tk13
05-01-2004, 01:40 AM
http://www.kansascity.com/mld/kansascity/sports/baseball/mlb/kansas_city_royals/8553258.htm
http://www.kansascity.com/images/kansascity/kansascitystar/news/OMAHA_S0_5_color.jpg
DAVID EULITT/The Kansas City Star
Although they currently have seats in the dugout at Class AAA Omaha, Neb., pitchers Ryan Bukvich (left), Jamey Wright (center) and Zack Greinke have their sights on moving to Kauffman Stadium. The three have kept a close eye on the pitching problems the Royals have endured this season.
Omaha's Wright, Bukvich and Greinke await call to help Royals
By JEFF PASSAN The Kansas City Star
OMAHA, Neb. — Jamey Wright hugged his 5-month-old daughter.
Ryan Bukvich sipped a beer.
Zack Greinke relaxed.
Considering the well-documented struggles of the Royals' pitching staff, the three pitchers at Class AAA Omaha, Neb., feel even closer to Kansas City than the three-hour drive. During Tuesday night's game, each did his own thing, well-aware of the major-league club's situation: Kevin Appier's arm injury sidelining him four to six weeks, and the team ERA of 5.24 means the Royals could recall one of them any day.
Wright believes he's got what it takes to stay in the majors. He spent seven-plus seasons as a major-league starter.
Bukvich hopes to prove he deserves another shot. He spent parts of two seasons as a Royals reliever.
Greinke just wants to get there. He spent the last two seasons building his reputation as the organization's phenom.
For all their differences, one similarity abounds.
Each is one pitch away.
A great pitch by them. A bad pitch by someone else.
Whatever it takes to wear a Royals uniform.
“Because every pitch counts,” Omaha manager Mike Jirschele said. “Heck, if you're a pitcher, one bad pitch can ruin your night. You're having a good game going, and they mix in a hit or two. You have two outs and make one bad pitch, and your whole night can be ruined when a guy hits the ball out of the park.
“One pitch can make or break you.”
***
“I can't stay too long,” Jamey Wright said. “I've got a flight to catch.”
Wright careened toward Omaha's clubhouse to grab his bags. He needed to hustle to make a 5:30 p.m. flight Tuesday headed to Phoenix, where his wife, Marnie, and daughter, Presley, would see him for the first time in a few weeks. Wright left the park so quickly he forgot to take Bukvich's golf clubs out of the trunk of his car.
One pitch gets Wright back to the major leagues. It means he doesn't have to spend his off days traveling so he can watch his daughter grow, as his wife is ready to join him, once they're sure he's in a permanent spot.
Flourish or flounder? Those are Wright's options. He's 29, a major-leaguer for seven-plus seasons mostly with the Rockies and Brewers, and after a short stint last year with the Royals, finds himself rutted in Class AAA.
By the time he made it to Phoenix, Presley was almost asleep. Wright spent Wednesday, Omaha's off-day, with his family. An early-morning flight Thursday ensured he made it back for a night game.
“Grab some breakfast, go to the airport, kiss 'em goodbye and, hopefully, see 'em in a few weeks,” Wright said.
By then, he hopes it'll be in Kansas City — and the end of a crazy journey.
After the Royals declined to offer him arbitration last winter, Wright became a free agent and signed with the Cubs. But when the Cubs choose to send him to the minors, he became a free agent again — and re-signed with the Royals. But since the Royals failed to offer him arbitration originally, he is not eligible to join the big-league team until May 1, Saturday.
“I can't wait until then,” Wright said. “I hope the Royals can't, either. If I get a chance to go up there and pitch, I'm going to get the job done.”
Confidence seeps from Wright, and it's tough to tell whether he's saying the right things or actually doing them. Starting in a major-league rotation at 21 years old is tough. Starting for Colorado at 21 is suicide. By the time Wright escaped Coors Field, his mechanics were in such shambles he looked nothing like the kid who blazed through the minor leagues.
Pitching coaches tinkered with his motion. One tip blended into another and, eventually, they all sounded the same.
Which makes Dave LaRoche so valuable. LaRoche, Omaha's pitching coach, affects a laid-back, it'll-all-work-out posture. He's a mentor, a teacher, a psychologist and even a voodoo practitioner, pricking at little areas, trying to cause some changes.
