Baseball Reflections

Torii Hunter Beats the Odds

2009-07-11T05:28:39-07:00

: Image by Getty Images via Daylife

The nice people at Guideposts.com have been kind enough to allow us to bring these stories of current Major League players in their entirety while I’m away on vacation. So without further ado…Torii Hunter Beats the Odds by Louis Berney.

He rose above his father’s addiction to make it to the big leagues

The first time Torii Hunter saw his father smoke crack cocaine, he was seven years old. He didn’t understand what his dad was doing.

But that episode marked the beginning of a lifelong struggle for Hunter, a struggle of coping with the heartache of knowing that the father he loves is a drug addict. And a struggle of doing everything he could to get his father to give up drugs, only to fail time after time.

Hunter possessed the inner strength and determination to overcome growing up in a drug-sated household and neighborhood to become a major league baseball player. He’s the brilliant outfielder for the Los Angeles Angels, a man who has won seven Gold Gloves as the best defensive center fielder in the American League and twice played on the league’s All-Star team. But it never was easy.

His struggle entailed living without electricity and having to scrounge for food in his Pine Bluff, Arkansas neighborhood. “If you have someone doing drugs,” says Hunter of his father, “that makes you poor because they take all the money, the lights are turned off, there’s no food in the house.

When you’re sick like that, you’re not thinking about anything else but that sickness. You’re not thinking about your family or your wife or your kids.”

The struggle for Hunter involved walking as a boy through the streets with his three brothers, searching in local crack houses to find his father and coax him back home. And there was the humiliation, fear and sense of loss.

“One day my Chicago Bulls jacket was missing,” recalls Hunter. “I knew my dad had gone, but I didn’t think he would wear my jacket. So I just chalked it up to somebody stealing it.

Then, like a week later, I woke up one morning and saw my jacket hanging over the edge of a chair in the dining room. I was like, ‘Wow, there’s my Chicago Bulls jacket.’ And then I saw my dad lying on the couch. And I said, ‘Oh, okay, he had it all that time.’

So I put it on and left for school. I raised my hand [in class] sometime that day, and something fell out. It was a [crack cocaine] pipe. I picked it up really quick, and I raised my hand and told the teacher I needed to use the restroom. She said all right.

So I went to the restroom, wiped my finger prints off the pipe, opened up the back of the toilet, put it under there and closed the toilet up, and left it there. I was in tears. I was in the 8th grade, 13 years old.”

That incident, says Hunter, is one of the PG-rated ones that he can relate about his father’s drug addiction and the disheartening escapades he and his brothers embarked on regularly while growing up.

Their mother—who was a rock for Hunter and his brothers—”would sit up crying at night and give us hugs. She always told us, ‘Don’t ever do your kids like this.’ and, ‘Be the best father you can.’”

And that’s what Hunter has tried to do with his life. He’s tried to be the kind of father for his sons that his own father was never able to be for him. “I tell them, ‘You know the way I treat you guys, it’s because it’s the way I wasn’t treated. I was a man before I was supposed to be a man.’

I want my kids to be kids…I tell them, ‘I spoil you guys, but I also help you with the homework. Because I didn’t have that. And I want to give you everything that I didn’t have.’ So I think my dad taught me a lesson, without knowing he taught me a lesson.”

His father’s behavior also gave Hunter the inspiration to move beyond his drug-infested neighborhood, to build something positive out of his life.

“I was tired of eating with candles,” he explains. “I was tired of not eating at all. I was tired of knocking on people’s doors asking for bread or sugar or syrup or hot dogs or anything.” He saw that baseball could give him the opportunity to help his family—and his father.

“My motivation was to get my family out of poverty,” says Hunter “I wanted to be their hero, the first guy to help my family out.” Once he was financially able, the 32-year-old baseball player tried giving his father money and sending him to rehab programs to help him escape his addiction. But while rehab would take his father off drugs for a time, he would always relapse.

“He ain’t never off drugs,” says the son. “Programs don’t work. I don’t care what you say.” What does help, though, is vigilance and love, says Hunter: “Just love and being there for him and being supportive, watching him, keeping him around family, and watching every move. That’s hard when you play professional baseball.”

Hunter has moved his father to North Dallas, where he and other family members now live, so they can watch over his father and try to keep him from the drug culture. “But it’s hard to keep tabs on him,” Hunter concedes. “He’s been in rehab like 10 times. And he always falls back.”

But Hunter still loves his father. He loves the way he is when he’s off drugs. “When he’s clean, he’s the coolest guy in the world,” says the ballplayer. “I’m like, ‘This is the dad I’ve been looking for.’ He’s clean for a year, he’s outside playing basketball with you, he’s taking you shopping or different things like that. And then, boom, once he’s missing in action, that’s when you know he’s using again.”

Hunter says the ballpark is a safe haven for him, one of the only places he can put aside thoughts of his father’s addiction. He also gains moral and emotional support from his family, as well as from his religion.

“My mom raised us in the church,” Hunter says. “So whenever I got down, whether it was off the field or on the field, I always went to my bible. It kept me strong. That’s what kept me on the right path, just reading my bible and staying with the Lord.”

