Buster Olney is on vacation this week, so for the second straight
year, guest columnists are writing the lead of his column in his
absence. On Sunday, D-backs reliever Brad Ziegler talked about MLBPA head Michael Weiner, who is battling cancer. Today, A's reliever Sean Doolittle discusses what it's like to play for the team synonymous with "Moneyball."
Not every player gets to shine under the bright lights of the Big
Apple or the bright sun of Los Angeles. Not every player lands on a
roster filled with marquee names with a total price tag that rivals the
GDP of several small countries. And not every player gets to play in a
baseball cathedral filled with more than 30,000 fans every single night.
As a member of the small-market Oakland Athletics, this is my story.
My first memories of baseball are of the A's. When I was a kid, my
father was stationed at Castle Air Force Base in Merced, Calif., for
three years and we had season tickets at the Coliseum. My dad would
drive my younger brother Ryan (now a pitching prospect in the A's
organization) and me the 90 minutes out of the San Joaquin Valley to the
Bay Area to watch the A's: McGwire, Canseco, Henderson, Eckersley,
Stewart (and yes, current A's coaches Mike Gallego and Curt Young); it
was quite the introduction to baseball.
I can still remember the rush of excitement I would get as we neared
the Coliseum on Interstate 880 and I could see the lights of the
stadium on the horizon. I appreciate the way things have come full
circle for me, and I still get that feeling everyday on my drive to the
ballpark.
Of course, back in those days, I dreamed of lacing up the white
cleats and playing for the Athletics. But I never could have imagined
what goes on behind the scenes and how much fun it is to wear the green
and gold.
9:14 a.m. -- I get that feeling as I cross over the hill on I-880 and catch my first glimpse of the O.co basking in the morning summer sun.
9:31 a.m. -- Oakland may be the Sunny Side Of The
Bay, but it rained last night and we have to pull the tarp off the field
so the infield can dry out for tonight's game. When you share a home
with an NFL franchise, sometimes the playing surface needs a little
extra TLC.
9:43 a.m. -- Head back up to the clubhouse to clean my
spikes. It takes a lot of work (and Scrubbing Bubbles) to keep our
spikes looking so white.
9:58 a.m. -- Leave the stadium to run some errands.
10:19 a.m. -- Pick up my uniform at the dry cleaners. (How else do you think we keep our home whites so bright?)
10:32 a.m. -- Stop by the barber shop to get my
beard trimmed. In addition to white cleats, facial hair is another
Athletics' tradition that this Oakland team continues to carry on.
11:07 a.m. -- Swing by Sports Authority to pick up a
Nike Dri-Fit shirt (it's not like we just have them laying around all
over the clubhouse) and some Nike compression leggings. You have no idea
how cold it gets in the bullpen at the Coliseum.
11:45 a.m. -- Lunch with fellow lefty reliever, and foodie, Jerry Blevins. I have the taste buds of a 9-year-old, so I hope he picks a place that serves pizza or chicken fingers.
12:36 p.m. -- Jerry finally finishes his beet salad
and I've finished moving mine around to make it look like I ate it.
I'll just eat lunch at the field like I always do (PB&J!).
12:56 p.m. -- Head back across the Bay Bridge to Oakland.
1:10 p.m. -- Stuck in traffic on the bridge.
1:26 p.m. -- Still stuck in traffic on the bridge.
1:39 p.m. -- @$#%^?•&!
1:57 p.m. -- We arrive at the O.co Coliseum. Since
Jerry drove it's my turn to feed the meter, but I don't mind. I'm just
so happy to finally be out of the car.
1:59 p.m. -- Coco Crisp plays his newest mixed CD on a Sony boom box in the middle of the clubhouse, giving everyone a break from the A.J. Griffin's guitar playing. (He's actually really good, but don't tell him i said that!)
2:01 p.m. -- I make a sandwich and join fellow relievers Jesse Chavez and Dan Otero and catcher John Jaso
in doing the USA Today crossword puzzle. There's only one copy of the
paper to go around so we have to share, but it's OK, because with four
or five of us working on it we can actually finish it. Sometimes.
2:21 p.m. -- This is a very close-knit team with a
lot of chemistry and that can be seen throughout the clubhouse on days
like this. There's a group of guys sitting in front of the TV watching
"Maury" (the satellite signal doesn't get through all the concrete at
the Coliseum so we only have basic cable), other guys play cards or
backgammon.
3:02 p.m. -- As the media trickles in to talk to players before the game, the players prep for the media in the mirror in the bathroom. Josh Donaldson styles his mohawk. Derek Norris combs his mullet. Griffin tries to decide whether his long blonde locks look better in a pony tail or down on his shoulders. Grant Balfour gels his hair. Seth Smith checks the progress of his facial hair while Josh Reddick
brushes his beard. Part of being an Athletic is being able to be
yourself and express some individuality within the framework of the team
environment.
3:34 p.m. -- Donaldson is still in the bathroom working on his mohawk.
3:45 p.m. -- Time for stretch. A lot of opposing
teams think it's a little strange that we wear our green and gold Zubaz
out on the field for stretch and batting practice, but they were team
issued and they're really comfortable so I'm actually surprised more
teams haven't adopted them.
4:02 p.m. -- Throw.
4:14 p.m. -- Run. It's not so much conditioning as much as it's a race that Balfour always has to win.
4:23 p.m. -- We use the 10 minutes or so we have
before the hitters start taking batting practice to rake the bullpen
mounds and get the game mound ready for the game.
4:30 p.m. -- You know how there's always a swarm of
little kids trying to catch the fly balls during the Home Run Derby?
We, as pitchers, do that every day in batting practice. Except we don't
get a chance to catch that many fly balls between Brandon Moss and [Yoenis] Cespedes hitting them out of the stadium and Bartolo Colon running everything else down.
5:59 p.m. -- Coco puts the "pregame mix" CD on the
boom box in the middle of the locker room. This is the signal to be
quiet and get focused on the game.
6:56 p.m. -- National anthem. Tonight's version is performed by Huey Lewis and the News. In the '90s. It's a recording.
7:06 p.m. -- First pitch.
As a relief pitcher, you have a lot of down time. On this particular
night, scanning the crowd, you can't help but notice the empty seats,
or the big green tarps that cover thousands more of them. For most
players this would be disheartening, but you realize that the fans who
have shown up, the fans we do get, are some of the most loyal and
passionate fans in all of MLB. And they prove that as they bring the
Coliseum -- a crumbling concrete castle -- to life with chants of "Let's
Go Oakland." They come early -- to Bernie Lean when Coco leads off, and
stay late -- to fist pump, overcome with Balfour Rage.
You realize that the other guys on the team are your family. There's
a lot you can learn about a guy from a conversation on a long bus ride
to an away series in Seattle or playing video games together in a Best
Western or Days Inn on the road somewhere. Rather than complain about
our aging stadium or low national profile, we've embraced it and it's
become a part of our identity. We play hard, with a chip on our
shoulder, like we have something to prove, like a little brother playing
against his older sibling.
Satire aside, we are proud to play for the A's and happy to call
Oakland home. We might have to pay for our soda in the clubhouse (you
guys saw Moneyball, right?), and our clubhouse might have plumbing
issues (you guys heard about that flood, right?), but at the end of the
day our clubhouse is full of guys grateful for the opportunity the A's
have given them. Not only do they want to make the most of it, they also
want to have a little fun too.
11:12 p.m. -- It looks like most of the guys are done eating dinner so if you'll excuse me, I have to go help do the dishes.
