blog-b.com - pink is the new blog

Menu

Postcards from the bushes: get on the bus with-and go inside the head of-minor league pitcher Garrett Broshuis through entries from his Sporting News Blog

Striking out Fear

After a great start, I've been struggling. I've worked to correct some things, but this has been a tough slump. This I know: My problem is as much mental as it is physical. I've been pressing, and my confidence is low. Once you've been beaten up a time or two, it's easy to let Fear creep into your head whenever you get a runner or two on base. Instead of having the confidence to know you're going to get this next hitter out, you have that "here we go again" feeling.

Tonight, though, will be different. Tonight, I'm confident things will turn out well. Tonight, I will cope with the onset of Fear, brushing it aside with one assertive pitch after another. At times during my recent starts, I have been rushing. I want so bad to get back on track that I have been trying to force things. But tonight, I will stay relaxed.

I promptly retire the first three hitters on six pitches, helping my confidence immensely. The next two innings go smoothly as well, but I run into a snag in the fourth. The inning starts with a hit batter--on an 0-2 pitch meant to be up and in. The inning spirals a little, but luckily I am able to control the damage and give up only one run. The fifth is more of the same. I revert back to using poor mechanics, and my old friend Fear tries to make an appearance. A couple of hits and a couple of walks later, they've put two runs on the board. I've blown a three-run lead, and the game is tied.

I finally get out of the inning, and I know my pitch count is up; the next inning will probably be my last. I want to finish strong and show some poise in dealing with a setback. I give up a hit early in the inning, but this time I react better, making better pitches out of the stretch and stranding the baserunner. With each batter retired, Fear is retired, too. This is my last inning, and it may have been my best.

My team rallies for a run, and we take a 4-3 lead. The bullpen does a great job, and we win by the one run, giving me the win. Though I didn't pitch great, it was an improvement and I gave my team a chance to win. And for me, pitching is all about giving your team a chance to win. (Broshuis began the week 3-7 with a 4.98 ERA in 16 starts.)

On the road again

In Class AAA, like in the majors, you travel by plane. In Class AA and below, you go by bus. In the Eastern League, which stretches from Maine to Pennsylvania, there are some long rides. When there are 30 guys on the bus and you're making an all-night trip, you'll try just about anything to get comfortable. Baseball players who barely can bend over and touch their toes in pregame stretching become skilled contortionists. Look around and you see legs straight up, feet almost behind heads. You find guys curled up in the fetal position, balancing precariously with only their heads and knees on the seat. You find guys sprawled on the floor, limbs bent around seats, only a blanket separating them from the floor. Once I even saw a guy try to climb into the luggage rack, but that didn't work out too well.

Remembering draft day

Players find out when they've been drafted just like everyone else, by following the draft on the Internet. Unlike football's or basketball's, baseball's draft isn't televised but it's broadcast online. You find yourself with fellow teammates, friends, family and coaches all huddled around a computer like gamblers around dice. The speakers emit name after name, some familiar, some not. The first round seems to take forever. Eventually, it gets closer to the rounds where you expect to be drafted, and the nervousness increases. And then it inevitably--if not inexcusably; this is the technology age, right?--happens: The Internet fails.

I was at a teammate's apartment for my draft in 2004. It was the start of the fifth round, and the Internet went out. I decided to go downstairs for some water, and as I reached into the freezer for some ice, the phone rang. It was our hitting coach at Missouri, Evan Pratte. "Broshuis, congratulations," he said. "On what?" I replied, my heart beating with the rapidity of a machine gun. "You haven't heard? Fifth round, Giants." Hours of intent listening, and I missed my name being called.

I'll never forget the feeling and the whirlwind of events that followed. Phone call after phone call delivered congratulations. The best calls were from my parents, who probably were more nervous than I was. I doubt they slept a wink during the nights leading up to the draft.

Home, not so sweet home

Until this year, I've always lived with a host family during the season. At the lower levels, it's almost a necessity because you don't make enough money to afford much of an apartment. I've been taken in by some great families who do their best to make you feel like you're truly part of the family. The first week, though, invariably is the toughest. It's the period when you're feeling each other out, getting to know everyone's personalities. There's the timidity of turning on the living room TV and the anxiousness of looking in someone else's refrigerator for leftovers. But after that first week, it's usually great.

This year, like most guys on my team in Norwich, Conn., I found a couple of teammates to rent an apartment with. One problem: There's a leak in our ceiling the size of which would make President Bush proud. After the initial discovery when we moved in, the leak really hadn't been much of a problem. Until the other day.

Coming home from lunch, I saw my two roommates standing outside with the door open, saying, "You aren't going to believe this!" I knew it couldn't be anything good. I stepped in, and right there in our living room was our own waterfall. We did our best to contain the water, but it adhered to the chaos theory and went where it wanted.

When we woke up the next morning, we found that part of our ceiling had caved in. We also found that water apparently encourages mildew, so now we have a putrid smell dominating our apartment. I hope this is all repaired sooner rather than later because I don't like the idea of breathing in mildew all night and then playing a baseball game the next day.

Missing home

One of the hardest things players deal with is being away from loved ones. I am very close to my family in Advance, Mo., and being away, I miss them. There are so many moments, both mundane and spectacular, that I miss out on: my younger sisters' high school graduations, my little niece's and nephew's first steps, spending a day golfing with my dad.

Eventually, you get used to your baseball home being your home away from home. Your teammates become like family in this transitory summer home. So when someone from your real home visits you in this temporary home, it feels a little strange in the beginning. After the first day, though, any awkwardness subsides.

Just like having family visit, it's always good to have my fiancee around. She provides a much-needed break from baseball. We're around the sport so much that it's good to see a nonbaseball-related face.

Life in the minors

Life as a minor leaguer is not what you would expect--from how the players spend their downtime to what goes on between the foul lines. Garrett Broshuis is spending his third season in the bushes, and you can follow his adventures with the Class AA Connecticut Defenders through his periodic blog entries at sportingnews.com.

COPYRIGHT 2006 Sporting News Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2006 Gale Group