Winter Meeting Diary: Inside baseball's biggest rumour mill

(This is an account of the happenings at the Winter Meetings in Las Vegas, it will be updated as events transpire.)

LAS VEGAS — The MLB Winter Meetings are often a great time for baseball fans as rumours are flying left, right and centre with the possibility of a major trade or signing lurking around every corner.

With guys like Bryce Harper and Manny Machado looking at possibly record-setting deals, this year is no exception.

Although the excitement is palpable around the baseball world, is it present in the eye of the hurricane? I found out, so you wouldn’t have to.

What follows are my findings:

Sunday, Dec. 9: The Prologue

Although the “action” doesn’t really get started until Monday, the Mandalay Bay Hotel (and casino, there’s no such thing as a hotel without a casino in Las Vegas) is far from dead. The most common denizens of the lobby at this point are job seekers — wildly optimistic youngsters who are almost exclusively men.

The juxtaposition between their attire (fine suits) and their tags which make it clear they are in desperate need of employment in no uncertain terms is interesting. We’re still waiting to hear of a MLB GM who got their start by lingering around the Winter Meetings, but somebody’s got to be the first.

In the lobby, along which a gargantuan statue of Michael Jackson, is Ken Rosenthal who I literally spot within 4 seconds of my arrival. His ubiquitousness is not limited to the internet. He’s everywhere here as well.

During the exploratory visit to Mandalay Bay, it dawns on me that I won’t be taking in a lot of sunlight over the course of these Winter Meetings. Nobody will. That’s probably a common experience in Las Vegas, but it’s slightly less thrilling without the possibility of acquiring untold riches at the roulette wheel.

Money quote of the day: “The Winter Meetings is just Twitter brought to life.”

It’s not a compliment, and it seems likely to be apt.

Monday, Dec. 10: It Begins

Despite its Las Vegas setting, there isn’t much pomp and circumstance to the Winter Meetings. The Mandalay Bay is open at 8 a.m., but you can come whenever you want and you won’t be missed and are unlikely to miss much. Vegas isn’t a place for early risers and considering how late many are up the night before, that 8 a.m. time isn’t too appealing to many.

There are actually countless things going on at Mandalay Bay, but some of them are mind-blowingly inside baseball.

As important as travel directors are, nobody is particularly interested in attending their meeting. Similarly suppliers are crucial to stadium ops, but most folks aren’t bothered about where their hot dogs come from. If they were they wouldn’t eat hot dogs. These events mean that a lot is going on, but only in the most literal sense.

The central hub of the event, from a news standpoint at least, is the media centre. The massive room is full to the brim with baseball writers. Suffice it to say this is not where the great designers of Paris and Milan find their inspiration. It looks something like this:

Press conferences featuring big-league managers spring up on the side of the room from time to time, bringing out modest crowds.

On the plus side, the back of the room is rather promising. It’s filled with thematically-appropriate baseball chairs and a comfortable seating area where you can accidentally leave a banana for over an hour without it getting stolen.

Rather perplexingly, instead of coffee the stainless steel pots are dispensing “homemade” hot cocoa. It’s warm outside and no one is going outside anyway so it’s a little bit unclear who the target audience is. However, it is rare to see a spread that includes a bunch of mini marshmallows, so that’s something.

As the managerial press conferences, and one for Nate Eovaldi signing with the Boston Red Sox, close for the day the wait for a league-changing transaction begins. On this particular Monday, that transaction doesn’t come.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t time to discuss what didn’t happen with Blue Jays general manager Ross Atkins, though. After a short delay, responsibly reported by my partner in crime, the Blue Jays beat group was ready to be shepherded up in two separate elevators to his suite.

For some reason, slow elevators seem to be an epidemic in Las Vegas and the ride to the Blue Jays suite is no exception. It doesn’t help that we accidentally get out at the wrong floor halfway there.

At the end of perhaps the only well-lit hallway in the city, Atkins is at the door to welcome us into the suite – which gives the whole affair a book club-esque vibe. Much like a book club there are snacks everywhere, but only the yogurt pretzels have been touched. Atkins appears to be a disciplined man.

