Pedro Martinez: What might not have been

Later this month, Pedro Martinez will enter Cooperstown. Induction weekend is typically a great time to be reminded of a player's greatness, but for Pedro the refresher is unnecessary. Rarely a week goes by that I don't read (or discover) a new, astounding Pedro Martinez fun fact -- like this one, or this one -- or get distracted by his Baseball-Reference page, which catalogues the greatest pitching peak in MLB history. There might be 10 active players who appear in more tweets that I read than he does.
But there's always room for more Pedro, which is why I just read his recent memoir, ghostwritten by Michael Silverman. (Emphasis on written more than on ghost; I had the same feeling Rob did that the author's voice never quite seemed like Pedro's.) While the book is not essential to your collection, it has some fun insights into Young Pedro, and some significant insights into prospects generally.
Here's what I mean: Baseball America recently posted its write-up on Pedro from before the 1992 season. At the time, he was the Dodgers' best prospect, and the words BA used were suitably impressed by Ramon's brother: "He does not throw as hard as Ramon and is on the short side for a right-hander, but Pedro is years ahead of his lanky older brother with the curveball, and he makes up for his lack of experience with exceptional intelligence. He digests instruction, and is capable of exploiting a battter's weakness to a degree rarely seen in a 20-year-old."
Now, Baseball America probably knew a lot more about Pedro than just that. But there was also a lot that it probably didn't know about him, the sort of stuff that doesn't get repeated outside the GM's office or the Dominican academy. But reading Pedro, one comes away imagining a hypothetical world where we knew everything about a young ballplayer, and where we just might have buried him more than once. Consider how that prospect write-up might have been at various stages as of his career, if the accounts in Pedro are to be believed:
Hypothetical write-up, 1987: Martinez is a slight 16-year-old right-hander who works in the low 80s, and if not for his bloodlines the Dodgers likely would have passed him over at a recent tryout. He shows good command for his age, and has earned the nickname "El Finito," which translates to "finely tuned," but the organization's enthusiasm for him is tepid. "Ramon is a fine athlete -- this one, he's not going to develop," said one coach in the Dodgers' Dominican academy. Said another: "He threw fine, not great, not terrible. But really, was he anything special?" And, finally: "To be honest, there's really nothing I like so much." His backers point to his determination, a crucial characteristic but one that might not be enough if Martinez stays under six feet, as appears likely.
Hypothetical write-up, 1989: Martinez, 18, has resisted the club's efforts to put weight on him, and disobeys their orders about his workout regimen. He has added velocity and now approaches 90 mph, though the extra heat has proven difficult for him to control. Couple this with his frustration after bad results and he is a danger to those around him; recently beaned a batter in the head after a bases-clearing double, and the batter went into convulsions on the ground. His determination remains his finest attribute, though it also makes him difficult to coach and difficult to control on the mound.
Hypothetical write-up, 1990: Martinez , 19, came stateside this spring and is now throwing in the low-to-mid 90s. His changeup is extremely fringy; he throws it with the same grip as his brother, Ramon, but his hands are too small to get the same effects. He doesn't control his breaking ball, and in his first look at American hitters he struggled. Is always late. Biggest red flag: In fall instructs, Dodgers coaches discovered elbow soreness that he hadn't reported. An MRI revealed bone chips, and the Dodgers' physician ordered surgery to remove it. Pedro ignored the advice, returned home to the Dominican, and pitched a full winter ball season. Seems inevitable this elbow issue will come up again, to say nothing of the insubordination.
Hypothetical write-up, 1992: His teammates and coaches hate him; they throw baseballs at his back while he's shagging flyballs in batting practice, where he refuses to stand in the outfield like the rest of the pitchers. Has been in fistfights with teammates. Tardiness is an ongoing problem, and has led to him being chewed out by his manager, Bill Russell. Word has reached the big-league club that his temper is disruptive, and Dodgers GM Fred Claire has had to tell Pedro's agent to get the pitcher under control. Demonstratively disappointed when a teammate was promoted instead of him; his teammates retaliated against him with a fairly hostile prank. When the Dodgers called him up this September, his manager delayed telling him for days, and his coaches don't even bother going to his bullpen sessions. After his big-league debut, complained publicly that he wasn't being used as a starter. Complainer. Changeup has improved.
Hypothetical write-up, 1993: As good as any pitching prospect in the game, but the attitude will ruin him. After the Dodgers optioned him to Triple-A at the end of spring training, he walked into the GM's office and asked for his release. Tips his pitches. His right shoulder won't hold up to a starting pitcher's workload, according to Dr. Frank Jobe. All the talent in the world, but between his attitude and his body, as good a bet to bust as anybody.
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Now, none of these red flags would have been irrelevant. Ignoring team physicians outright? Good way to ruin a career. Attempting to quit a team because it sends you to Triple-A at age 21? Not so good. Believing that everything bad that happens is all because some authority figure has it in for you? Come on. Put these, and a bunch of other details together, and we'd have been tempted to bury him. When a player with great talent busts entirely, there was usually some marker in the road along the way that said "danger ahead."
So did we need to know them to assess his future? I'm reminded of the common example used to illustrate Bayes Theorem: Suppose 1 percent of the population has breast cancer. A test can say with 90 percent accuracy whether you have breast cancer. If the test comes back positive, what are the chances you have breast cancer?
It's 90 percent, right? Nope. In an example like this, the overwhelming majority of positive tests will be false positives, as 10 percent of the population will test positive even though only 1 percent of the population actually has the cancer. In a group of 100 tests, there will be 10 positives, nine of which are false.
Now, I'm not arguing that any of these numbers applies to the Pedro situation. (Or even to the breast cancer situation; all the numbers in the example above were simple hypotheticals to demonstrate the idea.) Merely that false positives can lead us wildly astray, and when it comes to prospects, there are nearly infinite possibilities for false positives: a whole organization of coaches, any one of whom might, for one reason or another, see a blemish on a player.
In the great book Dollar Sign On The Muscle, there's a line that goes something like: Scouts see all the things that are right about a player, and coaches see all the things that are wrong. There's good reason for both perspectives: Coaches know that every negative is a potential threat to success, to be corrected when possible. But scouts appreciate that most threats aren't cancer. They might even turn out to be nothing at all.
Yes, when a player busts there was usually a marker that said "danger ahead." But for the non-busts, there usually were those markers, too. As baseball fans and analysts, we're probably lucky we don't find out about them until 25 years later.
