I have to accept the
fact that I’m going to be wrong quite a bit in this business. The world of prospecting has a higher rate of
failure than any profession this side of meteorology and learning to deal with
my own misevaluations as well as the vitriol generated therefrom is a process
I’m becoming more familiar with as both the kids I scout and I age. I’m not alone. Go crack open any Baseball America Prospect
Handbook from the past half decade and see just how wrong everyone (the pundits
and the scouts which they use as a supplement to their own opinions) is all the
time. The 2008 BA Handbook has names
like Joba Chamberlain, Travis Snider, Franklin Morales and Brandon Wood
scattered about the entire sport’s top 15 prospects. From elite to extinct,
such is the fate of far too many talented young ballplayers. Prospects fail all the time. I’ve known this
since I started pursuing the art of scouting while I was in college and for the
most part, I’ve made peace with it. So why do I feel nauseous when I even
entertain the idea that it might be happening to Domonic Brown? Because he
might not just become a mistake, he might become my mistake.
If any outsider should
know what has gone wrong with Brown, it should be me. I was there, after all, for most of the
roller coaster ride that has been Brownie’s career during the past few
years. A lowly intern/usher for the
Phillies Triple-A affiliate during my college summers, I was the guy who would
show up early on work days to watch BP, bug the scouts sitting there in their
awful polo shirts and scribble in my notebook during games as I fumbled with my
stopwatch which I constantly dropped. I
was a terrible employee, but I was becoming a damn fine scout. I’ll never forget the humid afternoon Brown
came up from Double-A and proceeded to litter the parking lot beyond the Philly
Pretzel stand in right field with batting practice missiles. It didn’t take long to see that everything
was there. Above average speed, an above
average arm, advanced approach and pitch recognition for his age, average
present power with projection left in the body and dreams of above average
defense in an outfield corner as he grew into his lanky, 6’5” frame and became
more coordinated. Gracing magazine
covers and webpage headlines, Brown was on top of the prospect world.
Between then and now,
something has gone horribly awry. Brown
hasn’t homered since August 2nd of last year. His swing, especially the lower half, is a mess. He’s constantly late on good velocity. His misadventures in the outfield are
excruciatingly awkward, and not the sort of “Hunter Pence/Larry David, I’m
weird but I don’t give a shit and I make it work” awkward, but more of a
“Michael Cera, self aware, it’s so bad I need to divert my eyes” awkward. He sports a sub-.300 OBP to this point and has
just 3 steals at a paltry 50% success rate.
People, possibly including the Phillies front office, are giving up.
The causes of this tragic
collapse are difficult to nail down.
Scouts are perplexed. I asked
Baseball Prospectus writer, Kevin Goldstein, to comment on Brown:
“I’m confused
too…everyone is.”
The response’s
simplicity juxtaposes how complicated the problems probably are. I have my theories, of course. In my opinion this shit sandwich was spawned
from some combination of the tinkering Phillies instructors did with Brown’s
swing upon his first arrival to the majors, the long lasting effects of the broken
hamate bone Brown suffered last year, the constant jerking back and forth
between the majors and minors he has endured and whatever psychological trauma
has eradicated his confidence as a result of all that stuff I just mentioned. It’s a developmental cocktail mixed to induce
failure and Brownie has had to drink it.
The worst part is that
all of this is happening at a time when the Phillies big league roster has
begun to crumple into a mediocre, geriatric heap. It’d be nice to have an infusion of offense
and youth into the lineup, but without performing well in the Lehigh Valley,
there’s little justification to promote Brown and anoint him the savior. While I’m discouraged, there’s too much
talent there to lose all hope, and I’ll be monitoring Brown carefully (I watch
every single one of his at bats on MiLB.TV every day) waiting to drink from the
cup that still runneth over with ability.
For now, while he tries to work things out, he’ll be booed on a regular
basis by ignorant old men who know nothing beyond the fact that Brown was a top
prospect who isn’t panning out. It can’t
be easy and it can’t be fun.
As much as
I’d like to give Domonic Brown an elixir to solve his baseball problems, I’d
like to give him a manly hug and tell him that some of us realize this mostly
isn’t his fault and that we’re not giving up on him. After the vigor and conviction with which I
once touted Brown’s future stardom, I might need one too.
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