I’d be telling a story if I said that anything other than getting a job in baseball (again) was the highlight of 2002. Heck, I could probably expand that over all 3 seasons (2002, 2003, and 2004) that I worked with the (sadly, now defunct) Jackson Senators.
2001 cruised along just fine. I was employed by the American Heart Association, traveling the state raising funds and awareness about the nation’s #1 killer, and going to hockey games. Hockey season ended, my college friends graduated, and I moved from the Sexy Lexy into the Van Mark with my childhood bff Casey. We may have been 22 and 23 respectively, but the childhood shenanigans resumed, only now on a more adult level. And by “adult”, I really only mean the company we kept and the places in which we kept it. We were still as silly as ever. Do I dare revisit the time we secretly stashed hundreds (literally) of Subway sandwiches left over from a HeartWalk all over the apartment of a boy Casey liked to flirt with?
You get the point. At year’s end, all of Casey’s hard work of peddling office supplies paid off, and she landed a job as a pharm rep. The job took Casey to Hattiesburg, leaving me roommateless in Jackson, and that just would not do. Who would be my partner(s) in crime?
When the Senators called, I really did have to find some roommates. Baseball pays even less than non-profit work (if you can imagine). Lucky for me, two of my friends from college were both moving to town and looking for roommates too. Thus began the trifecta that was the 6G (our apartment # in the Reserve of Jackson Apartment Homes).
Christy, Melissa, and I spent the better part of the next 3 years hosting parties.
And when we weren’t hosting parties, we were going out. And when we weren’t going out, we were at work – me at the ballpark, Christy at an Enterprise Rent-A-Car location (she was branch manager, and drove a different car home everyday – nice perk), and Melissa at a sleep lab (helping people sleep better by making them wear c-papsmear machines).
And when I was at work, it was some of the most enjoyable work ever. Granted, there were days when I thought I’d run screaming across center field and impale myself on a rusty nail of an outfield fence sign, but now that I’ve been out of the front office for nearly 7 years, I can truly appreciate the experiences, the people, the laughter, the tears, the late nights, the early mornings, the pre-game naps at my desk, and that elation that can only come from taking a champagne shower as a trophy is hoisted overhead.
Oh yes, I miss baseball. Would I do it again? Definitely, with some modification. Would I do it now? Not a chance.
Well, not unless maybe the Astros were calling…