BRIDGEWATER, N.J. — It’s a crappy day in Bridgewater.

The weather is miserable for a mid-April day. It’s cold and windy. The sun is hidden under a sheet of gray. There’s occasional drizzle, piercing the skin like frozen needles. The sound of birds chirping is nonexistent, replaced by honking horns and cars whizzing by on busy Route 287, just a few hundred yards from the ad-plastered left-field wall.

In other words: It’s not spring weather. It’s not baseball weather. And it sucks.

While the weather isn’t indicative of the season, on the diamond at TD Bank Ballpark, members of the Somerset Patriots won’t let you know it. Mother Nature is doing her best to keep the players’ spirits down, but there are wide smiles, hearty laughs and — most importantly for players — an abundance of hope.

"I looked at independent ball and said, 'Do you wanna keep on playing? Do you believe in yourself as a major-league caliber player?'" said Alfredo Rodriguez, an infielder for the Patriots. "I did. So I said, 'This is your opportunity. Make the most of it.'"

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The Patriots are upfront with two organizational goals: win a championship and help their players move on and up in baseball. For some, that may mean getting back to affiliated baseball or the majors. For others, it's their last chance at reaching that level for the first time. It's not about the money for a lot of these guys right now — it's about chasing the dream. It's both an electrifying and sobering thought for many.

The Patriots, the most decorated, successful team in the Atlantic League of Professional Baseball is rife with players from all backgrounds and levels of experience. They're in their first week of spring training, with Opening Day for the Atlantic League just over a week away, even though the weather isn't allowing for those thoughts to enter the mind. With just two weeks of prep time for the season, there’s lots of work to be done: The roster needs to be solidified. They need to replace players who they were expecting to have who moved onto other leagues. They need to get in game shape.

It's a welcome grind for players, whose opportunity with the Patriots is a second — or third, or fourth — chance at a shot to get back to affiliated or Major League Baseball. For indy ball veterans, the window for opportunity to get to that next level is tantalizing. It's a high they continuously chase.

But there's a throwback attitude for indy ball players in the Atlantic League — not to say they are old-fashioned or behind the times, but there's a clear focus on team, fun and family in baseball over the pageantry, pomp and circumstance. A lot of focus is set on making most of the opportunity in the ALPB with the Patriots.

Part of that old-school nature is the 6,100-seat ballpark, which is nestled just a few miles away from downtown Somerset, N.J., a picturesque Pleasantville-like area of New Jersey. The ballpark and its surroundings are another fitting snapshot of that dose of Americana: Across the street from the park, there's a strip mall — a New Jersey staple — with a Target, Bed Bath & Beyond and a Home Depot. It's like a bad movie cliché.

Nicknamed "The Jewel of the Atlantic League," the stadium might be a far cry from baseball cathedrals like Fenway Park, Wrigley Field or Yankee Stadium, but it's home for indy ballplayers trying to make or rediscover their names. Oftentimes, players' first impression of indy ball is this stadium, which doesn't always match their low expectations when they sign on. Director of baseball operations and pitching coach Jon Hunton and manager Brett Jodie say most newcomers take a look at the park and their minds are set at ease, knowing that they aren't playing in a back alley in front of 10 people and a stray cat.

If there's anyone who exemplifies that gritty, nose-to-the-grindstone, old-school ballplayer attitude, it's Craig Massey. He's an indy ball lifer, whose sole goal is to win a championship with Somerset. Individual goals come secondary.

After a day of fielding practice, batting practice and an intersquad game, the 2018 Atlantic League batting champ takes a seat in the dugout and stares out to the TD Bank Ballpark field, soaking it in wearing a shirt soaked in sweat.

"It's awesome," Massey says with pride, dignity and a hint of humility.

"It has that big-league feel for me."

The Somerset Patriots are in many ways a microcosm of independent baseball — the hope, the dreams, the fun, the frustration and the reality that baseball careers don't last forever. These are some of their stories.

The way back

It's game time, and Brett Oberholtzer is locked in.

He’s laser-focused on every pitch. He’s examining delivery. Release point. Pitch selection. Batter’s reactions. The only thing is, Oberholtzer’s not doing this from the mound — he’s doing this from the seats behind home plate.

“Good pitch!” Oberholtzer yells, clapping his hands, supporting his teammate on the mound. Between every toss, he calculates every answer to my questions, with his focus 95 percent on the game and 5 percent on me — the 5 percent might be generous.

Before ending up with the Somerset Patriots, the big lefty pitched in 82 games during his major league career, starting 44 of them, hurling to a 4.36 ERA. Not terrible by any stretch, but inconsistencies may have been his undoing at the major league level, where he spent time with the Astros, Angels and Phillies.

