A comprehensive list of jobs I've had

Sidewalk shoveler - Montana Nurses' Association
Lawn mower - Self-employed
Umpire - Helena Babe Ruth Baseball
Campground clerk - Helena Campground
Babe Ruth Baseball writer - Independent Record Newspaper
Copy editor (sports) - Independent Record
Intern, copy editing - Missoulian
General laborer - FoxHaven Labs
Dishwasher - King Ranch
Umpire - American Legion Baseball & Montana High School Athletics
Line cook/occasional server - King Ranch
Line cook - Montana Jack's
Intern, writing - Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation
Warehouse laborer - Diversified Plastics, Inc.
Writer/editor - Community Crossroads Magazine
Rough carpenter - Andriolo Construction
Copy editor/writer (sports, news and outdoors) - Independent Record
Caterer/catering supervisor - Event Temps
Document design specialist - Digital Publishing Solutions
Caterer/farmer - Saltbox Farm
Umpire/referee - Comeback Sports
Brand ambassador - Goodness Knows Snack Squares
Server/cook - Maximus Minimus
Brand ambassador - Minute Key
Cheesemonger - Beecher's Handmade Cheese
Sales professional - Oola Distillery
Hydronics Technician - Northwest Hydronic Heating
Facilities and Design Manager - Impact Hub Seattle

I actually got a job with this monstrosity

I can provide a full-size version of this upon request.

A view from the other side

A View From The Other Side

What’s it like to be the significant other to a med student? Well, it isn’t easy. But it doesn’t have to be that hard, either.

My first contact with medical school of any sort was when the girl with whom I was forming a long-distance relationship (I’ll call her Mel, because that’s her name and she’s going to read this and it would look weird if there was another name here) was accepted at BUSM. It was very exciting for her and everyone close to her. It’s kind of like if a family member’s band suddenly has a top-40 hit and the future looks limitless. From the outside world, the medical world looks very glamorous, if only because what we laymen know about it we learned from Grey’s Anatomy and ER.

After Mel’s first year, we spent the summer together. At that point, med school is like college. Lots of lectures, summers off, personal relationships still intact. That summer, she worked an internship during the days and by night accompanied me to the ballpark to take in some minor-league baseball in Montana. It was a rehearsal of sorts, something to coax me into moving to the big city. It worked, and even though Mel warned me about how crazy things might get in the years to come, I pulled the trigger.
The first two weeks were great, mostly because Mel wasn’t in school yet. We spruced up our apartment. We went on camping and kayaking trips. I met the people who had been waiting for Mel to become part of a couple, which she welcomed; being an extra wheel is nobody’s idea of fun. One of our new couple friends were even med students. It seemed so easy to fit in with such an up-and-comer on my arm.

Then second year started.


Mel hit the books hard, right from the start (I remember hearing the word Endocrine fairly often). It surprised me, since house parties were my lecture-hall of choice during college. Studying is something she excels at and after seeing what it got her, the case for studying is pretty strong. However, that much book time does have its drawbacks. I found myself watching TV alone more than I’d expected, while her note cards piled up by the thousands (maybe even millions). This was part of my first lesson: when you move to a big city where you don’t really know anyone, it’s good to have a job lined up before you show up. The money I had saved dried up quickly in Boston, a town known for its high cost of living. And if you don’t have money, it’s hard to make friends, since you can’t afford to do some of the things other people your age take for granted.

My best move at that point was to get a job and meet some people. I became a temp. It wasn’t perfect, but I met lots of great people and made a little money. Now all those expenses weren’t weighing on us so heavily. Mel was able to concentrate on her studies (I recall something about Infectious Disease), though she still had plenty to deal with. Our windows had the windstopping power of a screen door; winter was highlighted by her bundled in multiple blankets talking to herself before a big test. I was able to take her to dinner once in a while, though we remained a beans-and-rice couple for awhile. Then we made the decision to downgrade our apartment and save ourselves some money.
Which took our attention up until springtime, when it was time for Step 1. This was one of the most lonely of the year, I think for both of us. Mel spent as much time as possible (which, I’m serious, is a long time) at the library or coffee shop, buried in a First Aid book. I got a real job and found my way onto a softball team. Mel passed the test and I got excited for a summer full of fun.

But, to my utter chagrin, things change in third year. Summer break is now a thing of the past. It seems like a quaint memory of a time long gone, like recess or whoopie cushions.