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Developing Patience with Your Kids in Sports Begins with Understanding

2009-07-10T05:39:54-07:00

Jack Perconte Hitting Instructor & former MLB Player

Patience is a lot like perspective. People have it UNTIL there own child is involved. Most of us parents are guilty of it. We display patience with other people’s kids, but when our own child does not perform up to expectations, we get upset and display our displeasure with words or actions. Unfortunately, it only takes one or two times when a parent displays their displeasure that negatively shapes their child’s future in sports.
Often, I would remind players and parent’s alike about the famous story of the race between the tortoise and hare. Often, the best players when young (hares) “burn out” at a relatively young age, whereas players, who keep working and enjoying the game (tortoises), become the best players at the higher levels of play.

With this in mind, here are things that parents and coaches should realize in order to help develop patience as a sports parent.

Sport’s skill proficiency is difficult and gets more and more difficult as an athlete moves up the sports ladder.
Just because something appears easy, especially on TV, does not meant it is easy.
Just because they (parents) were good at something does not automatically make their child good at it.
Players who do not choose to practice probably are not having fun because:

A. They may not love the game as much as you would like them to.
B. They don’t like it as much as you think that they like it.
C. Coaches (parents) do not have the know-how of making practice fun.
5. Pushing kids to practice more is not recommended and will usually kill any chance that they will like the sport more down the line. (Suggesting they practice and helping them understand that good results only come with practice is OK, though.)
6. Players will not automatically be able to do something just because you tell them to or just because you point out what they are doing wrong.
7. Along the same line – habits do not change or form overnight – it usually takes a great amount of practice and time to develop habits. Someone may point out a player’s mechanical flaws after observing them for a few repetitions, but it will take numerous repetitions to change their muscle memory.
8. Describing the action (your swing is incorrect, i.e.) is better than saying “you” (the individual) can’t do it that way.
9. Negative actions and facial expressions are as detrimental as words.

10. People who display patience when working with kids generally develop patient ballplayers who understand it takes time to be successful.
11. Expectations should be reasonable and should focus on “effort” and not results.
12. Long-range goals are better than short-range goals.

13. It is very hard to keep an unemotional demeanor or voice, especially when one’s own child does not seem to try or play up to our expectations, but it is important to “cool off” before addressing your concerns.

###

Jack Perconte played 12 years of professional baseball, including seven in the majors for the Dodgers, Indians, Mariners and White Sox, posting a career .270 average in the majors and a .311 mark in the minors. He was a 16th round draft pick of the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1976 and made his big league debut with the Dodgers in 1980. After retiring from professional baseball in 1987, Perconte opened a baseball training academy in Naperville, Ill. The hitting drills, mental training and coaching tips found in “The Making of a Hitter” (www.themakingofahitter.com) were culled from the 60,000 hitting lessons Perconte estimates he gave while operating the academy.

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Jamie Moyer proves that good guys can finish first

2009-07-09T05:19:52-07:00

: Image via Wikipedia

This Good Guy Finishes First

Phillies pitcher Jamie Moyer proves that good guys can finish first.

Major league baseball is a sport populated primarily by men with large physiques and even larger egos.

Jamie Moyer has neither.

Through sheer moxie, determination and dedication, Moyer has made himself one of baseball’s top pitchers. He is small and thin-boned for a pitcher and lacks the power and strength that most of his younger contemporaries rely on to win in the big leagues. But Moyer compensates for his lesser physical gifts with guile, intelligence and industry.

“What makes him so successful” says Orioles pitcher Adam Eaton, who played with Moyer in Philadelphia during the 2007 and 2008 seasons, “is just what’s between those ears. He’s one of those people who learns the game and knows the game. He takes pride in being prepared…. His ability is what it is. [But] he gets the most out of it.”

Moyer is also nothing if not persistent. He refused to quit early in his career when he was struggling to keep out of the minor leagues.

“Sometimes I think it’s being in the right place at the right time,” he says, modestly, crediting his late-career success on the good fortune of playing for good-hitting teams, rather than acknowledging his own skills and hard work.

But other players marvel at his work ethic—Eaton recalls that he rarely got to the field before Moyer and never left after him—and his competitiveness and grit when he’s on the mound, getting by without the blazing fastball that most successful pitchers need to vanquish hitters
.
Ron Gardenhire, the manager of the Minnesota Twins, whose teams played Seattle when Moyer was with the Mariners, says that Moyer “understands what hitters are trying to do probably better than anybody in the game. And he works against that. He…pitches to his strength and goes away from the hitter’s strength probably as good as anybody.”

What is truly remarkable about Moyer is that he did not become a star in the big leagues until he was in his mid-30s, an age when most players still in the game are contemplating or edging into retirement. And today, at 46, the left-handed hurler is the oldest player in the big leagues.

Last year Moyer—almost twice the age of some of his teammates—helped the Philadelphia Phillies win the World Series championship. He led the team in wins and has won more games in his 40’s (82) than he did in his 20’s (59). More than 75% of his 246 career wins came since he turned 33.

As for his status as baseball’s reigning Methuselah, Moyer says, “I really feel like I appreciate things a little bit more now. I’m trying to enjoy it. You never know when your last pitch is going to be.”

Virtually everyone in or out of baseball who has met Jamie Moyer admires him as a human being. Moyer is a mentor to teammates and one of the most giving players in the game when it comes to signing autographs, chatting and visiting with fans. He even goes out of his way to be accessible to sports writers, unlike many players who prefer to avoid contact with the media.

