How a career in professional baseball saved this Minor League manager
Benjamin Hill travels the nation collecting stories about what makes Minor League Baseball unique. This excerpt from his newsletter -- which he reported on from Lansing, Mich., on Aug. 27 -- is one of those stories. Read the full newsletter here, and subscribe to his newsletter here.
By the time Craig Conklin got his first job coaching in the Minors, he had already survived a volatile childhood, a period living out of his car, drug addiction, a stint in the military and the death of his adult daughter.
Through it all, he knew what kept him going.
“There are two things that saved my life,” Conklin said. “Baseball and surfing.”
It was late in the 2024 season, the tarp was on the field, and the 62-year-old skipper of the Lansing Lugnuts – High-A affiliate of the Athletics -- was in his office telling the story of his long and winding career. Over the course of a 20-minute conversation, the words soundtracked by the muffled pulsation of the reggaeton and hip-hop songs his young charges were blaring in the clubhouse, Conklin shared his lifestory. Undergirding it all was the deeply ingrained tenaciousness that has been his life’s guiding force.
“There are thousands of guys out there who can run a drill, hit fungoes, throw BP,” he said. “But there aren’t a lot who have experienced what I have in life, so that was a valuable tool to add to those other things. … People skills. Being able to sense people's emotions and read their body language, just how they can't carry themselves. Have them feel comfortable enough to come talk to me about something. My door is always open.”
Conklin has refined those skills over the course of 25 years working for the Oakland organization, but his story begins on the beaches of Malibu.
“I grew up in a family that was broken, and I was the blonde hair, blue eyes kid who lived at the beach,” he said. “My dad was involved in a lot of different things that weren’t conducive to the raising of a kid. So he dropped me off at the beach in the summers, and I’d hang out there all day while he went to work in Compton.”
Throughout a childhood in which narcotics and criminality were a regular presence, Conklin found solace where he could. His love of baseball took root when he played catch with his grandfather for the first time.
“If I was at the beach, or on a baseball field, the world couldn’t hurt. They’re sanctuaries. … I needed to be in those environments to feel safe and protected, so I did whatever I had to do to stay in.”
But finding a way wasn’t easy. After getting cut from the Cuesta College juco team two years in a row, Conklin moved to San Diego -- “Where the best baseball in California’s at” -- in hopes of getting noticed there. He lived out of his car, was always low on money and eventually returned home.
“I ended up talking my way into a tryout with the junior college team that had cut me two years in a row. … Two weeks later I’m starting in left field and then it got to the point where I could have signed as a free agent.”
But Conklin never played baseball professionally. After finding out that his girlfriend was pregnant, he decided that “running off to go play baseball at that particular time wasn’t the prudent thing to do.” He joined the Army instead, serving in Kentucky with the 101st Airborne. When, three years later, his dad became terminally ill, he received an honorable hardship discharge and returned to California.
“I was in limbo. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I got in trouble with drugs, three stints in rehab and different things like that,” he said. “Because that’s what I knew. That’s the environment we lived in. I didn’t have baseball to save me anymore. I only had surfing.”
Conklin, needing the game back in his life, returned to Cuesta College in a coaching capacity while supplementing his income with all manner of odd jobs. He started to take notice of the scouts who hung around the field, thinking, “Maybe I could do that.” It was tough to get much information from members of this cloistered fraternity, but a scout whom Conklin knew from his playing days told him that Major League Baseball had a scout development program. He enrolled, and eventually landed a position with the (now defunct) Major League Scouting Bureau.
“I was finishing concrete with a buddy of mine, told him ‘I gotta make a phone call about a job.’ He knew that I was trying to get into [scouting], goes ‘You know, guys like us don’t get jobs like that.’ I go, ‘Guys like you don’t get jobs like that. … If I don’t get a job this year, it’ll be next year, and if it isn’t next year, I’ll just keep going.”
From 1999-2015 he worked for Major League Baseball as an area scout covering southern and central California. After the MLB Scouting Bureau disbanded, the Athletics hired him.
“I always wanted to be in [player] development,” he said. “That was always the master plan. But I liked the freedom scouting gave me. I didn't miss any of my kid’s stuff in school. You’re a master of your own time as long as you were responsible and did your work.”
In October of 2017 Conklin endured a devastating loss. His daughter, Jordan, was killed in a car accident at the age of 28.
“We were like this,” Conklin said, intertwining his middle and index finger. “Being on the road, as a scout, it can be pretty lonely. [After Jordan’s death] I didn’t need to be in my head like that.”
Jordan’s death expedited Conklin’s transition from scouting to coaching, a decidedly less solitary pursuit. But there was never a doubt that he wanted to remain in the game.
“I don’t subscribe to pouting or pity parties, no matter what happens to me,” he said. “My daughter passing away in the manner in which she did, surviving that and thriving through it, it’s an honor. Honoring her memory is very important to me. Whatever motivates someone to do the right thing, and I’ve always tried to do the right thing. Be empathetic. Compassionate.”
These traits have guided Conklin in his coaching career, which began with the Triple-A Las Vegas Aviators and also included a season with the Single-A Stockton Ports. He arrived in Lansing in 2022, assuming the managerial role the following season.
Conklin’s ultimate goal, as it is for most everyone, is to reach the Major Leagues. There’s no stopping now.
“My upbringing caused me to get derailed and fall into selfishness. But once you rebound you come back to being who you are, if life hasn’t consumed you to a point of no return,” he said. “I was close to that, but that internal fire wouldn’t let me go down that road.”