*Cue Shawshank Redemption musical score*
Are you ready Mr. Freeman?
Morgan Freeman (narrorating): I met Nick Carey when he began working in baseball in 20-ought-15. He was an abnormally tall young fella like my friend Andy and he was sharp as a whip in things to do with baseball front offices and such…
Nope. Nope. Nope. Not that type of blogpost.
As the title alludes, my journey in sports has soared and dipped and derailed and self-corrected. It’s like Jurassic Park…every time somebody escapes those islands, someone else ends up back there to mess things up. But enough of the negative vibes. Really, reader be warned about my previous post regarding my job search.
I eventually ended up working in sports again. Not where I’d imagined but it’s enough to re-establish a career I thought had promise… and thought might be an easier road. And damn, I love ellipses.
After searching for a new role in sports, okay, baseball. What can I say, I’m an All-American throwback who sucked at football in high school and realized I loved the great American Pastime so much I wanted to work my ass off to work in the game then get a little depressed when my career didn’t go my way.
If you’d asked out of college what I thought I’d be doing in baseball at 25 I would have probably explained that I’d done two internships, worked up the ladder and was waiting to become an Assistant General Manager for a double-A franchise. *Cough Cough* Double-A baseball teams.
I managed to bang out two successful and stressful internships in collegiate summer baseball and rookie-level pro baseball. Then the best and worst thing could have happened to my baseball-crazed, 22-year-old life. I was named the General Manager of a rookie team in West Virginia that probably hadn’t had a sellout in 15 years. And they didn’t have one in the year I was there. Everyone who encountered me and knew the situation well patted my back and stroked my ego “you’ve really done the best you can.” But when the Big League affiliate was deciding to skip town or not, I cut my losses and took another job higher in their affiliate chain.
Lean in close. Is your nose touching the screen with anticipation? Did I become the Assistant General Manager? Did I live my baseball dream? Will the caped crusader foil The Joker’s trap, tune in next week for Batman? *Ba na na na na na na na… Batman!*
Short answer: NOPE.
I will state but once that I accept what responsibility I can from how my second full-time job in baseball turned out. Short story short… instead of being the Assistant General Manager, I was hired as Director of Corporate Partnerships. And, I was fired after nine months when I didn’t meet my sales goal. Not angry with the team at all. Very much disappointed with the leadership.
For everything promised by the team leadership in developing me as a salesman and growing the impact I would have on the team’s operations, nothing happened. By my seventh month working for the team, despite how well I related to my fellow team staff, it was clear my numbers weren’t what they needed. I compensated by lending a hand into the team operations. My mother was not so happy when I told her I’d helped the Creative Services Assistant replace scoreboard panels from the catwalk attached 40 feet in the air on the rear of the scoreboard. I took on roles to help the team through the season the best I knew how. But it was a sales job and my sales weren’t happening at the rate they needed to. Were there more prospects and leads than I could find? Only time will tell. Was I tasked with cold-calling during the time of the year most companies had just finalized their budgets? Yes. A double-edged sword and I didn’t come out well on either side. Bippity bop…I was canned.
But, it happens. There are a plethora of rags to riches stories and failures turned Forbes legends. PT Barnum (The Greatest Showman film not the man himself, Chris Gardner (The Pursuit of Happiness), Walt Disney, etc. I got fired, I got depressed, I went to the baseball job fair in Orlando, Florida and I didn’t get a job. In all, I participated in 30 initial and secondary job interviews with teams at every level of baseball. The Minor and Major League seasons began and boom, I was just volunteering assistant coaching baseball, freelance reporting and taking photos of cars for a dealership.
Then I remembered “Invictus.” Yes, the amazing movie about Nelson Mandela and the South African rugby team but more specifically the poem utilized as the motivational film’s namesake. The final stanza of the poem is: “It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the master of my soul.”
I won’t say a light bulb illuminated above my head but I took the line to heart and remembered the only type of baseball leagues with some semblance of professionalism that had yet to begin play…collegiate summer leagues. Is it triple-A ball? No. Is it double-A ball? No. Is it single-A ball? No. Is it short season or rookie ball? Okay, pretty close. And who had near-single-handedly operated a rookie team for a year… this guy.
I recalled a team in Quincy, Illinois, just two hours from my hometown in Missouri. Funny side note: I’d applied to be the commissioner of this particular summer league when I was job searching after my year as a GM. Anyway, I emailed the Owner/General Manager of the team then a family friend originally hailing from Quincy called and vouched for me. I sent my resume, had an introductory phone call and was convinced by the Commissioner hired instead of me to visit in-person.
Just like the poem, I was the master of my fate. Cliche, I know, just bear with me. I spoke with the Owner/General Manager in person and figured it could be worse and signed on for the season. Boom! I wasn’t just the master of my fate, I was Lindbergh talking myself across the Atlantic.
A week and a half later I moved my happy self to Quincy, Illinois and started doing something that has never worked well for me. Cold-calling. Ultimately, most of the team’s sales were completed but I managed to mop up with one sponsorship that had alluded the team’s Assistant GM for several previous months. Just as I had before and continue to do, I found ways to lend a hand and make the team operate at a higher level. Sometimes it isn’t about giving 110%, it’s about finding new and unexpected ways to spread out that effort.
So, here we are. I’m sitting in the front office of a college summer team with less than a month before I’m on the job market again. The last two times I’ve been in this situation I was just passed self-loathing. Now, I’m just happy to do what I do everyday. Is every day as calm as painting with Bob Ross? (Personal hero) Nope. Is everyday as cheery as hanging with Mr. Rogers?” Nope. (Damn, I watched a lot of PBS as a kid!) This is baseball. This is the sports industry.
I get to spend my night at a ballpark at least three nights a week. For a kid who remembers sizzling in the grandstand at Engel Stadium in Chattanooga, Tennessee with my grandparents and great grandparents and thinking, disillusioned, in high school I could try-out for an independent pro team…I’m just happy I get to go to the ballpark and not pay for a ticket. Another funny side note: I’ve spoken with the GM of a new team in a burgeoning independent pro baseball league about some job prospects. No word yet.
Is this Yankee Stadium? Is this a cornfield in Iowa? Nope, it’s the best lesson someone can take about any industry, not only sports. Fall down, get up. (SUPER CLICHE Alert) Even when you must start at the bottom again, that boulder of your career isn’t going to roll itself up that hill of life.
At 25 years old, I thought I’d be readying myself to become the AGM or GM of a Minor League Baseball team. Am I? Have you read the last 1,400 words? (Kidding) I could be and don’t know it.
There’s no crystal ball for my career. Fun fact: there isn’t a crystal ball prediction for anyone’s career. It just happens. You work your ass off, learn everything you can, try everything you can, read everything in sight and take a breath when you need to. (Hippie Alert) The world will find a way to make you find yourself.
When anxiety or depression start lingering about my future in baseball I remember the fictional words of Billy Bob Thorton playing Coach Gary Gaines in Friday Night Lights(the movie, not the TV show… that was Coach Eric Taylor and I’m just as obsessed with it):
“It took me a long time to realize that, uh, there ain’t much difference between winnin’ and losin’, except for how the outside world treats you. But inside you, it’s about all the same. It really is. Fact of the matter is, I believe that, uh, our only curses are the ones that are self-imposed. You know what I’m sayin’? We, all of us, dig our own holes.”
And I’ll conclude with the words of great philosophers from the early 2000s I still sing word-for-word to this day:
Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid
And all that glitters is gold
Only shooting stars break the mold” – Smashmouth.
NHC 