The Phillies’ longtime clubhouse attendant, Phil Sheridan, who has observed many ballplayers come and go, said last year, “Jamie is the most human, most caring, most down-to-earth guy I’ve seen.”

Says Eaton: “To me, he was a big resource, not only as a teammate, but as a friend. That’s a great compliment. A lot of guys are great teammates, but what he brings to the clubhouse outside of baseball I thinks helps everybody out. There’s a reason everybody goes to him for advice.”

Yet the true character of Jamie Moyer is most visible off the field. He and his wife, Karen, have dedicated themselves to making lives better for others, particularly children who have suffered physical, emotional or financial pain. They have donated more than $1 million to the Moyer Foundation [2], which they founded a decade ago to assist children whose families are affected by drug abuse or kids who have lost a relative or close friend to death.

The Foundation established bereavement camps across the country to give children who have lost a loved one a chance to mingle with kids in similar situations and gain support for dealing with their loss. Another camp founded and run by the Foundation provides a similar environment to children from homes where drugs have torn at the family fabric.

“You realize as an athlete how fortunate you are,” the pitcher says. “You realize that you can make a difference.

“We sometimes lose a little perspective as athletes. You’re, ‘Wow, I’m this good.’ Or, ‘I make a lot of money.’ But when you walk out that door, you’re no different from anyone else. I’m really no different from anyone else at the ballpark. It just so happens that I have a job that I love, and that other people love and enjoy watching.”

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How Josh Hamilton Defeated His Demons

2009-07-08T05:11:00-07:00

: Image by Keith Allison via Flickr

How faith and family helped big leaguer Josh Hamilton beat his demons

The scene was so familiar I could never have imagined my life was about to enter a tailspin I would almost not survive. But maybe that was because my life had been so charmed up until that point.

I was driving home from a ballgame with my parents that afternoon in March 2001. Mom was in the driver’s seat, I was beside her and Dad was in back. We were talking about the spring-training game I’d just played.

This time I had big news. The manager told me if it were up to him, I’d break camp with the big-league team and be playing in the majors this season.

I don’t mean to boast, but all my life people have called me The Natural. All I knew was, I loved baseball and I believed it was my destiny to play in the major leagues. And now it seemed so close.

Mom turned out of the ballpark parking lot in St. Petersburg, Florida, where my team, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, trained.

My parents had coached me all my life. I was the hardworking All-American guy who didn’t drink or do drugs, who in high school kissed his grandmother before every game—the can’t-miss prospect Tampa Bay had drafted number one in the country and signed for a record $3.96 million bonus. They’re going to be so excited when they hear what the manager said, I thought.

We stopped at a traffic light. My house was about two minutes away. Mom and Dad lived there too. When I signed my pro contract, they left their jobs to be with me—to cook for me, to give me moral support, to be my off-field coaches. About the only thing we disagreed on was the tattoos I’d gotten recently.

After games I went home with my parents instead of hanging out with my teammates. Some people thought they kept me too sheltered, but I didn’t care. I wanted my parents with me. In fact, if it had been up to me, Granny would have lived there too. Then I still could have kissed her before every game.

The light changed. I couldn’t keep my news bottled up any longer. “The manager told me if it were up to him, I’d be breaking camp with the big-league team,” I blurted out. I paused a second before adding that the team’s executives had overruled the manager. For now.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Keep your head up,” he said. “You’re almost there.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a yellow dump truck barreling toward us. I grabbed Mom and pulled her to me. The truck t-boned us in the right side. There was a terrible crash.

Our car careened down the road and rolled to a stop. I looked around. Thankfully we were all still in one piece. Mom’s neck hurt and Dad took a nasty blow to the head. They went home to North Carolina to recover.

I was injured too. The accident did something to my lower back. The team doctors couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong, but the pain kept me off the field. There was no telling when I’d play again. For the first time I was on my own—no parents, no baseball. It was like my life had stopped. At 19.

I didn’t know what to do with all that free time. One afternoon I wandered into the place where I’d gotten my tattoos. It wasn’t anything special—just a shop in a strip mall—but as I sat in the chair and let Kevin, the tattoo artist, ink designs on my body, I felt my troubles slip away.

So I kept going back. I’d get in the chair and forget my injury and the whispers about how I wasn’t living up to the Devil Rays’ nearly four-million-dollar investment. I could even forget how much I missed Mom, Dad and Granny.

One night Kevin invited me out with his buddies. “Sure,” I said. I didn’t ask where we were going. We pulled up to a strip club. Whoa, I thought. I’d never been to a place like that before.

I was nervous, but I tried to act nonchalant. One of the guys ordered beers. I drank one, not wanting them to know I’d never done that, either. I drank a few more, till I felt a buzz.

We ended up at Kevin’s house. Someone pulled out a mirror, tapped out some white powder on it and cut it into thin lines.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Cocaine, man. You gotta try it.”

I stared at the powder. This is wrong, I told myself. This isn’t how my parents raised me.

The guys looked at me expectantly. I felt like I did at the club—I wanted to fit in, be part of things. I bent over the mirror and snorted.

