Corrections and clarifications: Debbi Taylor was a reporter at NESN. She works at Dan Patrick School of Sportscasting at Full Sail University. An earlier version of this story mischaracterized her roles.

Baseball is all Wade Taylor has known, or really ever wanted.

He pitched for the New York Yankees. He won three World Series rings as a scout with the Yankees. He was hired by Don Mattingly to be his advance scout with the Los Angeles Dodgers. He scouted, too, for the Washington Nationals and Arizona Diamondbacks.

After spending his entire life in baseball -- seven years as a professional player and 20 years as a major-league scout -- Taylor’s summers are empty.

He has been unemployed for two years. He is one of nearly 100 scouts who have been laid off the last few years with the advent of growing analytics in front offices, devaluing scouting roles.

Now, with one month remaining before spring training, Taylor’s only source of income is his fill-in job with UPS.

His savings has dried up. His pension has been cashed, his retirement and IRA funds depleted.

“It’s been tough, especially on my family,’’ Taylor tells USA TODAY Sports. “You withdraw from all your savings and retirement accounts. My wife, who I wanted to give her such a nice life and atmosphere, having her stay home with my daughter, now is the one who has to go out and work while I stay home.

“It’s a terrible feeling.’’

Taylor’s voice drops off, barely audible, as he tries to regain his composure.

“I don’t know where I’d be right now,’’ he says, “without the Professional Baseball Scouts Foundation. They never looked down on me. Never embarrassed me. They saved me. They saved our family.

“For me, it was humiliating to even ask for help. I was proud. I never thought I’d be looking for help. But what they did, especially [executive director] Cindy Picerni helping lead us through the process with all her kindness, we’ll forever be grateful.’’

This weekend the Professional Baseball Scouts Foundation (PBSF), led by Chicago White Sox executive Dennis Gilbert, is hosting its 16th annual banquet at the Beverly Hills Hilton. It has raised about $2 million for needy scouts, assisting nearly 20 scouts this past year as rampant layoffs continue in an industry generating about $10 billion in annual revenue.

Taylor and his wife, Debbi, the former sideline reporter for the Washington Nationals who also was a producer for ESPN and reporter for NESN, never missed the scouts’ dinner. They flew to Los Angeles every year, paying their way, turning the weekend into a mini-vacation, before returning to Florida and preparing for the baseball grind.

These days, there wasn’t even enough money to see family in New Hampshire for Christmas. They’ve dramatically reduced their expenditures. They can’t remember the last time they dined out.

“I’m a big believer that things happen for a reason,’’ says Debbi, who three months ago landed a position at the Dan Patrick School of Broadcasting at Full Sail College. “But this has been so tough on Wade. He should be in baseball. It’s his life. And now it’s like a piece of his heart was taken away.

“He’s working 24/7 as a scout, and suddenly it stops. It’s a shock to your system. Being out of a job affects you mentally, your personality. You just feel like you’re not as good as other people. You’re basically told you’re not wanted.

“Then, there’s this loneliness. This period of not knowing what to do with your time. The guilt of not working. It’s just so unhealthy.’’

Taylor, who broke into the big leagues in 1991, and had high-powered Scott Boras as his agent, hardly made enough money to create a financial nest egg. He won his major-league debut June 2, 1991, at Yankee Stadium, and started 22 games that summer for the Yankees. It was his first and last big-league season. Two shoulder surgeries eventually ended his seven-year professional career.

He turned to the scouting industry, was hired by the late Gene Michael, and worked alongside Chuck Cottier. He spent 11 years with the Yankees, winning four World Series titles during his tenure, and was awarded a ring after the 1998, 1999 and 2000 seasons. He was on the ground floor with the Nationals, departed to become Mattingly’s advance scout with the Dodgers, and was hired by the late Kevin Towers of the Arizona Diamondbacks.

Life was great. The money was good, eclipsing $100,000 annually. Even when the Diamondbacks changed front-office regimes, and his contract expired after the 2016 season, it was no big deal. It’s just part of the gig as a baseball scout. He had been between jobs before, and always was hired by someone else.

Only this time, no one called. The 2017 season came and went. He went to the Baseball Winter Meetings in Orlando and touched base with virtually every team. Still nothing. He hardly was the only scout out of work, butnever imagined he’d be the one left without a job.

Not with his credentials. Not with his resume. Not with his skill set.

He even applied for a police officer’s job in Orlando, but at 53 was told he was too old. He is two semesters short of his business degree, but doesn’t know if it would make a difference. Meanwhile, he still makes calls to friends, sends out feelers, trying to remind general managers and scouting directors that he’s still out there.

“He’s one of those guys really caught in the middle,’’ said White Sox special assistant Dave Yoakum, one of Taylor’s closest friends, and an original board member of the PBSF. “He’s too young to retire. He’s too old to really go out there and start a new career to support his family. It’s a tough place to be.

’’

Taylor, who was emotional when given a framed collage of his major-league and minor-league baseball cards from Debbi and their 11-year-old daughter, Kaitlyn, for Christmas, refuses to give up his dream of returning. If not as a scout, a pitching instructor. A mental skills coach. A color commentator.

He still loves the game, but dreads sitting at home again this summer, watching games on TV, knowing he should be in the stands holding a radar gun and notepad instead of alone on his living room couch.

“You feel for him because he’s such a good scout,’’ said Cottier, now the Nationals’ special assistant. It was Cottier who introduced Taylor to his wife of 12 years in the Fenway Park press box. “ ... His reports were great. And he’s such a great judge of talent.’’

Taylor gets up at 5 each morning to walk with his parish priest. He still believes one day that phone will ring, and a baseball organization will offer a job. Maybe it will never be like ol’ times. Maybe they’ll never again enjoy some of those same luxuries.

“It’s such a challenge to reinvent yourself,’’ Debbi says, “but Wade will get through this. We’ll get through this. The way the scouts foundation supported us, and lifted such a big burden, we want to do the same thing for someone else.

“We’re a big believer in giving back. We will. I just know it.’’

USA TODAY Sports columnist Bob Nightengale is a member of the Professional Baseball Scouts Foundation board of directors. Follow him on Twitter @BNightengale