Third year, for me, was busy. I had my own friends, I did things away from home. Third year for Mel was a whole different kind of busy. She had no friends, she was never home. It’s hard to keep up any kind of relationship when you’re in a surgery rotation that takes up approximately 26 1/2 hours per day. I wasn’t home as much, but I still felt like I had way too much alone time. At first, I was truly annoyed with the amount of chores I had to do. But then I put myself in Mel’s shoes. Had I been expecting her come home from a day of deliveries (not the kind that use a hand-cart), ready to wash the dishes and make dinner? I learned to cook. I’m no chef, but now when Mel works late, I don’t have to order takeout. It was all part of becoming more self-sufficient, but also building up a stock of goodwill to use later (which I continue to do; you didn’t expect me to go the whole year without using extra work to my advantage, did you?).

And still, after all the dishes were done, after the laundry was folded, I was still bored and alone. So I did what any 20-something male in America would do. I bought an Xbox. Now I was able to “hang out” with friends, even when I was home alone waiting for Mel to drag herself through the door, exhausted. Still, even after all those unending shifts (the word “Ambulatory” has four letters, I think), I know she liked it. She was doing what she wants to be doing. I enjoyed it more, if only for the stories. Third year came and went. It seemed fast to me. Mel says the same thing.

Then things got weird.


Fourth year started and all hell broke loose. Right off the bat, Mel took a month off. A whole MONTH. There was Step 2 and the wedding of a close friend to deal with, with residency applications peppered in here and there for effect. Now, Mel was home all the time. Or not at all. One week she’d be in the bedroom agonizing over her personal statement, the next she’d be out of town. This was before she went to a single class. It was unnerving at best. And it was normalcy, compared to the rest of the year.
Fourth year was a very strange time. I got used to planning things with little input from Mel. If she could make it, great. But I had to assume she’d be in San Francisco, or Albuquerque. If I wanted to go to Cape Cod, I’d go, knowing Mel was just fine in Seattle, or Madison. Even Mel’s classes were weird. They were getting to be so focused that days started to blend into weeks (full of “independent project” this and “geriatrics” that). And then another month off would hit, sending me into another change, and sending her to Minneapolis, or even here in Boston. Mel was a pinball; I was proud of all the places I went that year but Mel made me look like a homebody.

And yet, somewhere in there, we got engaged. We found a group of cities where we’ll both have the potential to be happy, if she gets placed there. The end is almost here and it’s just the beginning. The road has been bumpy and lonesome, and frankly, I see some of those same bumps up ahead in residency. But we made it work once. It wasn’t flawless, but that’s probably for the better. Only one way to find out.

-By Jason Scott 

Fiancé of a BU Medical Student

Editor’s Note: Mel matched to her first choice...which happily was also Jason’s favorite of all the cities on her rank list!

A fresh season - Bringing along a new hunter is part of the fun

Recently Assistant News Editor Pete Nowakowski showed some interest in learning to bird hunt this fall. I thought it was a great thing to get started in, no matter what stage of life a person is in.

Bird hunting is fun, exciting and a good workout. It is vastly different from big-game hunting, in that the terrain is usually a little less extreme (depending on the birds being chased) and a good bird season usually results in more shots taken than in five seasons of deer and elk.

The more we talked about hunting, the more Pete got excited, especially about ducks. He borrowed an old 12-gauge from his father-in-law and called me from a sporting goods store, wondering what he needed for the upcoming season.

It made me think of what I would have wanted a few years ago when I started going after grouse, pheasants and ducks. I figured that to have fun, which is my main goal for Pete's first season, he wouldn't need much.

A hunter needs a gun, of course, and Pete had taken care of that; an upland bird license and duck stamps, which can be bought anywhere from Capital Sports to Wal-Mart; a vest for carrying shells and birds, preferably with some blaze orange to help him stick out in the field (I've also been told that a simple orange hat is one of the best things for bird hunters to wear, since it is the easiest place to hang a "don't shoot me" sign); and the ability to shoot straight, easily the toughest item on the list to fill.

For Pete to shoot accurately, we figured that first we should get him used to his gun. We went out with a box of clay pigeons and some target shells. I know my shooting limits; this was just for practice and to see where Pete stood regarding shooting skills. While he wasn't incredible, he was certainly better than I expected, at one time rattling off five consecutive "kill" shots.

We took a walk between shooting rounds to scout out one area I plan to take him. We noted where the ducks might group up and why, and how we would hunt them in this particular place.

