The International Grind and an Unexpected Degree
From 2005 to 2008, I found myself living out the kind of baseball journey I never could have imagined — bouncing across cities, countries, and cultures in pursuit of the game I loved. What started with a manifestation at a tryout turned into a whirlwind adventure.
In 2005, I took the mound for the San Diego Surf Dawgs, a new team in the Golden Baseball League. The next year, 2006, was a turning point. I played for both the Lincoln Saltdogs and the Atlantic City Surf. That summer in Lincoln, I earned a spot as an All-Star pitcher — something I’ll never forget. That season validated my comeback.
Later that year, I was offered a chance to play winter ball in Guasave, Mexico. It was eye-opening. The crowds were intense, the culture passionate, and the talent undeniable. I played against Adrián González and his brother Edgar, both of whom would go on to play in the major leagues.
In the middle of all this movement, something even more unexpected happened: I earned my M.B.A. from the University of Colorado Denver in 2006 — online, while living and pitching in Mexico. I hadn’t planned on going back to school, but my dad thought it would be in my best interest — a backup plan, a stabilizing force in the chaos of pro ball. I listened. And I finished.
2007 was one of the most surreal years of my life. I suited up for teams in Laguna, Tijuana, and later Winnipeg, Canada. That fall, I was called to play in the Dominican Republic, for a team called the Aguilas de Cibao — a country where baseball is more than a sport, it’s a heartbeat. I shared the dugout and the field with major league stars like Miguel Tejada, Melky Cabrera, and José Lima. That experience was a dream. Just a couple years earlier, I had been working temp jobs, wondering if baseball was behind me. Now I was toeing the rubber in one of the most talent-rich leagues in the world.
In 2008, I rounded out my career with stints in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Newark, New Jersey. It wasn’t glamorous. There were long bus rides, low pay, and moments of deep uncertainty. But it was mine — a patchwork of dugouts, airports, and journal entries scribbled between starts.