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"Clint Zavaras was named California League Pitcher of the Month."
Talk about a way to completely grind into my face how bad I had started off my professional baseball career.
Clint Zavaras was exactly 11 days older than me. He was in the same draft as me. Except that he was drafted in the 18th round. Not the first.
You know. Like I was.
He was with the Fresno Giants.
His stat line:
7-3 4.38 ERA 51 BB 76 K
Mine:
2-13 8.00 ERA 64 BB 25 K
Maybe they picked up the wrong name on draft day and meant to take him in the first round?
"Here's the thing," Broadway said. "Zavaras is not going to get any better than this. He will be a career minor leaguer. He has pretty much peaked. You, though, you will go on to be one of the best ever. In a decade, no one will have heard of Clint Zavaras and this entire season will be long forgotten."
"No, coach," I said. "This is something I will never forget." I could feel my face hardening. Made me think of the look on Sandy's face when we first met. "I will never forget how much I have grown to hate losing!"
Coach Broadway smiled. "Good! And by the way, we're skipping your turn in the rotation this week!"
"What? You can't do that!"
"We already have. Now, ice the arm and rest. I don't want any hard pitching from you until we tell you when your next start is."
Dammit!
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