A Self Indulgent Post About My Playing Days

A few moments ago, I read a tweet from an old high school nemesis – Sean Doolittle. The topic of the tweet didn’t have anything to do with this post. His comment sent me down a mental rabbit hole, wondering what I’d say to him if we were to meet again. Sean was always an approachable rival, and there were a few occasions when we trained together at an indoor facility (it’s bothering me that I can’t remember the name of it). However, I was awkward, shy, and probably not very memorable. I don’t foresee a budding bromance in our future, even if we were to be re-introduced.

That got me thinking about who I was as a player back in my prime, and what I wish I knew then. I played competitive baseball through college. I attended a D-III school in St. Paul, Minnesota not known for sporting prowess. My recruiting class consisted of me, a lazy catcher, and two walk ons. The others all quit after freshman year. The best I can say about myself is that I contributed. For the first half of my junior season, I was actually quite good. I spent most of my college career pitching through arm injuries. I’m still pitching through those same, slowly worsening injuries.

I play in a men’s league now. The rosters are littered with a scattering of former minor leaguers and good D-I athletes. Also, guys who stopped playing baseball in middle school. The range of talent is wide. I consider myself to be a core performer in this league – the equivalent of a 1.5 to 3.0 WAR player. I don’t take the games very seriously. Some of my teammates do. As do some of our rivals. I frequently find myself laughing at whatever silly thing just happened. Lots of silly things happen when 30 year olds try to pretend they’re 18. Shockingly, this devil-may-care approach has helped me to field better, actually command my pitches, and bat comfortably.

When I was playing competitive baseball in high school, college, and summer ball, I always had something to prove. And I played tight. You hear announcers talk about it as a positive. “That guy is playing with a chip on his shoulder.” For some players, it is a positive. For me, that chip was a big fat negative. Maybe it’s an introvert/extrovert thing.

One time, my summer travel coach took me aside and asked why I played so nervously. I was a backup middle infielder on this particular team, two years younger than the starters and our opponents. I was trying to make a case to start next season when the incumbents were ineligible. I told him I wasn’t nervous. And I wasn’t. I just wanted to prove I was good enough to start. So I made mistakes because I didn’t want to make mistakes. Now I don’t care if I make mistakes, and I make fewer of them. It’s weird how that works.

Here’s where the story pivots back to fantasy baseball – particularly prospects and other new players. When a player first reaches the majors, he will not be relaxed. Everybody talks about the butterflies. They’re ubiquitous. For some, they’ll try so hard and it’ll help them be their best selves. For others, they’ll try so hard and it’ll ruin them.

I bet Jackie Bradley Jr. fit in this latter category. In 2013 and 2014, he struggled at the plate despite good performances while surging through the minors. All he had was his glove. Then, partway through 2015, he caught fire. He had a couple similarly smokey hot streaks last season. Now we view him as a very useful fantasy asset. A season and a half ago, most fantasy analysts had written him off entirely. Maybe something else happened with Bradley. My guess is that he relaxed, he stopped trying to prove himself, and his performance ticked upwards in response.

Who else might benefit from relaxing. Byron Buxton’s name jumps immediately to mind. Really, anybody who pounds Triple-A pitching, has all the physical traits of a major leaguer, and just isn’t getting the job done. Maybe that’s Oswaldo Arcia or Tyler White or Joey Rickard or Byung-ho Park. Dalton Pompey really interests me based on some comments from Blue Jays people. So many good prospects debuted last year. Some of them will fall into this bucket by the end of 2017.

As fantasy owners, especially in dynasty leagues, it can pay to stay on top of these players when your rivals give up. It’s your job to scout the skills. Rickard, for example, looked especially tenacious last April. Through April 21, he hit .350/.359/.483 with a high BABIP fueled by a high line drive rate and spray contact. He looked like a slower DJ LeMahieu. The scouting report caught up – Rickard was hacking at everything, relying on his bat control. I watched him extend several at bats by fouling off good pitches. Then the pitchers adjusted. Instead of adjusting right back, Rickard pressed at the plate. He finished the season on a sour note. He was no longer a hard out.

In some cases, a player simply doesn’t have the capacity to adjust. Their swing paths are too exploitable, they aren’t athletic enough, or they just lack the secret sauce that allows a brain to track 97 mph heaters and 87 mph sliders. I don’t think that’s the case with Rickard. I believe he can adjust. This is not to say he’s a big breakout candidate in dynasty leagues – his physical talent still limits him to a good fourth outfielder ceiling. A Jon Jay-quality player. I’m just using him as an example.

The real challenge is discerning between a try hard and somebody who’s been misevaluated by the scouting community. What’s the difference between Fernando Martinez, Domonic Brown, and Bradley? Can we as fantasy players ever hope to distinguish between the future stars and the bums? Probably not. However, we can do a better job about keeping an open mind to the next round of Bradley’s.