What a rush! It was like hitting a home run with the game on the line. I felt like I’d entered another world, one where I was fearless, invincible, free of the weight of everyone’s expectations, including my own.

Two days later I did coke again. It got to be a regular thing, every time I hung out with Kevin and the guys. I’m just experimenting, I rationalized. It’s not hurting my game. I can’t play now anyway.

Word reached the Devil Rays about my drug use. The team decided to send me to the Betty Ford Clinic. I had to call my parents and tell them.

“What? What are you talking about?” Dad said. “Betty Ford, the rehab?” Mom asked. They didn’t understand how their All-American boy could get mixed up with drugs and alcohol.

Neither did I. I wasn’t ready to admit I even had a drug problem. But that got harder and harder to deny, especially when I returned to playing ball. I went from doing a few lines with the tattoo-parlor guys to using every day, carrying a vial of cocaine in my pocket so I could get a boost whenever I needed it. I got edgy, paranoid that someone would find out my shameful secret.

Except it wasn’t a secret. My personality changed. I showed up late for practice. My performance on the field was erratic. Then in May 2003 I tested positive for cocaine and was suspended for 30 games.

I left Florida and went home to North Carolina, supposedly to get clean. But I didn’t.

Baseball had been my life. Now cocaine was. What consumed me every day was getting high. I tried to quit using—sometimes I’d even stay clean for a few months—but nothing got through to me enough to stick. Not the seven treatment centers I went to after Betty Ford. Not the one-year suspension for violating major-league-baseball’s drug policy yet again in March 2004. Not my parents or their anger, sadness and heartbreak. Not even my grandmother. I tried praying, but that didn’t help either.

The only bright spot was the five-month stretch I managed to stay clean, when I started dating Katie Chadwick. Katie and I went to the same high school, but we weren’t really friends back then. She wasn’t into baseball. She’d never seen me play and had no idea how good I’d been.

What she loved about me was how good I was to her and her daughter, Julia. I fell for both of them. They made me so happy that I fought extra hard to stay away from drugs and drink. When we married in November 2004, Katie thought I’d beaten my demons.

Man, was she wrong.

What was the lowest I sunk? The day I pawned Katie’s wedding ring to buy coke? The day we returned from the hospital with our newborn daughter, Sierra, and Katie asked me to pick up some things for her at the drugstore? I walked into a bar instead. Or was it the day Katie finally kicked me out and got a restraining order to keep me away?

By then I’d graduated to smoking crack. I burned through almost all my bonus money. My binges got worse. I didn’t eat or sleep, I didn’t care about anything except scoring crack. The Natural? No one would call me that now.

One October night in 2005 I blacked out. I woke up in a filthy trailer with a bunch of strangers. Who could I turn to now? My parents had cut me off. So had Katie.

Granny. Mary Holt, the grandmother I used to kiss before every baseball game. I staggered to my truck, drove to her house and knocked on her door…at 2:00 a.m. “Do you think I can stay here for a while?” I asked, practically begging.

She must have been shocked at the sight of me—I’d lost 50 pounds, my clothes were in tatters—but my grandmother took me in. For three days she fed me, hovered over me, woke me, put me to bed. She didn’t lecture me, didn’t judge me. For some reason, she believed in me. “You can get better, Josh,” she said. “You can get all the way better and get back to playing ball.”

Baseball? I’d written that off. And vice versa. But I couldn’t bring myself to dispute her. Maybe part of me was still hoping I could be what I once was.

My addiction turned out to be way more powerful than my grandmother—or I—could imagine. The fourth day at her house, I bought crack, holed up in the room she’d given me and got high.

When I emerged, Granny was waiting in the hall. There was deep sorrow in her eyes, but also anger. “I can’t take this anymore, Josh,” she said. “I can’t sit here and watch you kill yourself, and hurt all the people who love you.” She turned and walked away.

Granny was one of the few people who still believed in me, and I was letting her down. For years I’d wondered when I would hit bottom. Now I knew. You hit bottom when you’ve hurt every last person who loves you.

I went back into my room, and the cold, hard reality of what I’d done hit me. I’d chosen cocaine over everything that gave my life meaning. I chose it over baseball, the sport I was born to play. I chose it over my wife and children, my parents and now my grandmother.

I even chose it over God. I dropped to my knees. Lord, I don’t care if I never play baseball again. Help me get right with my family, and with you, most of all.

It was my first real prayer in a long while. This time I wasn’t trying to make a deal with God. This was me surrendering, throwing myself at his mercy. “Do with me what you want, Lord,” I said.

My eyes fell on the Bible Granny had put in my room. I picked it up and flipped through it. One verse, James 4:7, practically jumped off the page at me: “Humble yourself before God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.”

I read those lines over and over till they were burned into my memory. Every time I was tempted by cocaine—and that first week going cold turkey was vicious—I repeated that verse: “Humble yourself before God…”

My grandmother’s country cooking helped me regain my physical strength. Emotionally and spiritually, I was healing too, now that I understood what I needed to do. I used to live for baseball. Then I lived for crack. Only by living for God, having a personal, intimate relationship with Christ, could I be whole again.

Piece by piece, my life was restored. I earned back my grandmother’s trust, my parents’ and Katie’s. I held my girls again. I started exercising. I learned to face down temptation with prayer. I read the Bible and opened myself up to how God was leading me…to a psychiatrist I trusted…to a baseball program where I worked and rediscovered my love for the game…all the way to the big leagues.

