8:09am When I was grabbing coffee earlier in the lobby, a gentleman asked the front desk lady if he could order room service. (We stay at some nice hotels in the minor leagues, but I can promise you… none of them have room service.)

8:11am Front desk lady was very polite when she told him they didn’t offer room service. Then the man said, “Well, I guess it is what it is.”

8:12am It is what it is? You ever hear people say that? First time I heard that expression was in 2007, and I’m still confused. It’s like saying, “Well, you know oxygen is oxygen.” OR “You win some, you lose some.” OR “How’s a rainbow made?” OR “I’m calmly showing my maturity by hiding my frustration and disappointment behind a fancy philosophical-sounding statement that doesn’t change my current circumstances.”

8:13am Well you know, baseball has a lot of interesting expressions too. Especially in the minor leagues. Such as:

“Wear it!”

“Skillets!”

“Clean it up!”

“Friends dues!”

“Save it meat!”

“Figure it out!”

“Have some feel!”

“There’s a window!”

“Hard in, soft away.”

“That GUY ’s in the SHOW!!??”

“Don’t like it? Play better!” (or play worse)

8:16am Anyway, I want to coin a NEW phrase in professional baseball. And for some reason I thought now is the perfect time to divulge this special saying to the entire world! (Or at least the few people who read this… thanks for reading mom!) And here it is: “Do Less.”

8:16am Yep, that’s it, that’s the big one. “Do Less.”

8:17am See, baseball is hard. But sometimes it can appear simple when watching it on TV or from the bleachers. For instance, the guy in the picnic area the other day who screamed, “Come on man! Watcha thinkin’ gettin’ picked off! I wouldn’t have gotten picked off! Put ME in, coach!”

8:18am In this particular case, the man had probably been drinking and was borderline unsober. And still has every right to yell his opinion, but I reiterate… baseball is hard.

8:18am Well during the game, in those most intense moments, players can sometimes feel the urge to dig deep or do more. Like when a hitter wants to swing EXTRA hard or run EXTRA fast. Or like a pitcher who wants to throw EXTRA hard or make a pitch EXTRA nasty. But usually the opposite happens. More often than not, the hitter misses, or breaks his bat, or pulls a hamstring. And the pitcher, he usually throws a wild pitch or hangs a fun ball right down broadway.

8:19am Do Less… just watch, it’ll be a thing.

8:20am However, the most important thing about baseball sayings is knowing which one to use, and knowing when to use it. I learned this lesson May 23, 2008.

8:20am I was in Washington D.C., warming up in the visitors left-field bullpen, when the door opened. Suddenly it dawned on me that just beyond the Nationals’ outfield grass and infield dirt, was my Major League Baseball debut!

8:21am All I was thinking as I jogged out to the mound in front of 40,000 people, was… “Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.”

8:21am Thankfully, without tripping, I managed to make it to the mound where veteran catcher Jason Kendall was waiting for me. When he started double-checking my pitches and my signs, I was thinking about how many baseball cards I had of him growing up.

8:22am Then he pulled his mask back down, turned to run back to the plate, and quickly said, “Here we go.”

8:23am And for some unknown reason, I felt the need to say something back to him. So out of all the words and phrases I know, my brain thought it’d be a good idea to intensely scream, “OK! LET’S DO THIS!” (and yelled it like I was wearing giant headphones)

8:23am It was enough for Jason Kendall to kinda stop, look back with a puzzled face, then continue his jog back behind the dish.

8:24am All alone, standing there, on that mound, I spoke out loud, “Did I just tell… Jason Kendall… let’s do this!?”

8:25am I felt very uncool in that moment. Why would I say something so cheesy? Why am I so awkward!

8:25am And I’m pretty sure he told the home plate umpire what I said too, ’cause the whole time I was throwing my first major league warm-up pitches, the umpire was chatting with Jason Kendall then pointing at me and laughing.

8:27am I still don’t know how it all happened, but… I guess it is what it is.

8:27am Ah! Think I just heard a toilet flush.

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Music & Food

By Tim Dillard | April 21, 2017 at 7:46pm CDT

It’s 2:32pm on Friday April 21st, 2017. My name is Tim Dillard. Besides being a Christian, a husband, and father of three, I’m also a veteran minor league baseball pitcher in the Milwaukee Brewers Organization. This is blog number (not sure), that I’ve written for MLB Trade Rumors… and they still use the same google image of me where I’m sporting the “only a mother could love” face.

2:35pm My attributes include, but are not limited to: Pitching over 1,200 professional innings without a pick-off, seeing over 400 feature films, being an experienced baseball juggler, playing guitar till my wife made me sell the guitar, eating a PB&J sandwich in thirty-one different states, making Al Roker burst into laughter, and I once successfully shot a bird with a Nerf Bow ’n’ Arrow. (bird was fine, but I still feel bad)

2:40pm Anyway, FYI – After yesterday’s rainout here in Colorado Springs, today’s early work on the field was cancelled because of a wintery-mix precipitation. So I have about an hour to squeak down some chronological kerfuffle from my brain before the double-header starts.

2:41pm BTW – I used the word kerfuffle because it was the Thesaurus.com Word of the Day on Wednesday.

2:41pm TMA – This is the abbreviation I just made up… it means Too Many Abbreviations.

2:42pm To write these things I sometimes put in headphones and try listening to classical wordless music. But I’m currently enjoying an interesting mix being played in the clubhouse. Right now it’s U2’s Where the Streets Have No Name. Back in 2004, I wasn’t a huge U2 fan, but then my teammate (and super-utility man) Vinny Rottino said I need to be a huge U2 fan. I said ok.

2:45pm During a road trip the other day in Nashville, I was walking toward the stadium when a man in the street told me, “Hey Tim! I’m 55 years old, and you’re the reason I joined twitter!” Then he asked if we could take a selfie. I said ok.

2:48pm That was a good day too because later that night, The Oak Ridge Boys sang the National Anthem before the game! Growing up in the south, The Oak Ridge Boys were standard listening procedure in the car and at home. In fact, out of all the “special memento” baseballs I have, only three are worthy of the shelf in my office. One is a ball signed by Richard Sterban and the other Oak Ridge Boys, one is signed by actor Jon Gries who played Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite, and the last one is signed by freaking Ichiro Suzuki!

2:52pm I got Ichiro’s autograph in 2006 during the first World Baseball Classic. Team Japan was using the Brewers minor league clubhouse for a few days, so a small group of us players timidly walked into their locker room, found Ichiro, and formally presented him with a baseball and a fresh tipped Sharpie.

