Read Online Long Shot by Mike Piazza, Lonnie Wheeler - Free Book Online
Authors: Mike Piazza, Lonnie Wheeler
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that, well, sure, there was always a chance that I wouldn’t be drafted after all, as strange as it might seem.
The more I looked around, the more intrigued I became about the idea of playing for the University of Texas or the University of Miami. I read Baseball America religiously and imagined myself being featured in it. But Texas didn’t call. Miami didn’t call. I got a letter from the coach at Old Dominion University. Got another one from William & Mary. The way Ihad it figured, though, if I didn’t get drafted I was going to be a freshman All-American, and I didn’t see that happening at Old Dominion or William & Mary.
People used to say that Mike was a machine hitter. It was obvious that he was willing to put in additional time to hit the baseball. His hand-eye coordination was good because he saw so many pitches in his drill work in the batting cage. But the scouts wondered if, when push came to shove, he would be able to translate all that to hitting a baseball off live pitching. Plus, his defensive skills didn’t really show up as a first baseman. Scouts look for tools, and Mike did not run well. That contributed to the fact that a lot of people didn’t notice him as a player.
Probably the only position on the field where foot speed doesn’t have a big impact is catcher. I remember talking to Mike his sophomore year about catching. I mentioned it to him because I knew he could flat-out hit a baseball, and I knew his dedication and love for the game. He looked like he’d have the body type for catching. So I asked him about it and I remember Mike saying, “You know, I talked to my dad about it a little bit . . .” And that was pretty much it.
Another thing that people might not have realized was that Mike graduated when he was seventeen. With the numbers he put up, there should have been more scouts watching him. It was pretty evident that he had a lot of skill as a hitter. To my knowledge, there was only one scout throughout the whole process that turned in a pro report on him. That was Brad Kohler. He worked for the Major League Scouting Bureau.
—John “Doc” Kennedy, coach, Phoenixville High School
The fact that I was failing to impress the right people on either front—pro or college—made no sense to me. Anyone who bothered to watch me hit on a regular basis knew what I knew, deep down, in spite of my weaker moments: that I could damn well do it. The local press was well aware of it. The Evening Phoenix described my home run against St. Pius X as “a mammoth two-run blast over the center-field fence.” The Daily Local News in West Chester published a story that mentioned my relationship with Lasorda and my batting-practice privileges with the Dodgers. The Boyertown coach, Dick Ludy, told one of the papers, “Piazza’s the finest hitter in the league. He’s the finest hitter I’ve seen. He’s really a prospect.”
Anyway, we once again lost the league to Boyertown and fell short of our expectations. The most vivid memory of that disappointing season might have been the bus trip home from Perkiomen Valley. I was sitting in the back, right behind Tony Nattle and Joe Pizzica. They liked to dip Copenhagen tobacco, so they turned around and offered me a chaw. The next time they turned around, I was throwing up out the window. If you ask my teammates, that seems to be the thing I’m best remembered for as a high school ballplayer.
At Phoenixville High, there was a tradition by which the seniors would spend a week on the Jersey Shore after graduation. Naturally, that week fell during the American Legion season. Doc coached our Legion team, as well, and his rule was that it was okay to go to the shore as long as you made it back for the games; the drive was a little under two hours. Well, I missed a game. When I came back for the next one, Doc didn’t start me.
By around the fifth inning, I was still in the dugout and my father had had enough. He stormed over to me and said, “Get your
The more I looked around, the more intrigued I became about the idea of playing for the University of Texas or the University of Miami. I read Baseball America religiously and imagined myself being featured in it. But Texas didn’t call. Miami didn’t call. I got a letter from the coach at Old Dominion University. Got another one from William & Mary. The way Ihad it figured, though, if I didn’t get drafted I was going to be a freshman All-American, and I didn’t see that happening at Old Dominion or William & Mary.
People used to say that Mike was a machine hitter. It was obvious that he was willing to put in additional time to hit the baseball. His hand-eye coordination was good because he saw so many pitches in his drill work in the batting cage. But the scouts wondered if, when push came to shove, he would be able to translate all that to hitting a baseball off live pitching. Plus, his defensive skills didn’t really show up as a first baseman. Scouts look for tools, and Mike did not run well. That contributed to the fact that a lot of people didn’t notice him as a player.
Probably the only position on the field where foot speed doesn’t have a big impact is catcher. I remember talking to Mike his sophomore year about catching. I mentioned it to him because I knew he could flat-out hit a baseball, and I knew his dedication and love for the game. He looked like he’d have the body type for catching. So I asked him about it and I remember Mike saying, “You know, I talked to my dad about it a little bit . . .” And that was pretty much it.
Another thing that people might not have realized was that Mike graduated when he was seventeen. With the numbers he put up, there should have been more scouts watching him. It was pretty evident that he had a lot of skill as a hitter. To my knowledge, there was only one scout throughout the whole process that turned in a pro report on him. That was Brad Kohler. He worked for the Major League Scouting Bureau.
—John “Doc” Kennedy, coach, Phoenixville High School
The fact that I was failing to impress the right people on either front—pro or college—made no sense to me. Anyone who bothered to watch me hit on a regular basis knew what I knew, deep down, in spite of my weaker moments: that I could damn well do it. The local press was well aware of it. The Evening Phoenix described my home run against St. Pius X as “a mammoth two-run blast over the center-field fence.” The Daily Local News in West Chester published a story that mentioned my relationship with Lasorda and my batting-practice privileges with the Dodgers. The Boyertown coach, Dick Ludy, told one of the papers, “Piazza’s the finest hitter in the league. He’s the finest hitter I’ve seen. He’s really a prospect.”
Anyway, we once again lost the league to Boyertown and fell short of our expectations. The most vivid memory of that disappointing season might have been the bus trip home from Perkiomen Valley. I was sitting in the back, right behind Tony Nattle and Joe Pizzica. They liked to dip Copenhagen tobacco, so they turned around and offered me a chaw. The next time they turned around, I was throwing up out the window. If you ask my teammates, that seems to be the thing I’m best remembered for as a high school ballplayer.
At Phoenixville High, there was a tradition by which the seniors would spend a week on the Jersey Shore after graduation. Naturally, that week fell during the American Legion season. Doc coached our Legion team, as well, and his rule was that it was okay to go to the shore as long as you made it back for the games; the drive was a little under two hours. Well, I missed a game. When I came back for the next one, Doc didn’t start me.
By around the fifth inning, I was still in the dugout and my father had had enough. He stormed over to me and said, “Get your
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