Kade Anderson and the Hawaiian Beasts
Yesterday's Random Thoughts From Nearly 10,000 Feet
The last two days, I’ve found myself hiding under shade trees in Breckinridge, Colorado, attempting—because I’m often sitting far away—to watch some 14U baseball be played.
At yesterday’s field, I could see Breck’s Gondola out in the distance past left-center. Gauging by its trajectory before being obscured by a set of trees out there yonder, it looked like the field wasn’t much different than the 9700+ feet of elevation that base camp claims…
…as if the mild burn in my chest and the noticeable shortness of breath walking a mere hundred yards through the parking lot and down the right field line hadn’t already confirmed that fact to me.
But it wasn’t the pains of altitude that I was pondering, but rather, the pleasures that it can bring to a hitter. Dropping off my youngster, I couldn’t help but wish him luck and remind him that today he’s doing something (in a place) that actually made me jealous.
For the hour between arriving at the field and the start of the game, I had moments of wondering how far I could hit a ball so high up in the mountains, but mostly, I spent those sixty minutes pondering how far dudes like Josh Hamilton and Nelson Cruz could. And if Wily Mo Pena could clear that ski resort in left-center altogether.
The majority of baseball fans will be familiar with Coors Field in Denver and the boost it provides to hitters who play there. Few will know that Colorado Springs, which has hosted Triple-A squads for a very long time (although not currently), plays at an even greater elevation.
Then there’s Albuquerque, although at about the same level as Denver, has a yard that surprisingly carries baseball’s significantly greater than either of those cities.
But the highest—and indeed the best—field to hit at in all of professional baseball is found in Mexico City. There, at an altitude of over 7,000 feet, the 440-foot center field plays more like it’s 350.
The only real note and offering of value I have on this subject is a point that was made to me while shagging fly balls in Albuquerque before my first game at high elevation (by the way, I under-ran the first one by twenty-five feet).
It was then, hanging out somewhat near my vicinity, a wily veteran pitcher—who had plenty of big league time and even a stint with the Rockies—mentioned how much easier hitters swing when they’re up in the mountains.
The point he was trying to make was along the lines that hitters knew they didn’t have to create power to drive the ball far. He even went so far as to say that it wasn’t just the altitude’s extra boost that made pitching difficult in that environment, but also that hitters tended to be more balanced, on time, and disciplined during their at-bats.
That always stuck with me. I feel like it even bolstered my numbers—as I often reminded myself during those lung-burning games—to keep swinging easy and let the ball do what it’s going to do.
Yet, I suppose the more important point is this: As hitters, why can’t we always own that mentality at the plate?
Did Kade Anderson just make himself the number one pick?
One of my new goals is to write shorter, more frequent, and real-time posts. It’s going to be a challenge for me since life hasn’t provided me with much predictability in my schedule at the moment.
However, discussing LSU’s Kade Anderson’s performance last night in Game One of the MCWS likely won’t generate the same interest or impact as it will on Tuesday morning.
So, here I go, waking up two hours early to knock this thing out.
The last month or so has found Kade flying up the MLB Draft boards, and to have his final start be a complete-game, three-hit, 10 strikeout performance on the biggest possible stage for a collegiate pitcher may have found this “preseason-maybe-first-round-prospect” becoming the number one overall selection in next month’s draft.
Perhaps his 130 pitches weren’t as consistent and locked in as that stat line suggests. He did issue five walks (his previous high was three) and a couple hit by pitches; however, that likely only added to his status with the top couple of teams selecting in the draft.
Even as cameras and computers are now the driving force in rating the futures of most collegiate pitchers, scouts still like composure and guts. And if Kade’s performance against Coastal Carolina showed anything last night, it’s that he maintains the former and is full of the latter. Well, for anyone watching, it was pretty clear that he throws a hammer of a curveball, too.