2:54pm NOW PLAYING: Spirit In The Sky by Norman Greenbaum

2:54pm The availability of music nowadays is fascinating. My car in high school only had a cassette player. (that’s what was used for music before CDs) Actually, my first few seasons in pro ball, I used a portable CD player. (it was anti-skip)

2:57pm Music is a huge part of the baseball world. For instance, the first home game back after a road trip, you are guaranteed to hear The Boys Are Back in Town from the press box. Clever.

2:58pm Some songs are played at nearly every game, like: Put Me In Coach or The Chicken Dance. And when it’s “Kids’ Day” at the field, we hear a steady barrage of Let It Go and Spongebob Squarepants. Thankfully, stadiums are starting to cut back on the most over-played song of all time… YMCA.

3:01pm Come to think of it, a few days ago I was on a television show because of music! Via Skype, teammate Ivan De Jesus and I were on the American Spanish language Miami morning show Despierta Ameríca that airs on Univision. A great interview with lots of laughs and lots of singing! I’m a big fan of the Latin hits! Muy Bueno!

3:10pm All this typing made me hungry so I took a break. You guessed it… PB&J.

3:10pm NOW PLAYING: Lose Yourself by Eminem

3:11pm Mom’s spaghetti is great, but meals in minor league baseball can vary depending on places and circumstances. Like in 2009, veteran outfielder Mike Cameron was rehabbing with us in Triple-A, and he bought us an awesome post-game spread! Sitting shoulder to shoulder in a tiny clubhouse at Omaha’s old Rosenblatt Stadium, we ate steak and lobster with real utensils! On real plates!

3:14pm The following year, we arrived in Memphis around 2:00am after a long bus trip, and was greeted by legendary closer Trevor Hoffman! Like zombies we walked into the lobby and saw a rehabbing Hoffman surrounded by fifty pizzas, coolers of soda, chips, and cookies!

3:16pm NOW PLAYING: La Bicicleta by Carlos Vives & Shakira

3:15pm The hardest I worked for a post-game meal was on Margarita Island in Venezuela. Around 1:00am I found myself hiking through a backyard, an abandoned casino parking lot, and into a wooded area. Only to emerge on a dead-end street lined with food trucks! Muy Bueno!

3:17pm But probably the most interesting meal I’ve encountered in baseball was in Mexico. After a game, the home team brought us a huge table with a giant fish on it. It was sliced open and we just grabbed and ate. I honestly can’t remember how it tasted, but I do remember the in-meal entertainment was the rambunctious cock fight going on over by first base.

3:18pm Almost time to “SUIT UP” for the game!

3:20pm NOW PLAYING: a commercial… by AT&T.

3:20pm Some people don’t like AT&T, but I actually love AT&T.

3:21pm Nine years ago my wife and I rented a small house in Arizona for spring training. We went to an AT&T store and got a USB thing for internet. I immediately plugged it into my Xbox, and started downloading episodes of The Office and Lost.

3:23pm After streaming for two weeks (“That’s what she said!”), AT&T cut our service off, called me up, and said, “Hello Mr. Dillard, we stopped your internet because you’ve gone over your available usage.” I said ok.

3:24pm Then said, “Your bill Mr. Dillard… is $12,237.”

3:24pm (insert scared/hurl emoji)

3:25pm SOooo… I’ve set many kinds of baseball records at various levels with different teams over my career, but setting the record for highest bill in AT&T history… that is special!

3:26pm NOW PLAYING: Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Road Trippin’

By Tim Dillard | April 12, 2017 at 4:17pm CDT

It’s 11:32am on Wednesday April 12th 2017. “ALLOW ME TO REINTRODUCE MYSELF! MY NAME IS” not Jay-Z… it’s Tim Dillard. And this is my fifth entry for MLB Trade Rumors. The check cleared! So I’m back, chronologically writing down all my baseball thoughts.

11:34am I’m a sidearm relief pitcher for the minor league Colorado Springs Sky Sox baseball team. A few nights ago we bused from The Springs to Denver, then flew on a United Airlines commercial plane to Memphis, Tennessee. This is where we will start a four game stint against the Memphis Redbirds, the St. Louis Cardinals class Triple-A affiliate.

11:37am During the flight out here, our plane experienced some above average turbulence. Like on a scale from one to ten, this turbulencity was probably a six and a half or maybe seven. I mean, personally I really don’t mind flying. But for some reason, a few of my teammates just seem to be uncomfortable in a… 450-ton pressurized man-made metal machine screaming through the sky at 500 knots while 7 miles up in the atmosphere!

11:40am But it was fine. AND it reminded me of another eventful road trip I once had!

11:41am Back in 2007, I was on a really turbulent team flight with current Braves knuckleballer and former Cy Young Award winning pitcher R.A. Dickey. (name drop: successful) We sat together a lot that year… I think it goes alphabetically. Anyway, on this particular flight, if your seatbelt wasn’t buckled, you were hitting the ceiling! Or the seat in front of you! Or the person sitting beside you. Or body-slapping the window! (it was at least an EIGHT on the bumpy scale)

11:45am Well… after several minutes of gripping the armrests as hard as I could, trying to stay calm, and hearing the shrieks from the other scared passengers, my friend R.A. Dickey looked up at me. And I looked up at him, and I was staring straight into his eyes when he opened his beardy mouth and yelled, “Dilly! It’s like we’re riding on a Dickey Knuckleball right now!”

11:50am Pretty sure I laughed AFTER we landed.

11:50am The hotel maid may have just knocked on my door.

11:53am Yeah it was the maid. I thought I put the “Do Not Disturb” sign out, but it was one of those two-sided signs. The other side says “Please Service My Room, Thank You!” Crap. Just told her I’d be out in thirty minutes.

11:54am Okay, so where was I… oh yes “Dilly!”

11:55am You know, every road trip has a story or something meaningful happen if you look hard enough. Like in 2006, when our team bus slammed into a giant wood utility poll that had fallen off the back of a semi at 2:30am. Or in 2013, when I had to jump onto the back of a moving pickup truck to catch a ferry back to the mainland after playing a baseball game on some island in Mexico.

11:59am Actually, before we left on this current road trip, a teammate brought two boxes of delicious donuts into the clubhouse. That was pretty special. BUT… there are only two reasons why a player would think to bring community donuts into the clubhouse: Either they just want to be a good and thoughtful teammate, OR… they can read MINDS! Either way, I’m keeping my eye on you Eric Sogard, but maybe… you already knew that. (name drop: numero dos)

12:04pm Dang. Another knock. This hotel maid really wants to clean this room.

12:06pm Something weird about myself: I’ve kept every key card from every hotel I’ve stayed at my entire career dating back to 2003. The only key I didn’t keep was a real key, like a real metal key, from a motel in Montana. Because the fee for taking or losing that real key was $25.

