Baseball How To #1

Baseball How To #1: Getting A Ball

Hey guys - I haven't written in a long time, but playing a game every day does put just the slightest damper on my free time; so when I actually get some time for myself I usually just sink into my couch and yell at small children on Xbox Live.

But that is not the case today. I am sitting in the hotel restaurant in Lansing, MI and I have a couple hours before the bus leaves for the field that I plan on filling by entertaining the good people of the internet with what I consider to be humorous writing (I may even teach one or two of you something).

I plan on doing a three part, "Baseball How To" series that will consist of, "How to get a baseball", "How to get ejected" and "How to get free tickets". In my head they will be both informative and funny, but as anyone who has ever envisioned something before can tell you - the idea doesn't always match the reality. But I am in the make-dreams-come-true business, so hopefully I can do a  fair job of putting fingers to keys and cranking these out as close to perfect as I had imagined.

ALRIGHT! WITHOUT FURTHER ADONT - lets do it.

1. "The Old Fashioned"

You guessed it, "the old fashioned" is when you're in the right place at the right time and that magical 6 ounce crystal of leather and red lacing just happens to come close enough to reach out and snag. It's a beautiful moment, and to take advantage you're gonna have to have your eyes open and your hands free. 

If you're half way down either line in the first section of seats, you're in prime foul ball real estate. Wait till a hitter comes up that is facing you (thats a righty for those on the first base line and a lefty for those on the third base line) more often than not, a hitter will hit foul balls the other way into that first section. We call it "spoiling pitches" or "being-really-late-cause-the-pitcher-is-awesome-and-he-owns-you-look-out-for-the-slider-in-the-dirt-you're-out-but-don't-even-know-it-yet". 

Another key to getting a foul ball is paying attention, some of these balls are coming off the bat pretty hot, and if you're tweeting about how good your seats are, you're gonna need to keep that phone out to call the paramedics. 

Finally, watch the bounce, just call a ball lands somewhere else doesn't mean it's next stop isn't in your nachos. When balls hit the roof- they usually come back down. When balls bounce on solid concrete - they're going to travel a long ways. If a ball has more spin than a Russian figure skater - it's gonna hit the ground and redirect like a sidewinder missile. The first bounce doesn't mean the death of a foul ball, usually it means the exact opposite.

2. "Puppy Eyes"

(Yes, the title is puppy eyes and I put a picture of an animated kitten. I see the irony, leave me alone.)

Kids can be super cute, and we're not monsters - if a little kid somehow reminds of a youthful joy that stirred in us when we first set out playing the game, more often than not that kid is getting a baseball. For me, if I see someone being a good dad and holding his kid up to catch a foul ball, I'll take fate out of the equation and make sure that kid goes home happy. If I kid is standing by our bullpen for four innings just watching the game silently and respectfully, that kid is getting a ball from me every time. As a little brother I have a bit of a soft spot for the underdog. 

WARNING - not everyone is cute. Nothing is less interesting than a kid "putting the moves on me" for a ball. Just like bad acting, a kid making fake dough eyes at me is completely uninteresting and unconvincing. I have no patience for an 8 year old trying to outsmart me. I don't care how cute your family thinks you are - that act doesn't play with me, buster, move it along. 

3. "The Magic Word"

PLEASE! Simple manners will get you so far in this world. We are asked for a baseball upwards of 100 times a game and the fact of the matter is we are both not interested, and not capable of giving every person in the park a baseball. I know its your birthday, I know that this is your first game, I know that all your friends have one, I know that you've never seen a baseball before, I know that you're a HUGE Tribe fan (nice Detroit shirt), and I know that you like the "Lake Counties" way better than your home team - I don't care. 

Yelling "Gimme a ball". "Can I get a ball?". "I want a ball." Or my favorite, "BALL BALL BALL BALL!" Is going to piss us off more than anything, then I'll give a ball to the kid right next to you just to make you mad. (Ya, I'm vindictive and petty - so what?)

If a kid comes up to us and asks politely, "Excuse me, may I please have a ball?" 9 times out of 10 he's gonna get one. The balls are free, we can give out a half dozen or so a game, that kid is both respectful and kind - he's a winner. 

P.S. In reference to what I'm assuming is the book cover image I used for this section - unless "The Power of the Magic Word" is about how the little blond kid is getting routinely abused by the rest of his family, they should really rethink the cover art. 