“Most of all, a friend,” LaRoche said. “When they open up and we talk, we can hit a lot of stuff.
“He's been through a lot. He's had a lot of people come in and try to change him instead of it being his idea. If he comes up with it and thinks it, he's more apt to do it.”
Baseball melted away Wednesday. Presley is trying to talk. At this point it's more a yell, scream or grunt.
“She just likes staring off at a space, staring at me,” Wright said. “I'm trying to tickle her and make her laugh. Did that for about an hour and a half this morning. I'm about the only one who can make her laugh.”
He laughed, too.
***
“Let's play Buck Hunter,” Bukvich said.
A minute earlier, he popped a pool table with his cue when Royals outfielder David DeJesus, a teammate called up last week, swung at a first pitch with the bases loaded in the ninth inning of Tuesday's game at Kauffman Stadium. He shook his head when Mendy Lopez grounded into a game-ending double play.
Bukvich and former Royal Kris Wilson walked over to the “Big Buck Hunter II: Sportsman's Paradise” video game. Gripping the construction-barrel orange gun, Bukvich shot at the screen with little concern for accuracy but succeeded nevertheless.
“That's a big one!” he whooped, proud of his eight-point, 807-pound buck.
It took his mind off baseball for a minute, and that's good considering how much he thinks. Bukvich pitched in relief for the Royals in 2002 and 2003. Now he's in Omaha, doddering between young hotshot and veteran, trapped in no-man's land. It hasn't reached a crisis point yet, and Bukvich figures it won't, either, because he'll land back in the majors before it does.
“I'm not old,” said Bukvich, 25. “I know a lot more than I did a year ago. I'm not going to trade with somebody. I've worked to get where I am.”
Work toughened this spring when the Royals asked Bukvich to change his delivery and start working on a sinking fastball.
One pitch gives Bukvich a chance. It makes him believe he can be the Royals' next Jason Grimsley, that he can avoid a career in Class AAA.
Baseball beats the 6:30 a.m. wake-up calls and 10-hour construction shifts Bukvich slogged through in 1999, when he partied himself out of Ole Miss. Bukvich's reputation prevented him from getting drafted after his junior season, so he went home and worked for his father, Brian, in construction.
Royals scout Mark Willoughby kept tabs on Bukvich, cognizant that the 6-foot-2, 250-pound pitcher threw gas and was agile enough to do a backflip. They drafted him in the 11th round in 2000. He struck out 193 and gave up 29 earned runs in 148 minor-league innings, a 1.76 ERA, before the Royals called him up in 2002.
Bukvich was so excited the day of his call-up he drove right past Kauffman Stadium. A day later, he pitched 1 2/3 perfect innings. While control problems plagued Bukvich late in the season, he lasted three months on the Royals and expected to be with them in 2003.
He was for a month. A bad month, when opponents scored 11 runs in 10 1/3 innings. Bukvich's arm hurt. He kept quiet. He enjoyed big-league life too much to give it up. By saying nothing, he did.
“I was younger,” Bukvich said. “I don't want to make excuses. I wouldn't do it again. It was my fault. You want the ball every day.
“You miss it every day. I'm not going out there so I can play Triple-A forever.”
***
“I've been playing MLB 2003 a lot lately,” Greinke said. “Good way to relax.”
Chilling with a video game agrees with Greinke, 20, The Sporting News Minor League Player of the Year last season. Pitching sort of bores him. He rather would play shortstop. And anyway, Greinke's tired of Class AAA.
With so many of their young arms needing reconstructive surgery, the Royals coddle him like a Faberge egg. No starts last longer than six innings. Jirschele yanks him once he gets to 90 pitches.
No exceptions. The Royals say they don't want to rush him.
“I'd much rather be rushed,” Greinke said. “Everyone wants a shot. That's obviously what everyone wants: to prove he's capable of pitching at the highest level.
“I'll think about it every day. What can I do to get there quicker? Everyone in the minors wants to be there right now. I feel fortunate to be close.”
One pitch gives Greinke fulfillment. It means all the late nights spent playing catch with his father paid off, that the hype never bogged him down.