12:09pm Not to mention all the “free” hotel pens I’ve acquired over the years. I remember in 2008 I was at my house looking for a pen. I looked in every drawer, basket, bag, purse, and glove compartment. Didn’t even see a stupid pencil. And after searching for a long time, I realized that my wife and I did not have a single writing utensil in the entire house. So this frustration gave birth. And shouted, “NEVER AGAIN!” So now I’m proud to be the “owner” of over 4oo hotel pens!

12:09pm I also keep movie ticket stubs. I have over 350 ticket stubs from movies I’ve seen dating back to 1999! <-(and yes, I put an exclamation point here because I’m proud of this, but also realize how nerdy and lame this makes me appear)

12:11pm What else? Oh yeah, my sticker bench! I have a bench in my office at home that has stickers all over it. I started letting my kids slap stickers on it for fun, but over the years it has gotten a little more serious. Now every city I travel through, or restaurant I eat, or basically any business establishment I encounter, I find myself asking if they have stickers. Maybe one day I will consider it finished, and then lacquer the crap out of that thing. And BOOM! …family heirloom!

12:14pm I have no idea what I’m writing at this point. Honestly I can’t believe people read my blog things. But I guess a year in the Big Leagues and over thirteen in the minor leagues can qualify a person to write opinions and experiences about baseball stuff.

12:16pm Yesterday a kid messaged me over Twitter. My alias on Twitter is @DimTillard. I chose @DimTillard because when I went to sign up, there were 25 other “Tim Dillards”. So after finding out how UNspecial I was… I went with @DimTillard. Anyway, this kid messaged me contemplating quitting college baseball at the end of the season. I told him everyone’s baseball path is different. I said it doesn’t mean your path is more or less special, it just means that it’s your path to walk down.

12:19pm Being late at night and tired… that actually made total sense to me. But in the light of day, I think what I meant to say was something like: Over my many baseball seasons, I’ve learned it doesn’t matter whether you only played t-ball or have a 10-year MLB career. What matters is baseball and the relationships. Baseball was here before I got here, and baseball will be here long after I’m gone. It’s how we treat the game and the people… that really matters.

12:23pm Ok yeah it’s time to leave the room. This hotel maid has camped outside the door and is ready for me to vacate. Too bad I made my bed, and refolded the towel I used. Ha! Good luck Jacquelyn!

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Clubhouse Edition

By Tim Dillard | April 8, 2017 at 4:35pm CDT

It’s 11:30am on Saturday, April 8th, 2017. My name is Tim Dillard. Two days ago, I started my 15th season in professional baseball. And even though I’m SUPER underqualified, I’ve journaled my Inner Monologue in three other posts for MLB Trade Rumors (Part 1) (Part 2) (Opening Day).

11:34am I’m currently at the ballpark in Triple-A Colorado Springs, and have relief pitcher stretch at 1:00pm. But until then, I’ve decided to jot down some thoughts.

11:36am The multiple clubhouse TVs are showing baseball games while the clubhouse speakers are pumping out rapper 50 Cent’s music playlist. In fact, he just told Shawty that it’s his birthday. Congrats Shawty!

11:37am One of the TVs has Tim Tebow coverage … looks like congratulations are in order again! It appears Tebow hit a two-run home run the other day in his first-ever professional minor league at bat! WOW! Watching the replay of his post-game SportsCenter interview, reminds me of the two-run home run I hit last year in my first minor league at bat of the season. Though … his post-game SportsCenter interview ran a bit longer than mine did.

11:43am Okay, I was wrong — one TV has golf on it. The Masters is on, I’m being told. I’m also being told that I look like the homeless caddy from Happy Gilmore. Must be this mesmerizing BEARD I’m parading around.

11:45am Every year I’m impressed how versatile and knowledgable baseball players really are! Right now golf advice is running rampant. But next week, hockey sticks and body checking will start creeping into the locker room. And after that usually comes overly-giant hats and jockey evaluating in honor of the Kentucky Derby.

11:52am And whenever something is being thrown away in the clubhouse, you’ll always hear a “Jordan!” or “Kobe!” … or maybe it’s “Curry!” now. Players talk basketball the entire baseball season … probably ’cause the NBA Playoffs last five months.

11:53am But every four years, I daresay the FIFA World Cup takes over everything! Complete with jerseys, reenactments, and multiple soccer balls! And I bet there’s a spike in the sale of soccer cleats as well!

11:55am FIFA is a big deal because a baseball clubhouse is home to so many backgrounds and nationalities. It’s just a beautiful melting pot of pride and awesome!

11:57am 50 Cent is still at it … “I love you like a fat kid love cake.” Probably my favorite 50 Cent lyric!

12:01pm Remember a few years ago when 50 Cent threw out the ceremonial first-pitch at a Mets game? And it was just the worst first pitch ever? And everybody was making fun of him? I didn’t … I’ve thrown pitches that bad before, and I’ve done it without being shot nine times.

12:04pm The ceremonial first pitch in baseball dates back over a hundred years! (At least I think — Google if you care enough.) What a special tradition, though! I’ve witnessed hundreds over my career. In fact, I was actually going to propose to my wife during a ceremonial first pitch!

12:10pm I was pitching for the Class A+ Brevard County Manatees in 2005, and decided to propose at one of our games! My plan was to get stadium management to trick my now-wife into throwing the first pitch, and I was going to disguise myself as the catcher. So after catching her throw, I was going to run out to the mound to give the ball back. But then drop to a knee, remove my catcher’s mask, and whip out the ring!

12:16pm Now, I know what you’re thinking… “WHAT AN AWESOME IDEA!” right? Well, about a week before the plan was to be executed, my now-wife and I see a sports proposal on TV. Then she turns to me and nonchalantly says, “If you ever tried something like that, I’d say no.”

12:19pm Okay so I’m not the brightest tool in the drawer, but kinda got the feeling an on-field proposal could be a bad idea. “Now I know, and knowing is half the battle.” -G.I. Joe

12:23pm But I have learned a lot over my many years in baseball. Simple things. For instance: don’t put a “BRU CRU” vanity plate on your car just because you’re in the Milwaukee Brewers organization. And don’t get a tattoo of a flaming baseball on your arm, just in case you stop throwing hard one day. (I’ll admit I’ve done one of these.)

12:28pm Being around baseball for a long time also has its perks. Like: no matter what clubhouse I’m in … my phone already has the password, and automatically connects to the wi-fi. And of course, infinite access to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

12:33pm Thanks to a generous teammate sitting next to me, I can safely say that the local gas station’s Rice Krispy treats are on point!

