Lefty
ASFN Icon
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2002
- Posts
- 12,573
- Reaction score
- 973
Bear Down Trevor!
http://www.azstarnet.com/sports/148520
Position change created Hoffman
Opinion by Greg Hansen
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 09.27.2006
In the fall of 1986, UA assistant baseball coach Jerry Stitt flew to Los Angeles to evaluate an infielder at Cypress College, someone who might be able to replace NCAA championship shortstop Dave Rohde.
That infielder was Trevor Hoffman.
Stitt was not sure it was the same Trevor Hoffman he had scouted two years earlier at Anaheim's Savannah High School; at that time, Hoffman was about 5 feet 6 inches, maybe 160 pounds.
And he was operating with just one kidney, having lost the other during a childhood illness.
The Hoffman that Stitt saw at Cypress was about 6-1, 190 pounds, had a barrel chest, sturdy, almost oversized-thighs, and a throwing arm so powerful that Stitt joked he would not follow baseball's rating system, one in which 80 is the maximum number allowed to describe a prospect's skills.
"I think I told people that I'd give Trevor's arm a 90," Stitt said Monday, chuckling at the memory.
"He was a late bloomer, obviously. He had a cannon arm. He was a great fielder, a fair hitter and a solid leader. He was the type of guy you wanted on your team."
When Hoffman, now with the San Diego Padres, made his recruiting visit to Tucson, neither pitching coach Jim Wing nor head coach Jerry Kindall said anything about making Hoffman a pitcher. They needed a shortstop; Hoffman would be that guy.
In two years as Arizona's starting shortstop, Hoffman hit .371 and .284. He never hit more than six home runs in a season. The marquee names of the UA's 1989 Pac-10 championship squad were future major-leaguers J.T. Snow, Alan Zinter and Scott Erickson.
Hoffman pitched in two or three junior varsity games while at Arizona, but, said Stitt, "mostly for fun. He did OK."
It wasn't that UA coaches did not know the business.
During that period, Arizona was recruiting an infielder from L.A.'s Providence High School, Jeff Cirillo, who indicated he would probably sign with Arizona if he could pitch. Stitt, the hitting coach, said no. He saw Cirillo, who wound up at USC, as a hitter.
You never know, right?
As a Trojans' pitcher, Cirillo went 3-4 with a 7.75 ERA and was ultimately moved to the outfield. He has since made two major-league All-Star teams as an infielder, amassing 1,548 hits.
You never know, Part II: Hoffman, an 11th-round draft pick of Cincinnati in 1989, spent two years playing shortstop in the Reds system. He hit .249 and .212 in his first two seasons.
In midsummer 1991, the Reds were about to release Hoffman from Class A Charleston, W.Va.
And now, $54 million in salary later, Hoffman is Hall of Fame-bound as baseball's career saves leader.
The story gets better: After registering save No. 479 Sunday against Pittsburgh, Hoffman emerged from an on-field celebration and pointed to a man in the Pirates dugout. That man, Pittsburgh bench coach Jim Lett, was the man who first suggested Hoffman become a pitcher.
Try to imagine that conversation.
Charleston was playing at Greensboro, N.C., in midseason 1991. Lett and his pitching coach, Mike Griffin, met with Hoffman and asked if he would be interested in pitching.
Rather than be fat-headed, Hoffman agreed that he had no future as a .212-hitting shortstop.
Griffin, now the pitching coach for the Triple-A Pawtucket Red Sox, has told the same story for years, and last month he told ESPN:
"After the first five or six pitches in the bullpen, I told (Lett) that we were onto something. I told him, 'This guy is going to be somebody.'"
Hoffman completed '91 at shortstop, but pitched in the bullpen periodically, watched closely by Jett and Griffin. Picture what they can tell their grandchildren someday.
"Ever hear of Trevor Hoffman?"
"The Hall of Fame pitcher?"
"He used to be a washed-up shortstop. I persuaded him to become a pitcher."
"You're kidding, Grandpa, right?"
"True story."
While at Sancet Field at a mid-1990s Alumni Game, established in his sport and wealthy beyond imagination, Hoffman sat in the dugout from his college days and talked about becoming a pitcher.
"I didn't have much of a choice," he told me in his typically modest style. "I couldn't hit a slider. If I had not become a pitcher, I'd probably be coaching high school ball somewhere in L.A."
And one more thing: In his major-league career, Hoffman has been allowed to bat 33 times. He has four hits and is a .121 career hitter.
