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“I remember it was hot that day. I had just come back to my Mom’s house in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Austin</st1:place></st1:City> after a workout. I didn’t know if anyone would call. I mean, everyone had told me it was going to happen, but I wasn’t sure it was real. The fact that the phone even rang blew me away. The fact that it was <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dallas</st1:place></st1:City> was just over the top.”
<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
In a tiny room at a fairly clean long-stay motel just outside of <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Detroit</st1:place></st1:City>, he grabs his keys off of the kitchenette locks the door behind him. Climbing into his slightly rusty, heavily dented ’79 Trans Am, he starts the 10 minute drive to Faygo Field where he’ll participate in some final practices with the Detroit Union before they begin their season in the newly rebranded Horizon League. Though often mistaken for one, at 33 he looks more like a Coach than what he is - a player. Twelve years older than his youngest teammate, he’ll start his 12<SUP>th</SUP> season in Professional Baseball in 1989.
<o:p></o:p>
“My name is Eric White. I’m 33 years old. I was drafted #6 overall by the Dallas Snappers organization in 1978.”
<o:p></o:p>
The words came slow and painfully from his sun and tobacco grizzled lips. A shadow of the bright eyed, Mexican born right-hander that was snapped up early in the first Amateur Draft of the relaunched Brewer’s League. Twelve seasons, 310 games and a shoulder surgery later, he holds a special distinction in BLB lore – he’s never been to “The Dance.”
<o:p></o:p>
“I guess being infamous still has famous in it, right? Someone told me for the first time a couple years ago. I’m the only guy from the 1<SUP>st</SUP> round of that first draft to never get even a cup of coffee in the bigs.”
<o:p></o:p>
Mel Woodbury. Gil O’Moore. Bobby Sizer. All 1<SUP>st</SUP> Round picks in 1978. Guys who will someday at least garner Hall of Fame consideration. Guys White came up with.
<o:p></o:p>
“Sure I know those guys. And I certainly don’t begrudge them their success. I’m happy for them. But, I’m happy for me too. For every Mel, there’s a Norm Binns. Binns blew out his knee in ’82 and never played again. Done. Done with baseball forever at 24. Yea, he got a small taste at the top, but he’s done. I’m still playing.”
<o:p></o:p>
Eric White may be the poster child for minor league mismanagement. In his first 6 seasons in the Snapper farm system, he bounced freely back and forth between A ball, AAA, back to A, AA, and back again. White never stayed in one place very long. Never had much stability at all.
<o:p></o:p>
“I’m not going to blame <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dallas</st1:place></st1:City> for hurting my career. They had high expectations. When I was meeting them, they moved me up. No, it wasn’t stable, but they wanted value out of their pick. I can’t blame them for that.”
<o:p></o:p>
In ’82 and ’83, White was perched at the edge of taking the next step. He spent both full seasons in AAA. He gave everything he had, it just wasn’t enough to get him over the hump.
<o:p></o:p>
“Finding out I was starting ’84 in A ball did hurt me. I’ll be honest. I was pissed off. I let myself go. I got out of shape. I’m sure that played a role in my knee injury.”
<o:p></o:p>
That knee injury would be the last straw for <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dallas</st1:place></st1:City>. The Snappers were done with their first ever Amateur draft pick. They let him walk away.
<o:p></o:p>
“Crushed. I knew I had baseball left in me.”
<o:p></o:p>
<st1:State w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Virginia</st1:place></st1:State> called and offered White a minor league deal. He quickly accepted and joined the AAA Union. A series of one year minor league contracts would follow. The years continued to slip by.
<o:p></o:p>
“Let me make sure I make the point that I love <st1:State w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Virginia</st1:place></st1:State>. But, to be honest, I picked them because they were terrible. I thought I had a great chance at helping them. I thought I could make the ‘Pen there.”
<o:p></o:p>
He didn’t.
<o:p></o:p>
When Spring Training invites went out this pre-season, White didn’t have a ticket to the ball again.
<o:p></o:p>
“I’m older than every guy on that pitching staff. They’re babies. I played with almost every one of them. Good for them. My day will come.”
<o:p></o:p>
And that’s the part that stands out most of all about Eric White. Not his age. Not his story. His hope. He believes his day in the sun is still coming.
<o:p></o:p>
“What am I going to do? Quit? I love this game too much for that. I play baseball for a living. This isn’t a sad story. I’m lucky. 13<SUP>th</SUP> year, man. Lucky 13 right?”
