Warehouse Windows

This novel was inspired by years of following baseball as a Mets fan, interning with the Minor League New Jersey Cardinals and the Baltimore Orioles, and culminating with landing a dream job with the New York Mets. These posts are some of those moments and events that inspired me.

After Baseball

From the time I was 13, I had dreamed of working for the New York Mets. I wanted to be a part of the team, and I wanted to be there when they won a World Series. However, I had always expected it to come later in life. My thoughts were, originally, that I’d be a journalist first and work towards a decent career in baseball journalism, then eventually try to get a job in baseball PR once I had some experience. Eventually, I’d get a job in PR with the New York Mets. Some elements of this plan were revised through the years, but the basics were there. No part or imagining of the plan involved me somehow landing a job in baseball PR when I was 22, and it certainly did not have an addendum on what I would do if I left baseball by the time I was 28.

Writing was a significant part of that plan but got dropped along the way. Baseball and writing are intrinsically tied together for me. You write about what you love, and baseball was my first love. A lot of the stuff I wrote in high school was about baseball. While writing about family and girls and friends and school and my children eventually entered the mix, baseball was consistent throughout.

While in the PR internship with the Orioles, I wrote about baseball a lot. I was responsible for things like the weekly minor league report and a homestand preview insert that went into scorebooks sold inside the stadium. I enjoyed that. I was also really good with computers and saw ways to make the intern’s job easier and far more efficient using them beyond what we had been using them for.

With this combination, I managed to extend a six-month internship into over a year. However, it got to a point where John had to move me…I couldn’t be an intern forever, and there was not a position open for me on his team. Fortunately for me (and probably unfortunately for my writing career), at the time, the Orioles were a bit out in front of other baseball teams with one of the first websites, and they needed someone to help manage it. People noticed my computer skills and offered me that job, so I moved over to help with the very new technology while still being able to help out with the PR department.

A hard truth I had to come to terms with while working for John was that I was never going to make it doing Public Relations in baseball or, really, any field. My problem was that I was an introvert, and in a field that requires you to talk to people, I didn’t cut it. I could get the nerve up in short bursts, but more than 10 to 15 minutes wore me out. I could barely hang out more than a half hour with John at the time before I felt exhausted. My social anxiety would be an exceptionally bad combination with baseball as I was just too intimidated by the baseball players and the bigger-than-life media people (seriously, how was a debilitatingly shy guy like me supposed to tell a guy like Eddie Murray, a future Hall-of-Famer, that he needed to stop avoiding Buster Olney, one of the great baseball journalists of his generation…or stare into the eyes of the crazy beautiful Melissa Stark and get even a single word out?).

So, making the jump to the website was perfect for me. It allowed me to bring together my creativity, my computer skills, and even my PR skills into something that was cutting edge at the time and make an impact. I really enjoyed that, and it still allowed me to contribute and help with the PR team.

Ultimately, it was the second biggest thing to happen that allowed me to capture the big dream I had…the New York Mets. It was painfully obvious that I was never going to get a job with the Mets PR department. I had applied for at least one job there…I think I still have the rejection letter from Jay Horowitz. But the New York media would have just crushed me (there were a couple of guys there that actually messed with me when I first started there, but I don’t think I’ll share those stories). I realized early on that websites were my ticket to the Mets.

To my good fortune, the tech/consulting company that helped the Orioles build and maintain their website managed to secure a contract with the Mets. The Mets needed a website administrator, and the consultants put me up for the job with my boss recommending me.

Getting the interview and traveling up there was a blur to me, and I really wish I could remember more of the details. I do remember that I didn’t tell my parents about who I was interviewing. I stayed with them the night before and told them I was interviewing in Manhattan. I wanted it to be a surprise if I actually got the job. They would know how much that job would mean to me. I remember sitting in the conference room in Shea with my boss, and I remember it being a really gloomy day. However, it pains me that I have almost no memories of that day except the feeling that it had gone well and that I most likely got the job.

Several weeks later, I found out I got the job with the Mets from my boss at the Orioles. It was a very strange day for me as I felt my life get completely flipped upside down. On one hand, I was completely overjoyed to get to capture my dream, but on the other hand, it meant moving away from Andrea just a couple of months after we got engaged. It also was the final nail in any kind of writing career I had hoped for myself.

I loved my time at the Mets. It was very, very different from my experience with the Orioles in terms of environment, culture, and, obviously, ballpark. New York City was such a different place from Baltimore. I’ve struggled for years to try to figure out what was different (aside from the obvious). There were plenty of people I was friendly with in both places, and both places had their share of people that were less than friendly. I want to say that New York had the stereotypical edge to it, which it did, but that wasn’t the whole thing. I think it had to do with me entering the Orioles job as an intern and sort of growing up in that job while entering the Mets with a full-time job with an office, and everything felt like I actually needed to be a grown-up, which I did not feel like I was. At the Orioles, I had some very good friends, and Andrea was right there. At the Mets, while I did have my family near, I felt very alone, and making friends took longer.

Regardless, I loved working at the Mets, but I think I always knew it wasn’t going to be a long-term place for me. I loved and soaked in every moment within the walls of Shea Stadium. However, it (New York) was not going to be a place I felt comfortable living in for a long period of time and starting a family. I know others that did it, including my boss, Tim, there, but living in New York just was not going to be the style for Andrea and me.

Ultimately, it was Major League Baseball that essentially removed any kind of decision for me.