There he differs from Wright and Bukvich. The major-league clubhouse remains an unknown to Greinke. Instead of trying to recapture what's lost, he finds new tricks daily, applies them so the rigors of baseball don't burn him out.
Greinke resolved to strengthen his mental acuity in the off-season, promising himself relaxation time every day. A few nights a week he and friend Frankie Viola — the son of former Twins pitcher Frank Viola — caught bass and crappie until 1 a.m. on Lake Butler near Orlando.
Rest comes sparingly this time of year, especially with 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls on the road. Greinke takes every opportunity to sleep. Sometimes he daydreams. About that first major-league call-up. And the success he expects with it.
“And if I do struggle at the beginning, I'll be able to figure out how to change to get over that hump,” Greinke said. “It won't take long for me to figure out. If I can't, I'm just not good enough.”
He thought about that for a few seconds.
“I don't think that's the case.”
***
“Sometimes they get caught up and see how Kansas City's doing,” said LaRoche, the pitching coach. “They're out there, ‘OK, this is my chance. If I throw a shutout, I'm there.' Then they give up a run in the first and it's ruined their whole day, like it screwed up their chance.
“Look, it's tougher to stay there than it is to get there. Just because you're on the club doesn't mean (anything). Triple-A is full of guys who were there.”
Some of them blew their one pitch.
Greinke is finding his. Last week, he unfurled a slider headed straight for a right-handed batter's left hip. It bit like a summer mosquito, hard and quick, curling around the inside corner and drawing a called third strike. Greinke walked off the field and turned to third baseman Rick Short.
“That's the best pitch I've ever thrown,” Greinke said.
Bukvich feels increasingly comfortable with his sinker. The arm angle still seems odd. He knows it's for the better.
“If I'm going to make it,” he said, “I need that pitch.”
Wright no longer throws his fastball in the mid-90s. He sacrificed speed for precision.
“I'm a better pitcher now,” he said, “than what I was in the big leagues the first seven years.”
Each pitch means something. The difference between a great slider or sinker or fastball makes the difference between a big-league sniff and minor-league misery.
The vet, the tweener, the kid.
One pitch away.
A lot farther than it sounds.
http://www.kansascity.com/images/kansascity/kansascitystar/news/OMAHA_S0_5_color.jpg
DAVID EULITT/The Kansas City Star
Although they currently have seats in the dugout at Class AAA Omaha, Neb., pitchers Ryan Bukvich (left), Jamey Wright (center) and Zack Greinke have their sights on moving to Kauffman Stadium. The three have kept a close eye on the pitching problems the Royals have endured this season.
Omaha's Wright, Bukvich and Greinke await call to help Royals
By JEFF PASSAN The Kansas City Star
OMAHA, Neb. — Jamey Wright hugged his 5-month-old daughter.
Ryan Bukvich sipped a beer.
Zack Greinke relaxed.
Considering the well-documented struggles of the Royals' pitching staff, the three pitchers at Class AAA Omaha, Neb., feel even closer to Kansas City than the three-hour drive. During Tuesday night's game, each did his own thing, well-aware of the major-league club's situation: Kevin Appier's arm injury sidelining him four to six weeks, and the team ERA of 5.24 means the Royals could recall one of them any day.
Wright believes he's got what it takes to stay in the majors. He spent seven-plus seasons as a major-league starter.
Bukvich hopes to prove he deserves another shot. He spent parts of two seasons as a Royals reliever.
Greinke just wants to get there. He spent the last two seasons building his reputation as the organization's phenom.
For all their differences, one similarity abounds.
Each is one pitch away.
A great pitch by them. A bad pitch by someone else.
Whatever it takes to wear a Royals uniform.
“Because every pitch counts,” Omaha manager Mike Jirschele said. “Heck, if you're a pitcher, one bad pitch can ruin your night. You're having a good game going, and they mix in a hit or two. You have two outs and make one bad pitch, and your whole night can be ruined when a guy hits the ball out of the park.
“One pitch can make or break you.”
***
“I can't stay too long,” Jamey Wright said. “I've got a flight to catch.”
