It's not well known, but the Twins are extremely focused on making sure that their players have a positive experience from baseball. In order to further this goal, Minnesota makes rookie players keep a diary of their first season in the big leagues. This is so that they won't forget the positive memories from their whirlwind first year, and also so that they might be able to look back and learn something, thus leading to a better baseball career.
We've gotten an EXCLUSIVE look behind the curtain, as all six guys who have played their first major league games this year - Aaron Hicks, Oswaldo Arcia, Ryan Pressly, Caleb Thielbar, Chris Colabello, and now Kyle Gibson - showed off their diary entries for Sunday. Let's take a look:
SUNDAY - I could get used to this big-league thing.
Everybody was so nice to me yesterday, but I thought it was just a one-time deal, for my first start and all. But I woke up this morning to the phone ringing, and it was Governor Dayton, just like Saturday. "Governor," I said - I call him Governor - "how are you?"
"Kyle," he said, "that was a great gosh-darn start you had yesterday. Can you come over to the Mansion today? I want to introduce you to some people - a couple of CEOs, a couple of big-time authors, that kind of thing, no big deal."
I told him we had a game and I had to go to it. He seemed kinda bummed. I was worried that maybe I'd offended him, but later one of those edible arrangements showed up at my place. The usual - lobster, caviar, twenty-dollar bills. The delivery guy said he's kind of getting tired of them.
I asked Coach Anderson how most guys deal with all of the twenty-dollar bills when they come up to the big leagues. He just looked at me funny. I guess it's just one of those big-league things that everybody has to figure out for themselves.
Gotta run. Mercedes guy is here to loan me another car. Don't know what the other guys do with theirs, but I'm sure I'll learn that too.
SUNDAY - I got up today, five minutes late because I didn't hear the alarm. I slammed that alarm down on the floor and yelled at it. You need to get better, alarm.
By the time I got out of the house I was in a better mood. I yelled at a traffic cop and then danced across the street. I kissed a woman I didn't know and got in a fight with her boyfriend and then I punched a lamppost. It was a good morning.
I think we played a game in between some of the drama. I can't remember for sure, but I'm going to say we won today. What I do know is that I hit two singles and drove in a run, and for awhile I thought my butt was on fire but it turned out that it wasn't, but I ran around wildly anyway.
SUNDAY - Didn't pitch today, and we gave up nine runs. Sound familiar, diary? I tell you. Geez, coach doesn't read these things, does he? Sorry, coach.
The office called up today and asked me if I was still in the hotel, or if I'd found my own place yet. I told them the truth - that I never stayed in the hotel. My cousin Mike's got a place up in Blaine; it's a little bit of a tight fit, but I sleep in the basement between a treadmill and the beer fridge, and everything's fine. The lady at the office tried to tell me that the team pays for the hotel for your first couple of weeks, but I know that's how they get you - they move you in to the fancy place and pretty soon it's nothing but charges you didn't see coming. No, thank you. Plus, that place is so spendy - somebody said it was like $90 a night. A night! A week is more like it.
SUNDAY - Gave up a couple of runs today. Not my best day. I waited around in the clubhouse extra long because I was pretty sure somebody was going to say, "Hey, Skip wants to see you," and they were going to tell me that I was headed back to the Red Sox and I was going to have to go to Portland or Salem or wherever and start over again.
Nothing happened. Conclusion: I am bulletproof. Nothing I do or say can hurt me; I don't know why they've decided to make my dreams come true, but until somebody pinches me and I wake up, I'm going to take full advantage. I'm taking home every bit of food I can find tomorrow. And I'm not wearing pants. Forget pants. Ryan Pressly never needed pants before he was a major leaguer, and he sure doesn't need them now!
SUNDAY - Went 1-4 today. Average all the way up to a whopping .190. Whoop-de-doo. Least I got a hit today; first time I've got one since the day I got to Rochester.
Guys are laughing at me, I can tell. I can't even look Antoan Richardson in the face. The guy's been on base more times in the last week than I have the whole season, and I'm the one that's going back to the big leagues.
I feel guilty... but man, I'm scared, too. I used to be good at baseball, I swear. It was like last year, they couldn't touch me. Every day now I worry that the call's going to come and it's not going to be for me. Butera had two hits today. Maybe it'll be him.
You know how you fly in first class once and then you can never look at coach the same way again? That's how I feel. I can't get stuck here in the minors again. The fans spit on you and the only thing to eat in the clubhouse is peanut butter. I haven't eaten a piece of fruit in a week. I think I might have scurvy. Can you get scurvy? Baseball scurvy? No, Aaron, don't think like this. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.
SUNDAY - Still don't know why I have to fill this out. They want me to have a positive experience? I was in the Can-Am league for seven years. I haven't changed in a shed now for three years. You think I'm not having a positive experience?