4. "The Shameless"

Yes - groups of attractive women are going to get a ball at a baseball game. Sue us. They will not get one each and can quickly become far more annoying than a horde of screaming children, but cute girls are a guys Achilles Heal. And so, if they can catch, they're going home with a souvenir.

Wish I had more for you on this topic, but it's really quite self explanatory.

5. "Right Place, Right Time"

Sometimes you're gonna catch us on the right day. We're gonna walk past you and see an opportunity to make someones day a little better and take advantage of it. We're human beings, on and off the field, so when we feel a compulsion to brighten the lives of others, we will act on it. Little kids are usually the ones who benefit from these random acts of kindness - I believe it's because we see ourselves or our siblings in them and that makes for a better connection. There isn't a much cooler feeling than putting a baseball in the hands of a toddler, who holds it like a basketball, and watch the rest of the world dissolve away as that pearl becomes his only focus in the universe. 

We are put in a very special situation where we can make people happy simply by extending them the kindness of giving them a piece of the game that we take for granted every day. So every now and again, usually walking off the field after a win, you will get a real prize - a broken bat, a whole bat, a hat, the game ball, who knows? I do know that asking for something will almost surely ruin the chances of you getting anything.

So there you go - a basic outline for getting a ball at a baseball game. In recap, don't lie to us, be polite, use your god given femininity and keep your eye on the ball. 

Other than that - have a safe Memorial Day weekend. It's my little sister's birthday today - she is the lovely age of 19 and is amazing in every way. I will get around to some more of the reader emails I have started getting - Rachel S. was the basis for this series. She asked about ejections a couple of weeks ago, and it got me thinking, and I cooked this up. If you don't already, follow me on Twitter (@C_M_Cook) or email with comments, questions, hate mail, professions of undying love, treasure maps or the numbers for the mega millions at colecook.soc@gmail.com. 

Have a great day and GO TRIBE.

8 Hours In Columbus

For my Twitter followers, you may have heard that I was called up to AAA Columbus Friday to fill out their bullpen as they were light on arms. You also may have figured out that my stay there was just short term call-up and I was heading back to join the Captains that very night.

For you guys today, I'm going to (as the title would suggest) break down my 8 hours in Columbus.

1PM
I was driven from Dayton, where we were playing the Dragons, to Columbus to join up with the team. We pulled in just after one and I found my way down to the clubhouse. When I get into the Clippers Clubhouse, I realize this is a far cry from Low A. There's a pool table on one side of the room, a Golden Tee video game plugged into another wall, and murals of the 2010 and 2011 championships adorning each wall -- and I'm just in the dining room. I set down my stuff, and head into the Manager's office to introduce myself to the staff.

The staff in Columbus was warm and welcoming, greeting me with friendly handshakes even though I was only supposed to be there for a night or so. The pitching coach, Ruben Niebla, shook my hand and added, "You're here to throw strikes. I don't care if you get hit around or not - but if you walk the world you're of no help to us. And trust the catchers - they're pretty good here." The message was clear - I was here to chew on innings to protect the AAA arms. I couldn't have been happier. I wasn't disillusioned about my call up, but any reason to get into a Clippers game was amazing.

2 PM
I go into the clubby's room and get decked out in everything Columbus - hats, jersey's, pants, everything and anything you see on the field, filled my locker. I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't exploring the possibilities of "what if". What if I get in the game and throw well and then they take me on the 10 day roadie they have starting tomorrow? Maybe I get in the game a couple more times and they decide to keep me around for good - I'll be one of those crazy minor league stories that flutter around the minor leagues and land on the ears of Low A pitchers like little droplets of hopeful sunshine.

There are players in the clubhouse with me, milling around, playing cards, getting into their pre game routine. Some of them notice I'm new and say hi - others just get ready for the game. I try to keep as low of a profile as I can. I remember the advice my father told me the first day I made varsity as a Freshman in high school, "Be seen and not heard."

Once everything was settled, I did my usual pre stretch routine. A bit of yoga to shake off the rust of an hour in a car, a bit of love from the training staff to get loose before BP, and I was ready to go. I got dressed in the batting practice attire (official issue shorts and a shirt for Columbus) and headed out.

3 PM
I was the first one on the field for a 3:15 stretch. As much as I tried to stay calm and collected, it was hard to keep my heart from beating through my chest - it's not every day you get called up to AAA. Team stretch with Columbus is the same as it is with Lake County (the same as it is the entirety of Spring Training, for that matter) and the continuity gives me a sense of stability in an otherwise tumultuous day. Stretch is hot, the air is heavy, and sweat comes freely from me even though all we're doing is toe touches.

