Move Over, Marge Schott

Happy All Star Break to all who celebrate! Would love to take this day when there is no baseball to share some baseball related musings and declarations from me.? (Clears throat.) Here goes:

For those who know me well, baseball has always been part of who I am. Sometimes it’s been the main focus of my life, other times, it’s been on the side — but it’s been ever present. Tried and true.?

After being born in one of the greatest sports cities, Chicago — I grew up as a young kid in Pittsburgh, during those hallowed, carefree, 1970s days of Willie Stargell, Dave Parker, Phil Garner and “We are Family” by Sister Sledge, cranked up while I rolled around in the back of a station wagon without a seat, let alone a seatbelt. The crack of the bat. The roar of the crowd. The synchronized clapping and 7th-inning-stretch singalongs. Learning how to keep box scores with my dad. The Pirate Parrot. THE HOT DOGS. I was in love.

My first job out of college was a writer for the San Francisco Giants Magazine, covering hard-hitting sports stories, like following the nuns from San Jose who came to every home game. Along with those skills, I also learned how to drive a golf cart, chauffeuring the likes of Tony Bennett and Jerry Garcia to home plate to sing the National Anthem. I also had time for batting practice with Dusty Baker, while wearing a skirt and heels (me, not him) — and smacked a line drive towards his head that nearly knocked him down. “Sign ‘er up,” he said, after regaining his composure. I’ll never forget it.?

I worked with some incredible mentors and friends (Nancy Donati, Jean Williams, Maria Jacinto, Bob Rose, Karen Sweeney, Matt Nerland, Doug Greenwald) and I loved every second of that dreamy first job. A job I got, not by knowing someone, but by circling an ad in the classifieds of The San Francisco Chronicle. Life was good, that is until the baseball strike happened in 1994. I returned to Chicago to get my journalism degree at Northwestern, ultimately heading to NYC so I could work for a “real” magazine.

During my many years on the business side of Condé Nast, I tried to bring sports into every brand I worked on — easy at GQ, not as easy at Architectural Digest, but we found a way .?

In the middle of my Condé career, I quit my life to write a book for women who love sports, called “Gameface,” with one of my closest friends — and someone who also watches sports with his heart on his sleeve, Chris Debenedetti.?

While writing the book, I moved back to Pennsylvania, and had a crazy idea that my dad and I should become ushers at a new ballpark being built in town, home to the new Triple A affiliate of the Phillies. The Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs.

Who knew that working alongside my dad for a bunch of pimply faced young kids who ran the Front Office, pretending they knew what they were doing, would end up being the best summer of my life.

I optioned a TV show about that chapter of my life called “Attagirl.” (It will never see the light of day, but what a ride. Thanks, Mary Pender.)

When "Gameface" came out in 2008, Chris and I embarked on a 10-city, self-funded book tour with my beloved niece Martina Douglas. (That business side of Condé Nast chapter taught me exactly how to plan on a 10-city, self-funded book tour. Thanks, Uncle SI. ) While on the road hosting meet & greets with sports-loving women at sports bars across the country and making appearances on news shows explaining how women watched sports differently than men — Lehman Brothers fell and the world changed. So instead of continuing my plan to launch a full-fledged editorial voice for women who loved sports with Chris and another dear “Chris” in my life (Chris Sanborn), I got scared. I returned to the stability of a job in media (ha!), back at Condé Nast. Thankfully, at WIRED.

Throughout this journey, baseball was always with me. In between doing fancy things with the fancy people at Condé Nast, I got to any ballgame I could. In my hometown, in any town. I named my first dog Wrigley. I continued to write about baseball any chance I could and even had a monthly appearance on CosmoRadio where I repeatedly tried to convince the hosts why they should love sports.?

All the while, baseball has been a steady drumbeat in the background of my life. On TV. On the radio. Always there. Even during a global pandemic, it kept us going, as best as it could.

