Angel Reyes stood at the front of the conference room inside the Athletics’ Lew Wolff Training Complex in Mesa, Arizona—a place where baseball dreams are forged or fade away.
Behind him, a PowerPoint slide read “Mis Errores!” (“My Errors!”) as part of a financial literacy lesson he had prepared for 17 international minor leaguers from the Dominican Republic and Venezuela in their teens and early 20s. As a guest speaker for the A’s a couple times a year, Reyes was accustomed to these types of presentations for players he knew were still adjusting to pro ball in a foreign land. Some were fully focused on Reyes as he spoke. Others were distracted, their thoughts drifting to home or the grind ahead.
In all of them, Reyes could see something of his past self—ambitious and raw youngsters unaware of how much there was still needed to learn.
“The opportunity of being able to speak in front of these young players is a reminder of how I was able to make it out,” Reyes told Baseball America in Spanish. “I was once in their shoes and never realized the reality of what was to come after baseball.”
Every year, hundreds of international prospects sign with MLB teams, chasing the dream of reaching the majors.
But most won’t make it that far.
Many never leave the complex. Others grind in the minors for years without breaking through. And when that dream ends—often abruptly—it leaves players face a harsh reality with little preparation.
Reyes, a former first baseman and pitcher in the Rockies’ system, knows this pain firsthand. He still remembers the day in 2012 he was cut. The words hit like a fastball to the chest, leaving him breathless. His stomach sank, a numbness taking over as he walked out of the office with no uniform, no team, no plan. Then came the fear. A deep, creeping fear of the unknown. Baseball had been his entire world.
In an instant, that world had vanished.
“The news was shocking, but what came after was the hardest part,” Reyes said. “I wanted to keep my dream alive, but I knew it was very hard. At the same time, I had the realization of me not being well-equipped with the resources to succeed in the United States as an immigrant.”
During his time in the Rockies’ system, Reyes attended workshops on financial literacy, English and life skills. At the time, they seemed like filler. But when baseball ended, those lessons became his lifeline.
He learned how to open a bank account, understand credit and financial budgeting. And it was this knowledge that helped him rebuild his life while working shifts at an Amazon warehouse and delivering for DoorDash while sleeping in his car.
Reyes would go on to earn a bachelor of science in sports psychology from Grand Canyon University and become a licensed real estate agent with Realty One Group. Now, when he looks at those young players with dreams so familiar to him, he sees more than hopeful athletes—he sees reflections of their possible futures, both on and off the field.
“Every time they see him, it’s like they see themselves in him,” said Leslie Flores, the Athletics’ coordinator of education and cultural programs. “Now that he is as successful as he is and is only going to continue to grow, I think it’s awesome to know that they also have him to look up to.”
Reyes’ journey reveals an important truth: Baseball is only part of the story. That’s why the A’s prioritize more than athletic training. In addition to on-field work, the organization offers a number of programs at the Lew Wolff Training Complex that prepare international prospects for life beyond baseball in areas ranging from financial literacy and English to mental health and career skills.
Many fans watch international stars like Juan Soto, Elly De La Cruz and Jackson Chourio shine on the big stage and assume their transition to the majors was seamless. But what most don’t see is the steep learning curve that begins the moment these young players set foot in the United States.
For many of these inexperienced players, arriving in the U.S. means more than just adjusting to a higher level of baseball. It’s often their first time away from home, their first time speaking English regularly and their first time navigating life in a completely different culture. Everyday tasks that seem routine to most Americans—grocery shopping, ordering an Uber or even using a dishwasher—can feel confusing and, at times, overwhelming.
These aren’t just minor hurdles. They’re constant reminders of how far these players are from everything familiar and how much they still have to learn outside the lines of a baseball field.
The adjustment goes far beyond the game. It’s about survival, adaptation and finding a sense of belonging in a world that often feels foreign.
“I think programs like these are so important because we’re teaching them how to survive,” Flores said. “Our goal is for everybody to get to the major league stadium, but even then, their major league dreams won’t be for the rest of their life.
“We want to help them be the best humans that they can be. If they choose to get married, be the best husband they can be. Then be the best father they can be.”
Beyond Reyes’ personal story, the strides made around the league to help young players adapt to life as professional baseball players represent a growing shift in how MLB organizations approach international development. While traditional training once focused almost exclusively on athletic performance, today’s programs recognize that physical tools are only part of what determines a young player’s future.
Teams across the league—including the Rangers, Reds and Guardians— have launched similar initiatives at their complexes, providing holistic developmental programs focusing on both athletic and personal growth.
With the A’s, players attend classes covering everything from how to read a paycheck and pay taxes to lessons on consent, digital literacy, nutrition and managing mental health.
Additionally, many players arrive at the complex after leaving school early to pursue baseball full-time. To help them stay on track academically, teams around the league offer classes and tutoring that allow players to work toward completing their high school education and earn a General Educational Development (GED) certificate. The A’s, for example, partner with certified educators who tailor lessons to the players’ needs and schedules, often conducting sessions in both Spanish and English to ensure comprehension and comfort.
Reyes’ journey is just one of many that reflect how life after baseball can take unexpected, meaningful turns—especially when former players support one another.
One of those stories belongs to Leo Santana, a former Reds minor leaguer from the Dominican Republic who met Reyes while the two were working at Amazon. Santana was still reeling from being released and unsure of what came next. But Reyes encouraged him to go back to school, earn his GED and consider the bigger picture.
“I saw how smart he was, how much potential he had,” Reyes said. “He just needed someone to remind him that baseball wasn’t the end.”
Santana used everything he learned at the Reds’ complex to help him sharpen his real-world skills. He credits Reyes with fittingly being a true “Angel” in his life and helping him get back on track.
That support helped Santana discover a passion for mental skills coaching. As a result, he completed a mental performance internship with the Rangers in 2023 and now runs his own mental performance company called Six Tool Mindset Baseball Development.
Reyes and Santana had to learn many of life’s lessons the hard way—outside the lines, without a team and juggling warehouse jobs and school at night. But their experiences have helped shape the next generation of support systems inside MLB complexes.
Today, players like the ones sitting in that Mesa conference room don’t have to wait until their careers end to learn about financial literacy, mental health or higher education. Those lessons are now baked into the foundation of what teams like the A’s and others across the league are offering, long before a player’s first professional game or paycheck.
Reyes knows the path isn’t easy. But when he looks out at the young players in that Mesa classroom, he sees more than future baseball players—he sees young men who, with the right guidance, can thrive long after the game.
“Baseball gave us the dream,” Reyes said. “But life after baseball—that’s where the real journey begins.”
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