Gerard Haran's diary of his new life in pro ball. UPDATE: Haran signs with STL ! Reports to GCL Cards!
Editor's Note: Gotham Baseball is pleased to take a look at a different side of professional baseball, the Independent Leagues, through the eyes of one of Gotham’s own, Gerard Haran. Haran, a three-time Division III All America catcher for The College of New Jersey, and a selection to Gotham Baseball’s 2006 & 2007 All Gotham teams, was by-passed in the June MLB draft, and after a month of searching for a way to continue his career, was signed by the St. George (Utah) Roadrunners of the Golden Baseball League.
It has been described to me as baseball’s version of purgatory.
You are not quite in, but not quite out.
On one hand, the opportunity to play baseball for a living is a dream come true. On the other hand, the cruel realities of 13-hour bus rides and night-to-night job security
It is Minor League baseball and an opportunity to move forward in your career. But there is no such thing as developing ballplayers here, and you are only as safe as your recent box score. This is independent ball, where potential means nothing and only the strong survive.
A hodge-podge of has-beens and never-was’, Indy ball offers a unique situation for both athlete and fan. The quality of baseball is very good, with superb athletes manning every position on the field. My team, the expansion St. George Roadrunners of the Golden Baseball League, offers people an opportunity to see professional baseball at an affordable price, and in venues where there are no affiliated teams for hundreds of miles. The experience is very fan-friendly as there is a high level of interaction between players and fans, as well as the prizes and games you see in between innings at every minor league game.
For the ballplayers, the Golden League is a last chance to chase our dream. I find it ironic how all the players have war stories about the evil conglomerate that is Major League Baseball, yet, simultaneously are willing to live in someone else’s basement—for only $600 a month—for the outside chance MLB will let us in.
In our locker room you will find bonus babies, former top prospects, Latin imports, overlooked college studs, and a couple former Major Leaguers. All walks of baseball life are represented and pretty much every stereotype you can think of is employed without caution.
As you may guess, they simply call me "Jersey," and every reference to or about me is drenched with satire. My teammates think everyone in New Jersey looks like either Tony Soprano or 50 Cent and talks like a mixture of Andrew Dice Clay and Paulie Walnuts. Some think I had to dodge bullets growing up, and I love telling them stories about how hard it was growing up in the mean streets of Old Bridge, with all the gangland violence and all…
There is an interesting camaraderie among the players. Everyone is nice to each other but in a guarded way. The ex-affiliated guys seem to stick together a little more and have a more carefree attitude. Then again, they have been through this grind before and most have a sizable bit scratch waiting for them back home.
While things are cordial between teammates, and locker room antics are always abound, no one is concerned with forming lasting friendships. Every player has ulterior motives and on a team that is struggling to find its groove, the threat of being released is in the forefront of everyone’s mind. St. George is the second, third, and in one case, fourth stop just this year for some guys, and in my case, it basically took an act of God to get me this opportunity. The one thing that everyone has in common is the desire to keep their spot…that is, until they can decide to go somewhere else.
For a middle-class kid from Jersey, one of the real perks of professional baseball is the travel. Some of the vets tell me that will wear off as I delve deeper into my career, but for now, the chance to see small West coast towns is truly riveting.
I began my career in "the biggest little city in the world" -- Reno, Nevada. Sort of Phoenix meets Atlantic City; Reno is a pretty unique place. I was surprised by how clean the city was and how nonchalant the attitudes of the people were. I did not see the excessive, outlandish, wild partying that I had been told was Las Vegas 24/7. I figured Reno was like Las Vegas; it is not. From my short time there, Reno appeared more family-oriented (although the main drag is nothing but casinos and liquor stores) and the casinos appeared to be filled with full-time gamblers, not tourists.
I joined the team for the second game of a four-game series against the Reno Silver Sox. We played in front of nearly 2,000 very boisterous fans each night at the all-field turf at University of Nevada Stadium. You did not read that wrong, the only dirt was on the mound, and the playing surface was 117 degrees at the start of batting practice—five PM! The highlight of the games may have been the seventh inning stretches where the Reno home announcer, who loved to ham it up, would don a grey wig and sunglasses and perform a dead-on Will Ferrell-like version of Harry Carray’s "Take Me Out to the Ballgame."
From Reno, we took about a four hour drive to Chico, California. A beautiful little city with great architecture and a vibrant main strip, Chico was a fun place to be a tourist. Home to the number one party school in California, Chico State University (and that’s saying something), the town had a very laid back vibe. The streets were busy but no one seemed to be in a hurry. There were great little restaurants to eat in and the Chico City Plaza with its water fountains and central view offer an excellent place to catch some shade from the summer sun and people watch with your I-Pod.
We played the Chico Outlaws to a two-game split. They share a beautiful Santé Fe-style complex with Chico State University. The 2,000-plus fans we played in front of each night are awfully dedicated to their Outlaws. Though some of the heckling could use a little improvement, the fans certainly get an ‘A’ for effort.
It took 13-1/2 hours, driving past such cities as Sacramento, Lincoln, San Francisco, Flag City, and Las Vegas but the team finally arrived home to St. George, Utah. A decade ago St. George was a small town of less than 20,000 people in southwest Utah people used to get away from the cold winters in Salt Lake City. Now, the city is 70,000 strong and still growing. It boasts great shopping and dining and a landscape that seems otherworldly. The Martian-like red hills and white mountains combine with the brand new buildings to form a truly breathtaking view. There are two drawbacks to the city however, as 105 degrees is a cool day and the McDonald’s boasts signs about being open late—to 11 pm Monday-Saturday.
The people of St. George are all nice, willing to accommodate, and eager to see a wining ball club. The pressure to win is amplified by everyone’s need for job security and dwindling attendance is to be taken very seriously. If people do not come to the games, the teams do not make money. For a player, if you are not drawing fans they will find someone else who will, so for the first time in my playing career everyone is very aware of the crowd.
Some of the coolest things I have experienced are the little things that make you feel like a pro. For a Division III kid, it is a trip to show up to the ballpark everyday with all of your clothes and jerseys cleaned, pressed, and hanging in your locker. While many cannot stand the bus rides, I can tell you they are ten times better than van rides. Seeing commercials on television for a game you are going to play in is awesome, and signing autographs for bright-eyed kids is something I will always cherish. I have learned so much about baseball that has nothing to do with playing, just by listening to the vets. One such tasty tidbit finally taught me the secret to keeping your pants low on your spikes, just like the big leaguers do, without cutting your pants or sewing on stirrups.
They use double sided tape.
Nothing comes for free though. I am truly all alone out here. I cannot describe how much I miss dinner with my family or a hug from my girlfriend. Talking to them on the phone helps sustain me, but teases me at the same time and almost makes it harder.
I cannot thank everyone enough for the deluge of support I have received during my post-draft odyssey. It is my faith in the Lord and the support of my family and friends that keeps me strong and mentally willing through this grind. The generosity of total strangers like Akadema, a company that went out of its way to help this underdog from New Jersey, lets me know there are people out there willing to put stock in me, even when it seems no one else will.
Unfortunately, I know I could be only one bad game away from being cut.
It is a stressful and draining living, but it is also a blessing. I have a life-time of stories and sights in only a week on the road. Just root that I play well enough to keep my job!
In future weeks, as Gerard’s schedule permits, GB will continue with publishing his first-hand view of baseball at its lowest levels.
Gerard Haran's diary of his new life in pro ball. UPDATE: Haran signs with STL ! Reports to GCL Cards!