The team is foreign to me, the faces unfamiliar, and without the last names - I'm bad at recognizing which of these future and past big leaguers I already know by reputation. The conversation is about fatigue, and every now and then I'm asked a question. "New guy." (Thats me) "You can give us 5 tonight?" I assure them I can. Today there is no such thing as fatigue for me, my arm has never felt better and I'm not tired from short sleep the night before - I am ready to give everything I have to this game and this team. "New guy - you better pound that strike zone. I don't have the energy to watch you walk your way through this game." I laugh, there's no malice behind the comment (at least I hope not), and I trust in my ability to fill up the strike zone anyway.

4 PM
I take left field for BP, the rest of the team lazily drift into clusters or 2 to 4, I suppose the conversations they are having are no different than the ones I have daily with my teammates in Lake County - girls, last night, call ups, send downs, and maybe an argument over pure opinion, "There's no way you could rob a bank and get away with it bro - you're too tall." I stand by myself, something I actually have no problem with - I was drinking in the stadium. Trying to be present in this moment, wearing Columbus colors and standing in that outfield as part of the team.

After the first group of BP gets done (which is made up of the first 5 hitters in the lineup) Matt LaPorta came out to take some balls in left. I took a couple steps back toward the warning track - the last thing I wanted was to get in the way of this guy while he was tracking a ball. As I was walking back, he asked my name, introducing himself as Matt. Maybe he's just that good of a guy, maybe he likes conversation, maybe he saw me all alone and figured he'd throw me a line. Either way, for the next 30 minutes we talked about family, where we were from, and (if you can believe it) art. The conversation never once turned to baseball, we just got to know each other. Of all the many memories of that day, that one is probably my favorite - it made me feel most like I was actually part of the time, not just there on loan.

5 PM
Coming in from BP, I wait for everyone else to hit the spread before I sneak up to the table - I am trying to avoid crossing a line at all costs. Ruben (the pitching coach) taps me on the shoulder, "We have a tradition here - all the new guys have to stand up and give a brief backstory and then answer some questions. Maybe tell a joke or sing a song. You ready?" I didn't really have a choice did I? Ready or not - I was heading into the main room of the clubhouse and Ruben gathered the team. For those who know me - this isn't exactly my nightmare, standing up in front of a group and entertaining is actually something I would normally look forward to. But it's different when the audience the AAA team.

I gave my backstory, and there were comments from all directions at just about everything I said - it's time like this when I'm happy I'm a little brother and I can hold me ground against some shouting and jeering. For the sake of the keeping this blog PG, and also to keep the sanctity of the clubhouse honor code (what happens in the locker room - stays in the locker room), I will keep most of what was said and done to myself - but I will say that it ended with me in tree and eagle pose, while the whole team watched and laughed. I can't tell you how happy I was that I was able to keep my balance.

After my introduction, I went to my locker to watch some Netflix and almost as soon as I sat down, I came to a realization: this is most likely going to be my only day in this clubhouse (until I make up again that is) and I'm not going to spend it watching stupid TV shows. I grabbed my plate and walked around the clubhouse, trying to take it all in. The three TVs, the surround sound system that just played "Somebody That I Used To Know" on repeat. There are three card games on simultaneously - from the looks of it, the game of choice is Rummy. A couple relievers are playing darts on one side of the room, as a handful of infielders play shuffleboard. The day's starter and catcher are comparing notes on the lineup - how they want to attack certain hitters and so on. There are some people playing Golden Tee, and I see a pool game rapping up. I sit down and watch as the last shots are made. I get handed a cue and I start playing against an intern - who had won the game previously. We split a couple of games, and it's 6:00 - time for me to get mentally prepared for whats about to come.

6 PM
I put on my headphone, play a playlist of ambient nature noises (crashing waves, babbling brook, rainforest, rainfall etc) and sit down to read "Wherever You Go There You Are". It's a book my brother suggested about mindfulness and meditation - I read studiously for 30 minutes, focusing my mind. At 6:30, I get up and find a quiet corner (in this case, the weight room attached to the clubhouse), and do my pre game meditation.

