I spent my entire life riding buses in baseball.

It's a special moment when you finally make the Major Leagues and board your first big league flight.

But what had always been a dream, suddenly turned into a nightmare.

On the dangers of traveling like a pro athlete:
When you start playing sports as a kid, you ride to games in the family car.

In high school you graduate to the school bus.

If you move on to college you may have a plush university or chartered bus to travel in...
The expectation is that going into professional baseball you will travel in style.

The reality is remarkably different.
Minor league travel is almost exclusively by bus.

Players double up beside coaches and trainers, packed tightly in their seats and rows.

After wrapping up a series they travel to the next town, sleeping sprawled out on bus floors for hours through the night.
There is nothing luxurious about minor league travel.

You share hotel rooms at night, pb&j for dinner and take comfort from the fact you're all in it together.

But every player knows that if they can just make it to the big leagues, all that can change.
The tales of Major League travel are somewhat legendary, especially in the minor leagues.

World class hotels and private planes.

Never having to handle your own luggage and everything you have always dreamed of at your finger tips.
I'll never forget my first time traveling with a Major League team.

Mostly because of the terror I would feel during the flight.
It was 2010 and I had been asked to join the team to fly to Atlanta for the start of the season from Florida Spring Training .

I had not even been invited to Major League Training Camp.
As a minor league back up, I had been brought over to big league camp bc of my performance in handful of opportunities in blow out games.

Now I was being invited to join the team as it traveled north.

I was both excited and nervous.
I'll always remember boarding the plane.

As rookies you were expected to let the veterans get on first.

We did just that, waiting eagerly to board the chartered 747.
The team bus sat at the foot of the plane, having driven out directly onto the tarmac.

Climbing the steps, I looked back to see the bus being unloaded.

A small army of airline and team personnel handling our bags like I'd always heard about.
This was already a far cry from the minor league experience.

I stepped into the plane ready to see just how the other half lived.

It would not take long for me to be immediately impressed.
Standing there at the entrance to the plane was a flight attendant offering @ChickfilA sandwiches.

What in the minor leagues would have been my meal for the night (on a good day) was now an appetizer.
As I collected my sandwich I looked to find a seat as soon as possible.

Rookies still were expected to split a row on a flight like this so I grabbed a seat by my friend and fellow rookie, Johnny Venters.
Veteran players tend to sit near the back of the plane.

Coaches and staff at the front.

Johnny and I were seated squarely in the middle this bird.
Before we even began taxiing out for take off it was clear this would be like no flight I had ever taken.

Flight Attendants walk the aisles one after another offering baskets of complimentary drinks, chips, candy bars...you name it.

Without hesitation I accepted every offering.
Everyone settles in to their rows. I already had a treasure trove of snacks and a drink in my hand.

Music plays in the back of the plane.

Card games break out.

Spades, Poker. The classics in baseball.

It felt nearly perfect.
The plane takes off but the card games and music go on uninterrupted.

Only momentarily is the in flight hospitality put on hold.

Veterans walk up and down the aisles as the plane continues its climb and we hurdle ever closer to Atlanta.
For me it felt like I'd not only left FL, but entered another world as I recalled my experiences in minor league baseball.

As rookies we stayed seated in our row, keeping to ourselves for the most part.

Hesitant to get up but soaking in every bit of this new environment.
The flight attendants continued to come by with what seemed like newer and better offerings of food.

Wings. Shrimp. Burgers.

They brought a menu laying out the in flight meal.

Because apparently everything else was just supplemental to the main course.
I went with the steak. Because of course you do.

I couldn't believe the experience I was having.

Or how much food I was eating.
It was a short flight in MLB terms.

Orlando to Atlanta is only about an hour and a half.

But in that time I don't believe I ever stopped eating or drinking.
After dinner, a basket of ice cream and deserts came around.

I was simply in awe at the offerings and experience of this way of travel in the @MLB.

I also was beginning to not feel so well.
As the plane began to make its decent and encountering some turbulence, It seemed as though all my indulgence was going to catch up to me rather quickly.

I began to adjust my breathing.

Taking slow deep breathes to try and control how I was feeling.
I looked at Johnny and told him I wasn't feeling well.

He said what I was already thinking.

"You can not get sick on this flight."

I agreed with him in principle but wasn't sure I had much say over that outcome at this point.
The reality of the situation was closing in as I sat there breathing deeply.

Here I was, finally with the Major League team. Surrounded by everything I'd always dreamed of.

A part of the team, full of players I'd idolized.

And I was about to embarrass myself forever.
As we descended through the Georgia sky I continued to feel worse, but kept breathing.

I could tell Johnny was getting a bit concerned yet it was taking all my focus to make it to each next moment.
Finally and mercifully we touched down in Atlanta.

I had made it without completely ruining my life as I knew it by getting sick.

But had learned a valuable lesson.
We collected our things, filled down the airplane rows and loaded onto the buses bound for the stadium.

I had my first Major League Experience, narrowly avoided disaster and had come away wiser for it...
The undisciplined are not long for paradise.

I hadn't known what to expect on the flight.

Every opportunity that came by in the form of a snack or a drink or food I thought might be my last opportunity. So jumped at it.
I was operating from a scarcity mindset with no understanding of my environment.

If I was going to make it in Major League Baseball, both on the field and off, I better learn to start being more prepared for what I was about to encounter.
I had entered a new world in more ways than one.

I was thankful to have learned this lesson in a way that didn't result in catastrophe.

I am now thankful that this lesson paid tremendous dividends in my approach to my career on the field.

Discipline enhances Experience.
I hope you've found this thread interesting.

Follow me @CoryGearrin for more.

Like/Retweet the first tweet below if you can: https://twitter.com/CoryGearrin/status/1521473655263285249
If you enjoyed this thread be sure to check out one of my favorite stories about the 5 lessons that took me from an unknown high schooler in a small town to pitching for the @Yankees in @MLBhttps://twitter.com/corygearrin/status/1497011298416037896?s=21&t=09zusZBzDE9sBoa7189olQ
Or this lesson that changed my perspective on struggles… https://twitter.com/corygearrin/status/1520090561813827584
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