In Low-A ball, I lived without a refrigerator. I had a Styrofoam cooler in which I put milk and bread with ice I took from hotels. I didn't have any means by which to cook raw food—no range, not even a microwave. I lived entirely off of peanut butter and jelly simply because it wouldn't spoil, and it's what I could afford.

During spring training in minor league camp, I bought a glass bowl with a lid and used it to make pasta in the hotel microwave or reheat the food I snuck from the complex.

In spring training, you were given only $120 per week in meal money, no paycheck. That $120 was gone in three nights at a sit-down restaurant—or you could stretch it by eating fatty fast food all week. Ironic, since there are rules about proper diet and being in shape; they go out the window when you're barely paid enough to eat.

In Single-A, we developed a term for guys on the team that would eat more than their rationed amount before a game. We called them "Spread Killers." They were often the pitchers who came off the field before batting practice officially ended, thus giving them early access to the pregame spread. All it took for them to kill it was an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This made it impossible for one of the later arrivals to get a full sandwich, and forced him to play hungry.

Imagine how much better the sport would be if, you know, your athletes could eat right. Imagine how many more guys could hang around and figure out their game if it didn't mean living in poverty.