Wright careened toward Omaha's clubhouse to grab his bags. He needed to hustle to make a 5:30 p.m. flight Tuesday headed to Phoenix, where his wife, Marnie, and daughter, Presley, would see him for the first time in a few weeks. Wright left the park so quickly he forgot to take Bukvich's golf clubs out of the trunk of his car.
One pitch gets Wright back to the major leagues. It means he doesn't have to spend his off days traveling so he can watch his daughter grow, as his wife is ready to join him, once they're sure he's in a permanent spot.
Flourish or flounder? Those are Wright's options. He's 29, a major-leaguer for seven-plus seasons mostly with the Rockies and Brewers, and after a short stint last year with the Royals, finds himself rutted in Class AAA.
By the time he made it to Phoenix, Presley was almost asleep. Wright spent Wednesday, Omaha's off-day, with his family. An early-morning flight Thursday ensured he made it back for a night game.
“Grab some breakfast, go to the airport, kiss 'em goodbye and, hopefully, see 'em in a few weeks,” Wright said.
By then, he hopes it'll be in Kansas City — and the end of a crazy journey.
After the Royals declined to offer him arbitration last winter, Wright became a free agent and signed with the Cubs. But when the Cubs choose to send him to the minors, he became a free agent again — and re-signed with the Royals. But since the Royals failed to offer him arbitration originally, he is not eligible to join the big-league team until May 1, Saturday.
“I can't wait until then,” Wright said. “I hope the Royals can't, either. If I get a chance to go up there and pitch, I'm going to get the job done.”
Confidence seeps from Wright, and it's tough to tell whether he's saying the right things or actually doing them. Starting in a major-league rotation at 21 years old is tough. Starting for Colorado at 21 is suicide. By the time Wright escaped Coors Field, his mechanics were in such shambles he looked nothing like the kid who blazed through the minor leagues.
Pitching coaches tinkered with his motion. One tip blended into another and, eventually, they all sounded the same.
Which makes Dave LaRoche so valuable. LaRoche, Omaha's pitching coach, affects a laid-back, it'll-all-work-out posture. He's a mentor, a teacher, a psychologist and even a voodoo practitioner, pricking at little areas, trying to cause some changes.
“Most of all, a friend,” LaRoche said. “When they open up and we talk, we can hit a lot of stuff.
“He's been through a lot. He's had a lot of people come in and try to change him instead of it being his idea. If he comes up with it and thinks it, he's more apt to do it.”
Baseball melted away Wednesday. Presley is trying to talk. At this point it's more a yell, scream or grunt.
“She just likes staring off at a space, staring at me,” Wright said. “I'm trying to tickle her and make her laugh. Did that for about an hour and a half this morning. I'm about the only one who can make her laugh.”
He laughed, too.
***
“Let's play Buck Hunter,” Bukvich said.
A minute earlier, he popped a pool table with his cue when Royals outfielder David DeJesus, a teammate called up last week, swung at a first pitch with the bases loaded in the ninth inning of Tuesday's game at Kauffman Stadium. He shook his head when Mendy Lopez grounded into a game-ending double play.
Bukvich and former Royal Kris Wilson walked over to the “Big Buck Hunter II: Sportsman's Paradise” video game. Gripping the construction-barrel orange gun, Bukvich shot at the screen with little concern for accuracy but succeeded nevertheless.
“That's a big one!” he whooped, proud of his eight-point, 807-pound buck.
It took his mind off baseball for a minute, and that's good considering how much he thinks. Bukvich pitched in relief for the Royals in 2002 and 2003. Now he's in Omaha, doddering between young hotshot and veteran, trapped in no-man's land. It hasn't reached a crisis point yet, and Bukvich figures it won't, either, because he'll land back in the majors before it does.
“I'm not old,” said Bukvich, 25. “I know a lot more than I did a year ago. I'm not going to trade with somebody. I've worked to get where I am.”
Work toughened this spring when the Royals asked Bukvich to change his delivery and start working on a sinking fastball.
One pitch gives Bukvich a chance. It makes him believe he can be the Royals' next Jason Grimsley, that he can avoid a career in Class AAA.
Baseball beats the 6:30 a.m. wake-up calls and 10-hour construction shifts Bukvich slogged through in 1999, when he partied himself out of Ole Miss. Bukvich's reputation prevented him from getting drafted after his junior season, so he went home and worked for his father, Brian, in construction.
