Laura Geist: An Open Letter to Our Players

Sep 4

The Ballers’ General Manager writes to a team full of players who came to contribute, grind, and work their asses off

by Laura Geist

Season 3—morning after the last home game and finally have a second to catch my breath… sort of. The 14-year-old has informed me it’s time to lock in on my real life, so reflection comes after school drop off and before soccer practice.

Regardless, at season's end it’s always bittersweet. On the one hand, it is a relief from the daily season grind. The need for ibuprofen slowly starts to diminish, the random bruises and cuts no longer appear, and the non-stop list of things that need to get done before gates open goes away. I won’t be on a walkie talkie again for months and my step count will go down by about 15,000 a day. I sleep a little better, I see my kids more, and I lower my Diet Coke intake by at least two a day (DO NOT JUDGE ME). This week we will take the park down: concessions will go into storage, the port-a-potties will get picked up, and the field will be set up for little league games and corporate events.

On the other hand, there is a quiet that is deafening—no more fan-ily to see every day, no daily walkabouts with Anthony around the park to make sure we are ready, and most noticeably, no team in the clubhouse. This is the part I hate the most. My morning conversations with Aaron Miles—a quick catch up about the night before, the new player coming to town, the life happenings. My bear hug from James Harris with his huge smile and big laugh. My check in from Matty McElroy giving me the injury status and the update for his school job search (San Diego got a good one and they better love him as much as we do). Jimmy Dedrick’s head popping between the kitchen and the office just to say hi.

And then the slow trickle of 25+ players entering the warehouse—the music starts; some combination of yacht rock, country, or rap. The door leading out to BP opening and slamming shut, the clicking of cleats on concrete. These are the sounds I miss the most. These lovely humans are the people that make us the Ballers.
Without you, we don’t have anything.
This year was different, but then again, they all have been different. What stays the same is the heart of the players that walk through the gates at Raimondi Park. Whether you were with us from Game 1 or joined at Game 82, you came here to contribute, to grind, to work your asses off because you love this game and you want to do everything you can to keep playing it. And you played your hearts out.

Jeter’s record breaking season, taking over almost every hitting stat in club history. Trey’s stolen bases (I miss you Trey, and I am so sad your season came to an end too early). Esai’s defense no matter where we put you, and your bat wasn’t too shabby either. JC, Smith, and Crawford holding it down behind home plate. The scoring contributions from Blythe, Moore, Sanford, O’Sullivan, and Rogers—Bash Brothers arms in the dugout for days. The wonder-twin powers of Nick Leehey and Jake Allgeyer. It took me a little over a year, but I can definitively tell you apart and appreciate you both. Mr. Winters joined us late but made contributions all the same. Johnstone hitting dingers and reminding me that I love Lupe Fiasco and that the show does, in fact, go on. You boys on the bump showed up every day and threw hard no matter the situation, and I know from looking at concessions revenue that you struck out plenty of beer batters along the way. Gabe got the call, Thomas with the lowest ERA, Reed you made your return, Ren got off the bus for the season and found a home in Oakland. We brought in a ton of new players for the second half, and each of you made us better. There were lots of faces along the way that made this season memorable, and I appreciate each and every one of you.

Did we win a championship? No we didn't. Is winning fun? You bet your ass it is. But it isn't always going to happen that way. Our job, if done right, is to help each one of our players win in whatever it is they choose to pursue. So at the end of each season I always say I love you all and I hope I never see you again, not because I actually mean the last part, but because I want each and every one of you to keep chasing the dream to play affiliate ball and hopefully end up in The Show one day. I want our hallways lined with MLB jerseys of players that came out of our system.

Guys, I know you have three games left. But I wanted to write this to you when I knew you’d all still be together. To all of you who I had the pleasure of knowing this season: I thank you, I love you, and I hope I never see you again.

Not really. You are a part of this family for life now…but you know what I mean.

XO,

Your GM.

Laura Geist is the GM of the Oakland Ballers, mom to the two best girls ever, and third generation Oaklander who loves this city.