In 2000, the teams voted to consolidate all the club sites under the management of a new company called MLB Advanced Media (MLBAM), and it meant that I would no longer be working directly for the Mets but for this new company.

Originally, I applied for and was hired on as a producer for MLBAM, where I would primarily work out of a central office in Chelsea and spend some time at Shea. The salary that was at least twice as much as I was making and a handful of empty promises had me jumping at it in a heartbeat. It would be something I would later regret. I made some mistakes in my brief time in that role as I realized it was not the right fit for me immediately. I was miserable there.

Sometime in the following January or February, I was at Shea taking care of a few things there, and I ran into the VP of Marketing at the time. He asked me how it was going at MLBAM. I told him it wasn’t going well and that I felt it was a mistake. I distinctly remember him carefully listening to me and then saying, “Then just come back.” He didn’t even wait for me to respond before walking away.

That stuck with me for the rest of the day, and I began to look into it seriously. The Mets-specific site admin job (I forget what it was called) was still open and paid less, but I approached my manager at MLBAM about it. They were extremely generous to me and allowed me to make the move back while keeping the same salary.

I took that job, and it looked like it would be a great fit for me. They wanted the position to basically be a writer and the eyes and ears for MLBAM at Shea. They hired beat writers with lots of journalism experience to cover the team, and I was to support them, write basic game summaries and contribute my own work. I was initially very excited about it. I felt my writing career was back on track.

I hesitate to write this, but the truth is that most of the editorial board I reported to at MLBAM were assholes. My immediate editor was very nice at first, but once the Editor-in-Chief was hired, he turned the screws on everyone, and it became a miserable working environment for me. Again, some of the issues were on my end and mistakes I made, but they created an environment where even the smallest mistake felt like it was fireable.

The combined with the bigger issue, though, which was my own introverted tendencies again. They wanted me to write feature pieces on players and include exclusive quotes in the articles. That was just not something I could get around myself to do, and the pressure my editors applied did not give me any room to try to figure it out. I knew I was doomed.

Looking back, there are things I could have done better, and I wish I had made the best of that tough situation, but I didn’t. Instead, I learned some very difficult and valuable lessons that ultimately helped me out later in life.

That August (2001), I walked away from that job without having anything else lined up. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. However, it was making me miserable and I figured I had plenty of great website skills and could easily get another job. However, the internet bubble burst right around that same time, and I was left unemployed for months. This would set Andrea and me back financially for years. It was probably the right time to get back on track and pursue some kind of writing career, but I chose a different path.

The experience of being able to optimize some processes at the Orioles using computers lead me to attempt to start my own company, October Turtle Statistical Services. PR departments at clubs did so much manual statistics tracking, and I knew I could make that easier on a computer. I got to work and developed a piece of software for the Orioles to do just that. However, I was an inexperienced programmer, and it had a lot of bugs in it. I continued to work on it, but ultimately it failed when MLB signed an exclusive contract for all clubs with a company that did something similar to what my software did. Any connection I had left to the game, professionally, was gone.

I never did fulfill a career in writing. It got sidetracked a bit, but with the exception of not making more of the opportunity MLBAM gave me, I have no regrets about it. However, I am still searching for my place within this game, still seeking an opportunity of my own that is not attached to the success of someone else. I am looking for my own legacy to leave behind in the game. When my time comes, I want to be remembered as first a great husband and father, second, a decent human being, and third, a writer that had a lifelong romance with baseball.

I was watching Moneyball the other night, and at the end, Brad Pitt as Billy Beane says, “How can you not be romantic about baseball?” And it is so true. When I think about baseball, I feel joy and love and heartbreak and every other range of emotion because baseball is romantic. Without the love of the game and the other emotions that come with it, you just have a list of stats. Any fan’s connection to baseball is a love story, and the game needs people to write those stories.

Confession time…I struggle to watch baseball on TV anymore. After nearly six years of watching nearly every home game from within the stadiums and nearly every road game on TV, I find it difficult to watch games from start to finish. I think maybe I was spoiled in those years, and it just doesn’t have the same feel. I still watch highlights and read about the Mets and try to absorb as much information about them as I can in a hectic life, but I just can’t sit through games on TV.

But I still love baseball, and memories of my time in the game still stirs deeply in me. There are days when I desperately miss it and the friends I made there. The feel of the sun as I ate my lunch in a random seat in an empty stadium when the team was on the road (I once spent an entire lunch hour contemplating how long it would take me to spend some time in each of Shea Stadium’s 55,000+ seats during my lunches.) The way the cold hits you when wandering through the stadium concourses in the dead of winter. Walking through a rowdy clubhouse…walking through a somber clubhouse. Sitting in the press box talking to friends.

When I think about it, it may not be so much the game I miss but the atmosphere around it…the romance of the game.

This book is a love story. Not your traditional love story, but an expression of my love for the game and all the little nuances and theatre and players (not just those on the field) involved in the game. Baseball will always be my first love. While my love for the game has been surpassed at least three times since that ground ball rolled through Buckner’s legs, it will always hold a very special and dear place in my heart because it was my first love. Whether or not it is successful, I also feel this book is my legacy to this game. The 1998 Mets Yearbook will show me as the first “Webmaster” for the New York Mets, but ultimately, I am sure it has already been lost to time the contributions I made. I doubt more than a handful of people will even remember me being at the Mets, and a few more will remember me from the Orioles. However, my hope is that my thoughts and stories, and love of the game will be noticed years after I am gone, and someone will wonder about who I was.

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