During the Triple-A Nashville Sounds' 1989 season, somebody did somebody else a favor. Someone in the Cincinnati Reds' front office asked Nashville manager Frank Lucchesi if he could oversee batting practice for a former SEC football star and offer an assessment.
As Lucchesi explained before the football-turned-baseball player got into the cage at Greer Stadium, professional football had not gone well for the former offensive lineman, who apparently had had some baseball success in little league or high school. So he was going to try his hand at hitting a baseball again.
A half-dozen folks congregated around the batting cage to see what the monstrous lineman could do. I don't have a specific memory about who threw batting practice that day, but my guess is that it was Ray Rippelmeyer, a hog farmer in the winters and pitching coach for the Sounds that summer. But whether it was Rippelmeyer or somebody else, the former linemen got a steady series of batting-practice fastballs at about 60 mph, right down the middle.
The beast in the cage swung and missed. And he swung and missed. And he swung and missed.
By the 10th or 12th swing-and-miss, some in the group began to turn away, desperate to stifle laughter. Those who were shagging in the outfield began covering their faces with their gloves out of politeness for the poor guy at the plate, who just kept on swinging and missing, the ball thumping against the tarp hanging from the frame at the back of the cage.
When the former football player made contact -- by around pitch No. 24, if I remember correctly, although it really doesn't matter if it was pitch No. 3 or 30, because the evaluation had long since been made -- Lucchesi, a really nice man, let out a cheerful bit of encouragement. When the guy stepped out of the cage, sweating profusely, Lucchesi chatted with him a bit.
What he could've said was: Hitting a baseball at the highest level in the world is the hardest thing to do in sports -- and what you just saw isn't even close to that.
Which brings us to Tim Tebow, who was a marginal baseball prospect when he was in high school, ranked somewhere among the top 100 Florida kids when he was a teenager and actually played baseball. The Angels nearly drafted him, apparently, but held off. MLB teams draft hundreds of high school and college players every year; Tom Brady was drafted, as was Johnny Manziel. But Tebow was not.
So now, at age 29, Tebow will try to resurrect his baseball career, more than a decade removed from the last time he played. By all accounts, he is not swinging and missing like the former SEC lineman who tried out for the Sounds, but he has so many lessons to master in a very short time, which is probably the context for what Orioles manager Buck Showalter -- a huge fan of SEC football, by the way -- told reporters Tuesday. From Roch Kubatko's story:
"I better leave that one alone," Showalter said, smiling. "Am I intrigued? No, not at all. Amused? No, not at all.
"I think about what these guys do in our Dominican Academy and Delmarva and Aberdeen and the Gulf Coast League and Frederick and Bowie and Norfolk, I take very seriously the stuff they have to do to get the opportunities and do what they're doing. Somebody will sell some tickets in the spring. I should be careful, we may sign him.
"I bet he was a good player in high school. I was, too."
Tebow looks good in batting practice, yes, against those BP fastballs.