We talked about the role dogs have in bird hunting. I told him that while our canine friends are great companions, they are primarily in the field with us for conservation. If a hunter shoots a bird, he or she sometimes needs a partner to help retrieve the game. It's a good plan for the dinner table, and it reduces the suffering a given bird will experience.

We finally got started on our season last week, buying the requisite permits and shells. Instead of more target shooting, we decided to go looking for ducks on property near Fox Ridge Golf Course.

Pete ran the shotgun while I kept a dog under control, watching from behind. Pete ended up scaring around 10 ducks out of the creek, though one drake decided to stay behind. Pete snuck as close as possible before spooking the greenhead. While he had an easy shot on the duck, Pete decided not to fire due to the golf course in the background.

He second-guessed his decision later, but I told him I thought it was the right choice. There will be ducks to hunt for as long as we are around, as long as conservation efforts around North America don't completely collapse.

We decided not to rest on our laurels, so Sunday afternoon we drove just north of Townsend to see if we could locate some pheasant.

Despite our best efforts and the hard work of the dog, we came home rain-soaked and empty-handed. That's how it goes sometimes. Part of hunting is learning to deal with failure, with a day that ends with an empty game sack.

One of the most important things I've learned about hunting is not to be disappointed after being skunked. It's still better than work and better for you than watching football.

Once the cold weather really hits and the lakes freeze, we'll expand our search to small creeks and ditches, the last bastion for the thousands of Canadian ducks who refuse to believe they have to fly all the way south, again, for the summer. These hearty birds, mostly mallard, have been my favorite game bird since I started hunting.

We are welcoming public comment our new plan. Since Pete is still a "pup" when it comes to the sport, he should be able to soak up a lot of new information. There are a lot of things I wish I had been told when I started hunting.

Learning through failure was a great way to hammer knowledge into a new hunter's brain, but a mentor is certainly the better way to go about things. There are so many things he needs to know, and I can't possibly think of all of them.

Also, Pete is looking for a good duck recipe. An old guy I recently met said there isn't a duck out there worth eating. I've had duck that tasted like a tire, but I've also found that a simple mallard breast can be a very versatile canvas that can be transformed with a variety of easy marinades and cooking processes.

And I'm always open for new ideas.

So we'll set out again soon, maybe searching for more of the elusive ringneck roosters. Pheasants are tough to find around here, so we will try again closer to Great Falls. I'm not promising Pete anything, but I'm keeping my hopes up.

If he learns anything, I hope he learns to have fun afield.

Original URL: http://helenair.com/lifestyles/recreation/a-fresh-season---bringing-along-a-new-hunter/article_676d0051-0e11-58a2-9bc2-65a58db4b728.html

Bird fever hits, raising questions about etiquette, safety

Sometimes bird fever can hit at strange times.

I'm convinced wingbeats make brainwaves behave improperly. I've been guilty of doing stupid things in pursuit of great shots and great meals. So when it happened last weekend, I didn't let it bother me.

Pete had been chomping at the bit to get out and bag a duck and nature finally obliged, setting him up with an easy shot on a beautiful day.

We were in the field with a friend of mine, Kris Koch, who had come from Missoula to look for some birds over the weekend.

When Pete, Kris and I finally got going it was around noon (copy editors don't wake up very early) on Saturday, and I was convinced the ducks had already taken off to look for different food sources. When we first approached the small creek where I've spotted countless ducks, there was no sign. No surprise, mallards usually don't move into the small water until the lakes freeze over.

We crossed the creek and walked along an irrigation ditch, checking periodically to see if there were any clusters sitting in the shallow water. I took up the rear, holding my parents' dog Witchy at heel while Kris and Pete did 90-degree sneaks up to the edge of the ditch, with Pete about 25 feet to Kris' left side.

We didn't see anything, even when looking down the length of the bank and I figured our day, short as it was, had ended.

I, in terrible hunter/dog handler behavior, turned my attention to my cell phone. As soon as I started pressing keys, two shots rang out, waking me from my text-coma.

Witchy broke on the shot, something she knows not to do, but something I wasn't ready for. Again, not my best moment in a bird hunt. Both Kris and Pete bagged drakes, each with one clean shot. Witchy was back in no time with Pete's bird, happy as can be. I lined her up on the bird Kris shot, and after some directions, she found and retrieved the fat greenhead. Both ducks were nice, mature birds with brilliant coloring in their feathers.

The three of us walked back, all smiles. Pete had his first bird. Now the easy part: cooking it.