Oberholtzer isn't scheduled to pitch in today's game, but needless to say he would rather be 60 feet, 6 inches from home plate, not 10 rows behind it.

“Obviously, I’m not complacent and don’t want to pitch here,” Oberholtzer says. “Even though, if it ended up being that way, it’s the best option. That’s how I see it.”

Oberholtzer’s words don't knock the Atlantic League or his teammates, but rather illustrate the frustration of being stuck in something of a baseball rut. In fact, he repeats over and over again how he couldn’t be more appreciative of the opportunity and praises the family-like atmosphere and loose approach to the game in the Atlantic League. But to be here and not in a major league camp or stadium or affiliate? That stings, and it's palpable.

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But through it all, Oberholtzer is having fun. He relishes the opportunity to reinvent himself and make his way back to the majors, with indy ball being just a stepping stone to getting back to The Show. But there's a certain tinge of impatience and frustration in his voice.

"I try to put my ego aside and forget (pitching in the majors)," Oberholtzer says. "I've gotten an opportunity. I know there's some guys who's had just as equal an opportunity to pitch in the big leagues and didn't. I'm grateful for the opportunity to do what I did.

"It's a struggle (to think about pitching with Somerset), but I try the most out of it, make every negative a positive."

He thinks he can still pitch at the major-league level. He has his health and he feels he belongs in the majors. He says that the business side of things got in the way of his affiliated ball career, not being in the right place and time, with the shifting landscape of prospects and younger players coming up, interfering with the way of his progression as a major leaguer.

This is Oberholtzer’s second stint with Somerset. In 2018, his first short stint resulted in his contract being purchased by the Rockies before he threw a pitch for the squad. He elected free agency at the end of 2018, played winter ball and found himself back with Somerset a year later, knowing that this was a viable path back to affiliated baseball. Back with the Patriots, Oberholtzer hopes he gets to move onto the majors once again. He has the support of his teammates and staff, but the path is difficult to walk for a guy with that much big league experience.

"Hopefully, this ain't it," Oberholtzer said about pitching for Somerset. "Brett (Jodie) and Jon (Hunton) and the Kalafer family make it fun and easy to play for the team. But it's never easy.

"I'm here now, that's how I look at it," he continued. "There's nothing I can do now. I'm here now. I've gotta make the most of it. You learn a lot about yourself when nobody's really watching."

With independent ball, though, sometimes teams are watching and paying attention — such was the case with Tyler Cloyd.

Much like his teammate Oberholtzer, Cloyd is a well-traveled baseball man: he spent time with the Phillies, Mariners, Marlins and Samsung Lions of the KBO league in South Korea. In 2019, less than a week into the Patriots' spring training workouts, Cloyd got the call to return to the Mariners organization, signing a minor league deal with Seattle.

But long before Cloyd's second stint with the Ms, he made the most of his 2017 opportunity with the Patriots. Following his recovery from Tommy John surgery, in three starts Cloyd pitched to a 1.50 ERA, retiring 16 batters by way of strikeout in just 12 innings. Shortly thereafter, the Mariners signed him to a minor league deal, assigning him to Triple-A Tacoma. Cloyd credits the competition level in the Atlantic League as part of his progress and road back to the majors.

"It's not different at all. Baseball is baseball; there's good players in every league," Cloyd says. "You take stuff for granted, you take things lightly and all of a sudden, things can be going haywire."

Cloyd, whose wife and three children live in Nebraska while he embarks on another baseball season, admits that it's grown increasingly difficult to leave them behind each year while chasing another big league opportunity. While Cloyd's family visits, FaceTimes and speaks with him as often as possible, he acknowledges that being away from the rest of the Cloyd clan has been a hard sacrifice.

"It's tough being gone for so long," Cloyd said. "You miss things that you don't want to miss. But it's a sacrifice. God willing, they'll be out here as soon as they can, experiencing this with me."

Cloyd says that his rapid return from Tommy John surgery (10 1/2 months) scared away affiliated teams in 2017, which is how he ended up in Somerset for his first stint as a Patriot. Along with the Patriots' staff, Cloyd worked out a pitching schedule that showed teams he was healthy and able to pitch, eventually ending up with the Mariners.

"The game plays probably about the same, but the atmosphere is a little bit different," Cloyd says. "It's more relaxed here. You're not looking over your shoulder like in affiliated ball after every single game, wondering if you're getting sent down or getting released.

