[Editor’s note: Rob Kaminsky is a pitching prospect in the Indians organization, most recently with the Double-A Akron RubberDucks. When he’s not busy dishing out curveballs, he blogs about baseball, and life in general, at robkaminsky.com. Being big fans of his, we reached out to him to see if he would be interested in a guest post on Let’s Go Tribe about the life of a minor-leaguer, and much to our delight, he was! Thanks again, Rob!]

Many people assume that being a professional athlete is the most amazing experience of all time — and although no profession is without its flaws, baseball is a pretty damn awesome job.

Playing professional baseball isn’t only fun, it’s also rewarding; it’s an unbelievable opportunity for us to be able to make a living playing a game — a game we love — all the while bringing people together and meeting people from around the world. But that is not to say there aren’t struggles and obstacles along the way. This profession can — and will at some point or another — eat you up and spit you out. It is your job to learn to cope and move forward.

As a minor leaguer just finishing up my fifth season, I have experienced many different features of this profession. I have experienced the fun and excitement, and it’s been incredible bringing my family and friends along for the ride thus far. But I have also experienced the less glorious side of the job, and I have seen many others experience it, too, in various ways. People tend to always refer to this profession as a game, but this is way more than a game. This is a billion dollar industry.

For example, for my first couple of years as a minor leaguer I was part of one organization; then one night around midnight, I got a phone call and just like that I was officially with a second organization heading towards an entirely different part of the country. Over night. It’s a tough pill to swallow so suddenly. And while that is certainly part of the job, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t take its toll. But, yes, we did sign up for it, and we do get to enjoy the perks along the way — so what we learn to do is to swallow that pill as quickly as we can and refrain from whining. After all, this game goes on with or without you. Figure it out.

This game has been amazing to me and to so many others. It has given me so much. It has given me a job, life-long friendships, memories that will last a lifetime, and it has given me that “competitor’s high.” Knowing you are competing against some of the best players in the world gives you a feeling you can’t explain. Knowing that every year there are new guys being drafted by your team — essentially to take your job — is so cool to me. “Shit or get off the pot,” in a sense. It really is such an interesting dynamic having teammates who you compete with, yet whom you compete against for the same spot on the major league field.

There are five starters in the big leagues, and each team in the system (5-7) has five starters. So, all in all, 25-35 minor league starters are trying to eventually crack the big league rotation. Think about that. That is awesome. That is pressure. That is what makes this whole thing so unique and exciting.

And yet no matter how competitive it is, we stick together. We compete daily, don't get me wrong, but being a part of a rotation is like being a part of the family within an even bigger family. Starters do everything together, as do bullpen guys. We compete as a team and do everything together to win. But we also do daily activities together such as throw bullpens, run sprints, life weights, etc. I feel like the saying, “Hitting is contagious” (or, in our case, “Pitching is contagious”) rings true to an extent. One teammate throws great, so now its your turn to dominate on the mound. You just went one run over seven... now watch as I go no runs over seven. It’s those little competitions that make everyone better individually but also as a team. It is awesome. You feed off of it.

At the end of the day, to the people who assume being a professional baseball player is all rainbows and good times: Even though you are on to something, you are wrong. Some days flat out suck; some days you feel like shit. Some days, after a tough loss and a ten hour bus ride in a thunderstorm with a headache to end all headaches, there isn't anything fun about it. Those rollercoaster feelings, the failures, the successes, the lonely nights in the middle of nowhere, are all a part of it. It all can lead you to the end result, which is playing in the big leagues. As long as you have that desire, the challenges along the way are easier to deal with.

A quote that gets floated around every level of the minor leagues is:

“You don't like it? Play better.” And that is all we are trying to do.