12:34pm Clubhouse manager is walking around delivering the daily packages. I don’t get a lot of mail these days. But all the young prospects get boxes everyday! Stuff like spikes, batting gloves, shower shoes, portable chargers, Bruce Lee shirts, candy, disco ball, camo tights, Quench Gum, cribbage board, Aerobies.

12:36pm Hey I actually did get mail! Crap. It’s from my bank. Says my credit card was compromised again and sent me a new card. Looks like they got suspicious from purchases made last week in Arizona, Wisconsin, and Colorado… and one online order for exotic beard oil.

12:38pm CRAP! I need to hurry up. Don’t want to be late for stretch!

12:38pm Come to think of it, when I was a kid, my brothers and I weren’t allowed to use the word crap. It was on the bad word list. My mom would wash our mouths out with soap if we let the crap word fly. I still have a hard time using Dial soap.

12:41pm Ah yes, the clubhouse… so full of life and sound. Like a cross between Chuck E. Cheese and a Play It Again Sports.

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Opening Day

By Tim Dillard | April 4, 2017 at 9:36am CDT

It’s 8:33pm on Monday April 3rd, 2017. (That’s right, it’s 2017 and Mattel still hasn’t delivered on a real Hoverboard) Anyway, the past 3 nights I’ve slept in 3 different hotels in 3 different cities in 3 different states. My schedule has been a little sporadic, so I thought I’d slow things down and type some thoughts for an hour… or at least until the NyQuil does its thing.

8:37pm First off, I’d just like to congratulate all MLB and MiLB players who made an Opening Day roster somewhere! It’s a very special accomplishment, and shouldn’t be taken for granted. And it also means that, after waking up at 5am in spring training for the last 6 weeks … you are now allowed to sleep till noon and go to bed at midnight!

8:41pm Oh yeah, my name is Tim Dillard. And this is the third time logging my Inner Monologue for MLB Trade Rumors. (Part 1 and Part 2) I’m currently watching Opening Day baseball in a hotel in Colorado Springs, Colorado. And I am proud to be on a professional Minor League baseball roster for my 15th season!

8:43pm Making an Opening Day roster anywhere is the equivalent to winning an award! It’s like the end of Star Wars, where Han Solo and Luke Skywalker are awarded medals! The few years I didn’t make an Opening Day roster, I felt a bit more like Chewbacca… who was there and did stuff, but didn’t get a medal. *insert pity party emoji

8:45pm I should really stop using Star Wars analogies though. Cause one time… I had a former friend tell me he didn’t like Star Wars.

8:48pm Just heard a lady swearing out in the hallway! Sounds like she’s upset that her key card doesn’t work. That’s true. That can be frustrating. When you check into a hotel, go up the elevator, drag luggage down the hall, find your room, and the key doesn’t work! #$%^>*&@!

8:50pm Last week I was the odd man out, and played catch with a pitching coach. He looked a little frustrated with me, as I “nonchalantly” tried to make EVERY throw extra hard and extra awesome! I over-do-it throwing with members of the coaching staff for 2 reasons: First, I’m always looking for an opportunity to try and impress the coaches… and I forgot the other reason.

8:55pm The NyQuil may be preparing its magic, so I better type fast.

8:56pm The other day I was fortunate enough to be in Milwaukee to help back up the Brewers for their Exhibition Games before Opening Day! I didn’t get to pitch, but got to soak up several memorable moments!

8:59pm One of the moments was just putting on a Big League Brewers uniform in that clubhouse! Something I haven’t done since July 2012! I began thinking of all the mounds I’ve pitched on, and all the places I’ve been between then and now. Very special.

9:01pm The other moment was something I had never experienced before! After the last Exhibition Game concluded, there was NEARLY zero time to catch my return flight back to the Minor Leagues. So let’s just say, that the person next to me on the 3 and a half hour plane flight could smell a combination of Dubble Bubble and Flexall. Aaaaannd that’s the first time in my career I’ve played a baseball game in one state, and showered in another.

9:07pm Speaking of interesting flights, this past December I was on a plane with PGA golfer Jordan Spieth! Yeah I don’t watch golf, but somebody told me it was him. And that he was famous! So naturally I consulted google after we landed. But it was interesting because, right after I googled him… I looked up, and saw Jordan Spieth looking at me and typing on his phone. Kinda got the feeling he was googling ME.

9:13pm Anyway sorry to name-drop. Not sure why I shared that story. I really don’t like name-dropping that much. In fact, I was talking about that with Ryan Braun last week.

9:15pm Also last week, I made some Latin music videos for Twitter and Instagram. It was fun. But the response I got was incredible! Venezuela, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Panama, even Telemundo in Milwaukee! It’s like no one’s ever seen a gringo perfectly lip-syncing Spanish mega-ballads before! But yes for the record… no habla español.

9:18pm But I did buy Rosetta Stone before I flew to Mexico to play baseball in spring 2013! Only to give up after it constantly taught me how to ask about the current state of the foresting industry in Chile.

9:24pm Hold on, I’m reading NyQuil’s side effects. Interesting. Along with “constipation” and “diarrhea,” one of the side effects is actually, “trouble sleeping.” I guess they have to put those on there to make sure they cover all their bases.

9:27pm Tonight is the Men’s NCAA Basketball Championship! It’s between team such and such, and team yada yada… actually I don’t really know who’s playing. My junior college Alma Mater didn’t make the cut this year, so I don’t really care who wins.

9:30pm Yesterday a teammate asked me how many teams were in the Final Four. Later he asked me how I’ve managed to play baseball as long as I have. My answer to both questions was the same: “Listen man, I really need to take a shower.”

9:34pm This is my 2nd night in Colorado Springs. And after all my recent hard work and exercise in Arizona… today, I was easily defeated by a flight of stairs. Adjusting to 6,000 feet above sea level is no joke. The important thing is to be patient, and wait for the elevator.

To Be Concluded…

Confused? It may or may not help if you read Part I and Part II.

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Part 2

By Tim Dillard | March 25, 2017 at 9:07pm CDT

A few weeks ago I blogged my Inner Monologue for MLB Trade Rumors. They decided it didn’t suck that bad, and asked if I’d write down some more thoughts… so now, back by not a whole lot of demand, my Inner Monologue Part 2!

It’s 4:08pm on Saturday March 25th, 2017. My name is Tim Dillard. I’m 32 years and 614 days old. I’m a relief pitcher trying to win a spot for my 15th professional baseball season. I’m currently in Arizona as part of Minor League spring training with the Milwaukee Brewers baseball club team organization. I’m married and have 3 kids. I enjoy movies, Star Wars, and movies about Star Wars.

4:11pm I really need to work on my opening paragraphs for these blog things. I remember my speech teacher back in college saying that the key to giving a good speech or writing an article, is to always start off with a funny joke.

