What a bummer.
In the third round of 2003, we drafted a kid from nowhere named Tim Battle, over whom Baseball America had raved. Ten tools. Great speed, great power, great arm, great head, great hair, etc., but he needed work. He hadn't played against tough competition. He signed immediately.
Then he was diagnosed with cancer.
George Steinbrenner issued a public statement of support. The Yankees mentioned him during pregame ceremonies. He missed a season, and when he finally returned, every minor league baseball blogger in captivity picked Tim Battle to have a breakout year.
Maybe that was a mistake.
He could run, hit a ball a mile, throw people out, cover ground, and -- to my knowledge -- deal with people. He had one affliction, and it wasn't cancer.
It was Reuben Rivera Disease.
He struck out all the time. They kept changing his swing. He kept striking out.
Yesterday, we released him. He must be 24.
So all you folks who want to hype the great Kelvin or Jesus or Austin or Dellin Watzizname... pffff. (Yes, I do it too.) Our list of disappointments -- like Pinnocio's nose -- just grew another inch. It's an uphill battle.
The dream is over. I wish him the best.
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