The Cincinnati Reds took a chance on me in 2007 and invited me to spring training. The way my body bounced back after the abuse I’d put it through—that had to be a God thing.

I made the team as a reserve outfielder. Opening Day I didn’t expect to play. I was just thrilled to be in the dugout. Late in the game the manager sent me up to pinch hit. I walked to the batter’s box, my heart hammering.

Some of the fans got to their feet and cheered. Then more. And more. I couldn’t see them but I knew that Katie, my parents, her parents and our girls were there and Granny was watching at home, all of them crying.

Everyone in the ballpark was standing and cheering. I’d never heard a sound like that before. I took a few practice swings and stood for a moment, in awe.

This was about so much more than me, so much more than baseball, even. This was about the kind of miracles the Lord can work when we turn our lives over to him.

That kind of healing could only be super Natural.

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Melvin Mora, an All-Star Dad, too!

2009-07-07T05:01:58-07:00

: Image by Keith Allison via Flickr

The nice people at Guideposts.com have been kind enough to allow us to bring these stories of current Major League players in their entirety. So without further ado…An All-Star Dad By Louis Berney:

Melvin Mora has won baseball honors, but what he prizes most are his children.

One day, when Melvin Mora, the third baseman for the Baltimore Orioles, was a young boy, he was walking with his dad in front of the family’s home.

Suddenly, a man approached, pulled out a gun, pointed it at Melvin’s father, and pulled the trigger. Mora’s father stumbled into the house and collapsed on a couch.

“I was six years old,” Mora recalls. “I didn’t know how to react…I saw my sister crying, so I began to cry. The thing I most remember was that he was lying on the couch. I saw blood…And then he died.”

The Moras, who lived in a gritty neighborhood in the Venezuelan town of Agua Negra, about 150 miles west of Caracas, were poor but never went hungry when Melvin’s father was alive. He worked as a trash collector and farmer and always brought food home for the family table.

But after the shooting, which was a case of mistaken identity, poverty gripped the family. It was difficult for Mora’s mother to provide for a family of six boys and four girls. Melvin was moved from relative to relative. But one thing stayed constant for him: sports.

“I was one of those kids who was always looking for a sport to play,” he says. He started boxing but more naturally gravitated toward soccer, by far the most popular sport in Venezuela. He became very good, so good, in fact, that he was named to the Venezuelan national soccer team as a teenager.

But soccer players, even extraordinary ones, did not make much money in Venezuela in the late 1980s. An athletic coach, who became something of a surrogate father to Melvin, steered him to baseball. He told the youngster that more money could be made in that sport. He was right.

Fast-forward to 2009. Mora, 37, earns $9 million a year playing in his 10th season for the Baltimore Orioles. He is a two-time All-Star and has the highest single-season batting average (.340) in the Orioles’ rich history.

But for Mora, baseball is his career, his avocation; his passion is fatherhood. The man who lost his own father at the age of six now has six children of his own, including seven-year-old quintuplets.

“The most wonderful thing is to be a father,” the ballplayer says. “When you have a lovely life, and you grow up without a parent, you want to have nothing happen to your kids. You just want to be there for them.”

His wife, Gisel, says he has devoted himself to his children, to Tatiana and the quintuplets—Genesis, Rebekah, Jada Priscilla, Christian and Matthew David.

“My friends can’t believe what he does as a father,” she explains. “He often comes home from the ballpark well after midnight. But he gets up at 6:30 in the morning, makes the kids their breakfast, takes them to school, and then goes back to bed. He wants to be a part of their lives, because he knows what it’s like to not have the influence of a father.”

As a major league ballplayer, he is away for much of the spring and summer. When he’s not on the road, though, he wants to be with his children at their home just north of Baltimore.

“A friend of mine,” Mora says, “who lost a daughter to a car accident always tells me, ‘No matter what, before your kids go to bed, give them a kiss because you never know when the last time might be when you will see them.’ So every night I have the opportunity to kiss them goodnight, I do it.”

Mora didn’t have much time as a child to develop a loving relationship with his father. He wants to be sure that Tatiana and the quintuplets have that opportunity.

“I don’t want anything back from my kids,” he says. “They love me, and that’s fine. That’s enough for me.”

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The case of Pablo Sandoval and the NL All-Star team

2009-07-06T05:19:08-07:00

: Image by acordova via Flickr

The starting National League third baseman in this month’s mid summer classic will be the Mets’ David Wright. His numbers, even beyond his inflated New York aided vote total warrant the selection, especially when compared to the other top two vote getters; Chipper Jones and Ryan Zimmerman. Not to mention Pedro Feliz and Bill Hall who round out the top five vote-getters.

But when you factor in a far less popular candidate you may be hard pressed to argue that Wright is the undisputed choice for the NL at the hot corner.

Pablo Sandoval has carved out a nice little first half for himself in one of the Pacific Time zone’s cooler parts; San Francisco. The 22 year old Venezuelan, who wasn’t on any body’s radar a year ago, is beginning to garner some much deserved attention.