Kade’s no Paul Skenes. Obviously. There’s only ever been one of him in MLB history, and likely will be eons before another (if ever). And so, in the rare moments when I daydream that I’m a GM or Scouting Director, I tend to have the hardest time passing up big bats (especially when they’re left-handed, i.e., Ethan Holliday) in my mental mock drafts. And again, if someone were to twist my arm to draft an arm, I’d be hard pressed not to take this year’s stud prep righty (Seth Hernandez) but…
If I’m the Nats, or especially if I’m in the Front Office with the Angels at number two, it would really be difficult for me not to go with a lefty-starter that should be in the Bigs by next year and eating up innings for my squad.
I am discovering that the older I get, the more I value pitching to a ball club. I think they call that maturity.
But thankfully, that’s not my job.
No More Flyin’ Hawaiians:
I don’t think it’s something I’ve really written about before—and I likely should soon—but if you’ve talked to me in person, it’s more than likely you’ve heard “my why” for thinking Shohei Ohtani is a baseball force like no other.
It’s the “why” I’m always interested in. Why this guy is good, and why this guy is great.
Shohei’s pure physical tools are incredibly rare, but they are definitely not unique. There have been plenty of MLBers, including some currently, and Lord knows a grinder like me can rattle off dozens of career minor leaguers who could hit 450-foot tanks, run like the wind, and likely, if given the chance, pump a hundo off the mound, too.
But for me, the real greatness of Shohei is that he can do all those things consistently, and for me, in large part, thanks to the philosophies and spiritual approach to the Japanese Way of Baseball.
What Shohei is, from my perspective, is the first Japanese player born with the size and physical capabilities of an American (or even Latin American) freak of nature athlete.
And much in a similar way, I believe we’re about to see the two (future) greatest Hawaiian ballplayers hitting the big leagues in the next year or two.
The first is University of Arkansas SS, Wehiwa Aloy, who was recognized yesterday as the Golden Spikes Award Winner (given to the best amateur player in the country) after winning the SEC Player of the Year to boot, batting .350 and slugging 21 jacks.
The second, who likely will go within the first five overall picks (maybe ten if things get wonky) in this year’s draft, is Oregon State’s SS Aiva Arquette.
First, having played with quite a few Hawaiians during my career, I’ve found every one of them to be scrappy, and much like Japanese ballplayers, they tend to get every ounce and then some from their physical talents.
Aloy and Arquette aren’t just scrappy. They’re physical beasts. Aloy stands 6’3” and is a jacked 200lbs. While Arquette is 6’5” and pulling Cal Ripken comps for his style of play at shortstop.
These dudes are not cut from the same cloth as Kurt Suzuki, Kolton Wong, Benny Agbayani, or Shane Victorino (the Flyin’ Hawaiian himself).
Neither of the new-age Hawaiians will be Shohei Ohtani. But like Shohei, I have a feeling that both of them are going to be players (and have careers) that even scouts who love their upside will still lowball in their big league projections.
And that would be pretty cool to see.
Back to Breck:
Anyway. It’s just about time to get packed up and head to the yard.
Somehow, the 14U Gunners played flawlessly the previous two days and have ended up as the number one seed going into today’s bracket play. I was half-heartedly pulling for the number three seed, giving me the opportunity to watch the first two and a half hours of Game Two today.
Looks like I’ll be forced into watching two games at once. I suppose that ain’t really a bad thing.
Until Next Time,
— JB
All posts of HAVE BAT, WILL TRAVEL are written by former major leaguer and fifteen-year pro hitter, Jason Botts. Since retiring, Jason began mentoring and providing private mindset coaching to athletes across all sports. He now lives in Colorado, where he’s become obsessed with skiing, teaching his sons the art of life through baseball, and ungodly long walks with the love of his life, Sarah.
He still works virtually with clients, and in his spare time, he’s dedicated to writing about baseball — with his most passionate topics centering around the art of hitting and the counterintuitive nature of player development.
To get in touch with Jason — for Podcast Interviews, Private Coaching or Development Consultation — reply to this email or message him directly below.