By 6:45 I'm back in the clubhouse and I suit up. No one is really getting ready, and I figure it's just cause these guys are in AAA and they do things their own way. But just to be sure - I ask Hector Ambriz when first pitch is. "Holding pattern," he says. "We got the tarp on - waiting for this rain to pass."

I had no idea there was even rain - I was oblivious to rest of the world for the hour previous to the scheduled first pitch, and didn't hear.

I take off my cleats and jersey, slipping back into sandals as I prepare to wait it out.

7 PM
I grab my iPad and sit down to watch TV, looking at the weather report. I had heard that there might be rain coming, but I hadn't thought about what it meant if rain were to come. The time basically passed itself, and I didn't think we were going to get it in. The doppler had far too much rain in the forecast, and it had been coming down steadily for an hour already.

It may be hard to believe, but I wasn't really that depressed that we weren't going to get a game. I knew that this promotion wasn't supposed to be for more than a day, and I was fine just being part of the team for the time I was invited to be.

8 PM
It's getting more and more obvious that tonight isn't going to happen, and I don't feel any sadness. I was so happy to get the opportunity to be up with that team, and as amazing as it would have been to take the ball and get out on the mound, the experience was in no way a waste of time.

I sit watching TV with the team, checking the weather on my iPad absentmindedly. I look up and the field manager comes into the clubhouse, soaking wet from the outside - he makes a cutthroat motion across his neck and people start applauding, slipping out of their gear and heading for the shower.

I find the manager and ask what they wear on the road, if they require button downs or if just a regular collared golf type shirt it okay. What I want to ask is if I'll be with the team the next day as they take off to Toledo - but I figure if that's what he's going to tell me I'll hear it now.

I do hear, he answers the question, takes about two steps toward his office and turns back, beckoning me to come with him. He tells me with sincere remorse that with the rain out I will no longer be needed and that I'll be catching a ride back to Dayton to meet up with Lake County. I saw the news coming, and I wasn't let down at all. I would be lying if I told you I didn't want to stay, or that the news didn't suck. But I wasn't expecting anything else. It was a glorious 8 hours - and I thanked them for the time I was allowed to spend with the team.

9 PM
I shower and pack my things along with the rest of the team, saying goodbye to the handful of guys I met while I was there. Then head upstairs to get in a car back to Dayton and reality.

In the brilliant words of Ron Shelton (the writer of "Bull Durham"), "Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it rains."

This time it rained. Next time I'm up there I hope to win.

Conspiracy Theory (#blogonthebus)

Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who tweeted "#blogonthebus" y'all are the reason I am writing this post right now, thank you.

For today's post, I'm going to show off a skill I learned I had while I was in high school. My friends were talking about conspiracy theories and which ones were real and how some were just too iron-clad to not be true. I was getting fed up, and took a random number and event and made connections on the spot to show just how ridiculous the whole idea of conspiracy theory is to me. Today, I am going to take today's date - and make it to the Cuban Missile Crisis.

*I PROMISE I AM MAKING THIS UP ON THE SPOT, I DIDN'T COPY IT FROM ANYWHERE*

Today's date is 4/24/2012.

The Cuban Missile Crisis started on 10/22/1962.

When added together individually, the numbers of todays date equal 15 (4+2+4+2+0+1+2=15).

The only number in today's date that is not even is 1, every other number is even.

15 is not an even number - nor is it a prime.

The first even number from zero is 2.

15 PLUS 2 and 15 MINUS 2 equal prime numbers (13 and 17 respectively).

15 when used with 2 becomes 2 prime numbers.

The SECOND month of the year is February.

"February" has 8 letters in it.

8 (the number of letters in February) plus 2 (the number of the month) is 10.

The tenth month is October.


October has 7 letters in it.

7 (the number of letters in October) times 8 (the number of letters in February) is 56.


5 + 6 is 11.

11 is not even.

Multiply 11 by 2 and you get 22.

The two primes we got from 15 were 13 and 17.

When added together we get 30.

30 multiplied by 2 (the only even prime) is 60.

60 plus 2 (the first even from zero) is 62.

Look back, we have come up with OCTOBER - 22 - 62.

Today is going to be the start of another Cuban Missile Crisis.


Thank you for reading my Conspiracy Theory. Also I want to say - I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS, AND I THINK EVERYONE IS PERFECTLY SAFE. I DO NOT BELIEVE TODAY IS THE START OF A CRISIS. 


I just wanted to illustrate how easy it is to mix and match random numbers to make them do whatever you want. Hoped you liked my ramblings, and I hope some of you laughed - I had a good time writing it and it killed an hour on the bus.