4:12pm But I can’t think of one.

4:13pm Probably because I’m a little pressed for time. My aforementioned offspring are enjoying nap/quiet time right now. And according to my calculations, they will be standing on the furniture in 47 minutes. And by furniture, I mean hotel furniture (so who cares really). And by my calculations, I mean my watch. And by my watch, I really mean the clock on my iPhone.

4:16pm Yesterday a teammate walked in the clubhouse carrying coffee and wearing a huge round fancy wristwatch. So just to be stupid, I asked him what time it was. The guy stopped… dug his watch hand into his pocket… and emerged with a smart phone. He hit the button to make the screen light up, but it was upside down. But after repositioning his coffee between his arm and chest, he managed to flip the phone right side up. “It isssssssss 6:37.”

4:20pm Oh no, just heard a faint child cry from the other room… I’m betting it’s either my 18-month-old or my 76-month-old.

4:23pm False alarm. It was the TV. Tell me again why ad agencies continually think it’s a good idea to have crying babies in their commercials? I may be alone on this, but the sound of a crying baby in the house puts me on high alert.

4:28pm Not sure why the TV was on anyway. I really don’t watch that often. Unless you count sports, or the Dancing with the Voice Bachelor Project show my wife insists we view together.

4:29pm During team stretch today, some of the guys were talking about the new Netflix show A Series of Unfortunate Events. Jokingly, I asked if that was the show loosely based on my baseball playing career… no one laughed. But honestly shouldn’t there be a show about the Minor Leagues?

4:34pm Think about it… the plot could center around a Triple-A team. It could be filmed in the offseason at any of the hundreds of unused baseball stadiums around the country. It would probably work best as a dramedy. And as far as casting and stunts, just call on former pro players who want to show off their acting chops! Quick, anyone have ~~Michael Bay’s~~ err Steven Spielberg’s email?!

4:41pm Just imagine the movie Summer Catch… but like completely different in every way.

4:42pm Last week before batting practice, a bunch of position players were talking about the movies they have on digital download or their very legal hard drive. So me being fluent in the language of movies, I naturally butted in on the fun. But got some weird looks from the younger guys when I mentioned I had VHS growing up.

4:47pm That same day I had a milestone event in my baseball career! At the Angels stadium out here in Phoenix, I managed to pitch 2 different times in the same game! I came in to end the 3rd inning, then came in again to end the 4th. I know the rules can be bent in spring training, but pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve had 2 appearances in 1 game. Guess I can add that to my list of strange career highlights.

4:51pm It will sit right up there next to: bunting in a hail storm, pitching with a broken hand, almost winning a fan a new mattress, breaking a 107-year-old record for most hit batters in a season, escaping a bases loaded jam with ice cream on my face, being ejected, stadium lights turning off mid-pitch during a potential no-hitter, maintaining a career Major League batting average of .500, almost tackling Will Ferrell in the outfield, fielding a groundball off a giant boulder, hitting a bird mid-flight with a pitch… never mind, actually, that last one happened to Randy Johnson.

4:59pm No kids have emerged from slumber as of yet, so I guess I’ll keep typing.

4:59:49pm And not to brag, but I was once one of the top 10 or 15 typers in my entire 8th grade class. I was also third-string quarterback. And that same year, during Awards Day at school, I was unable to accept my Perfect Attendance Trophy due to sickness.

5:02pm Today starts the closing week of Minor League spring training 2017. And for players, it can be a very difficult and emotional time. With so many decisions left to be made, players wait, wonder, and worry about what will happen next. Which Minor League team roster will I make? Am I really ready for opening day? Who do I ask to be roommates for the next 5 months? How do I find an apartment in just a few days time? What if I don’t make a team? What if I get released?

5:09pm These thoughts are real. These thoughts are scary. And there isn’t a vaccine or antibiotic to stop them from spreading. (believe me)

5:11pm I told a rookie yesterday to stay strong and stay standing to the very end of spring training… I honestly have no idea what this means. May have stolen it from a Facebook picture with a cat on it. But I’d like to think what I meant was: to keep fighting and keep grinding and show the decision makers everything you are. That will put you in the best possible position to be awarded a baseball season.

5:13pm “I’m in a glass case of emotion!” -Ron Burgundy

5:14pm The sound of furniture under attack means I’m done for now.

To Be Concluded…

The Inner Monologue of @DimTillard Part 1

By Tim Dillard | March 13, 2017 at 7:30pm CDT

It’s 6:18pm in Pheonix, Arizona. Sunday March 12th, 2017. My name is Tim Dillard. I’m 33. I play professional baseball, and after a day of Spring Training practice… I’m sitting in a hotel room trying to think of something to write about for MLB Trade Rumors. They contacted me with the false hope I could write something truly captivating and insightful about baseball. So after very little reflection and contemplation, I’ve decided to just start typing the inner thoughts about my day. At this particular moment, yes I do think this is a good idea.

6:21pm Okay wait, did I just misspell Phoenix a few minutes ago? I must be tired. During spring training, because of how early practice is, I usually go to bed around 8pm. I blame the sun. The sun out here is notorious for draining the energy right out of you. Or I could just be hungry.

6:48pm Well my trip to Taco Bell was indeed a success! Much like yesterday… and most of last week.

6:49pm Usually when I’m away from home, I try to eat at all the places my wife refuses to dine. Tomorrow I’m hitting up Long John Silver (which conveniently shares a building with Taco Bell).

6:53pm Today, in-between spring training activities, I made time to share some of my baseball knowledge and wisdom with a younger generation of ballplayers. And they found time to remind me that I am still the oldest and most bearded guy in Brewers Minor League camp this year. But in their defense, I did utter these phrases at the field today: “Back in my day.”, and of course, “Not my first rodeo!”

6:55pm This is my 14th spring training. And over my career I’ve had the privilege of 12 spring trainings with the Milwaukee Brewers team, and also participated in 2 spring trainings with the unemployment team. Which means I’m enjoying myself, and appreciating baseball now more than ever.

6:58pm Because now at this stage everything is much more precious. My past experiences have taught me to treat EVERY stretch, throwing program, sprint work (not poles), meeting, groundball, light weight training, bunt play, another meeting, conversation, workout, that other meeting, or whatever… with a tangible awareness that I have no idea which day will be my last in a baseball uniform.

7:01pm *grabs tissue, dabs eye* … Allergies out here can be challenging.

7:04pm You know what, looking around, I just noticed I’ve had the exact same room at this hotel for the last 3 spring trainings. Hmm, I wonder how many people have slept in this bed since I was here last?