<o:p></o:p>
Good luck, Eric White. Good luck.
LINK
<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p>
In a tiny room at a fairly clean long-stay motel just outside of <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Detroit</st1:place></st1:City>, he grabs his keys off of the kitchenette locks the door behind him. Climbing into his slightly rusty, heavily dented ’79 Trans Am, he starts the 10 minute drive to Faygo Field where he’ll participate in some final practices with the Detroit Union before they begin their season in the newly rebranded Horizon League. Though often mistaken for one, at 33 he looks more like a Coach than what he is - a player. Twelve years older than his youngest teammate, he’ll start his 12<SUP>th</SUP> season in Professional Baseball in 1989.
<o:p></o:p>
“My name is Eric White. I’m 33 years old. I was drafted #6 overall by the Dallas Snappers organization in 1978.”
<o:p></o:p>
The words came slow and painfully from his sun and tobacco grizzled lips. A shadow of the bright eyed, Mexican born right-hander that was snapped up early in the first Amateur Draft of the relaunched Brewer’s League. Twelve seasons, 310 games and a shoulder surgery later, he holds a special distinction in BLB lore – he’s never been to “The Dance.”
<o:p></o:p>
“I guess being infamous still has famous in it, right? Someone told me for the first time a couple years ago. I’m the only guy from the 1<SUP>st</SUP> round of that first draft to never get even a cup of coffee in the bigs.”
<o:p></o:p>
Mel Woodbury. Gil O’Moore. Bobby Sizer. All 1<SUP>st</SUP> Round picks in 1978. Guys who will someday at least garner Hall of Fame consideration. Guys White came up with.
<o:p></o:p>
“Sure I know those guys. And I certainly don’t begrudge them their success. I’m happy for them. But, I’m happy for me too. For every Mel, there’s a Norm Binns. Binns blew out his knee in ’82 and never played again. Done. Done with baseball forever at 24. Yea, he got a small taste at the top, but he’s done. I’m still playing.”
<o:p></o:p>
Eric White may be the poster child for minor league mismanagement. In his first 6 seasons in the Snapper farm system, he bounced freely back and forth between A ball, AAA, back to A, AA, and back again. White never stayed in one place very long. Never had much stability at all.
<o:p></o:p>
“I’m not going to blame <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dallas</st1:place></st1:City> for hurting my career. They had high expectations. When I was meeting them, they moved me up. No, it wasn’t stable, but they wanted value out of their pick. I can’t blame them for that.”
<o:p></o:p>
In ’82 and ’83, White was perched at the edge of taking the next step. He spent both full seasons in AAA. He gave everything he had, it just wasn’t enough to get him over the hump.
<o:p></o:p>
“Finding out I was starting ’84 in A ball did hurt me. I’ll be honest. I was pissed off. I let myself go. I got out of shape. I’m sure that played a role in my knee injury.”
<o:p></o:p>
That knee injury would be the last straw for <st1:City w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dallas</st1:place></st1:City>. The Snappers were done with their first ever Amateur draft pick. They let him walk away.
<o:p></o:p>
“Crushed. I knew I had baseball left in me.”
<o:p></o:p>
<st1:State w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Virginia</st1:place></st1:State> called and offered White a minor league deal. He quickly accepted and joined the AAA Union. A series of one year minor league contracts would follow. The years continued to slip by.
<o:p></o:p>
“Let me make sure I make the point that I love <st1:State w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Virginia</st1:place></st1:State>. But, to be honest, I picked them because they were terrible. I thought I had a great chance at helping them. I thought I could make the ‘Pen there.”
<o:p></o:p>
He didn’t.
<o:p></o:p>
When Spring Training invites went out this pre-season, White didn’t have a ticket to the ball again.
<o:p></o:p>
“I’m older than every guy on that pitching staff. They’re babies. I played with almost every one of them. Good for them. My day will come.”
<o:p></o:p>
And that’s the part that stands out most of all about Eric White. Not his age. Not his story. His hope. He believes his day in the sun is still coming.
<o:p></o:p>
“What am I going to do? Quit? I love this game too much for that. I play baseball for a living. This isn’t a sad story. I’m lucky. 13<SUP>th</SUP> year, man. Lucky 13 right?”
<o:p></o:p>
Good luck, Eric White. Good luck.
LINK
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