As always - GO TRIBE and be safe. Email me with anything about the blog colecook.soc@gmail.com, and follow me on twitter @C_M_Cook. Have a good humpday tomorrow, and finish the week up strong. We're gonna be working on getting a home win for the amazing fans of Lake County.

Time, & How To Pass It

Of all the skills need to succeed in the minors, passing time may be the most important. Good hands, the ability to read the ball, a resilient body - most people would correctly guess these will help one rise to the top of a heap of struggling minor leaguers. But you can have all the talent in the world, but if your brain rots in your skull as a result of sheer boredom, those talents will never hit the field. Thus - a true minor league talent, will also learn to master the talent of killing time. 

On a given "getaway day" (the day we leave a road trip city) the check-out time is 11AM, but the first bus to the field is not until 3. This may seem like an easy thing to do, just pass 4 hours. But much like Chinese Water Torture, even the most mundane of things can drive one throughly insane, and not like Johnny Depp insane where it's kinda cool and you move to France -- like Charlie Sheen insane. 

This brings me to the solution - here is a quick list of things to do to avoid the "Getaway Day Crazies".

1. The Buddy System - 

It's important to have a friend. The man who sits alone and plays on his iPad in the corner is not going to last long. Because on that day when the game just isn't fun anymore or heaven forbid, the battery dies on his computer - he is going to go postal. Having a friend grants you almost infinitely more possibilities. Plus it means you don't have to text "hey" to everyone you texted in the past week - trying to start a conversation. 

2. Eat - 

Eating is awesome. It kills time AND it is fun because (hopefully) you are eating things that taste good. Plus if you failed to listen to me on rule #1, you will be able to talk to your server. In the best case scenario of this situation, you and your buddy will be able to flirt-fight over the waitress that neither of you will never see again. *

*If you are unfamiliar with "flirt-fighting" its when two men, who are friends, are trying to flirt with the same girl and because they both think they are superior than the other, they begin to lay on the charm thicker and thicker until the woman becomes coated like a Cinnabun of compliments. There is no obvious hostility in flirt-fighting, its more a dance of backhanded compliments and not-so-sublte one-ups-manship. It's quite a thing to watch - especially if both parties involved have solid "game".  Side note - this has never worked to pick any woman up, because both men look entirely idiotic. 

3. Adventure - 

This point kinda relies on numbers one & two, because you are usually adventuring with someone in the search of food - but it can be done by yourself if you have a bit of a "I Am Legend" mindset (which I do). Not all towns in the midwest league have the possibility of adventure. Clinton, IA for example has nothing within walking distance besides two restaurants and a farming store. Not to say that these are not worth adventuring, but there are towns where time can easily be passed by treating a small town like a coffee table photography book. Simply by putting one foot in front of the other and keeping your phone in your pocket, you will see things that belong to a life that is strange and new and can be quite interesting to experience. 

4. Know Card Games -

This is a rule for any minor leaguer, waiting for the bus or not. Cards are an important part of our life, and the ability to sit down at a car game and know the rules is important. Furthermore, a card game includes other people, and there is no cure for killing time like good conversation, and believe me - if there's anyone who can conjure good conversation out of thin air - its a group of minor leaguers. 

5. Have a Late Check Out Room - 

Yes - this is a loophole and completely contrary to the whole point of this list - but its REAL. If you're the starting pitcher on getaway day, or just happen to be a lucky duck, you have a late checkout room. This means you can sleep in as long as you want, then lazily watch TV until you wanna eat and hop right on the bus. This is the best possible option, but if this isn't you - you gotta stick to rules 1-4. Trust me, it'll be all the difference in the world. 

Side Note - the above picture is what I think I look like when I have a late check out room. The below picture is far more accurate. 

I hope you liked my list and maybe you can implement some of these rules for passing time the next time you have hours to kill. Hope you are all having a good weekend, and as always - Go Tribe.

I have a few reader questions that I will get to in the next couple postings, I promise. If you have any questions or comments for the blog email me at colecook.soc@gmail.com. And I hope all of you follow me on Twitter @C_M_Cook, and if you're not following me, I have no idea how you got this blog (or why you're still reading at this point). Be safe out there guys. 

This is Cole Cook - urging you never to travel to Iowa. 