7:06pm Anyway. During batting practice today I was asked why I run around the outfield like an idiot picking up baseballs. The curious kid that asked is in his very first spring training camp. So I walked up to the young buck (just over half my age), put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Eye wash man! It’s eye wash! I’m just trying to make sure all these coaches out here notice me hustling!” Cause that’s what it’s all about.

7:09pm I mean, that’s part of it I’m sure, but I think some of it is just me being afraid. Like in the movie Field of Dreams. You remember the part when the young ballplayer runs over to help the little girl? And as soon as he steps off the field he instantly transforms into the old white-haired Doctor “Moonlight” Graham? (spoilers) Then we realize he’ll never be able to go back and play baseball ever again! Well that’s kind of how I feel. Except instead of being afraid of transforming into an 87 year-old mustached doctor, I’m afraid every time I leave, a security guard will be instructed to not let me back in.

7:14pm Right now baseball is in full swing (<-pun) and the excitement for baseball is palpable! Like a hibernating bear that wakes up and just screams at everybody. Spring training is that awakening! Not sure who thought it up (you can google it), but it perfectly EASES players, umpires, coaches, broadcasters, bat boys, mascots, popcorn vendors, instant replay technicians, and of course fans seamlessly into another year of baseball history!

7:22pm My roommate just walked in, and has confirmed our room smells like tacos… with just the tiniest hint of fish.

7:25pm Hold on, got a text message…

7:26pm It’s an unnamed teammate asking what time stretch is in the morning. When I get texts like this I usually send the picture I took of the weekly schedule posted in the clubhouse. I always take a picture of the schedule because that’s what professional baseball does! It makes you SUPER paranoid about being late… for anything… ever! This is one of those times paranoia is a good thing. Because as the saying in baseball goes, “If you’re 5 minutes early, You’re 10 minutes late!”

7:36pm Let’s see, what else happened today? Oh yeah, I was asked about the first time I was called up to the Big Leagues. Oh man, these stories are the life blood for Minor League baseball players. We need them. Because it proves The Show is in fact a real place and possibly within grasp. And players crave inspiration. So what could be better than hearing a first hand account of toeing the rubber in a Major League baseball game! But actually my Big League Debut story is kind of an average story at best. In fact, the best part of my debut story is what happened after the game: with me, on a sidewalk, being mistaken for star Milwaukee Brewers pitcher Ben Sheets! Anyway, let’s just say there’s a gentleman out there somewhere with 14 Ben Sheets baseball cards with the signature “Tim Dillard48” scribbled on it!

7:48pm Okay yeah it’s late. As soon as my roommate finishes playing his Call of Medal Duty game, I’m falling asleep in this bed… and pretending it’s a brand new mattress.

To Be Concluded…

You can follow Tim @DimTillard and read more of his work at his blog.

Travel Delays, Candy Bags And The Sixth Inning

By rdennick | February 9, 2017 at 11:10pm CDT

It’s been 342 professional appearances and nearly eight calendar years since Ryan Dennick was selected by the Royals out of Tennessee Technological University in 2009. We’re happy to welcome Ryan as the latest author to join our Player’s Perspective series here at MLBTR.

This latest post is a continuation of Ryan’s first on MLBTR, entitled “You Only Get One MLB Debut.” If you haven’t read that, check it out before reading the second part of his story.

Once the initial excitement and celebration of my call-up wore off, reality set in. We were set to play the Orioles that night, and I had a job to do. The morning of Sept. 2 began around 5:00am from me, and I was greeted by pouring rain. The torrential downpour led to not only a delayed flight to Chicago, but a missed connection to Baltimore for myself and fellow September call-ups J.J. Hoover, Tucker Barnhart, David Holmberg and Donald Lutz. J.J. got the last seat on a new flight to Baltimore, while the rest of us hopped a flight to Washington, D.C. — an hour drive from Camden Yards. All of our bags wound up in Baltimore with J.J. The traveling secretary arranged a car rental, and we met J.J. at the airport to collect our bags an hour later.

Finally, after all the travel mishaps, we arrived at Camden Yards. Pulling into the parking lot of the ballpark, the realness of the situation was in full effect. We entered on the first base side of the field. To my right, I saw the long, brown weathered building known as the B&O Warehouse. It was this building that Ken Griffey Jr. homered off in the 1993 Home Run Derby and where the team hung the numbers 2, 1, 3 and 1 in celebration of Cal Ripken Jr. becoming baseball’s Iron Man. Those were iconic moments in the history of Camden Yards, and I was about to be on the same field on which those legends had played.

We grabbed our equipment bags and headed toward the security gate by the service entrance. The three other guys all pulled out their player ID cards issued to them in Major League Spring Training. This card is required to be shown to security officers to be granted access to the stadium. I was in minor league camp so I didn’t have an ID card. Thankfully, the guard understood the situation and let me through without an ID. After a series of bad breaks throughout the day, it was a relief to catch a good one. Once past the security check point, the four of us made the long trek underneath the stadium around to the third base side where the visitors’ clubhouse is located.

“Get excited man, you’re here!” Tucker said in an attempt to pump me up. After 13 hours of travel, we had arrived in front of the visitors’ clubhouse doors. The security guard in front of our clubhouse swung the doors open, and I followed in behind the other three guys.

Inside was a lively environment full of players, staff and media moving every which way. Batting practice had ended about 10 minutes before we arrived. Players were beginning to go into their pre-game routines. The media was trying to get in some interviews to use for the night’s broadcast and the clubhouse staff was hard at work gathering up all the laundry that had to be done during the game. I managed to flag down one of the clubhouse attendants to ask him where my locker was located.

“What’s your name?” he asked with a load of laundry in his hands. “Dennick,” I said. “Yeah, I think you’re in the back corner.”

The visitors’ clubhouse in Baltimore is quite expansive. The travel roster for the Reds included over 30 players, the Major League coaching staff, a few members of the minor league coaching staff, the training staff, and the administrative staff. Even with all those people, there were still some open lockers.

I walked further into the clubhouse to see how much of an upgrade the Majors were over the minors. To my right, hitters were reviewing film on Bud Norris, the Orioles’ starting pitcher that night, with Reds hitting coach Don Long. A few monitors and laptops were set up and available to anyone who wanted to look up any at-bat on any pitcher or hitter right there in the clubhouse. Beyond that was the kitchen. A chef was employed to provide us with incredible food. Steak, chicken, all the sides. Anything you wanted, it was available. I moved toward the middle of the room, which was filled in with two leather sectional couches. In the middle of those was a wide coffee table where guys enjoyed playing card games before game time. The walls of the clubhouse were all lined with flat screen TVs playing the MLB Network. All the lockers had nice leather swivel chairs in front of them. There was plenty of space between lockers, something I wasn’t used to in the minors.