As of July 1st, Sandoval is hitting .338, second best in the NL only to Wright’s .345. The “Kung-Fu Panda,” as his teammates affectionately call him, has belted an unexpected 11 homers, driven in 40 RBI, and is first among MLB third baseman with a .567 slugging percentage, and an OPS of .955 (OPS+148).

Pablo Sandoval conjures a similar feeling in a pitcher as Vladimir Guerrero would, with a swing that could cover a pitch on either shore of the Mississippi. He’s swung at 45.3% of the pitches that were thrown to him out of the strike zone. But while he’s uber-aggressive he’s also shown an extraordinary ability to square up those pitches, and make hard contact, with a batting average on balls in play of .360; an important key to his success as teams try to make him chase “bad” pitches. This season less than 40% of the pitches thrown to Sandoval (39%) have been strikes.

Beyond his uncanny knack to poke a 90 mph slider the other way, or get fooled on a big slow curve, only keep his strong hands back and pull into the corner, Sandoval has become a bit picky at the plate. After drawing just four walks in 145 plate appearances in his ’08 call up, Sandoval was tagged as a free swinger; not a good indication that he could maintain his high average over a full season. Then came 2009, and it seemed to be more of the same. The entirety of his April and May at bats (169) saw the ‘round mound of pound’ walk only 8 times. But then, Sandoval matured into a patient hitter seemingly right in front of our very eyes. Since June 1st, Sandoval has drawn 13 walks in 94 at-bats, all while keeping his productivity high, and his strikeouts low; 8 HR, 20 RBI in June to just 16 strikeouts.

Most impressively, Sandoval is doing all of this while playing a position he learned, for the most part, just this past spring. The former catcher/first baseman has handled third base with aplomb; making just two errors in 125 total chances, good for a .984 fielding percentage. He won’t win a gold glove (even I won’t argue that), as he needs to improve on fielding the balls he’s forced to charge (bunts, slow rollers, etc.), and making the glove to bare-hand exchange with greater efficiency. Still, with three positions in his repertoire he would be an invaluable piece on Charlie Manuel’s roster.

It’s hard to define Sandoval solely by the numbers he puts up. To watch him play is like watching a yellow lab chasing a tennis ball in Golden Gate Park; pure joy, energy, and hustle. His hitting philosophy would cause Ted Williams to turn down the thermostat in his cryogenic chamber, but it’s simple enough for Pablo to explain in his improving English; “see ball, swing.”

Were the rest of baseball as familiar with him as the faithful in China Basin are, Sandoval would have received a bit more support on the ballot. As it stood on June 29th, Wright, Jones, Zimmerman, Feliz and Hall combined to earn more than 6 million more votes than Pablo. The commissioner’s office announced on July 1st that the rosters for the All-Star game would be expanded to 33. But, this was designed to give teams an extra pitcher. No worries for Pablo, the naturally left handed thrower has a filthy curve ball, he just taught himself to ply right handed so he could play more positions.

There you have it, Charlie. Who else could play first, third, or catch, hit for power, and average off of either Tim Wakefield or Roy Halladay, and even throw a couple innings on the bump if the situation called for it? This Panda is not your average bear.

Top 5 vote getters amongst NL Third baseman

	R	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	BB	IBB	SO	SB	CS	Avg	Obp	Slg	Ops
Wright	49	98	23	3	5	42	43	3	76	20	8	.345	.432	.500	.932
Jones	37	66	12	2	9	33	45	10	37	1	1	.288	.404	.476	.880
Zimmerman	52	92	22	0	13	44	36	5	64	0	0	.301	.371	.500	.871
Feliz	30	77	17	1	5	39	20	1	32	0	0	.295	.340	.425	.766
Hall	18	37	10	0	5	18	15	0	58	1	0	.203	.263	.341	.603

Sandoval 35 89 23 2 11 40 21 4 40 2 2 .338 .391 .567 .958

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A Glove of Their Own to Warm IOC Committee’s Hearts?

2009-07-05T05:29:19-07:00

1904…1936…1992…2005…2008…2012…2016?

The summer Olympiad of 1904 was the first Olympic Games to welcome baseball into the fold.

In 1936, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) removed Polo from the Olympic Games. Why is this important? Well, until baseball was voted out of the Olympics it was the last sport to suffer such a fate.

At the games of the XXV Olympiad in Barcelona in 1992 after a long run as an Olympic demonstration sport, baseball finally became a medal sport.

Then came July 8th, 2005 when the IOC ruled to discontinue softball and baseball as of the 2012 Olympics in London.

As it stands now the last country to win an Olympic medal in baseball will be South Korea, as they captured the gold in Beijing in 2008.

By dropping baseball and softball from the 2012 games, it has eliminated close to 300 athletes from competition at the games.

That leads us to where we are today. The International Baseball Federation (IBAF) is currently looking to prove to the International Olympic Committee (IOC) that baseball is in fact a sport that embodies the Olympic spirit and thus should be included in all Olympics going forward starting in 2016.

So all eyes have started to look forward to October 2016 when the IOC will then select from Chicago, Tokyo, Rio de Janeiro, or Madrid to host the Games.

Baseball is without an Olympic home but in the capable hands of IBAF President Dr. Harry Schiller baseball soldiers on with an eye towards the 2016 games.

Despite its global popularity growing and the fact that three different teams have hoisted a gold medal around their neck in the past five Olympiads, the IOC has felt that it is time for baseball to be taken off the program.

