“Aha!” My Favorite Moments in Baseball

July 19th, 2009

July 19, 2009 — I met a lovely gentleman, Kent, a couple of weeks ago. (I must admit part of his charm was his declaration that 50 years old is still a very young life.) We struck up a conversation while sort of standing around and it didn’t take long to discover our baseball connections. A long-time little league coach here in Utah, he’d been an early guide/mentor for drafted ballplayers Scott Pratt and Zach Sorensen. When his now-adult daughter decided she wanted to play baseball, they “shaved her head” and signed her up to play side-by-side with the boys. He promised the next time they came to a Bees game, he’d send her down to share hardball stories. I certainly hope they do, and she does.

It was a wonderful afternoon, well spent. Although I can’t recall exactly how we got to there, we found ourselves chatting about the joy of watching young minor leaguers develop into polished pros. The old coach chuckled in warm agreement when I declared there is nothing sweeter than witnessing the epiphany, the “aha!” moment, when all the hours of grinding away at drills and practice suddenly bear fruit.

What’s interesting about these moments is they can be simultaneously subtle and obvious. Subtle in that they rarely show up with the highlighted authority of a grand slam or double play. Obvious, though, if you’ve been following a particular athlete or spent some time coaching them. I liken it to how parents can recognize their children, even when they are too far away for facial recognition. The brain is a marvelous observer, picking up a multitude of visual clues, all of which add up to, “Oh, there’s Sue, over there on the berm,” or “No, I don’t think that’s Pete, he runs differently.”

The best part is the feeling you’ve stumbled upon a suddenly revealed treasure, a gift from heaven. And for athletes in organized baseball, this gift is more literal than figurative. Each moment is a step forward on the inside—physically and mentally— which is hopefully mirrored on the outside by a progression up the minor league ladder. Triple-A coaches are quick to note these moments are smaller and less frequent at this level. Subtle. At the same time though, they harbor the potential of a momentous reward—a spot on the major league roster. Obvious.

Regular readers know of my fondness for sharing these celebratory events: Angel Castillo, Matt Brown, Nick Adenhart, Brandon Wood, Kendry Morales. My latest involves one of our newest Bees, 24-year-old Trevor Bell, RHP.

Bell showed up in Salt Lake mid-June, amidst a flurry of pitcher promotions and demotions. His first start was certainly memorable, a two-hit, complete game shut-out. His latest start was, for yours truly, unforgettable. The game was against their division rivals,  the Colorado Sky Sox, who were leading Salt Lake by 4.5 games just prior to the all-star break. In short, a full-game gain or loss was at stake for both teams.

Amidst this crucial division rivalry, a more personal contest was developing between the Triple-A rookie Bell and 11-year MLB veteran Sal Fasano. It was a bit of a surreal sight, the contrast in their physical appearances mirroring their baseball experiences.

Sal Fasano is a bear of a backstop at 6’2″, 250 lbs, with dark, shaggy hair cascading from his head and Fu Manchu mustache flowing down his face. He’s logged over 400 games in the big leagues.

Trevor Bell, 6’2″, 180 lbs, is our California Golden Boy, with wisps of blonde hair sticking out from under his ballcap. This was only his 6th start in a Bees uniform since being promoted from Double-A Arkansas on June 16th.

In the 5th inning, on a 1-1 count, Fasano hit a very long ball to left field, foul. Bell turned and looked at the video board for the replay. He walked back to the mound, eyes down.

Fasano looked at Bell like a wolf eyes a baby lamb. His face said it all, “Kid, you’re meat.”

Bell looked impassively towards the plate as Fasano dug into the batter’s box. The next pitch was a high fastball—fouled back. Followed by another, fouled again. Fasano stepped back out of the box and banged his fist on the handle of the bat in frustration.

“Come on kid. You’ve got him now,” I whispered to no one in particular.

Next pitch, fastball, swing and a miss. Fasano didn’t even look up as he turned and headed down the dugout steps. Bell stood on the mound without a hint of emotion. Cool Baby Bell.

For Fasano’s next two at-bats, including the final at-bat and out of the game, the kid didn’t give an inch to the veteran.

I’m certainly not making any long-term career predictions from one “aha!” moment. I will, however, be happily looking forward to the next one from our promising young pitcher…Your friend in baseball.

Entry Filed under: Major League Baseball,Minor Leagues,Salt Lake Bees