A Room Under My Name
UNBOXED with Doug Glanville
Our travelling secretary was done with us. After a few young players made last minute requests for tickets to a game, he had enough of the nonsense. One young player even claimed he needed an alias for the next road trip, prompting the secretary, in annoyance, to shout loud enough for the whole team to hear:
“These guys got one day in the big leagues, and suddenly they need an alias? I am supposed to book rooms under Babe Ruth, Yogi Berra, Lou Gehrig… Prima donnas!”
I managed to go my entire career without ever using an alias. I am not sure I really thought that through—it just felt right to use my own name. There are good reasons to go incognito. Once fans figure out what hotel you are staying in, they might start calling your room (and they did). If you use a fake name, they will never find you. So, yes, I get it.
Still, I always felt a little out of place when I saw our team rooming list. At check-in, we would get a list of players’ names and their room numbers. My name next to my room number was consistent every time: “Doug Glanville.” Plain and simple. My name was surrounded by cartoon characters, superheroes, famous actors, and completely made-up people—all chosen by my teammates for a little added privacy and anonymity on the road. I started to feel like Jim Henson in a room full of Muppets. Do I become an honorary Muppet?
Sure, I received a few unwanted calls to my room over the years. Even one was probably too many, and I certainly understood why it was a bigger deal for players with families to protect or for those who had reached megastar status. For me though, I was willing to deal with it in order to keep my name. It never became unbearable. I guess I should have played better.