
First impression of The Breakers: Jesus fucking Christ.
PALM BEACH, Fla. — About 12 and a half seasons ago, I was told by my abuser that I should leave sports journalism. He gave me false reasons as to why I should leave, saying that fans don’t want the filter and teams don’t need unaffiliated media. I told him he was wrong and that I was never going to leave.
That was just one of the many ways he was terrible to me. And yet here I was, covering MLB Owners Meetings, introducing myself to a lot of billionaires as someone new on the national side. This was never something I anticipated in my career. I had been content with being the Minor League Baseball person for 13 seasons and I was content with it going into my 14th season. Expanding to being a fully fledged national writer covering labor also seemed like a natural progression for me, even if I went about it an unconventional way.
Baseball isn’t the best — there’s a lot of ways it’s atrocious. Somehow, though, it still laps hockey in at least 50 million ways. Folks in press boxes give me a basic level of respect that I never got in hockey. Not only am I respected, I am treated as an expert in my field and regarded as an economist — concepts I’m still trying to wrap my head around because hockey did a number on my brain.
At The Breakers, a super bougie resort in Palm Beach a few miles up the road from Mar-a-Lago, I was trying to establish myself as, well, one of the guys. One of the handful of reporters hanging out in the lobby trying to get a quote.

At least the press room was nicely located next to the ocean.
I was the only person of color and only non man in the press corps waiting in the lobby. I can’t say it’s the first time that’s been the case, but it’s still frustrating nonetheless. My peers and colleagues accepted me in the ranks, knowing full well I deserved to be there, which is at least the bare minimum. I was treated as one of the guys.

I apologize that I an extremely Sorkin-pilled.
I ended up being of two minds there: It should not be so much of a guys’ club. But also I was treated way better than I ever would be in hockey. At the end of the day, I had to compartmentalize all of that and think about it after I left the resort. Being self-aware is healthy, but also can be a curse.
I asked Rob Manfred two good questions. I was told after the presser that I should keep at it because they were good questions. I walked away from my first owners meetings having done a good job, even if I said I wanted to walk off the Sphere when I was asked if I was enjoying my new role.
What I consumed to get me through Owners Meetings
A lot of Dunkin’.
An ungodly amount of salad.
A desire to walk off the Sphere.
Shitposts.