Bird fever hits, raising questions about etiquette, safety

First, I taught him how to shave the tender mallard breasts away from the ribcage. It's a fairly easy procedure, but easier if someone takes the time to teach it.

Pete later used one of the recipes he got from a reader submission, and from what I hear, he loved it. Enjoying the taste is key to a new hunter, since there's no real point to hunting if it's just to kill. That, to me, is just shooting.

On Sunday Kris and I went out to the same spot, this time with my dog Strider. Normally I discourage hunting ducks twice in one area on back-to-back days, but having Kris in town made it a special occasion.

Sure enough, we kicked up a duck in the same exact spot. The duck flew up on our left side, my side, and I raised my gun as soon as I heard wings flapping.

I switched off my safety, but just as I was about to pull the trigger, I heard the shot that put the duck down. Kris had gotten impatient and shot past me.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled with the situation. It surprised me so much I didn't even pay attention to Strider, who broke as soon as a shot was fired and fetched the bird as fast as he could.

I let Kris know how I felt with a series of expletives and loud noises. He understood right away what he'd done, and he clearly felt bad. He offered me the duck, though I refused on principle alone.

I think Kris learned a lesson. When in the field, hunters have certain quadrants in the sky. In this case, I had the left, Kris the right, and the middle area would be up for grabs. Kris had overstepped his bounds, killing a duck that was obviously mine for the taking.

Luckily, good friends can put small things behind them quickly, and by the time we returned, everything was back to normal.

Pete learned a lesson, too, just from hearing the story. Knowing where you're supposed to shoot is important, if not for safety, then for a fair and balanced hunt.

So now we're looking forward again to our next hunt. We're planning to head out to a real pheasant spot, something we've gotten some leads on since our first column. Once Pete gets hooked on the wily ringnecks, I'm afraid he's going to trade in his little Yorkshire terrier for a Chesapeake Bay retriever. It wouldn't be that amazing. Bird hunting makes people crazy. I've seen the fever hit before, and I'll be amazed if I don't see it again.

Original URL: http://helenair.com/lifestyles/recreation/bird-fever-hits-raising-questions-about-etiquette-safety/article_085bf5ce-b451-57dc-a1d4-2df0ad7bec49.html

Dreams come true

Dreams come true

What's it like to throw out the first pitch at a Brewers game? Just ask Linda McCulloch, Montana's secretary of state.

"It's a dream come true," said McCulloch, who got the honor of starting off the Helena pro baseball season with the ceremonial toss Tuesday evening at Kindrick Legion Field. "It was such fun. I've always dreamed of doing this."

McCulloch was on hand along with a near-capacity crowd to take in the opening-day festivities at the storied ballpark. She wasn't there just for the pitch, though. She, like the rest, was there to take in a baseball game, something she said she has enjoyed for years.

"We're outside, it's a sunny day," McCulloch, said, smiling. "And we have great players from all around that love to play the game."

Father-son combos dotted the park, as well. Daryl Reed brought his 10-year-old son, Preston, back to the park for another season.

"We just love the small town, being close to the players," said Daryl, while Preston nodded. "We like to see the new pitchers, the high draft picks."

Blue and gold Brewers supporters nearly covered the recently painted grandstands; baseball still thrives in the Queen City.

Two fans who clearly wanted in on the action were 7-year-old Jacob Allen Spencer and his little brother, Caleb, 4.

Caleb spent time in the aisles during the game, practicing his form with a miniature blue bat and catcher's mitt. Jacob, whose favorite Brewers player is Derrick Alphonso, paid more attention to the on-field happenings as he enjoyed a fudgesicle.

Michelle Moore, performing her duties as "Nana" for the Spencer brothers, also enjoys the game.

"I've always loved baseball," Moore said. "I just love being outside and watching the game."

The Brewers' homestand continues through the week, with games starting at 7:05 p.m. at Kindrick tonight and Thursday. On Friday, Helena will travel to Missoula for another three games against the Osprey.

Original URL: http://helenair.com/news/local/dreams-come-true/article_0b049d2e-b489-5dde-867d-ded5ddce85a4.html

Gonzales on life in the big leagues

Gonzales on life in the big leagues

Editor’s note: Helena Brewers manager Rene Gonzales took advantage of the All-Star break to relax and let his short-A club team take the day off. He also recently took the opportunity to sit down with Independent Record reporter Jason Scott, the beat reporter covering the Brewers this season. This is Part 2 of an excerpt of the interview.

JS: Did you enjoy playing with Cal Ripken Jr.?