Sometimes in a crazy world — with its balls and strikes, fair and foul balls, wins and losses — baseball is the only thing that makes sense. (Except that whole automatic runner on second in extra innings. That and the DH will never make sense to me.)?

Even after I lost my dearest dad in May of 2020, baseball is still with me. And I’m still that little girl, keeping the box score at his side.?

When I started my own business in 2019 — a business that brings people together via live events — who could have predicted what was to come? And who could have predicted that with all of the thought leader events and charity galas and virtual experiences we dream up and bring to life at Liberty & Company , that I could have found a way to bring baseball into what we do? (My business partner, Red Sox fan Caitie Murphy, sure was surprised, but supportive, of course. Right, Caitie?!)

When looking back upon the story that is my life — a large part of my love of sports is how these spectacles draw people together for a shared, sensory experience. Every season tells a story. Every game tells a story. And being privileged enough to experience life in the Front Office — the history of this game and each individual team both on and off the field … and how all of these collective stories unfold across the years, across the eras of baseball, continues to fascinate me.

My Front Office experience in MLB was in the early 90s, when teams were run by families — in my case the Lurie family, before Peter Magowan of Safeway bought the team. It was before digital, and MLB was not quite the big “machine” that it is today, mandating that each team gets in line and follows all the same rules. Teams had the liberty (pun intended) to run their clubs a bit more freely, bringing out the personalities of their owners (for better or for worse, Marge Schott), but also the local flavor of their communities and fans.?

This is why Minor League Baseball is experiencing such an incredible renaissance — and why teams like Bill Murray’s River Dogs, my beloved Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs, the independent Cape Cod league and the trending-on-tik-tok Savannah Bananas are actually where the heart and soul of the sport can be found these days. The independent minor league teams are where you have the freedom to actually make baseball fun again — for fans and for the players — while keeping the essence of all of the things we love.

So this year, my company Liberty & Co. sponsored a softball team in Maplewood, New Jersey, called the Liberty Bells. On the team is my 7-year-old niece Pearl and her best friend Penelope. (Penelope’s mom Leslie is an MVP at LIberty & Co.)

For the last game of the season, our L&Co. team did what we do best?— we brought people together to share some sweet moments for the players, their coaches and their biggest fans (aka their parents and siblings). Hear directly from Coach Steve in his farewell email to the team:?

“What an amazing softball season we had! The girls improved SO much! They were such a pleasure to coach.?

Thanks to Coaches Michael and Tim for being great partners this season, and Special Assistant Coach Donavin for helping us out. And thanks to our ‘Team Owner’ Erica and Liberty & Co. for sponsoring us. The treats today were the best.?

If the girls want to play again next year, let's request to be together when we sign up. We'll crush those 3rd graders!”

"So," I said to myself, "This ‘Team Owner’ thing has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?"

Welcome to my next big, crazy dream: To be the first woman to own a Minor League Baseball team (not having it handed down to me from a husband or a father, thankyouverymuch.) Not sure how it will happen. Not sure when. (Maybe the Durham Bulls, right Teresa Miles Walsh?)

But I do know how much it's needed. From a Sports Illustrated piece in March 2022: ?"According to the Institute for Diversity and Ethics in Sport , 22 women held on-field coaching or player development roles in MLB during 2021. A run-through of the 120 minor league organizations, on the other hand, shows multiple women general managers but fewer women coaches than at the major league level." No mention of female owners. But, please let's go grab one before Endeavor buys them all up (Endeavor Group Agrees to Buy Nine Minor League Teams .)?

Can you imagine the possibilities? Can you imagine the promotions?! Now can you imagine the mascots?! Can you imagine a more exciting next chapter, bringing together all of the experience amassed and incredibly talented people who have played a role in my baseball-loving journey? Can you imagine little girls like Pearl and Penelope growing up knowing they, too, could actually own and run a team? It all kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?

And of course, you’re all invited — as honorary season ticket holders — to come along for this next chapter. So move over Marge Schott. Time for a new emblem of female leadership in baseball. Let’s play ball. (But not until tomorrow.)