"But you're still expected to go out there every five days as a pitcher, sometimes every day as bullpen guy or every day as a position player. We're not just out here messing around. ... We're not lackadaisical. We still get our job done. It's still a job to do."

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Cloyd's time with the Patriots this year might have been short, but he's always been grateful for what Somerset offered him in 2019 and in the past. The Patriots took a chance when no one else would, and with that platform he got back to affiliated ball. In the process, he also rediscovered something he may have lost sight of in the past.

"Playing fields might not be as nice as the big leagues. Stadiums ain't gonna be as nice. Travel ain't gonna be as nice," Cloyd said.

"But I love baseball way too much to say, 'I'm not in affiliated ball, I'm not gonna play anymore.' This is fun, it brings back a little bit more of the fun-ness of baseball. In the end, you realize how much fun you should have no matter where you're at."

The way up

For Mike Fransoso and Alfredo Rodriguez, the scent of baseball is, presumably, intoxicating.

If you're a fan, the smell of a ballpark might tickle your nose, too: hot dogs, fresh-cut grass, bubblegum, pine tar, dirt, all coming together to give off that all-too-familiar baseball aroma. It's euphoric. It's tantalizing. And it's something Fransoso and Rodriguez don't want to give up yet.

Fransoso and Rodriguez both have affiliated ball experience, with the Pirates and Brewers, respectively. While both have been away from affiliated ball for a few years, they understand the window to get through to the majors isn't closed just yet, even if it may appear that way from those looking on from the outside.

Fransoso has baseball in his DNA. He's from Portsmouth, N.H., noted Red Sox country. He's played ball his entire life. A 2013 27th-round draft pick of the Pirates, Fransoso is entering his second year with the Patriots and has spent three of the past four years playing with independent leagues. Things didn't exactly work out as he'd hoped in the minors: at High-A ball, Fransoso hit .209 with a .539 OPS in 73 games; he played in 213 minor-league games total, hitting .238 in total.

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Independent baseball has turned Fransoso's offensive struggles around, hitting .276 with a .772 OPS in 294 across three seasons in the Atlantic League, Australian Baseball League and the Canadian-American Association.

"(Independent ball) is actually a lot of fun. It gives you a second chance once you're out of affiliated or a first chance if you didn't get an affiliated opportunity to come out and continue to play baseball, try to move up the ladder," Fransoso says. "Maybe you were a backup, and now you get your shot. It's a good opportunity for guys, and now you get a shot to play."

This is one of the biggest goals of the Patriots — they want to help players like Fransoso and Rodriguez get to the next level, back to affiliated ball, to see them succeed at the highest level. While Oberholtzer and Cloyd pitched in front of major league crowds, Fransoso and Rodriguez haven't had that same opportunity. But Somerset continues to push them upward.

Rodriguez, a 32nd-round pick of the Brewers in 2011, echos Fransoso's sentiment.

"This is my third year, so I've become familiar with Somerset," Rodriguez says. "They've given me an opportunity to show my talents in this league, a very good independent league. They've just provided that kind of platform to get seen by major league teams, and hopefully get that next opportunity."

And for those who get signed whose names aren't Alfredo Rodriguez?

"You can't really get caught up in who's getting signed, who's not getting signed," Rodriguez says. "You just have to go play your game."

For Fransoso, Rodriguez and other members of the Patriots, the idea of returning or getting to affiliated ball is invigorating, but they understand that it's something out of their hands, a lesson they learned along the way in independent ball. Fransoso, now 28, reached high A-ball with the Pirates before venturing out onto the independent circuit, trying to carve out a path to the majors.

While it's a daunting task, both stress the importance of doing your job every day, playing hard and earning your spot. The rest will take care of itself.

"It was nice for me because I got an opportunity to play every day," Rodriguez says. "With the Brewers, I was not playing every day and I wasn't playing my natural position at shortstop.

"Independent ball has allowed me to get back to what I was in college and my first year in pro ball, and I did that in the Frontier League and here," Rodriguez continues. "It's really given me the opportunity to play my natural position and give me my confidence to show my skill set."

Rodriguez is coming off his best offensive season as a professional ballplayer, hoping to make his name known among tough competition.

"I think every guy in affiliated ball, they think it's a different quality of baseball. But you're playing with all the guys that have played in the major leagues, in Triple-A and higher levels. Essentially, it's a Double-A, Triple-A level, sprinkle in some major league guys and younger guys."

"Even here, there's that second level of mental toughness, where you can't really worry about what's happening around you, what's happening above you in different leagues," Rodriguez says.

Craig Massey, resident "sponge," has spent his life in indy ball learning just that.