Royals scout Mark Willoughby kept tabs on Bukvich, cognizant that the 6-foot-2, 250-pound pitcher threw gas and was agile enough to do a backflip. They drafted him in the 11th round in 2000. He struck out 193 and gave up 29 earned runs in 148 minor-league innings, a 1.76 ERA, before the Royals called him up in 2002.
Bukvich was so excited the day of his call-up he drove right past Kauffman Stadium. A day later, he pitched 1 2/3 perfect innings. While control problems plagued Bukvich late in the season, he lasted three months on the Royals and expected to be with them in 2003.
He was for a month. A bad month, when opponents scored 11 runs in 10 1/3 innings. Bukvich's arm hurt. He kept quiet. He enjoyed big-league life too much to give it up. By saying nothing, he did.
“I was younger,” Bukvich said. “I don't want to make excuses. I wouldn't do it again. It was my fault. You want the ball every day.
“You miss it every day. I'm not going out there so I can play Triple-A forever.”
***
“I've been playing MLB 2003 a lot lately,” Greinke said. “Good way to relax.”
Chilling with a video game agrees with Greinke, 20, The Sporting News Minor League Player of the Year last season. Pitching sort of bores him. He rather would play shortstop. And anyway, Greinke's tired of Class AAA.
With so many of their young arms needing reconstructive surgery, the Royals coddle him like a Faberge egg. No starts last longer than six innings. Jirschele yanks him once he gets to 90 pitches.
No exceptions. The Royals say they don't want to rush him.
“I'd much rather be rushed,” Greinke said. “Everyone wants a shot. That's obviously what everyone wants: to prove he's capable of pitching at the highest level.
“I'll think about it every day. What can I do to get there quicker? Everyone in the minors wants to be there right now. I feel fortunate to be close.”
One pitch gives Greinke fulfillment. It means all the late nights spent playing catch with his father paid off, that the hype never bogged him down.
There he differs from Wright and Bukvich. The major-league clubhouse remains an unknown to Greinke. Instead of trying to recapture what's lost, he finds new tricks daily, applies them so the rigors of baseball don't burn him out.
Greinke resolved to strengthen his mental acuity in the off-season, promising himself relaxation time every day. A few nights a week he and friend Frankie Viola — the son of former Twins pitcher Frank Viola — caught bass and crappie until 1 a.m. on Lake Butler near Orlando.
Rest comes sparingly this time of year, especially with 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls on the road. Greinke takes every opportunity to sleep. Sometimes he daydreams. About that first major-league call-up. And the success he expects with it.
“And if I do struggle at the beginning, I'll be able to figure out how to change to get over that hump,” Greinke said. “It won't take long for me to figure out. If I can't, I'm just not good enough.”
He thought about that for a few seconds.
“I don't think that's the case.”
***
“Sometimes they get caught up and see how Kansas City's doing,” said LaRoche, the pitching coach. “They're out there, ‘OK, this is my chance. If I throw a shutout, I'm there.' Then they give up a run in the first and it's ruined their whole day, like it screwed up their chance.
“Look, it's tougher to stay there than it is to get there. Just because you're on the club doesn't mean (anything). Triple-A is full of guys who were there.”
Some of them blew their one pitch.
Greinke is finding his. Last week, he unfurled a slider headed straight for a right-handed batter's left hip. It bit like a summer mosquito, hard and quick, curling around the inside corner and drawing a called third strike. Greinke walked off the field and turned to third baseman Rick Short.
“That's the best pitch I've ever thrown,” Greinke said.
Bukvich feels increasingly comfortable with his sinker. The arm angle still seems odd. He knows it's for the better.
“If I'm going to make it,” he said, “I need that pitch.”
Wright no longer throws his fastball in the mid-90s. He sacrificed speed for precision.
“I'm a better pitcher now,” he said, “than what I was in the big leagues the first seven years.”
Each pitch means something. The difference between a great slider or sinker or fastball makes the difference between a big-league sniff and minor-league misery.
The vet, the tweener, the kid.
One pitch away.
A lot farther than it sounds.