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Not a Rookie Mistake
Anthony
didn't mean to bring this upon himself; he's simply a victim of
bad timing. Had he shown up a year ago--maybe two years ago--he'd
just be another name on the list of guys who thought slapping a
plastic ball around in the deathly summer heat was an idea of a
good time. However, the year Anthony decided to find this league
happened to be the year this league was searching in vain for more
"fresh meat" than ever before. Anthony sure as hell found
the league, but you couldn't really say the league found Anthony.
In all reality, this league still has no damn clue who Anthony Sanzone
is.
You
see, no one in this league outside of myself and Hart McKenzie (Anthony's
friend, more on him later) has seen Anthony swing a wiffle bat.
Not one. None of the captains saw him (other than me). None of the
scrubs saw him. Just me and Hart. And we only saw the guy for about
twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. I'm supposed to come up with a quality
and comprehensive scouting analysis on Anthony Sanzone after seeing
him take about 30 hacks and toss about 30 pitches? I did the best
I could to describe what I saw in Anthony, that being a good-looking,
powerful stroke that drove many balls to deep parts of our confines.
A young man named Darnell Uhland, a man I respect and who I know
respects me, took my words to heart and took Anthony Sanzone with
the very first pick of the 2002 draft. Even though Joey Holt, a
virtual guarantee to hit 20 HRs (if he shows up) and a beast of
a man who already had over 100 ABs of experience, was sitting in
the draft pool, available to provide quick help for whoever was
fortunate enough to get him. Think you know pressure? Well, pretend
you're Anthony Sanzone.
It's
not like Anthony chose to be in this position. Before he showed
up, the rookie crop was looking somewhat uninspiring. Like farmers
dreading a horrible harvest, guys in this league were dismayed by
the possibility that the league could become more watered down than
grandma's scotch. So large was the possibility of a "drought"
that unknown Anthony Sanzone shows up roughly two hours before the
draft (in jeans, nonetheless), hits a few 125-foot shots, and gets
picked #1 by a guy who after the draft had a rough time remembering
his first name. Stories like this just write themselves. I'm serious!
I'm not even writing this. I'm just typing the keys.
"No,
I'm not really feeling any pressure at all. I know what I can do.
I just want to get out there and play some ball. Pressure doesn't
matter to me. I'm confident I'll prove my #1 status."
This
was Anthony's reply when I asked if he was feeling pressure about
his "#1" status. Nevermind the fact that Anthony's never
seen the pitchers in this league. He's never left one up to Scott
Carmichael. He's never played in a league where pitches that literally
nearly hit your feet are strikes. Nevermind the fact that despite
all this, Anthony's going to be expected to carry the offensive
load for the Road Warriors and hit between 20-25 homeruns. At least.
Nevermind the fact that the only thing Anthony knew about the upcoming
season before I spoke with him was that friend and fellow rookie
Chris Keefer was on his team and that he was the #1 pick.
"Do
you know your team's name?" I asked him. "No," was
his casual reply, without much hint of an interest in actually finding
out he was on the Road Warriors. "You're on the Road Warriors,"
I answered to the question he didn't ask. "Road Warriors?"
he replied. "Sounds good." Finally a hint of a smile crept
across his face. "Road Warriors," he repeated, a little
slower.
And
the thing is, the man who picked him #1 knows about the same of
Anthony as Anthony knows of him. Upon finally seeing Anthony via
a picture sent over the Internet through e-mail, Darnell replied
with nothing other than "Looks to me like he'd fit well in
the three-hole." Is this a marriage made in heaven or what?
Anthony's
been playing baseball since he was "about six years old."
He played all through high school, as did a few in the league, Darnell
being the only one to move onto the collegiate level. As far as
wiffleball is concerned, Anthony's been playing "ever since
I was a kid," he stated. "Everyday, in the backyard."
With what ball though Anthony?
"All
kinds. Solid balls, that one ball with the holes on one side, something
that resembles the ball you use...all of them."
A vast
experience with all forms of the plastic could mean right there
that Anthony will hold his own in 2002. Still, the pic on the front
page and the pics within this article are not only first looks for
people like our fans, but they're also first looks for many of the
players in the league. These people don't know Anthony, and Anthony
doesn't know them. That doesn't stop him from proclaiming that,
on the sole basis of his knowledge of his own ability, the 2002
Rookie of the Year award seems to be his.
"I
guess I'm just cocky like that," he states, rather indifferently.
The
one area Anthony remains somewhat shy is his pitching. By no means
was his pitching bad in what I saw, but since it stood alone next
to Hart McKenzie's during their "try-out" it was forced
to play the role of ugly sister. Hart was firing scary-fast heaters
and firing them with frightening accuracy. Anthony showed a fair
amount of accuracy himself, but his fastball was relatively average.
Still, most people would love to be considered "average"
next to what Hart was showing.
"Hart's
gonna be a tough pitcher to hit off of," says Anthony, despite
not knowing the hitting prowess of, well, anyone in the league.
"He's got a ton of experience and is very smart as well. I
won't touch Hart in pitching. I'd be happy with an ERA that was
better than the league average. That's all I really want. But I'll
blow Hart out of the water with a bat in my hand. His hitting will
be okay, but not much compared to mine."
It
was Hart who brought Anthony to the league. On the way to the try-out
for my own necessity, Hart dropped by Anthony's and asked if he'd
care to join him.
"He
just showed up and asked if I wanted to play some wiffleball,"
recounts Anthony. "Hell yeah I wanna play. It's tough to find
some ball in Chico, you gotta jump when the opportunity comes."
Five minutes later they showed up at my door, moments away from
giving me a look at two very talented players. Hart was throwing
smoke, but Anthony didn't seem to have much problem with it. Two
for the price of one. I'm not one to say no to a deal like that.
Two hours later, Anthony's the #1 pick for the Road Warriors, picked
by a man who was going solely on someone's word.
And
what of the 13-23, last place Road Warriors of 2001? "If they
(his teammates) all have the same ambition I do, I can't see us
winning any less than 20." That ambition he's referring to
is an average of at least .300 ("I would be disappointed with
anything less than that"), and "a lot" of homeruns.
"That's why I'm playing," says Anthony after being asked
what he's most looking forward to. "Getting out there, seeing
how my team works together, and hitting some bombs." And the
best part of this whole deal for the Road Warriors (assuming of
course, that Anthony is half what he's expecting of himself), is
that Anthony plans on doing it the old-fashoined way.
"I
really don't see a reason for me to miss any gamedays," he
states. "I mean, I'll give myself a safety net, because you
know, things come up, but the Road Warriors have me for at LEAST
10 of the 12 gamedays. Hey, if I want those homeruns to pile up,
I gotta get the ABs, right?"
But
what if you're not that successful? What if you underestimated the
league?
"I'll
show you what it's all about on the field. But be warned: I show
no mercy."
Will
the league, or will it not have a choice?
I don't
have a damn clue either.
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