Massey has the energy of a Labrador, demonstrably thrilled to be back on a baseball field. The 29-year-old Alabamian has traveled across the United States, overseas and back playing independent baseball. He's taken grounders down under in Australia. He briefly shagged flies under the Northern Lights in Canada. Along the way, he's tried to soak up as much information from other players as possible — from major leaguers, other indy guys, coaches and more.

That information has come to good use: Massey is ready for another season, one in which he's going to defend his 2018 Atlantic League batting title. His Patriots' shirt is drenched in sweat after a day of workouts and a short intersquad game. But instead of fatigue, his eyes are filled with energy and excitement when talking about another season. The pressure of performing isn't getting to him.

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An indy-ball lifer, Massey has seen offensive success throughout his indy career. As such, he's learned a lot from major leaguers he's come across: how they approach the game, their routines, their pace during the day-to-day grind. Massey has learned a lot, but the one thing he's focused on more than anything else is winning a ring. "A big, fat ring," he says.

But playing indy ball isn't for the faint of heart, either. For most players — like Oberholtzer — playing in indy ball is an uncomfortable realization of the closing window on their baseball lives. How do players handle that unease?

"You just gotta embrace it," Massey told SN. "You just gotta appreciate it, realize pressure is a privilege. Indy ball is like playing on a one-day contract, every day. You can either embrace it, or let it get to you — eat you alive.

"Or you can do what you gotta do, work hard and see what happens."

The way in

Brett Jodie has a very difficult job.

A full spring training compacted into a two-week period isn't easy. In such a short time, Jodie and the rest of the staff has to figure out the key pieces to the 2019 Patriots season. Just before spring training started, the Patriots lost two players who joined a Mexican league. That's just the start of what they can expect from the continuously shifting roster throughout 2019.

Building out a roster isn't easy. Jodie and other Somerset personnel put out calls to agents and ballplayers looking for a home. They don't waste time trying to sell indy ball to anyone — with an honest approach, they give pros and cons of playing with Somerset. They want guys who want to be there, Jodie says, not guys who are just looking for a check.

When a roster's in place, trying to decide who stays, who goes and who fits in such a short window seems a bit unfair during spring training, even though Jodie won't say so.

"You're not at liberty to bring in a great amount of guys; you kind of have to go on past history and numbers," Jodie says. "Are you going to bring in three big league guys, and maybe they don't have the best camp — are you going to release them? And they've been great their whole career. Then you have some younger guys who have to have a good camp, they're not at liberty to go in there and struggle.

"I don't want to say it's unfair, because you're grading them on their past history and the numbers they put up. You have a track record with that, but it's such a small sample size in a short timeframe, it's kind of difficult."

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A 1998 sixth-round selection of the Yankees, Jodie pitched just a season in at the major league level — eight games, to be exact — before finding himself pitching for the Patriots in 2003, so he's familiar with the way things operate in the Atlantic League. He's been manager of Somerset since 2013, taking over for another former Yankee, Sparky Lyle. Lyle was the first employee hired by the organization in 1998.

Jodie led the Patriots to a league championship in 2015, the sixth in Somerset's history. But his odyssey with the team started well before, while rehabbing a shoulder injury; Jodie's agent said the best spot for him to pitch would be with the Patriots as he was looking for places to play. He knew nothing — literally nothing — about Somerset or independent ball, but Jodie says he fell in love with the Atlantic League, and the rest is history.

"We work very hard to keep a certain reputation here," Jodie says. "We're very honest up front. If you start telling one person one thing, and another person another, it's gonna get out. We try to be very consistent with how we handle our business, what we do, trying to get guys outta here, get 'em signed, no matter what it does to our club.

"If it hurts us, that's fine. That's part of the game. We want to help these guys out and move 'em on."

Somerset doesn't shy away from its reputation of being something of a stopover for players of all calibers. Jodie and Jon Hunton, the team's pitching coach and director of baseball operations, stay in contact with affiliates, overseas leagues and even MLB teams to try to bolster some players' reputations and work endlessly to find them new organizations.

"I'll reach out to teams on my own if I feel the need," Hunton says. "I'll say, 'Hey, I don't know what you guys need, but consider this guy or that guy.' We have scouts that reach out to us, and say, 'Hey, give me the top five starters in your league.' They respect our opinions, and we prove ourselves. Which is great, that's what we want."

As players are signed and move on, the organization has to be ready to fill the gaps. It was but two seasons ago when the Patriots had 18 players signed from its roster during the season, and the team had to rebuild almost constantly and fill holes on the fly.

