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High above the baseball field in a luxury suite at Sovereign Bank Stadium, a small group of mothers and their children gather for a special occasion. A first birthday party is in session.
The birthday girl, Emerson Phelps, sits on the floor, an opened present is propped up next to her. A key member of the family -- of all the families in attendance -- is absent.
Emerson's daddy sits in the bullpen.
A reliever for the York Revolution, Travis Phelps became a father for the first time last June. He flew home to Florida to see her birth, an event scheduled by their doctor with the help of a little luck -- somehow Erin Phelps didn't have the baby early. Travis stayed a few days, waiting until the hospital discharged his wife and
"He missed her first step," Erin Phelps said, her eyes glancing down to watch Emerson playing on the floor. "I videotaped her, but it's tough."
A baseball life is spent on the road, far away from family -- even when it involves small children. It is a job, but in the Atlantic League -- where no team has a direct tie to a major league organization -- players settle for low pay for the opportunity to keep playing.
"Ultimately, you want to make it back for the financial aspects," Revolution pitcher Dave Gassner said. "But unfortunately, at this level I need my wife to work for insurance purposes."
Families weigh the benefits of a return to a major league organization against the struggles in independent baseball. So the fathers leave home in April, and many of the wives stay at home. Some of the mothers work as school teachers, which allows them to have summers off. Other families try to figure out what weekend is the best time to visit.
Cori Hughes had to adjust when her daughter, Harper, 2, became old enough to realize daddy wasn't home this season. The wife of Revs reliever Travis Hughes, Cori laughs. Sometimes its as easy as diverting Harper's attention by turning on the television to "Dora the Explorer." She can also turn to the other mothers at the ballpark.
"You're all placed in the same situation, so you actually become friends," Cori said.
The four girls at the birthday party scamper around the room, pulled together from their homes across the country -- Wisconsin, Florida and Nebraska -- because their fathers play baseball together this summer.
Erin Phelps turns her attention to an unassembled toy on the floor. She needs a screwdriver. A Phillips head. And as one mother notices the players running off the field and into the clubhouse during a recent thunderstorm, Phelps picked up her cell phone.
She needs help. The toy needs assembled. She calls the
The uniforms and cities change every season. Dave Gassner has played for 11 teams in nine professional seasons. He pitched in two games in the major leagues back in 2005, but an arm injury forced him to make the minor-league climb a second time.
The father of two young girls, his career now includes trying to make life as comfortable for his wife and two daughters.
"This was the one team he would go to," said Dave's wife, Jenny Gassner, whose family bonded with host family Larry and Tina Young. "That's what brought us back."
Jenny Gassner teaches fifth grade and remains at home in Appleton, Wis., until school lets out. She cares for daughters Evelyn, 2, and Eileen, 9 months, until she can join Dave on the road.
Dave thinks Jenny has the more challenging responsibility, shuttling the children between relatives when he goes off to play ball. She doesn't agree.
"Having him away is hard, but it's nowhere near what he has to go through," she said. "It's definitely harder on him, just because he misses them."
A Mother's Day gift included a video camera to help Dave keep in touch while on the road.
"You feel like a bad dad not being home, to be honest with you," Dave Gassner said.
Keeping a family intact during and after a baseball career is difficult.
"It's a tough life," said Hall of Fame catcher Gary Carter, who has been married to his wife
Ridiculed during his career by teammates for being too square, he approached his manager to allow wives on the flight home after the NLCS. He went out of the way to arrange for his three children to leave school early so they could study with a tutor and live in a second home near the ballpark in which he played.
"It takes a very strong wife to live the life a ballplayer's family lives," said Carter, who manages the Long Island Ducks in the Atlantic League. "Probably 75 percent of the marriages in baseball end in divorce because the players are used to being on the road and being gone all the time. When you're home, it's a different lifestyle. I know it's been an adjustment for me."
The decision about where to play is almost always out of the players' control. It depends on an organization and their depth in the farm system. When a player looks for work in independent ball, most will settle for a job where they know a coach or their agent can secure them steady playing time.
Third baseman Jeff Eure always wanted to be a pro baseball player, turning down multiple scholarships from some of the biggest wrestling programs in the country during his high school career. He pursued a baseball scholarship at a smaller school, Old Dominion in Virginia. A stress fracture in his back, however, ended his run with major league organizations. His wife and child stayed behind in Utah while he went to spring training in Kissimmee Flal, with the Astros to play his way back into an organization.
"I was only gone for like a month, but I don't think you ever get used to being away from your children," Eure said. "You talk to him on the phone, and my wife sends me pictures. When they're going through things back home, it's tough not to worry.
"But I don't think it changes the way you play the game. It's still my job, it's what I do to support my family and put food on the table. But it's difficult to be away from them."
Shortly after the interview, Eure was on the move again, traded to the St. Paul Saints in Minnesota. The trade was held up momentarily while Eure contemplated whether or not to accept the terms of the trade -- another move, another city, another team.
Travis Phelps wants to be there for his family.
He knows it's tough. He's contemplated retirement.
Out of uniform and in street clothes, he arrives at his daughter's birthday party inside a near-empty stadium.
The bond is evident. Reunited with his daughter a few weeks ago, she immediately began saying "Da-da-da-da-da."
"She goes right to him," Erin Phelps said with a laugh. "I get kicked to the curb."
It's a pivotal season for Phelps, a reliever who appeared in 79 big league games. Invited to minor league spring training with the Detroit Tigers organization this season, the Tigers released him in the final days of camp. Back in independent baseball, he turns 32 in July. The opportunities to keep playing will eventually end.
"This is a big year for him to make that decision," Erin Phelps said. "He keeps asking me, but honestly it's his decision to make."
And the questions continue.
Should he keep trying to live his dream? Does his family need him to be at home more often? Can he continue to be a good dad and a good ballplayer?
Inside the luxury suite, for the first birthday party, little Emerson turns to see her father. Separated, the family tries to make up for lost time.
It's a life unlike any other.
jseip@ydr.com; 771-2025