RG: When I was playing there, every one forgets. Forget the consecutive game thing, he had consecutive innings. He didn’t miss an inning for 10 years. He hadn’t missed an inning, an at bat, nothing. It was a joke, like, “Who’s the only backup shortstop never to play shortstop?” Finally his dad pulled him out of the game. He told him, “You’re not going back in there.” I think it was in Toronto, and I think Cal was taken aback, too. I was sitting next to him and he was literally tearing up.

JS: Do you have any lasting friendships?

RG: That’s the coolest thing about my career is that I can call all those guys my friends. You know, Cal, Eddie Murray, Dave Parker. I played with Pete Rose in Montreal. That was awesome. Tim Lollar, Terry Francona, guys like that. If you saw my contact list, you’d be amazed.

JS: At what level did you have the most fun?

RG: I think like a lot of things, whether it’s baseball or whatever career, when you look back, it’s almost cliché, but the journey is the most fun part. The funniest and craziest stories come out of the minors. The long bus trips, the bad food and hotels and all that stuff. The big leagues are everything that you could imagine. You’re staying in the best hotels, eating at the best restaurants, you never wait in line for anything, you hardly ever pay for a meal, you never see your luggage, it just shows up in your room and you play in front of thousands of people. It’s an absolute joke.

People go, “Wow, you live this big league life.” With that, everybody thinks it’s the greatest thing in the world. But it’s much more cutthroat than people think. You perform or you go home. I can’t tell you how many times I’d come into the clubhouse and look at the locker next to me and it’s empty. That guy’s gone. He was struggling, not hitting the ball. See you. That part about it is not glamorous at all. It’s all well-earned and it’s short-lived. The careers are very short and people are saying, “How are you paying this guy $15 million?” It’s because very few people can do it. How does Tom Cruise get paid $20 million for a movie?

JS: I guess if people are willing to watch it, those superstars are going to want to get paid.

RG: It just makes you nervous. I remember we opened the season in Cleveland in the old stadium, the “Mistake on the Lake.” There were 70,000 people for Opening Day. It was just unbelievable. People would ask me if I was nervous. I never was. I was more nervous on the bench for my teammates than I ever was on the field.

JS: It’s something you can control.

RG: Yeah. It’s like driving. You’re with your best buddy, who’s driving the car and you’re totally comfortable, but you would be more comfortable if you were driving because you are in control. When I would break it down, there are all these people and you’re hoping to get a ground ball hit to you, I thought I was still in my back yard with my brother hitting me ground balls. The surrounding and atmosphere doesn’t really change; it’s just fielding a simple ground ball.

It was funny. In Cleveland with all the 70,000 people and the fireworks and all that, the next night there were like 19,000. That old stadium was horrible. The new stadium, Jacobs, is pretty awesome.

In Baltimore, John Miller was our play-by-play guy. He was in Baltimore forever. I knew before anyone else that he was good, I think before the rest of the world did. Now he’s so national, but he was our everyday guy. There’s another friend. What baseball has brought me is stuff like that. John Miller is now a good friend of mine. Tim Kurkjian was our beat writer. Those guys were like part of the team. They were on the buses and planes with us. They’re with you in the locker room every day. It’s pretty cool.

JS: Now, in 2009, what has changed. What have you noticed is different since when you were a player?

RG: I think a lot of things have changed. The guys coming up now don’t have the history and knowledge of the game that is as good as it was back then. I think there’s just so much more going on in their lives and the culture and stuff like that.

JS: Would you say that the athleticism is better?

RG: I think overall the size of the guys is bigger. I wouldn’t say the athleticism is better at all. I think the era like in the ’70s, teams were so fast and athletic. I think Astroturf changed it a lot. No, I don’t think the athleticism is better, I’d say it’s less. I think guys get a little bit more one-dimensional. They can do this but they can’t do that.

JS: Any really strange moments?

RG: Tons of them. But there’s so many of them. I think my friends are better at telling them because they have their favorites.

JS: You were on hand when Ripken broke the record, right?

RG: Yeah. That was really huge. We had talked about being there when that would happen. At the beginning of the year, I looked at the schedule and saw that I would be in town when this happened. It was so cool. I played in that game. It was so cool. I think I was supposed to be there. He being my friend, I think it was meant to be. Even if I was on the other side. He came through and shook all of our hands and eventually I gave him a big old hug. It was great.

Sometimes my friends and I stay up all night telling stories.

JS: Now you’re a coach. What’s it like?

RG: Baseball is the same as it ever was. Being on the field with the players and in the dugout is still the greatest thing ever. Even the umpires will tell you the same. Umpires are probably the most hated guys on the field but they wouldn’t say that. They’re part of a pretty cool thing going on.

Now it’s a little bit different, seeing guys succeed and follow up and move on is the greatest thing for me. Dealing with 30 different personalities is a challenge. I think that’s what makes me a good coach is my ability to do that. Even as a player, I played for seven different teams. That’s tons of ballplayers. You could name anyone. I bet I spent time with all of them. The challenge is to know how to treat people. Knowing that with this guy, you have to put your foot in his butt and this guy you have to stroke him a little more. A lot of it is semantics. It’s Sociology 101. I think I’m really good at that. I think that’s what made Buck Rogers a really good coach and what makes me a good coach.

Doing reports and sending in all that stuff is not the fun part of it. I used to be the first one to the ballpark and the last one to leave as a player and now I still am even more so. I don’t leave here until midnight. I get here at 1 p.m. for a 7 o’clock ballgame.

Editor's Note: The following is Part 1 of the Gonzales interview published earlier on helenair.com.

JS: You were a major league baseball player. You're the only one I've ever met.

RG: Really?

JS: Yeah. Easily. I don't think I ever even gotten an autograph directly from a major league baseball player. My parents always went off to spring training and left me at home.

RG: Wow.

JS: Yeah. Tough life.

RG: Yeah. Speaking of parents, my parents didn't get to see me play a whole lot growing up because they were always working. They both were working.

JS: What did your parents do?

RG: My dad was a heliarc welder and my mom, she was a clerk, a government secretarial official. They worked all the time growing up. I just remember getting on my bike and going everywhere on my own . It was just "Make sure you're home by dark." Well, you're saying you've never met a big leaguer. I'm just telling you my story. I had a brother that was almost ten years older than me so I was way ahead of the curve than me and it still pays off today. With my peers, I was just way ahead. He told me the dos and don'ts and the rights and wrongs and how to play head games with the guys my age. My dad was a great baseball player, I always knew that growing up. He screwed up and married my mom and joined the real world.

JS: So was he a pro ballplayer?

RG: Yeah. My brother was really good, he played at UCLA, but he didn't pursue it. I remember taking ground balls for hours and hours. Just play all day; all sports, too. I had out of high school I had scholarship offers for basketball as well as baseball. I just liked baseball so much.

JS: Your brother decided not to go pro. What made you do it?

RG: People thought I was crazy. When I was little, I remember, when I was five years old, I walked around and told everyone I was going to play in the major leagues. And I was, I knew it. By the time I was in junior high and high school, I had put the blinders on. I just trained every day. It wasn't training to me, it was just going out and having fun. But I did something baseball-specific every day. There was one time when I was in high school, there was one time my brother said, "Hey, did you work out today," and I said no. He said, "Well, someone out there is, some other kid out there is." I never forgot that. My parents and my brother never had to tell me I had to go out and train. I was just whacked. There was some homes in a field behind out house that eventually got knocked down. A bank took it over and it had a huge parking lot. In the parking lot there was a street lamp that stayed on all night. In the back of the building there was a huge brick wall. I used to sneak out of my bedroom window in the middle of the night and jump the fence. I'd put tape on the wall and throw at it and field the ball. I'd come back in the house at three in the morning or four in the morning, get a few hours sleep and get up to go to school. I did that almost nightly.

JS: That's dedication, even if it doesn't feel like dedication.

I went to college of course and eventually got drafted. When I was drafted by Montreal Expos, I thought, "Montreal, who are they?" The scouts eventually came to my house to sign me and I thought we were going to play hardball with them and tell them, "I want this much." They said, "You're a pretty good player, we want to send you right to AAA. So I was like "Yeah, I'll sign." And I did, I went right to AAA.

JS: Is that pretty rare?

RG: Yeah. You have a few guys, there is just a handful of guys that went straight to the big leagues. There was someone hurt in AAA, the shortstop, and when I got there he wasn't hurt as badly as they thought, so they sent me down to AA Memphis for a while. It was really cool. Playing every day and doing it for a living.

JS: What's the pay scale like?

RG: It was terrible.

JS: Is it still that way?

RG: Oh yeah.

JS: So you have to make the show before you're get paid well?

