Baseball Prospect Report

By John Klima
September 1, 2010

The devil came to visit Stephen Strasburg a few summers ago. I’m not sure exactly when or where, but it might have been after he was a nobody in the New England Collegiate League or maybe after he was tired of being questioned as an ordinary bad body right-hander with ordinary velocity. I’m not sure exactly what the devil told him, but I am sure what he promised. And for one glorious contract and a few big league starts, the devil kept his word.

Strasburg’s deal with the devil has officially expired, and in old sarcastic scouting jargon, it’s time to cash in that discount coupon with Dr. Jobe. Tommy John surgery awaits and it isn’t the end of his career, but it’s the end of the beginning. Time to do that running, time to train that core, and time to learn how to become a pitcher and not a thrower.

These big arms should read the fine print. You can be a rock star rookie, you can be a cover-boy prospect rag darling, you can even get paid for lighting up a radar gun and scribbling on a few baseball cards. But when the game itself interferes, be ready to read the fine print, and remember this. You can feel for a kid who is undergoing the laser, because it’s a hard way to learn never to read your own press and never to be treated as more than a kid who knows nothing about how to pitch in the big leagues. Never before has so much energy been expired over a guy who proved nothing, save for being a star in a hype machine. Fourteen strikeouts against the Pirates didn’t prove it. Laboring to get through five innings didn’t prove it. Kerry Wood was better before he blew out – 20 strikeouts in a game with two Hall of Famers in a lineup smack dab in the middle of the steroid era.

Being protected and cocooned as a trophy kid did nothing to help Strasburg learn how to be a pro pitcher. The devil had it written up well, but he’s not going to be the one on his back, slowly counting back from ten.

I would have loved Strasburg so much more if he threw 91-94 with plus fastball command rather than the 94-100 freak show he was turned into. I would have loved him with humility instead of entitlement. I would have loved Strasburg with a slower curveball he could alternate with the hammer, a better change-up, a willingness to roll a ground ball, than a guy who couldn’t get through five innings. I would have loved him more if he hadn’t been shoved down our throats like a carnival ride we all had to try, with the devil barking all the way to the bank.

I still remember the first time I saw Strasburg. It was in Compton. Of course, I had heard about him. But I had also seen Mark Prior at USC and Jered Weaver at Long Beach. The funny thing was I liked Weaver more as a lean and lanky freshman trusting his fastball sink than I did as a heavier junior throwing harder than he should have. Weaver is now what he was supposed to be, and for that, I give him credit. Prior was thick and stiff as a collegian. He was compared to Nolan Ryan, but the comparisons were flawed. Ryan was lean, lanky, whippy and explosive. Prior was broad, rangy and less flexible.

Then I saw Strasburg. I wanted to like him. I really did. But when I saw him, two words flashed through my mind: Brad Penny. Brad Penny body, Brad Penny arm slot, Brad Penny velocity and stuff. Brad Penny used to be thin, blew up, and then broke. I thought Strasburg would, too.

Of course in that magical spring of 2009, when Strasburg was cutting up college baseball, it was nearly blasphemous to say anything negative about the devil’s boy. When I did, I got ripped. It comes with the territory. Let me share some of my observations from 2009.

“Strasburg still reminds me of Brad Penny in physique, stuff and mechanics. Penny hasn’t been a bad pro, but his health hasn’t made him reliable. The way Strasburg is sold, we’re supposed to believe he’ll be a 20-game winner for the next 10 years. The letdown is unavoidable. He’ll never have a chance to breathe. He’ll be called a savior. The flavor of the month is going to melt if he’s anything less than an immediate ace.”

I thought Mike Leake would be a better pro. I knew he wouldn’t be as flashy, but let’s not underestimate the word “pro.” Leake is a better pro than Strasburg. He gets more out of less. He’s proven himself to be a gamer. He knows his place. He plays the game. His team is in first place. He’s earned trust and respect. Better to be an overachiever than an underachiever.

“In short, everything about Leake indicates that he is built for the long haul more than Strasburg is,” I wrote. “Leake may not be a meteor, but he may linger in the sky.”

In Strasburg’s scouting report, I played (pardon the expression) Devil’s Advocate, because I have been around the game long enough to know that consensus scouting is another phrase for fear. As an industry, baseball fears dissenting opinions. As an industry, baseball wants someone or something else (usually a machine) to do the thinking for them, because they cannot think for themselves or are too afraid to.

I never disputed Straburg’s arm strength, no matter how he got it. I did, however, express concerns that he wasn’t durable, that he wasn’t athletic, that I hated his arm action, that he would never be able to get through five innings in under 100 pitches, that he was cocooned to his detriment, that anything less than complete success would be a failure. If the devil read my scouting report, he probably laughed, because his percentage was already guaranteed.

If I feel bad for anyone, it’s for the Nationals fans who had every reason to get fired up about this guy, without having any real knowledge of who he was, where he came from, or what he used to be not very long ago. The Nationals are spinning it until the very end, but the next time a major league staff is anchored by a five-inning guy will be the first.

What we are left with is history repeating itself. The Devil has made his share of deals with young power arms in the past and he has them lined up for the future. He usually gets pro baseball to fall for it again and again. This is what it comes to: your star power is not pitch-ability. Your bonus is not your future, but it can be your legacy. What do you want more: long term success or fleeting success? Do you want to be Roy Halladay or do you want to be Todd Van Poppel? The devil is the master of the bait and switch. He couldn’t fool Paul Snyder.

These are the choices young pitchers must make, because on the field, nobody cares about how much the media loves you or how much you signed for. You need to be able to pitch with your stuff in a healthy manner. You need to be a person and not a machine, a pitcher and not a thrower, and patient and not hurried. Those who fail to learn from the past make these mistakes in the future, and the devil is always waiting around the corner, with a wad of bills, a fresh contract, a shiny fountain pen and a discount coupon for Dr. Jobe.

Categories: Baseball Beginnings Exclusives
Tags: Column, Stephen Strasburg, Washington Nationals