The Pro Baseball Team With No Home

It's the worst gig in baseball: no stadium, no fans, no home field. Who would sign up for this? The guys who need it most.

- Jason Feifer

“LET’S GO!"

It’s time to fucking get ready! Stop dicking around,” pitching coach Billy Bryk yells, stomping into the Frontier Greys locker room. In an hour, his guys will be taking on the Slammers of Joliet, Illinois, a team named in honor of the local prison. They are professional baseball players, technically in the minor leagues, though on the lowest rung. And few are dressed. They’re mostly all joking about a tray of…corn dogs? Nobody’s sure what to call it. It’s a mound of lukewarm hot dogs dumped atop a bed of what is surely canned corn, left on a table in their locker room. The Greys’ pregame diet is entirely dependent upon the whims of the host team. A few guys had tried the grub and spat it out. At least one dog had gone sailing across the room.

“You see our spread?” infielder Brandon Tierney asks Bryk. “Yeah, beautiful,” the coach replies. “Corn fucking dogs. Who gives a fuck. You don’t like it, play better.” Bryk’s pregame routine amounts to striding around the room like a big curious dog, occasionally grabbing players by the shoulders to shake them loose. “Let’s fucking go. Shane, how are you not fucking ready right now? You guys are fucking dead in here. It’s like a fucking library. Put the music on. Let’s go. It’s game time.”

Someone starts blasting Canaan Smith’s “Love You Like That” from a portable speaker. The room springs into motion.