And then there it was, in the back corner of the clubhouse in front of the tunnel that led to the playing field. I saw my locker.

I stood there for a second to take in the view. Inside were two game jerseys, a batting practice top, two pairs of pants, hats, undershirts and sweatshirts. There was so much gear, I felt like I’d robbed the Reds’ team store. I reached in and grabbed one of my game jerseys. We were wearing the typical road grays that night. Red stitched lettering that spelled “Cincinnati” on the front, my last name and the number 41 stitched on the back. The Majestic Cool Base material was so much more breathable and lighter than any of the minor league jerseys I’d ever worn. Years of hard work was represented by what I held in my hands. I set the jersey back in my locker and placed my equipment bag at its base. Unpacking would have to wait — it was time to see the manager.

Whenever a player gets assigned to a new level, it’s an unwritten rule he should go see the manager before getting settled in. Most of the time it begins with a little small talk, like making sure your travel went OK, and then it transitions into baseball talk. It doesn’t take long, maybe 5-10 minutes at the most, but it’s a sign of respect for the manager to see him first.

I navigated my way back to the front of the busy clubhouse to Bryan Price’s office. As I said before, I wasn’t in Major League camp in spring training so this was the first time I had ever met him. I knocked on the open door and poked my head into his office.

“Hey Ryan, come on in!” he said. “I heard about how your travel went today. You good to go tonight?” I waited my whole life to get here, no chance I was saying I wasn’t ready. “Absolutely,” I told him. “Well, you had a great season in Triple-A and we are excited to have you here. So go get settled in and be ready to go.”

It was a little less than an hour before the start of the game so I had a little bit of time to decompress. I returned to my locker to find all my equipment hung up and placed neatly inside. A teammate I had in Louisville who had been called up a few months back came over to greet me.

“Hey Buddy! Good to see you here!” “Good to be here! Did the clubbie hang up all my stuff?” I responded. “Welcome to the big leagues, kid. Get used to it.” He went on to fill me in on the ins and outs of what to do and what not to do in a Major League clubhouse. Just like the law, ignorance isn’t an excuse for doing something wrong. If you do something you shouldn’t in a clubhouse, a veteran player is going to let you hear about it.

Players were beginning to make their way down the tunnel toward the playing field. I put on my uniform and got ready to do the same. Before I could leave the clubhouse, one of the veteran relievers stopped by my locker.

“Welcome to the team, you got the candy bag.”

It’s the duty of the rookie reliever with the least amount of service time to take care of the candy bag. Gum, seeds, energy bars and drinks, chewing tobacco and anything else anybody wanted in the bullpen to get ready to pitch. I had to make sure it was stocked full before every game and carry it down to the ‘pen. With a full candy bag ready to go, the rest of the relief corps and I emerged from the visitors’ dugout and made the walk across the outfield grass to the stacked bullpens in left center field.

I made the ascent up the stone stairs leading up to our bullpen. Mat Latos was just finishing up his warm-up pitches, as he was our starting pitcher on this night. The view from our ‘pen was incredible. You could see everything. From foul pole to foul pole, your vision was filled up with all Camden Yards had to offer. Perfectly manicured field below and the thousands of seats filled with people that stretched from the playing field all the way up to the upper deck. It’s what I thought baseball was always supposed to look like. After the national anthem was sung and warm-up pitches were done, it was game time. A few guys in the bullpen grabbed some chairs and set up shop in front of the railing that overlooked the Orioles bullpen to get a better view of the action.

The game wasn’t going well on our end. After two innings of play, we were already down 5-0. But it was about to get worse. The rain that delayed our flight out of Cincinnati had followed us. The heavens opened up, and the tarp was put on the field. We were in a rain delay. The day just kept getting longer and longer. I felt like a kicker in the NFL getting iced before attempting the game-winning field goal. Anticipation and nervousness were kicking in. The way the score currently stood, I had a pretty good chance to see some game action. Managers typically like to put guys in a lower leverage situation for their big league debut.

A little over two hours went by before the announcement was made that the grounds crew was pulling the tarp off the field. Normally for a rain delay that long, the starting pitcher will be taken out of the game, but Latos insisted on staying in the ballgame. Once the field was ready for play, the relievers and I made our way back out to the bullpen. While he had a relatively uneventful third and fourth inning, Latos ran into some trouble in the fifth. Back-to-back singles prompted a call down to the bullpen to get someone warming up.

“Denny, be ready for [Chris] Davis,” our bullpen coach hollered. Price wasn’t kidding when he said be ready. He was going to use me right away. However, two outs made on the basepaths by the Orioles allowed Latos to strike out Davis to end the inning without a run scoring. Still standing on the mound in the bullpen waiting for instructions, I heard the phone rang again.

“Denny, you got next inning.”

When the final out of the top of the sixth was recorded, I was in. I was overcome with a combination of excitement, focus, and nerves. It was like I drank a six-pack of Red Bull. I finished my warm-up pitches and headed toward the stone staircase leading to the field. I was walking down as carefully as I could. The last thing I needed was to catch a spike and trip coming down the stairs for my Major League debut.

One piece of advice given to me before I went into the game was to not look up when running in from the outfield. That would have been great advice — if I had listened. The bullpen gate swung open and I immediately looked up. The triple-decker stadium towered over me. I began to jog in from the left center field warning track to see the stadium grow larger and larger in my eyes. I’d be lying if I said my heart wasn’t beating a lot faster than any other time I’ve run in from the bullpen.

Once I reached the dirt and the cut of the infield grass, I slowed my jog into a walk. I was met on top of the pitcher’s mound by Devin Mesoraco. We had never worked together before so we had a brief discussion about my pitching repertoire. “One: Fast, Three: Slider, Wiggle: Change.” I said with my glove over my mouth. I’m not sure why I do that. I don’t know anyone who reads lips in baseball. Must just be habit.

“OK, let’s have some fun!” he said before heading back to his spot behind the plate. Once I completed my warm-up tosses, I took a lap around to the back of the pitcher’s mound where I routinely receive the ball back from the third baseman after it’s thrown around the horn.

Right as the ball was getting thrown back to me, it was intercepted by Todd Frazier, who was playing first base for us that night. He turned into Roger Dorn straight out of the movie Major League. He looked me right in the eyes and said “I only have one thing to say to you: strike this [expletive] out!” It made me laugh. Any nerves I had before pitching were suddenly calmed. I was as ready as I would ever be.

