Ex-Twin Michael Cuddyer enjoying his life as a former baseball player

FORT MYERS, FLA. – The open secret shared by many retired baseball players is that they don't miss the game. Many of them feel that they can't admit this publicly.

They appreciate what the game did for them, the clubhouse camaraderie and friendships forged in a rarefied environment, the privileges bestowed on athletic celebrities, but the daily pressure and scrutiny? Life is often better, or at least easier, when the player can brush the tiny hitting or pitching coach off his shoulder for good.

This winter, Michael Cuddyer was elected to the Twins Hall of Fame and became a special assistant to the team's baseball operations department. Always a friendly presence, Cuddyer this spring is more relaxed than he has ever been in a baseball clubhouse.

"It's great," he said of the retired life. Then he laughed and said it again: "It's great!

"Obviously you're born and bred as a competitor, so my time playing was unbelievable. But after you've had a pretty decent career and a lengthy career — you did it for 20 years — it's nice to be able to be a fan of baseball again, be able to hang out with my family and do the things I never got to do."

Last spring he took his family to Atlantis, the resort in the Bahamas. "That was my first spring break," he said. "Then I had my first Fourth of July outdoor barbecue party I've ever had. By no means am I complaining that I had never had that before. But it was nice."

Many athletes feel obligated to say they love the game and the competition, and that they are unfulfilled without a championship ring. In reality, baseball players live with the fear that one injury or one slump could leave them unemployed at a young age. If they complete a successful career set for life financially, they achieve what most people aspire to.

"Would it be nice to have a ring?" Cuddyer said this week at Twins camp. "Of course. Is it cool to show up at a banquet and have this big thing on your hand? Of course. But it doesn't define who you are or what your career was. For me, I got to the World Series and that was cool, that was great, but losing it didn't put a sour taste in my mouth."

After he retired, Cuddyer, 37, found himself going to sleep at 9:30 instead of midnight. "As a player, you grind through the offseason, you grind in March, you get nervous about who's pitching or what position you have to play, or that your swing doesn't feel good," Cuddyer said. "Your mind never wanders away from those worries, even in the offseason. When you're done, you exhale. You say, 'I don't have to worry about that anymore. It's nice. I thought I was going to watch more baseball than I did. But I did what my kids were doing and didn't turn the TV on very often."

What Cuddyer remembers more than the games are the moments around the games. He carried a camera with him on the road and took photos of other cities and ballparks. He constantly spoke with executives, managers, coaches, players, writers, searching for different perspectives.

"I don't remember games, or even many moments in games," he said. "I remember conversations and relationships. I remember walking down city streets, and visiting ballparks. The games were fun and cool, but they weren't that important to me. I'm not trying to diminish them — I played hard, and I cared. But those weren't the most meaningful things to me."

Former players often feel compelled to emphasize their love of the game and their competitiveness. But for many players, baseball is a difficult way to earn a great living.

"I like my role now," he said. "I like being a resource. I feel I can offer something because I've seen a lot. I was always interested in different perspectives. I'd grill scouts, and pitching coaches, and the front office. I wasn't second-guessing them. I was looking for information I could use later in life, because I was interested."

Jim Souhan's podcast can be heard at MalePatternPodcasts.com. On Twitter: @SouhanStrib. • jsouhan@startribune.com