It is the goal of Dr. Schiller and the IBAF to make sure that baseballs absence from the games is merely temporary in nature. As it is unclear to the regular fan the exact reason that the great game that claims to have its roots in Cooperstown, New York is being discontinued, but one thing is for certain.

Baseball like the other games approved for competition embraces the Olympic spirit and the lessons of sportsmanship, friendship and hard work that the IOC looks to promote at every turn through out the games.

As far as I can see the Olympic movement is defined by Pierre de Coubertin, its creator. It was Pierre in June of 1894 along with Demetrios Vikelas who founded the Olympic movement and subsequently the International Olympic Committee that organized the Athens of Olympics of 1896.

It was these two gentlemen that began the movement, keeping in mind “the goal of the Olympic Movement is to contribute to building a peaceful and better world by educating youth through sport practiced without discrimination of any kind and in the Olympic spirit, which requires mutual understanding with a spirit of friendship, solidarity and fair play.”

It is now the IBAF’s job to convince current IOC President Jacques Rogue and the rest of the committee, that baseball does exactly that.

As part of Dr. Schiller’s campaign to outline baseball’s importance to the international community and the lessons that can be learned he turned to an unusual source. The International Baseball Federation didn’t look for testimonials from professionals, from as they are called in the industry, “baseball people.”

It went back to find where baseball fit in conjunction with the principles of the movements founder. There back at the beginning of the IOC he found education through sport, mutual understanding, friendship and fair play.

He also found A Glove of their Own, a beautifully illustrated children’s book that captures just that. The lessons we all learn as children playing on our own sandlot. The lessons of that a strike is a strike, an out is an out, and you don’t need an umpire to tell you why.

Baseball teaches that after you make out, your friends will pick you up, whether it shouts of you’ll get him next time, or a rally saving base hit.

More importantly it is the education of our youth that makes this world a better place, A Glove of Their Own goes beyond keeping your eye on the ball and your elbow up. It tells of a story that not only benefits those involved, but the ripple effect of paying it forward.

With that in mind Dr. Schiller and the IBAF ordered copies of A Glove of Their Own, which they distributed to 30 members of the IOC. It is through A Glove of Their Own that the IBAF continues to make its case that baseball is the perfect vehicle to contribute to the Olympic Movement.

So the IBAF stares ahead, armed with an unusual secret weapon. A small illustrated book written to educate, to teach youth of one more lesson baseball brings us to enrich our lives. It unintentionally has managed to mirror and embody the IOC’s goals. Without compromise A Glove of Their Own has managed to show that baseball encapsulates the principles, beliefs, and lessons that the IOC has set for each of the sports on display at its celebration of sport.

With that in mind, I fully expect Dr.Schiller and IBAF will be able to open the 2016 the games with the “PLAY BALL” heard around the world.

A Glove of Their Own, is an award winning children’s book from Franklin Mason Press that is winning the hearts and minds of baseball fans everywhere. Special thanks to Bob Salomon for his unwaivering support of the project, and Debbie Moldovan, Keri Conkling and Lisa Funari-Willever. Please take the time to visit www.agloveoftheirown.com

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Akadema® Unveils The Patriot Series

2009-07-04T04:30:53-07:00

Happy Independence Day!

Seeing that Baseball is our national past time, I am thrilled to endorse Akadema® Professional: A leading baseball and softball equipment based out of Hawthorne, NJ! They make the gloves that players such as the Phillies CF Shane Victorino, the Dodgers LF Manny Ramirez, and Team USA Softball P Monica Abbott (just to name a few). They even are endorsed by a few Hall of Famersin C Gary Carter, P Bob Feller and LF/1B Carl Yastrzemski.

I write to you, my faithful readers, today with a belated announcement: Akadema® unveiled a new line of gloves back in April called The Patriot Series and here is a description of the series right from their press release.

The Patriot Series, which will be hand-made in the United States by American craftsmen. While an increasing number of companies are manufacturing product outside the United States, Akadema is committed to bringing business back to America, and providing high quality U.S. made products.

The seven-glove Patriot Series caters to eight out of the nine positions on the field and is hand-made with black precision-kip leather mended with gray lacing for eye-catching aesthetics and true ‘Made In the USA’ appeal. Each glove also features the Akadema logo patch customized in red, white and blue along with an official “Made In USA” patch to truly authenticate the American craftsmanship.

“It is only fitting that players of America’s pastime can enjoy a high quality product made right here in the U.S.,” said Lawrence Gilligan, Akadema President. “We take great deal of pride in the quality and craftsmanship that goes into every Patriot Series product.”

The new Akadema line will be handmade in the Company’s Hawthorne-NJ headquarters. Suggested retail price for Patriot Series gloves is $249.99.

I personally use an Akadema® glove, an 11.5″ Funnel Series infielder’s glove (but more on that at a later date), so I a can personally speak about the quality of the gloves that Akadema® produces. So if you are thinking about purchasing a seriious new glove this baseball season and you want it to be “Made in America”, please consider buying one of the gloves in the Patriot Series.

You can see more from them by visiting their website at www.akademapro.com*

*As of the time of this writing, Baseball Reflections.com does not earn a commission for the sale of any Akadema® gloves, bats, etc. We are fans of the product and wish to promote domestic spending on products made in the US, especially in this difficult economy.

