I love my job, and it’s a privilege to watch and write about baseball for a living. But I often have to caution others when they insist I must have my “dream job” because, after all, a job is a job. It is hard work and it can be unforgiving.
And really there is no better example of all of this than Spring Training. The long, dreary winter comes to an end as sunshine and baseball re-enter my daily life. But with that comes time away from home (sometimes months at a time), early mornings and much longer work days and a greater challenge of finding stories in unfamiliar clubhouses among players who seem relevant in March but could be entirely forgotten in April. But that’s the job.
Time now to speak of writers. We are, most of us, a particularly cramped breed, gunning for little victories: the newest wrinkle, the most telling detail, the juiciest quote, the phrase or paragraph or — please, God — page that approaches the song in our grasping, caffeine-riddled minds. Writers are selfish. Writers judge. Writers trust words more than people. There’s a reason writer and neurotic so often end up in the same sentence.
We know what MLB players were doing during the steroid era. Here’s what baseball writers did.
The photo on the cover of the May 7, 1997 issue of Baseball Weekly had Caminiti breaking a bat with his hands. The headline read: “PUMPED!” Williams keeps a copy on his wall as a reminder that you can always ask one more question.
I wrote last week about what made Michigan State’s Rose Bowl run so memorable for me. There’s no person whose same thoughts on the matter I would implore you to read more so than my friend and former colleague Joe Rexrode, who has been the beat writer authority on the Spartans since his days at the State News.