RG: Oh yeah. There's no doubt. There are some guys who are around for a while in triple-A, making a living. But in the minor leagues, ooh, we were three, four guys sharing an apartment, sharing a car. Very little money. Even this group here, they stay with host families and no cars. They can get one meal here, scrounge for another meal there. There's no money to be made in the minor leagues. That's some incentive as well.

When you're growing up, you always say, "I'd play it for free. As long as I could make a living." And I did. I was in the big leagues going, "As long as I can make a decent living and playing baseball." Then all of a sudden, you're sitting in the locker room next to someone making five, ten million and you're saying, "I'm better than you are, what the heck's growing on?"

When it comes to negotiating a contract, that's the only way, is being compared to someone else. Putting numbers up against another guy. That's how negotiations go. You hear about the ugly stuff that goes on during arbitratition, stuff like that and that's exactly how it goes.

JS: That's when you bring in an outside guy?

Yeah. Basically it's an attorney for you and the team's attorney, and he's telling you how horsecrap you are and your attorney is telling them how valuable you are. I've heard a lot of ugly things. It's funny. They build you up throughout your career and if you go through arbitratition. There they say, "You're batting .200 with runners in scoring position. That's not very good. Yeah, we'd like to have him, but…"

So couple years, year and a half in the minor leagues. Chris Spiers gets hurt in Montreal and I get called up.

JS: Do you get a new contract when you get sent up?

RG: Yeah.

JS: Because it's two different leagues, right?

RG: Right. You have a major league contract, you have a minor league contract. Guys who are in the big leagues, are always going to be in the big leagues. They can send them to the minor leagues, but they have to pay them under the major league contract.

JS: So they want them to play in the majors.

RG: A minor leaguer has signed his contract for the year, all of a sudden, he gets called up, because they have to put them on the 40 man roster. Because it's a different league and a different union, they're automatically getting paid the minimum.

JS: Is it $250,000?

RG: I think it's more than that, $300,000 or something. When I first got called up it was $82,000. But it's great. It's the big league life. It's funny, in the minor leagues, you're struggling for cash, trying to get by, you only have one pair of cleats. When you're in the big leagues, people are just handing you stuff. When you're in the big leagues and you're making money all the free stuff comes in when it should've come in the minors.

JS: I've always thought that.

RG: The very first time I got called up, my triple-A coach called who me into the office, was Buck Rogers, who eventually became my big league coach in Montreal and again in Anaheim. He's a great guy, a great coach. There's a lot of stuff I use managing that I learned from him. He called me up and he goes, "You're outta here, you're getting traded." I said, "Traded? I'm the top prospect in the country. How am I getting traded?" He said, "You're going to the big club." So I showed up in Philadelphia. The team was playing the Phillies. I remember getting to Veterans Stadium and the game was already playing. I had to ask security how to get to the locker room. I walked into an empty locker room … I walk down this tunnel and the game was already in the eighth inning. The minute I walked into the dugout, all my teammates were like, "Hey, how's it going," and all that.

Bill Verdon was the manager, and as I was just getting settled in and talking to the guys, he goes, "Hey, are you ready?" And I go, "Yeah, of course," thinking, am I ready to play in the next couple days.

He says, "Okay, you're in there playing short." And I just ran out on the field. No warming up, no stretching, nothing. The first baseman throws the ball across the field and my first throw, I just aired it out. You know, with the adrenaline, I didn't have to warm up. I was ready.

Sure enough, first hitter is Greg Luzinski. I'm thinking okay, okay, big pull hitter. First ball is at you, that's the way it always is. Got it, threw him out. And there it went.

First I remembered calling my mom, that evening, telling her, "Mom, I'm in the big leagues". She went nuts, of course. There it started.

First big league game start, I went 4-for-5 off Charlie Hudson. I remember it just seemed so much easier. The backdrop was so clear, you play on these minor league fields where the lights are terrible and the fields are bad. I remember getting in there and the ball looked so big and everything just seemed to slow down. Again, I went 4-for-5, I was on base all five times, and I was thinking, "Man, there must be a league higher than this." So I thought that I had started my big league career, I'm never going to see the minors again. But they were just throwing me fastballs, challenging me to see what I could do. The next week, here comes the sliders, splits and I'm thinking, "Wow." Chris Spier gets well and I'm back in the minors in two weeks. It was pretty humbling.

When I was first drafted, I was put in a high league and right away the next year when I came back, I was in big league camp. So one year after getting drafted there I was in big league camp with Andre Dawson and Tim Raines and Gary Carter and Al Oliver.

JS: This was still with Montreal?