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Manny Returns to the Dodger Lineup

2009-07-03T18:09:32-07:00

: Image by Getty Images via Daylife

Manny Ramirez returns to the Dodgers’ lineup tomorrow not as a pariah, but as a prodigal son. All has been foriven after his 50-game exile for testing positive for performance-enhancing drugs when he takes the field for the Dodgers in San Diego.

Mannywood, otherwise known as the left-field bleachers, will be back and open for business as a Dodger marketing tool — as National Sports Examiner Paula Duffy notes.

Dodger owner Frank McCourt has been shamelessly passing out All-Star ballots with Manny’s name encircled. (Full disclosure: I voted for Manny several times to be an All-Star this year — but not out of a love for Manny, but to shame MLB and highlight the absurdity of its lax steroids policy).

Even Joe Torre, usually a man who can be counted on to stick up for integrity in the game, publicly voiced his eagerness to get Manny back in the lineup. In fairness, it’s Torre’s job to help the Dodgers win games, not be an embassador for the games. But would it have been too much to ask for Torre to be perfunctionary and staid in his response to the inevitable questions?

As Yahoo notes, when Manny visited Dodger Stadium in early June, he said he was ready to move on and didn’t want to be a distraction.

“I didn’t kill nobody, I didn’t rape nobody, so that’s it, I’m just going to come and play the game,” Ramirez said.

And that’s about the extent of Manny’s remorse (meaning none), and he will probably will say nothing else of substance beyond that as the circus that will surround him starting on Friday. After San Diego, the Dodgers head to New York. Expect the rabid press there to try to give him the business. And expect Manny to give nothing back.

Getting to Manny’s affect on the lineup, it can only be good. He’ll be right back in there hitting in the 3-hole, and his very presence — even if he takes a while to get his stroke back — will make the Dodgers lineup better. And while the offense has been in a bit of a slump lately, the Dodgers have been just fine without him. They’re on pace for 100 wins, and — as TrueBlueLA points out — the Dodgers have the best record in the NL since Manny exited the lineup. In fact, despite shuffling lately, the Dodgers still have the best record in baseball.

: Image via Wikipedia

One has to feel bad for Juan Pierre, who will be sent to the bench for the second time by Manny — and has done nothing but produce for the Dodgers when called upon. Pierre is hitting .322 on the season, and has not just scored runs and caused havoc on the bases, but has driven in runs. He’s been the player the Dodgers thought they signed to play full-time in the outfield before landing Manny was a dream of the McCourts last summer.

Follow Jim Lakely, the Los Angeles Dodgers Examiner, on Twitter.

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Tigers Still looking for Bats

2009-07-03T05:58:50-07:00

: Image by mwlguide via Flickr

As the All-Star break draws near, many teams around the league are looking for upgrades. Your Motor City Kitties are no exception. The Tigers need for a another bat has been well chronicled, and many names have been tossed around the blogosphere. Unfortunately, the Tigers failed to pounce on the one name that I would have liked them to target; Eric Hinske.

On Tuesday June 30, the Pirates made their annual trade with the Yankees, sending Hinske to New York along with cash for two minor leaguers. You may recall that over the past several seasons, the Pirates have made several deals with the Yankees, sending them Craig Wilson, Damaso Marte, Shawn Chacon, and Xavier Nady. The Pirates always seem to get the short end of such trades.

The Yankees use these players to solidify their push to the playoffs, while the Pirates continue to flounder until the next season, when they repeat the process. It has been said that the definition of insanity is to repeat your actions and expect different results. I believe the Pirates’ executives to be insane.

Image by afagen via Flickr

So what’s left for Detroit? Guys like Aubrey Huff and Luke Scott are likely still available, as are Adam Dunn and Nick Johnson, but all will have a bigger price tag than Hinske.

Perhaps, the Tigers’ answer will come from within, as Carlos Guillen is progressing nicely from his shoulder injury that has cost him most of the season. If he can regain any type of the form at the plate he has displayed over the past several seasons, he would be a welcome addition to the Tigers’ inconsistent attack.

The simple facts are that if the Tigers plan to make it to October, the offense needs a boost. If players like Guillen and Magglio Ordonez can find the fountain of youth, they should have enough to get there. If not, and I would not put a ton of faith in that happening, the team must look outside the organization for help.

A versatile left handed hitter that’s capable of hitting the long ball would be ideal. With Hinske’s name scratched from the shopping list, I will throw my support behind Chad Tracy of the Diamondbacks.

Tracy has spent the last month on the disabled list, but when healthy, has shown good pop throughout his career, twice hitting at least 20 home runs in a season. He can play first base and third base. He played in the outfield regularly prior to 2006, so he could probably get by there again.

Tracy could be activated by this weekend and while it’s true that he has been injury prone over the past three seasons, it would be a risk to take him on, the Tigers wouldn’t need him to play everyday. He could be used in a platoon situation to help offset the losses of production the team was counting on from Ordonez and Guillen.

Given his injury history and the D-backs roster full of young talent, Arizona shouldn’t ask for a ton in return, as they don’t really have a place for him to play. Tracy has a $7 million option for next season with a buyout of $1 million, so he should fit into the Tigers’ plans financially as well.

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