Collin McHugh provides a glimpse at life on the fringes of the major leagues

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Sometimes it’s easy to forget that baseball players are, you know, actual people with lives, families, and hopes and dreams like the rest of us. In his personal blog, Astros right-hander Collin McHugh provides an insightful glimpse at the experience from the perspective of a player fighting to prove himself at the major league level.

Three weeks in AAA Colorado Springs and I got called into the manager’s office again. I know I told you that no one wants to be called in there, but that was in the Big Leagues. In the minor leagues there is the possibility of a promotion every time that door swings open. Sure enough, that was the nature of that particular managerial meeting. I was told that I would be starting in a couple days against Milwaukee at home in Denver. Finally!! My chance had come to prove myself. To prove that their investment was a good one. To prove to myself that I was capable, worthy. 5 innings and 6 runs later, my expectations were once again dashed against the rocks of failure.

I spent about 36 hours in Denver during that brief stint. I was sent down the next morning after having packed for a 10 day road trip the team was about to take. The trip went through New York and finished in my home town of Atlanta. My wife was supposed to meet me in both NYC and ATL, but instead I was sent with my bags packed and suit freshly ironed to Colorado Springs.

I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had allowed myself to expect so much. Embarrassed that I had failed again and that my reputation was forever stained. Embarrassed that I couldn’t hang on for another 3 days so that I could see my wife.  Life, it seemed, was telling me at every turn that being hopeful was a useless emotion. That the moment I allowed myself to hope, to expect, in something good, the opposite was sure to happen. So I went back to Colorado Springs, tail between my legs, determined to expect nothing from here on out.

It seems pessimistic, I know. That expecting nothing is preferable to expecting success. But the problem I had, the problem I assume most of us have, is that I had substituted expectation for entitlement. I felt as if I had earned some sort of success. As if the work I put in and the price I paid had secured for me some cosmic balance wherein some good things would balance out the bad things. I was playing this eternal game of tug-o-war against a brick wall, determined to pull hard enough to tear it down. The words “fair” and “unfair” kept trickling from my mind to my tongue. I had deemed the events of the year to be good or bad. When in reality, they were just events. Life changing events? Of course! Hard and testing events? Most certainly. But simple turns in the road nonetheless.

It’s rare to hear a player be so candid about the ups and downs of the business in real time, so do yourself a favor and read the whole thing.

2013 was a hectic year for McHugh, so he didn’t update his blog as much as he did in the past, but here’s hoping that we hear more from him this year, both with his writing and on a major league mound. Now a member of the rebuilding Astros, the 26-year-old is in a fine situation to prove himself.

It’s pouring in Washington before the All-Star Game

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Some heavy weather moved through Washington D.C. late this afternoon, flooding dugouts at Nationals Park and sending waterfalls over the ledges of the upper decks. All a few hours before the All-Star Game.

The good news, though, is that the rains are moving out and it’s expected to be dry at game time. More good news, modern fields drain frighteningly fast, so the conditions will probably be A-OK for the game to go off on time. Indeed, a similar thing happened in Cincinnati before the 2015 All-Star Game — it was a dang monsoon — and you wouldn’t even know it by game time.

In the even things continue to be soggy and they have to postpone the game, it’ll be played tomorrow night. All signs at present, however, point to the Midsummer Classic going off as planned.

Here are some images from Washington’s monsoon:

And this, a hop, skip and a jump away from the ballpark: