Play.it Usa Forum

Tasco wrote: copri 1117 minors? 

rene144 wrote: E' stato pubblicato "The Fielding Bible II".

Sberl wrote: Arrivate intanto le guide fantasy e della stagione di Lindy's...a prima vista ben fatte come al solito.

webba2000 wrote: Arrivati stamattina i due annuari che prendo ogni anno.
Lo Sporting news e l’Athlon.
Lo Sporting news da quando si è fuso con lo Street e Smiths è diventato una ciofeca, di due buoni ne hanno fatto uno scarso. Pensate che nella overview degli Indians non c’è neanche DeRosa (che abbiamo preso il 31/12) Mi va bene uscire in anticipo per battere la concorrenza ma uscire con informazioni vecchie non serve a nulla. Bocciato!
Invece solito ottimo lavoro per l’Athlon.

Sberl wrote: Sono in fremente attesa del prospectus intanto

kalle wrote: arrivati oggi, titoli già conosciuti, ma volevo condividere la gioia!

"Baseball Eccentrics: The Most Entertaining, Outrageous, and Unforgettable Characters in the Game"

kalle wrote: arrivati oggi, titoli già conosciuti, ma volevo condividere la gioia!


"The Boys of Summer"
Roger Kahn;

   
"The Boy Who Saved Baseball"
John H. Ritter;

 
"Baseball Prospectus 2009: The Essential Guide to the 2009 Baseball Season"
Christina Kahrl;

"The Glory of Their Times : The Story of Baseball Told By the Men Who Played It"
Lawrence S. Ritter;

"Opening Day: The Story of Jackie Robinson's First Season"
Jonathan Eig;

"The Long Season" Jim Brosnan;

"Baseball Eccentrics: The Most Entertaining, Outrageous, and Unforgettable Characters in the Game"

kalle wrote: arrivati oggi, titoli già conosciuti, ma volevo condividere la gioia!
"The Boys of Summer"
Roger Kahn;

On a cool Thursday morning late in March 2003, as I was walking to the clubhouse in Mesa, Alex Dvorsky, a catcher who'd been a teammate of mine the previous summer in Provo, grabbed me by the shoulder and stopped me dead in my tracks. "I am sorry," he said before shaking my hand and walking away.

With those three words I knew that my baseball career was over. I walked like a zombie to my locker and found the pink slip taped to a clothes hanger. See Tony Reagins immediately, it read.

I experienced a strange tingling sensation around my lips and in my fingertips as I read and reread the note. I was hyper­ventilating.

A few moments later Kernan Ronan, my pitching coach in Provo, came over. "Mac," he said, "I'm sorry." He put his hand on my shoulder, as he had done so many times in Provo.

"It's OK," I said, putting my head down.

"If you want me to make any phone calls for you, Mac, I will. I know a guy with the Giants, and I could probably get you signed right now. On my recommendation alone I could get you back with another team."

Several seconds passed as I considered his offer. "It's OK, Kernan," I said, looking back up at him. "I'm done. You don't have to make any phone calls."

I gathered up my belongings and put them into a navy Angels duffel bag and walked down the long corridor to Tony Reagins's office, where I found eight players in the hallway crying, talking on the phone, or both. I wasn't used to seeing guys my age weeping. I wondered if I should be crying too. I didn't feel like crying. I was trying to think about things rationally, and ­rationally I knew that my average ­fastball -- I was only hitting the mid-80s by the end -- and average off-speed pitches just weren't going to get me to the big leagues. In 15 appearances in Provo, I had a 6.92 ERA and walked more batters than I struck out.

Tony Reagins was sitting behind his desk with his head in his hands. I stood at the door for a moment before taking a seat across from him. Ten seconds passed before he looked up. When he finally raised his head, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot and there were tears streaming down his face. He clasped his hands together and said, "I'm sorry." Then he burst into tears.

"You have no idea how hard this is," he said as he stared at his desk. "I love all of you guys. Every single one of you."

I nodded. This was not the Grim Reaper I had expected.

"Days like today kill me. They just kill me. To know that I'm ending some kid's dream ... a dream that he's spent his whole life working for...." He trailed off and put his face back in his hands. I cracked my knuckles and crossed my legs. "I was up until 4 a.m.," he said. "Poring over stats, reading and rereading scouting reports, watching video, talking to scouts...."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "We appreciate all of the work you guys do," I said awkwardly. The tears continued to dribble down his face. I reached into my pocket for a Kleenex but found only an old ATM receipt. Comforting him somehow made this process easier. He let out a deep breath and produced a file from his desk. It had my name on it.

"Matt McCarthy," he said gently. "You're a good pitcher, Matt. You've shown us some good things. Some real good things. But your velocity is not what it was when we drafted you."

"I know."

"And your command isn't where we need it to be. You're walking far too many guys." Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I agree."

"You had a difficult time getting batters out in Provo last year. And that was rookie ball. There were times when...." He choked up and took a sip of water.

"Mr. Reagins," I said, "I want to let you know something. I'm going to be fine. I appreciate all that you and the Angels have done for me, but I'm going to be OK. I realize this is a numbers game and that this time, I'm the odd man out."

When I boarded the plane home that afternoon, I learned that the Angels had just released another minor leaguer from central Florida, Kevin McClain, a right-hander with a shaved head and bright green eyes, and the two of us were seated next to each other on the flight. Kevin was 25 and in his sixth season with the Angels when Reagins had called him into his office earlier in the day.

"I can't believe it," he said to his tray table. "I put in five good years and then this happens. Comes out of nowhere.

"I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do," he murmured.

"Try to get back in the game?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm 25."

For the life of me, I couldn't think of the right words to say.

"I suppose I better," he added, "because I got a wife and kid at home, and we need the paychecks. I got no work experience ... no education to speak of.... I guess I could get a job at Target."

"This is a crazy time," I said.

He lifted his head up and looked me in the eye.

"What about you?"

"I don't know," I said as a tear rolled down my cheek.