Brian's season with the Chukars
by Brian Snider, Outpost contributor
Somebody do me a favor: find the guy that said "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it" and let me shake his hand, because, after a season with the Reno Chukars, those now may be the most profound words I've ever heard.
I attended a couple Chukar games at the end of the 1997 season, and something occurred to me: I love baseball, I need an internship, and I should work for them. By May 1st, I had a job pushing the buttons that displayed the player's names on the scoreboard. I had my internship, and my wish came true.
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Well, I ended up doing more, much more in fact. If there's one thing I learned about minor league baseball in my four months with the Chukars, it's that stability is a luxury, because there is not much of it. People can go in and out of a baseball organization faster than a Mark McGwire home run blast, and before you know it, three people are doing the work of eight. I was part of this nightmare when I took over the duties of the clubhouse manager, or clubby. The work was brutal, about 10-12 hours a day in addition to my scoreboard duties during the game, but I decided to take it because the pay was great.
So I was putting in 15-hour days by mid-season, and this wasn't just sitting around pushing buttons, either. The clubby is essentially the players' maid and errand boy. Each night, all uniforms and personals had to be washed for both teams and the clubhouses needed to be mopped and vacuumed. Each day before the game, the clubby must run to the store and get the players some food as well as any personal requests like chewing tobacco or Gatorade.
This doesn't include the little things, like helping tape players ankles, running mail to the mailbox, or making sure there are enough towels for the shower. On top of all this, you're at the beck-and-call of the owners and management to make sure the pass list is in their hands, give the players their meager paychecks, or tell them why the paychecks haven't arrived. You are truly the organization's whipping boy.
So I'm trying to juggle all this while attempting to learn something about baseball and media relations as well as write weekly papers for my internship when something amazing happens. Steve, the public address announcer who taught me so much about voice for radio, accepted a job in another company and would be leaving, so the Chukars needed a replacement. I knew I was swamped, I knew I would probably die of exhaustion before the end of the season, but its what I wanted to do. I asked for the job, and it was given to me for the remainder of the season.
I quit the scoreboard job and poured my heart and soul into the PA announcing, which I basically learned on the fly. The problem with that was that I spent so much energy trying to announce like Marv Albert that I was run down by the time I had to start my postgame clubhouse duties. It got so crazy that I would run to the clubhouse between innings and make sure everything was put away, then run back up to the PA booth, all in about 90 seconds.
I was not alone in my suffering. My friend Terry, who began the season as group sales director and ended up doing that job along with promotions director and assistant general manager were there with me. Basically, he was the front office, and because he was management as well as gameday staff, he didn't get a day off for the entire four months of the season!
It's not as if working for a team like the Chukars is a bad thing, however. In fact, I would call it a rewarding experience. While I never worked so hard before in my life, the thrill of being a key part (or parts, depending on how you look at it) of a baseball franchise easily outweighed the struggles.
No other reason could explain why people want to work in minor league baseball. The money certainly isn't there, and the recognition is small, but living out the childhood dream motivates these people to work harder then most. From the owner to the manager to the radio guy to the clubby, it's truly a team effort.
However, if you ask any of them, they'll tell you that next time, they'll be a little more careful what they ask for, too.
Posted April 8, 1999
Copyright 1999 Nevada Outpost
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