Read Online The Captain: The Journey of Derek Jeter by Ian O'Connor - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian O'Connor
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who was dying of emphysema; and Derek’s disposition suggested he would be a natural leader of a winning team.
“Jeter had an air of confidence about him,” Nickels said. “A command of the situation.”
That confidence and command had scouts for the Cincinnati Reds in a tizzy. They wanted to use the fifth pick to draft Derek Jeter in the worst way, and they did not know if their scouting director would let them do it.
Julian Mock was preparing to make or break the 1992 draft for his employer, the Reds, and for the team he once worshiped, the Yankees. His three-mile jog complete, his body fresh, and his mind clear, Mock would not open his heart for a single Riverfront Stadium soul.
As the first four picks came off the board that June 1 day, the tension in the Reds’ conference room was thicker than the binders carrying the team’s scouting reports.
Derek Jeter, the next Barry Larkin, was going to be available at number 5, and so was Chad Mottola, the next Dale Murphy.
At six-foot-three, 215 pounds, Mottola could have been featured on the “after” side of a muscle-building ad that pictured Jeter on the “before” side. The Central Florida outfielder was the only player other than Jeter and Phil Nevin whom the Astros seriously considered for the number-one pick.
The Yankees invited Mottola to work out for them as they considered their options for number 6, an invitation that was declined. Mottola told the Yankees he had played sixty games at Central Florida, and that he did not think a workout was necessary since he thought he would be chosen among the first five picks.
“I think the Yankees got offended,” Mottola said.
He did not have an agent; he used his father as an adviser. Before the draft unfolded, a Reds scout negotiated a bonus figure with the Mottolas—$400,000—and waited for Mock to make the final call.
Mock had two respected scouts who thought Jeter was the far better choice, even if he would cost Cincinnati double what Mottola would. A part-timer who lived outside Kalamazoo, Fred Hayes had watched Jeter play some three dozen times, and he loved the kid’s talent as much as the Astros’ Hal Newhouser and the Yanks’ Dick Groch did. Hayes told Gene Bennett, a full-time Cincinnati scout, that Jeter could play for the Reds as a high school sophomore, and he was only half kidding.
Hayes and Bennett first saw Derek in a Muskegon, Michigan, tryout camp. The camp had one hundred kids, Bennett said, “but Derek was the only one who made us say, ‘Who is that guy?’”
Bennett and Hayes eventually sent the other ninety-nine boys home and kept Jeter around for some extra work. Over time they brought him to workouts at Riverfront Stadium, met his parents, and did everything they could to temper their enthusiasm for Jeter in the company of enemy scouts.
It did not matter that the Reds had selected a high school shortstop, Calvin “Pokey” Reese, in the first round of the ’91 draft. “Jeter was a no-brainer for us at number 5,” said Bennett, who had a remarkable track record for the Reds, signing everyone from Don Gullett to Paul O’Neill to Chris Sabo to Larkin.
Hayes had handed Jeter a Reds cap when he joined Bennett and Mock on a predraft visit to the Jeter home, and Hayes and Bennett left believing that Derek would be wearing that cap across his big league career.
“We were sure we were going to get him,” Bennett said. “It was a done deal. He had blazing speed, he was smart, he hit rockets into the Riverfront seats when we had him in as a high school junior. Every single thing Jeter did was special.”
With his team holding the first pick, a pick no team could sabotage, Newhouser did not mind sharing one little secret with Bennett. “No kid is worth a million dollars,” the Houston scout told the Cincinnati scout. “But if one kid is, it’s Derek Jeter.”
Bennett did not need convincing, as he saw Jeter as Larkin’s equal. To those who were concerned about drafting a
“Jeter had an air of confidence about him,” Nickels said. “A command of the situation.”
That confidence and command had scouts for the Cincinnati Reds in a tizzy. They wanted to use the fifth pick to draft Derek Jeter in the worst way, and they did not know if their scouting director would let them do it.
Julian Mock was preparing to make or break the 1992 draft for his employer, the Reds, and for the team he once worshiped, the Yankees. His three-mile jog complete, his body fresh, and his mind clear, Mock would not open his heart for a single Riverfront Stadium soul.
As the first four picks came off the board that June 1 day, the tension in the Reds’ conference room was thicker than the binders carrying the team’s scouting reports.
Derek Jeter, the next Barry Larkin, was going to be available at number 5, and so was Chad Mottola, the next Dale Murphy.
At six-foot-three, 215 pounds, Mottola could have been featured on the “after” side of a muscle-building ad that pictured Jeter on the “before” side. The Central Florida outfielder was the only player other than Jeter and Phil Nevin whom the Astros seriously considered for the number-one pick.
The Yankees invited Mottola to work out for them as they considered their options for number 6, an invitation that was declined. Mottola told the Yankees he had played sixty games at Central Florida, and that he did not think a workout was necessary since he thought he would be chosen among the first five picks.
“I think the Yankees got offended,” Mottola said.
He did not have an agent; he used his father as an adviser. Before the draft unfolded, a Reds scout negotiated a bonus figure with the Mottolas—$400,000—and waited for Mock to make the final call.
Mock had two respected scouts who thought Jeter was the far better choice, even if he would cost Cincinnati double what Mottola would. A part-timer who lived outside Kalamazoo, Fred Hayes had watched Jeter play some three dozen times, and he loved the kid’s talent as much as the Astros’ Hal Newhouser and the Yanks’ Dick Groch did. Hayes told Gene Bennett, a full-time Cincinnati scout, that Jeter could play for the Reds as a high school sophomore, and he was only half kidding.
Hayes and Bennett first saw Derek in a Muskegon, Michigan, tryout camp. The camp had one hundred kids, Bennett said, “but Derek was the only one who made us say, ‘Who is that guy?’”
Bennett and Hayes eventually sent the other ninety-nine boys home and kept Jeter around for some extra work. Over time they brought him to workouts at Riverfront Stadium, met his parents, and did everything they could to temper their enthusiasm for Jeter in the company of enemy scouts.
It did not matter that the Reds had selected a high school shortstop, Calvin “Pokey” Reese, in the first round of the ’91 draft. “Jeter was a no-brainer for us at number 5,” said Bennett, who had a remarkable track record for the Reds, signing everyone from Don Gullett to Paul O’Neill to Chris Sabo to Larkin.
Hayes had handed Jeter a Reds cap when he joined Bennett and Mock on a predraft visit to the Jeter home, and Hayes and Bennett left believing that Derek would be wearing that cap across his big league career.
“We were sure we were going to get him,” Bennett said. “It was a done deal. He had blazing speed, he was smart, he hit rockets into the Riverfront seats when we had him in as a high school junior. Every single thing Jeter did was special.”
With his team holding the first pick, a pick no team could sabotage, Newhouser did not mind sharing one little secret with Bennett. “No kid is worth a million dollars,” the Houston scout told the Cincinnati scout. “But if one kid is, it’s Derek Jeter.”
Bennett did not need convincing, as he saw Jeter as Larkin’s equal. To those who were concerned about drafting a
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