The Bad Beat

Today was a tough one for us. Baseball is going to hand you some heartbreak along the way, and you have to learn how to deal with it. We lost today's game 22-12, and everyone feels the sting of a game like that. It doesn't matter if you didn't get in, if you were on the mound when the runs were being scored, or if you went 3-4 with a dinger. When, as a team, you collectively suffer a tough loss, it can have strong repercussions. In an ideal world, a team will come together after the loss - but there are things that need to happen if this is to be the outcome. In a bad beat, or any loss for that matter, there will be always people that had a particularly bad day, or that blame themselves for the loss or feel like they had a worse day than should have or could have. 

I think when you see athletes angry after a bad performance, it's not only because they hate losing, but because they wish they could do it again I feel like all an athlete wants after a bad performance is to suit up and do it again. The competitive drive is so great, they just want to get out again and keep trying, trying to make it better. Especially in a sport like baseball, where the difference between a home run and a strikeout are so minuscule, it is so easy to look back at a pitch and wonder if you had thrown something else maybe that would have gotten the out. Maybe if you had just gotten your hands through a bit quicker that ball would have sneaked down the line. Baseball is a game of inches, and because of that, it's a game of 'what ifs?'.

With this in mind, when coming back into the clubhouse after a beat you have to be aware of who's around you and what a simple thing like a smile or a laugh could do to anger a teammate. It's not like a teammate will explode at you if you laugh after they have a tough go, but you don't want to put anyone in a situation where they're uncomfortable or feel like you're taking the game lightly. When you're in the minor leagues, the game is a job. It will never be anything more than baseball, it's not going to be life and death, but it's important. And when someone has had a bad game and his teammates seem to be taking it lightly, it can really leave bad taste in that player's mouth. I think what it comes down to is, it seems like your teammates don't have your back, and this is the very feeling that will destroy a team. There is a reason that bench CLEARING brawls take place - when one member of the team is assaulted, it may as well be an affront to all of us.

A good team will learn from a bad loss and grow together as a result. In 140 games (thats a minor league season) there are going to be a handful of games you want to forget. But if, as a team, you refuse or cannot learn from these times, you're gonna see more and more of those types of failures. Today was a tough one, but we will grow stronger because of it. Just like a bone heals stronger a break, a team can become better after a tough loss. One great thing about baseball is that usually you can get out there the very next day and all those runs and errors and strikeouts and walks are gone - you have a new slate on which to pursue greatness.

As always, thanks for reading & GO TRIBE!!

First Series Recap

Before I get started on today's post, I would like to thank all of you who read, responded to or shared my last blog. It's an issue that is very close to my heart, and I put a lot into it; so I was very happy to see that y'all responded to it so well.

Moving on from less sad topics, we just got back from our first series of the year, a little three game roadie to Fort Wayne, which is the Padres affiliate in the Midwest League. I'm happy to say that we looked amazing and we were able to take 2 out of 3 from the Tin Caps!

The park is one of the nicest in the league, and the hotel is right beyond the right field wall so we can walk to and from the park which is amazing. Starting out a place like this is really good luck, cause there are some stadiums in the league that are no fun to play at, and that can start the year on the wrong foot. This year though - were are starting off WINNING.

It's always more fun playing on a team that wins, any athlete will be able to back me up on this. A winning team has a winning coaching staff that is in turn more relaxed and that's better for the players. A winning team has players that are doing well, and players that are doing well are about a million times more fun to be around than players who are slumping. Winning is simply the best; as my pitching coach, Jeff Harris would say, "You spell 'fun' W-I-N."

Now that the season has started, I have begun to get back into the familiar rhythm again, a rhythm of bus rides and stretching and eating at hole in the wall places and walking around small midwest towns looking for better places to eat. It's good to get back into the flow though, routines are the life blood of any ballplayer and getting back into that familiar pattern makes baseball so much easier.

At the moment, I'm sitting in my living room listening to Nick learn a bunch of country tunes on the guitar so we can get a huge sing a long on the bus next road trip. It's things like this that keeps things light and therefore keeps us winning. Baseball is a balancing act- you need to find that perfect place between staying mentally razor sharp and staying loose enough so you can survive 142 games without killing yourself or a teammate.

It comes down to little tricks, for Nick its playing guitar. For me its yoga, meditation and zen. For every guy it's different, and the key is to find what it is and be able to carry it out every day. If you can do this, it will probably be easier to win more games, and the more you win -- the more fun you have, and any toddler will tell you, it's all about having fun.