RG: Yeah. I already gauged myself off of them. Immediately I knew I could play with these guys. There was no period doubt. Rookie Ball to the major leagues must just miles and miles away. Straight out of college I was playing with those guys so I felt I could easily do it.

My first day in the big leagues, in Philladelphia. The next morning, there was a knock on my door and it was Tim Raines and Andre Dawson, saying, "Let's go, young buck." They took me out and bought me three or four suits, shoes, everything. They go, "Hey, you've got to look like a big leaguer and act like it."

Now you hear about all the pranks they pull on the rookies, putting them in dresses and all that stuff, I never went through that. All those guys, they just made me feel welcome. They would just sit next to me on the bench, coaching me, teaching me. They just put their arm around you. It's not like that now.

Later on, when I would be a veteran on the team, guys would tell me to go tell the rookies to double up on the bus or go sit in the front of the plane, I couldn't do it because it didn't happen to me.

JS: So you played how many years?

RG: Thirteen seasons, seven teams.

JS: Any favorite at bats? Anything that sticks out?

RG: Not really. You remember the first major league at bat.

JS: Did you get a hit?

RG: Yeah. Jerry Koosman. I'm thinking here's this guy, sinkerballer, a lefty, he's going to throw it outside half of the plate, I'm thinking I'm going to try to hit a line drive to right field.

Bill Mazeroski and Duke Snyder were my coaches. I told my dad that and he was impressed. A favorite at bat, well hmm. I do. I think I remember all my hits.

Your first hits you remember. Game-winning home runs, you remember those. I had a couple of those. I hit one the second day of the season in Baltimore. We were playing Seattle. It was just near opening day. We had the meet and greet with the boosters and the sponsors of the Orioles. It was a banquet they annually had in the evening after the game on a Sunday. Mike Jackson was the pitcher and I think in the tenth inning, I hit a game-winning home run. So we went to the banquet and they got me up in front of everybody and they said, "Well, you hit the game-winning home run tonight." And I said "Yeah, but more importantly, I'm on pace to hit 82 home runs this year." I was joking. Yeah, I was not a home run hitter.

I was a fan of facing Clemens and Ryan and all those guys. Most guys would duck them. I welcomed it because I wanted to say I faced the best and beat them. I used to get up for those at bats. I thought it was just a blast to face them. I think I had better success against the better pitchers because of that. I remember 3-4-5 starters used to get me out all the time.

I was eventually traded to Baltimore from Montreal. Played there for five years.

JS: Would you say it was your favorite team to play for, did you have a favorite?

RG: I would say I never felt more like a big leaguer than I did with Baltimore.

The way the city treated me, the way the players on that team treated me. Baltimore is just an unbelievable, huge baseball town. And also, having lockers next to Eddie Murray, Cal Ripken. Having Brooks Robinson come throughthe clubhouse. Jim Palmer, Boog Powell. When we would go to visit another city, even in spring training, when we would walk into the park with all those guys. PeopleThat was fun.

It wasn't fun playing behind Cal Ripken. I had never played any other position but shortstop. They got me, thinking I was going to play shortstop; they traded me for three guys: Dennis Martinez, a catcher and another minor leaguer. I was hoping they were going to move Cal to third but Cal didn't want any part of that. So they asked me if I could play other positions. Never having played other positions, I said, "Yeah, sure, of course." And then I was a utility man. I was labeled. I wish I had never done that, I wish I had demanded a trade. It changed my whole career. And you know, saying you played in the big leagues, people say that's awesome, but I still have second guessed my career. I could've been better. I should've had a much better career. With the talent I had, I should've had a better career. It's weird and people can't grasp that. It's like playing golf, you shoot a 63, but when you get done, you say, "Yeah, but if I had made that one putt." But that's how it is.

I was much better than I ended up being.

I went to Toronto in 1991, another great city. We lost to Minnessota in the playoffs. That sucked. I thought we had the class of the big leagues that year. We had beat up on the Twins all season long so we were looking beyond them. They kicked our butts.

Next year, free agent again and I went to Anaheim, I went home. Everybody said, "Man, it's too bad you weren't in Toronto." And I said, "No, playing every single day, living at home, on the beach, parents in the stands every night, it was almost like little league. It was so relaxing.

As a visiting guy, coming into L.A and Anaheim, coming in as a visiting guy, everybody's calling you and wanting tickets.

Now that you're home, nobody bothers you. That was a blast, I loved playing in California. It was 78 degrees every night, short sleeves, you know you're going to play. No rain delays, it was awesome.

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