"It's very unique and it's very tough, and that's what makes this league fun, but frustrating," Jodie says. " … It's very tough to keep a complete team that you know is exactly how you want it, because it gets picked apart."

Hunton stressed the difficulty of keeping a team together.

"We lost two guys to go to Mexico within the last two weeks," he said. "Guys that we were expecting that were gonna be here if they didn't get picked up."

Hunton affirms much of what Jodie says. The Patriots want players who come in hungry, ready to compete and want to be a part of the team. Hunton says he spends little time chasing players down — if a player wants to be a part of the Patriots, they'll come to him.

As someone who played indy ball, Hunton understands that it takes a special kind of player to tough out an indy season.

"I tell them this: You gotta come in and have drive," Hunton says. "...You gotta compete. You're not gonna be handed anything. Whether it's a role or a roster spot. You gotta compete and show your worth. I tell that to returners or new guys.

"I'm gonna give you the exact information what it is, not what I think you want to hear. I'll give you the information, if you're interested, (but) I want you to come to me, because that shows me you really want to be here. Don't expect me to call you tomorrow or the next day, because I'm leaving this in your corner now. They get it. I don't want a guy coming here because I swayed them to come here, because they may not be bought in to indy ball."

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Jodie and Hunton say one of the biggest struggles for all players — those with MLB experience and those trying to make The Show — is learning to control what you can control. According to Jodie, if a player is performing well in independent ball, his "internal clock" could start to mess with him.

"The biggest thing with players is that they have a timetable in their head," Jodie says. "'Man, I had three good starts,' or 'I'm hitting .350' or something, but the phone's not ringing yet. You gotta control what you can control, and let the other stuff take care of itself. You can't worry about getting signed. Maybe they want to get off to a really hot start and maybe their first two starts aren't great, or maybe they're 0-for-14 or something like that. You can't let it snowball."

Jodie understands that sometimes seasons are more about "survival" than they are about putting together a perfect roster. Just as an indy ball team is one puzzle piece away from competing, another could get signed away.

"I don't care if a guy gets picked up, that's what it's about," Hunton says. "There is no independent baseball if guys don't get an opportunity to move on or to get to bigger and better. We strive on wanting to win and have success, but at the end of the day, we want all of our guys to get picked up."

Unfortunately, that's not the case 100 percent of the time.

The way out

There is life after baseball, and Alfredo Rodriguez knows it. He feels it creeping closer every offseason.

The harrowing reality of independent ball is just that: It's independent ball. Players are staring down their baseball mortality, wrestling with the idea that they'll never get back to the majors or sniff a major-league clubhouse. There are 750 active players on major league rosters. There just isn't enough room for everybody. For some, dealing with the idea that this is my last game, my last at-bat, my last mad dash to home plate isn't easy.

For others, it's just the way of life. Rodriguez, the soon-to-be 29-year-old infielder, is entering his third year with Somerset and admits to taking his baseball future season by season. He has a degree from the University of Maryland, and is readying for a life after the game.

He's grateful for the opportunity to play baseball every day, but knows that at some point, with every player, life after baseball begins. How often does he think about his next life?

"Every offseason," Rodriguez says, resigned. "Every offseason, I go, 'I'm gonna go one more year, I'm gonna go one more year.' You want to pursue the dream to the fullest, but at the same time, I'm realistic.

"You have to be a little unrealistic to play independent baseball, but I understand that it's not the end of the world. People are going to be doing something other than baseball for the rest of their life."

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Fransoso added: "For a lot of guys, it's tough. I know I've thought about it before. Baseball's what we've been doing for so long, and a lot of us don't know anything else besides getting ready for a season, playing the season and repeating. It's a big part of your life, and that afterthought can put a little damper on things sometimes."

Hunton knows — as do players — that playing independent ball is still a very viable option to getting back to wherever they want to be. They know the stadium is gorgeous. They know the facilities are superb. Players see the stadium, a small neighborhood of baseball heaven, and understand that playing some ball is better than playing none at all. That all said, Hunton addresses the elephant in the dugout.

"This is not ideal," he says. "It's not ideal to come here, it's not ideal to play indy ball."

Oberholtzer, itching to get back to a major league squad, doesn't want to talk about life after baseball. His confidence and mind tell him he can make it back. He knows he's still got the pathway to the majors, given his pedigree. But the thought of living without baseball has crossed his mind.

"It's not difficult," Oberholtzer says uncomfortably. "Baseball is something I've done, I've played. But it's not who I am. Then again, once baseball does end, I might be singing a different tune. I hope not, I don't think I will be."

He pauses.

"It's gonna end for everyone some day."