Dallas in December

Taking a ride on the escalator of humility

Welcome to Warning Track Power, a weekly newsletter of baseball stories and analysis grounded in front office and scouting experiences and the personalities encountered along the way. Now celebrating 50 emails without a work stoppage!

During each of the nine years that I attended the Major League Baseball Winter Meetings as part of a team’s traveling party, I reflected silently — usually from an escalator while overlooking the crowd in the lobby — to sanctify the moment.

Below, clustered among the hundreds of reporters and team employees, stood outsiders. They were easy to spot because, in a sea of Tommy Bahama, they were often wearing suits — and not the kind worn by a player heading to a press conference after signing a nine-figure deal.

These were people — mostly guys in their 20s — looking for internships and entry-level jobs. Any kind of foot in the door would be considered a success.

I knew these hopefuls because I had been one of them.

In 2000, I flew from New York to Dallas. I stayed at a reasonably priced hotel near the Wyndham Anatole, where the meetings were held. I negotiated on foot Texas roads that were built to be driven. I mistook proximity for accessibility, and hoped I wouldn’t crease, fold, or otherwise blemish my stack of resumes while sprinting across multi-lane thoroughfares to reach my destination.

Upon safely entering the hotel, I surveyed the scene and almost instantly spotted then-Orioles manager Mike Hargrove. He took a couple steps towards one of the potted trees, leaned in, and spit.

I was working in wine journalism at the time and was no stranger to sniff, swirl, sip, and spit. This was a little different. I was equal parts amused and aghast. I had no idea that Hargrove was foreshadowing a decade of dodging tobacco spit; turns out it’s stained into the fabric of the game.

Each year when I’d see the (growing) packs of job-seekers, I’d think about Dallas. My first Winter Meetings as part of the Padres happened to be in Dallas. Suddenly, I was on the receiving end of resumes.

I always remembered my trip in 2000. Every December, no matter the city or hotel, I shared a silent moment of gratitude with the baseball gods.

More than any of the trades, signings, or ice storms from these meetings, I remember the lobbies. I remember the aspiring baseball executives, and it’s those kids I’m thinking of now. With the Major League portion of the 2021 Winter Meetings canceled, where do they go? What happens to their dreams? Which future World Series-winning GM didn’t get the chance to get his or her foot in the door this week?

In this over-simplified showdown between millionaires and billionaires, I feel for the minimum-wage warriors who were looking for a chance.

Miñoso Line

On Sunday, the Hall of Fame announced the first members of its Class of 2022. One of the six players selected for enshrinement was Cuban-born star Minnie Miñoso, who was elected by the Golden Days Era Committee (part of the Veterans Committee).

Miñoso initially finished his career playing for Bill Veeck’s White Sox in 1964. Then, in 1976 at the age of 50, the Cuban Comet returned for three games in September. He served exclusively as a DH and went 1-for-8.

In 1980, he resurfaced in a big league uniform, 54 years old and still representing Veeck’s South Siders. Miñoso appeared as a pinch hitter in each of the last two games of the regular season.

On the final day of the season, he pinch hit for Chet Lemon to leadoff the bottom of the 7th inning. Miñoso grounded out to California Angels third baseman Carney Lansford.

At 54 years and 311 days old, he had taken his final at bat.

Today, former Red Sox third baseman and current Yankees executive Tim Naehring reaches the Miñoso Line.

I tracked down Naehring over text earlier this week to share this joyous news. “Turned 54 in February,” he replied, “and can’t imagine trying to take an AB at this point.”

Luckily for Naehring, there’s a lockout.

Thank you for reading Warning Track Power. Subscribe now to have WTP delivered to your inbox every week without interruption.