Sorry if this isn't the most exciting post of all time, but I just wanted to post something for y'all to peek at as you're preparing Easter Dinner or eating leftovers tomorrow at work. Hopefully the big club can come out on top tonight as they go back up against the Jays. I think its a really good sign that the Tribe keeps forcing really tough games, and I think that the Jays are a really solid club, and even though we haven't come out victorious yet - its good to see us hanging tough with these top teams. Also remember. it's early in the year, and there are 160 more where those came from.

As always, be safe out there, follow me on Twitter (@C_M_Cook) and shoot me an email with any questions or comments or stuff you wanna see on the blog (colecook.soc@gmail.com). I have a couple in my inbox right now, and I promise I will get to them in the near future. Go Tribe.

The Dark Side Of The Ball

Everyone laughed at the line in "Wedding Crashers" when Luke Wilson jokes about how he lost a lot of good men playing for the Yankees; and they should, its a really funny line. Today's post is not going to be funny, today I'm gonna talk about something that is a serious and frankly. a dark and overlooked aspect of the game.

For most of you, your relationship with baseball is being a fan. And that's perfect - without fans there is no game, y'all are the life blood of baseball. Today I wanted to show you guys a backstage view of the game, and not to cloud your idea of what happens, or take away from the brilliance of the sport in any way, I just think it's worth sharing - and I think that as fans, and friends of players, you will want to read about it.

Today we had our third day in a row of cuts. Three days of watching your friends, your teammates, your family, have their dreams crushed. I'm not going to say that this means the end of the world for them, or that they will never work again, or that they will never be in the big leagues. I will say, that for most of the these guys, this is the end of a very prominent chapter in their lives. Baseball has been present in these guy's lives for 15-20 years and now they'll either have to swallow the fact that its over for them at a professional level, or have to start the uphill to try and get with another team. For players with families, this means a time of uncertainty. For players from other countries, this usually means having to go back home where things usually aren't as good as they are here. For all of them, it means having to pack up their locker, and walk away from a clubhouse into an uncertain future.

It's one thing to see a great like Jorge Posada leave the game after more than a decade in the bigs, knowing that he has money and a pension to fall back on. It's another watching a 22 year old clean out his locker and hold back tears so he doesn't cry in front of his teammates. He gets hugs from his buddies, everyone saying the one of a handful of token phrases. Some players will avoid eye contact, as if by not acknowledging the guy who's leaving, they will escape a similar fate. They walk out the doors, and we stay - putting on the same jersey that just got taken away from them, readying ourselves for another precious day on the diamond.

I know that the fact of the matter is, that he may not have been good enough, or that there are just too many people behind him that need a shot, or that he wasn't healthy enough to do this job at a big league level. But no matter how it happens or why, it's never going to be anything but heartbreaking to see that look of loss in a friends eyes as they walk away from the game for the first time - and not on their own terms. There will no press conference for them. No one will see them tomorrow on ESPN, shedding tears for time passed. They'll be traveling home tomorrow, desperately trying to right the world as it spins faster and faster in front of their eyes.

I'm not trying to say that this shouldn't be a part of the game, or that cuts are absurd, or that the wrong people are getting cut and there has to be something done about it. All I'm trying to do, is honor these fallen soldiers in my own way. They deserve statues. Monuments to their triumph. For years, these men have been perfecting their craft, missing spring break and long weekends to slave under the hot sun at tournaments. They've given up time with friends and family to grind out long nights in cages, working on that perfect swing. They've missed birth days and anniversaries and weddings to long bus trips. Every sacrifice in the hopes of one day stepping onto a big league field. All that work is washed away in one meeting with the head of player development. A handshake, a bidding of good luck and like sand through and open hand - it's gone.

I'm not trying to gain pity for the ballplayer. The opportunity that we are given is unparalleled. Each of us have been given an chance that is unlike any other, I don't mean to bemoan the profession. We get to wake up every day and live not only our dream, but the dream of countless others. We respect that - we honor that. All the sacrifices we made, we made on our own. We know what we were getting ourselves into. Cuts are a part of Spring Training. Some people stay and some people go, and next year the Baseball Reaper will be back again, but no one sees it coming. So when that icy finger taps you on the shoulder, it's like getting that phone call in the middle of the night - it's never good news.

I love my job. And I love my teammates. And I just wanted to do get on my soap box for a bit and give them as close to the 21 gun salute they deserve as I could.