The GM speaks on a number of topics, which you can read about here, for about 20 minutes. Then he speaks for about the same amount of time off the record. That sounds enthralling and clandestine, but I can safely tell you it was not. The role of technology in baseball is the most touched upon topic.

The way back down is harrowing, as writers following a number of teams are filling all the elevators and the fact we’re on the 60th floor makes the stairs down somewhere between unappealing and impossible. Eventually we are able to get down to find the lobby full of media members in line for the elevators. Whether intentional or not, Atkins has spared us the indignity of this traffic jam.

As we head back to the media work room to finish up our business for the day, I notice that news-breaker extraordinaire Ken Rosenthal is not on the right side of the hallway where he was when we went up. “Rosenthal is gone, this place must be dead,” I remark loudly.

It turns out Rosenthal is about five feet directly to my left.

Tuesday, Dec. 11: Events Transpire

It’s an absolutely gorgeous day in Las Vegas. Normally this would be cause for celebration – especially for a Canadian escaping December temperatures – instead it’s immensely depressing because I know I will not see the outdoors again indefinitely. Surely not while it’s light.

On my walk between my hotel and the Mandalay Bay two major transactions go down. The first is the Philadelphia Phillies signing Andrew McCutchen. I felt zero ways about this.

The second is the Blue Jays cutting Troy Tulowitzki outright with $38 million left on his contract. This was far more relevant to my life and resulting in my rushing through the labyrinthian hotel/casino to get on camera with approximately three seconds to collect my thoughts.

What follows is a bunch of journalisty stuff… writing, attending new Blue Jays manager Charlie Montoyo’s presser, etc. But far more important than that was the bittersweet realization that there were free breakfast pastries in the media room earlier and I’d just missed them.

There are also two women awkwardly clogging the central pedestrian traffic corridor of the place offering likely-suspect shrimp of some description.

We make the journey once again to the Ross Atkins suite. On the elevator up I’m the only non-TV reporter there and the discussion exclusively revolves around how uncomfortable it is to be wearing a suit.

I am not wearing a suit.

One reporter comments that he really, really wishes he was wearing sneakers.

I am wearing sneakers.

This time Atkins opens the door far too early so there is an awkward interlude where he and the reporters are looking at each other and we are getting closer but we are still too far away to talk to one another – but perhaps too close to speak among ourselves without it being impolite. It’s an etiquette nightmare.

The session itself is so uneventful that Atkins himself describes the Blue Jays’ day as being “nothing newsworthy”. On the record little is said. The off-the-record session could not be less salacious. More snacks have been eaten today than yesterday.

So little happened in the meeting that me and my compatriot Zubes don’t just mention the snack depletion in our debrief – we lead with it.

Wednesday, Dec. 12: A Quiet End

Another beautiful day. Another descent into darkness.

There is very little to report from a news perspective, but the Mandalay Bay has increased its food game. Not to any levels that prevent you from having to buy an overpriced burrito, but now they do have folks coming around with artichoke heart and prosciutto crostini. I take one as I sit and write, and when I get up for a glass of water I’m offered another by the same woman, who greets me in the same way. Clearly I haven’t made an impression on her.

Although I don’t manage to make a splash from a news-breaking perspective, I do make a literal splash when I spill water all over the work table, causing baseball writers around me to flee in terror, electronics in hand. I may have made some lifelong enemies.

In the late afternoon we have another visit to the Ross Atkins suite. The snacks have been diminished – particularly the peanut butter-filled pretzels – but the developments are about as newsworthy as the Blue Jays’ Wednesday. I learn that Atkins was giving out scones yesterday. I don’t know how I missed it.

As we come down the hallway leading out of the hotel the following dialogue between me and my compatriot Zubes ensues:

He appears around the corner less than two seconds later.

We cap our day by heading to dinner and drinks with the Blue Jays beat writers and new manager Charlie Montoyo. The shepherd’s pie is adequate, dividing the bill is a disaster. My corporate card – which has never failed before – is declined.

“Sometimes that’s just Vegas,” the server informs me cryptically.

With our work complete, Zubes and I do the obligatory move to the roulette table. Collectively we lose $75 dollars exceedingly quickly. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to reveal how those losses were distributed.

But I’m not a gentleman, so I’ll tell you I won five bucks.