Now he even hits like a pitcher.
http://www.azstarnet.com/sports/148520
Position change created Hoffman
Opinion by Greg Hansen
Tucson, Arizona | Published: 09.27.2006
In the fall of 1986, UA assistant baseball coach Jerry Stitt flew to Los Angeles to evaluate an infielder at Cypress College, someone who might be able to replace NCAA championship shortstop Dave Rohde.
That infielder was Trevor Hoffman.
Stitt was not sure it was the same Trevor Hoffman he had scouted two years earlier at Anaheim's Savannah High School; at that time, Hoffman was about 5 feet 6 inches, maybe 160 pounds.
And he was operating with just one kidney, having lost the other during a childhood illness.
The Hoffman that Stitt saw at Cypress was about 6-1, 190 pounds, had a barrel chest, sturdy, almost oversized-thighs, and a throwing arm so powerful that Stitt joked he would not follow baseball's rating system, one in which 80 is the maximum number allowed to describe a prospect's skills.
"I think I told people that I'd give Trevor's arm a 90," Stitt said Monday, chuckling at the memory.
"He was a late bloomer, obviously. He had a cannon arm. He was a great fielder, a fair hitter and a solid leader. He was the type of guy you wanted on your team."
When Hoffman, now with the San Diego Padres, made his recruiting visit to Tucson, neither pitching coach Jim Wing nor head coach Jerry Kindall said anything about making Hoffman a pitcher. They needed a shortstop; Hoffman would be that guy.
In two years as Arizona's starting shortstop, Hoffman hit .371 and .284. He never hit more than six home runs in a season. The marquee names of the UA's 1989 Pac-10 championship squad were future major-leaguers J.T. Snow, Alan Zinter and Scott Erickson.
Hoffman pitched in two or three junior varsity games while at Arizona, but, said Stitt, "mostly for fun. He did OK."
It wasn't that UA coaches did not know the business.
During that period, Arizona was recruiting an infielder from L.A.'s Providence High School, Jeff Cirillo, who indicated he would probably sign with Arizona if he could pitch. Stitt, the hitting coach, said no. He saw Cirillo, who wound up at USC, as a hitter.
You never know, right?
As a Trojans' pitcher, Cirillo went 3-4 with a 7.75 ERA and was ultimately moved to the outfield. He has since made two major-league All-Star teams as an infielder, amassing 1,548 hits.
You never know, Part II: Hoffman, an 11th-round draft pick of Cincinnati in 1989, spent two years playing shortstop in the Reds system. He hit .249 and .212 in his first two seasons.
In midsummer 1991, the Reds were about to release Hoffman from Class A Charleston, W.Va.
And now, $54 million in salary later, Hoffman is Hall of Fame-bound as baseball's career saves leader.
The story gets better: After registering save No. 479 Sunday against Pittsburgh, Hoffman emerged from an on-field celebration and pointed to a man in the Pirates dugout. That man, Pittsburgh bench coach Jim Lett, was the man who first suggested Hoffman become a pitcher.
Try to imagine that conversation.
Charleston was playing at Greensboro, N.C., in midseason 1991. Lett and his pitching coach, Mike Griffin, met with Hoffman and asked if he would be interested in pitching.
Rather than be fat-headed, Hoffman agreed that he had no future as a .212-hitting shortstop.
Griffin, now the pitching coach for the Triple-A Pawtucket Red Sox, has told the same story for years, and last month he told ESPN:
"After the first five or six pitches in the bullpen, I told (Lett) that we were onto something. I told him, 'This guy is going to be somebody.'"
Hoffman completed '91 at shortstop, but pitched in the bullpen periodically, watched closely by Jett and Griffin. Picture what they can tell their grandchildren someday.
"Ever hear of Trevor Hoffman?"
"The Hall of Fame pitcher?"
"He used to be a washed-up shortstop. I persuaded him to become a pitcher."
"You're kidding, Grandpa, right?"
"True story."
While at Sancet Field at a mid-1990s Alumni Game, established in his sport and wealthy beyond imagination, Hoffman sat in the dugout from his college days and talked about becoming a pitcher.
"I didn't have much of a choice," he told me in his typically modest style. "I couldn't hit a slider. If I had not become a pitcher, I'd probably be coaching high school ball somewhere in L.A."
And one more thing: In his major-league career, Hoffman has been allowed to bat 33 times. He has four hits and is a .121 career hitter.
Now he even hits like a pitcher.