From there, I went on autopilot. Whatever sign Devin put down, I threw. Whatever spot he wanted, I threw it there. It was one of those rare innings where you just knew you were going to get the batter out. Then, when the ball hit from the third batter of the inning settled into Billy Hamilton’s glove in center, it was over. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, the moment came and went. 11 pitches, 9 for strikes. I had a 1-2-3 inning, including my first MLB strikeout. I returned to the dugout and was met by all my teammates and coaching staff to give me handshakes and high fives for a job well done in my debut. I took a seat on the bench to finally relax and reflect on the past 48 hours. Finally getting called up, travel issues, warming up in the pen. They all led up to a moment that lasted only a few minutes. But you only get one MLB debut. And mine was perfect in every way.

Photo courtesy of USA Today Sports Images.

You Only Get One MLB Debut

By rdennick | January 23, 2017 at 11:16am CDT

18,910. This is the number of players who have made a Major League debut in the history of the sport. In life, you only get a few true indelible moments. For those nearly 19,000 players, there is no doubt in my mind getting the call to the big leagues is one of them. Every single player that has been lucky enough to beat incredible odds to reach the game’s highest level can tell you in vivid detail where they were, when it happened, and the emotions that came with having a lifelong dream realized. My name is Ryan Dennick. I was a 22nd-round senior sign in the 2009 draft. Six seasons later, I became number 18,360. This was my indelible moment.

On August 31st, 2014, Jonathan Broxton was traded from the Cincinnati Reds to the Milwaukee Brewers. To most, this meant the Reds were shedding a little over $11MM in payroll commitment. For a team that was in desperate need of salary relief, it was a move they had to make. To the players in Triple-A Louisville’s clubhouse, this meant something completely different. There was an open 40-man roster spot.

When news of the trade broke, a bit of a buzz swept through the clubhouse. The move was completely unexpected and guys began to speculate who could fill the vacancy. With rosters in the big leagues expanding from 25 to 40 the next day, that roster spot wouldn’t be vacant very long. Each year, you can take a pretty good guess on who most of the September call-ups are going to be. Players already on the 40-man roster in the upper minors obviously have the inside track to get the call, since no roster move needs to be made. Prospects that require being protected from the Rule 5 draft the upcoming offseason could certainly find themselves in a Major League uniform come September.

Then there are players like me. The hardest call-ups to predict. The non-prospect, roster filler types that had their best statistical seasons. If a spot isn’t open on the 40-man, teams don’t often go out of their way to create an opening for a player who probably doesn’t fit into their long-term plans. Instead, these players will be sent into the offseason with a pat on the back for a job well done, and perhaps an invite to Major League Spring Training the next season. A team’s placement in the standings plays a factor as well. Without the added pressure of staying in contention late in the season, teams out of the race may be more willing to reward these players with a call-up, if a roster spot is available. The Reds were the perfect storm. Sitting with a record of 66-71, they were out of contention. When the Broxton trade happened, a roster spot opened up. Every player in our clubhouse not currently on the 40-man roster was hoping that spot had their name on it.

For a good majority of my minor league pitching career, I was quite mediocre statistically. I was never great, but never horrible either. I had always shown enough promise to warrant filling a minor league roster spot. But in the eyes of those in the front office, I probably didn’t have enough “stuff” to reach the Majors without great minor league numbers to force their hand. Of course, being left-handed helped me stick around, too. I always believed I would reach the Majors one day. Every minor leaguer does. We would be crazy to live the minor league lifestyle year after year if we didn’t think we could reach the carrot on the stick, even if it was just a nibble.

For whatever reason, a player can have a year where everything just goes right. Something just clicks. Pitchers see line drives hit right at fielders. Hitters have more bloopers fall in for hits. That was my 2014 season. I was having easily the best season of my life. Outing after outing, I was building my case to force the Reds to make a decision on me. A move from the starting rotation to the bullpen helped my fastball play up a little more and made my slider a little sharper. Every bit helps. By the end of the season, my 40-man roster spot résumé included an unblemished record, a team-low ERA, the league lead in appearances, and the league lead in holds. Seemingly every break went my way. I was hoping for one more.

On the morning of September 1, I rolled into Louisville Slugger Field a little later than I normally do. I had just finished a long breakfast with my mom and fiancé at one of the local spots in downtown Louisville. I tried all I could to get my mind off what could be waiting for me when I arrived. I failed. Expecting a call-up was an easy way to set yourself up for disappointment so I always tried to operate with the idea that if I was meant to be in the big leagues, somehow I would get there. But the Broxton trade cleared a path. That spot has to go to someone. Why not me?

As I walked through the clubhouse doors, to the left I already saw our manager, Jim Riggleman, in his office letting the members of the 40-man roster know they are getting the call back to the Majors. Since I was one of the last players to arrive in the clubhouse, I set my bag down at my locker and took a quick look around the room looking for unbridled happiness from a player who earned the right to fill the open roster spot.

It doesn’t matter if a player has been to the big leagues before or not, when a teammate gets called up for the first time, it’s a special moment in the clubhouse. Everyone stops what they are doing to offer handshakes and hugs in recognition of the hard work, dedication and sacrifice it takes to reach the game’s highest level. Major League jobs aren’t given away. Every single one of them is earned. However, no such excitement was taking place. I left my locker to head towards the players’ lounge to try to get in a game of spades before heading out to the field to do my throwing program. Right as I turned the corner, I was met by our pitching coach, Ted Power. “Where have you been?! Skip wants to see you! Now!”

When the manager wants to see you, it’s usually for one of three reasons. You’re either going up, going down, or going home. It’s not to chit-chat. As I made my way to Riggleman’s office, I passed another player who was just told he was returning to the big leagues. We didn’t say anything as we passed. He just shot me a wink, as if he already knew what I was about to walk into. “Have a seat, Ryan,” Jim said. I took a seat on the sofa in his office as I wondered if this was it.

“Am I going up? Is he letting me know they decided not to call me up but he’s thanking me for a great season?” My mind raced so fast that I didn’t realize he’d been talking for about ten seconds, and I didn’t hear anything he said. I snapped out of it and zoned back in to catch him say, “So you’re going up to Cincinnati to finish out the season. Do you have any questions?”

I sat in stunned silence, trying to process what has just been said to me. I’d waited my whole life to hear those words and now that I had, I didn’t know what to do. Years of low pay: validated. Years of sub-par housing: validated. Years of cramped 12-hour bus rides: validated. Years of eating more peanut butter and jelly than is recommended in a lifetime: validated. “…No,” I said. I could barely eek that out.

“OK, then get out of here, Jimmy (the trainer) has your itinerary.”

I left his office, and right around the corner was the player I passed on my way in. “Yeah??” he asked, referring to me being called up or not. I nodded my head. “Yeah…” He turned to go into the clubhouse and shouted,“We got a first-timer here!” Handshakes and hugs all around. I just became a 27-year-old rookie.

Photo courtesy of USA Today Sports Images.

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