Working in baseball is a blessing in many ways. There are many things I can describe to you that highlight what makes this somewhat unconventional career choice so amazing. With all the amazing perks that come with a job like mine, there is one aspect of it that I appreciate more than any other and that is the relationships you create and become a part of. When you work in baseball, you have your regular family and then you have your baseball family. Quite frankly, there are times of the year where you spend a much larger portion of your time with your baseball family then with your regular one. That is simply what makes these relationships so special.
On March 5th, the Rays baseball family lost one of its own. Colin Saunders was the longtime clubhouse manager for the Rays Triple-A affiliate, the Durham Bulls. Colin was a dear friend to many, and the baseball family that he formed since joining the organization in 2000 was left reeling with the news. But something quite awesome started happening yesterday. People who knew him the best began sharing the stories they had of Colin and the memories that will last forever. Current and former ballplayers, coaches, ballpark staffers and friends took to social media yesterday to share their condolences and it became apparent how beloved he was.
I sort of feel jipped. I only had the chance to meet Colin for the first time a year ago as the Rays organization descended upon Port Charlotte. Even though it was the first time meeting him in person, I felt like I knew him. The countless stories I had heard over the past couple years made me feel like I knew who he was as a person. Unfortunately, I will never get to have the relationship with Colin that so many people did, especially his former batboy and current Charlotte Stone Crabs clubhouse manager, Pat Phelan, who lived with Colin, for a couple years, in the summer during the season. Pat would tell you that Colin was like a brother; they had a relationship that takes many years to build and a bond like no other. My heart goes out to Pat and all the minor league clubhouse managers who knew Colin so well and are left grieving during this time. I hope they spend most of their time talking about the good times, the laughs, the memories and anything they can remember about their time together.
These types of bonds are the ones that I am talking about. Most of these people become family, not co-workers. There aren't too many industries where these types of relationships can be cultivated, and that's why I am grateful to be working in baseball. Somehow, someway, I am reminded of this quote from A. Bartlett Giamatti, who was a former MLB commissioner and who also left this world at a young age, “Baseball breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall all alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.”
In Memory of Colin
