Young, strapping, massive, bloated with potential, the future Pride of the Yankees... Jesus Montero.
That September, 2011, after hitting 18 HRs in 106 games for Scranton, Jesus reached the Promised Land - Yankee Stadium. It was a time of hope, barely two years out from our last world championship. The team was on its way to winning the AL East, and here was this man-child catcher, one of baseball's brightest prospects, knocking on our door.
I will never forget his fourth game in the majors, an overcast afternoon against Baltimore. Alphonso was visiting, and though we were out in the boondocks of upstate NY, beyond a TV signal, we somehow finagled the game on a laptop. Missing it was not an option, so we hunched over the small screen. We had to see Jesus, this shiny new object... the future.
For five years, since he signed a massive contract at age 16, we had waited. The Yankees had outspent everyone, including all of Venezuela, and Montero had smashed his way through the system, making all the Top 10 prospect lists. He was a generational hitter, and he was here.
That day, to our drinking delight, Montero hit two home runs. The Yankees beat Baltimore 11-10.
Montero went on to hit .328 with 4 HRs in 18 games. He so impressed the Yankees that he was added to their postseason roster, and he singled twice in two plate appearances against Detroit - which beat us in the ALDS.
We made it through that November imagining the "Baby Bombers," a wave of future stars that included Gary Sánchez, Dellin Betances, Manny Bañuelos, Tyler Austin and Austin Romine. Yeah, we crapped the bed against Detroit, but the future looked rosy.
Then Brian Cashman traded it away. Cash dealt Jesus to Seattle for Michael Pineda and somebody named Jose Campos. And suddenly, the future stopped flirting.
Well, 15 years later, we're still dealing with Cashman and his trades, most notably his eternal quest for what he calls his "Great White Whale," the pitcher who leads the Yankees to a championship. Fifteen years of Captain Ahab.
It's funny when Yankee-haters mock us for criticizing Cashman. But how can we not? He's the single person most behind the Yankees' epic world series drought, and it's the trades of youngsters like Jesus Montero that long ago robbed us of hope and innocence.
And here's the saddest part. Montero crapped the bed in Seattle. He never hit, he got caught using PEDs, he showed up to camp overweight and, at one point, was ridiculed by minor league coaches as the "Ice Cream Sandwich." A colossal failure.
I'll always wonder: If the Yankees hadn't traded him, could it have been different?
Jesus Montero died last week. Car crash. Venezuela. Not sure if he had any money leftover. Evidently, they were publicly seeing donations for his medical bills. Very sad. He was 35.
Condolences to the Father and Holy Ghost.
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5 comments:
Another world that you describe, Duque. Another world. And thank you ou for "Fifteen years of Captain Ahab." Rest in peace, Jesus.
I remember that September. It was the time of an epic, Red Sox crash—that team all the Boston papers were speculating was going to be "The Best Team Ever???"
Instead, they went from first place to missing the playoffs, going 7-20 from Sept. 1 on, and dropping out of the postseason on a walk-off Orioles hit against Jonathan Papelbon.
The Yanks did their part, taking the Sox 2 of 3 in the Stadium. Montero went 4-4, with a homer, a double, and 4 ribbies in the first game. He was then benched the next day, of course (you don't want that hand getting too hot), but came back to go 2-4. At the end of the series, he was hitting .357.
The Sox melted, and it seemed like all the world was young again. Sigh.
And yet, in this case, Cashman was correct. Montero simply didn’t have, to borrow a phrase, The Right Stuff.
So many great futures that never were.
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