The Akron Beacon Journal from Akron, Ohio • Page 42

The Beacon JmrnriL www.Ohio.com Page D12, Sunday, Auffitst 23, 1998 Life in baseball's rookie League -1! Burlington batting coach Jack Mull 5 Mitiitr PHIL MASTURZOBcacon Journal and pushes it himself. gets baseballs to the field for batting practice using a shopping cart 'V. I 1 RABIN r- Baseball in the rookie ROOKIE Rookie team can be both beginning and end Continued from Page D3 you meet Jason Farmer, who will soon turn 25. He is a pitcher with an 8.08 ERA. The oldest guy on the team.

It is his first year in pro ball, and it could be his last He'll have memories of a couple of early season saves before a gathering of 300 or so folks in places such as Bristol, and Princeton, W. before it all wilted in the heat of August And it's where you meet C.C. Sabathia, the Tribe's No. 1 draft pick who signed for a $1.3 million bonus, but also stays at Kirk's Motor Lodge. "We're all the same down here.

We're all trying to make it," he says and honestly means it. Burlington is where every player's salary is $850 a month about $666 after taxes and only for the three summer months when they play. It's where they eat at Burger King, at Taco Bell and at the revered KFC. "Sometimes, I save up and go to a good restaurant" says Paul Day, Burlington's star third baseman. And what's a good restaurant? "A place like Cracker Barrel," he says.

Burlington is a land of dreams and bad food located in the center of North Carolina, between Greensboro and Durham. It's all-night bus rides through the Blue Ridge Mountains. It's playing a game at 7 p.m., staying up until 2 and then sleeping until noon. "I'll tell you what this is," says pitcher Donnie Suttles. "It's the greatest.

It's what I've always dreamed." It is one of those endless bus rides through the heart of America. Burlington's radio voicepublic relations director is Larry Blu-cher. He is sitting with Dennis Malave, an 18-year-old outfielder from Venezuela. Malave is determined to learn English. Blucher would like to pick up some Spanish.

So they teach each other phrases such as "How is the weather?" A few seats behind, is a pitcher named Martin Bautista from the Dominican Republic. He also is taking English lessons, but from some of his teammates. Suddenly, Blucher hears Bautista slowing say, "You can kiss my with a few profanities dropped in as punctuation. Blucher tells Malave, "You really don't want to say those words." The manager is Joe Mikulik, a 34-year-old former minor-league outfielder. He made it as far as Class AAA.

Fifteen years as a player, coach and manager but not one day in the big leagues. Not unless you count that exhibition game in 1995 at Jacobs Field. He was a replacement player. Mikulik makes about $25,000. He and Mull, the pitching coach, live with a local fireman to save money.

He also finds himself teaching his players how to dress. "For real," he says. "We don't Jit 1 leagues is decidedly low-tech. Here, Pitcher Martin Bautista loves to (left) and Carlos Batista (right). "We're all the same down here.

We're all trying to make it." C.C. SABATHIA Tribe's No. Idrqflpick "Know the best place to learn English? It's the TV, man. You get lots of English off the TV." ANGEL BASTARDO allow earrings on the field. We make them tuck in their shirts.

We make them wear their caps straight I've had kids tell me Ken Griffey wears an earring and his cap backward in batting practice." How does the first-year manager answer that? "I tell them: 'When you're Ken Griffey, you can do what you want But right now, you're in And Burlington is in the Appalachian League, as low as you can go and still be affiliated with a big- 1. Wr i A nmrtv PHIL MASTURZOBeacon Journal second baseman Raul Centile "I remember the day I wanted to become a ballplayer. I saw The Natural with Robert Redford. I wanted to be like that." PAUL DAY Top Burlington hitter job at Burlington since 1991. But it's more like being a big brother, banker, dietitian and psychologist He's helping Bautista to save enough money to buy shoes and clothes for his family in the Dominican.

"Chicken," says Bautista. "We must have chicken in the morning chicken in the night" He sings it over and over, "Chicken in the morning, chicken at night" Lassiter has peanut butter and jelly sandwiches available for the players before the game. "The peanut-butter-and-jelly buffet" pitcher Matt White calls it The trainer also arranges for well-balanced meals such as chicken and vegetables after the game. And yes, it's heavy on chicken at the request of the 13 Latin players. "I don't like no McDonald's," sings Bautista.

"No pickle. No lettuce. I like chicken. Chicken in the morning, chicken at night" Radio voice Larry Blucher is walking past the clubhouse. Maicer Isturiz stops him and asks, "Larry how are Real slowly.

Real carefully. But it's English. "I'm fine," said Blucher. "Your English is getting better." The young shortstop smiles, and walks off proudly. All of the Latin players have been taking English lessons at least once a week from a Burlington fan who also is a college professor.

The Indians also have English courses for their Latin players in the off-season. "Know the best place to learn English?" says Angel Bastardo. "It's the TV, man. You get lots of English off the TV." Bastardo is 19 years old. He's from Venezuela.

He loves American television. Do you remember your first time away from home? It could have been in college. The military Or maybe just out on your own in a strange town. So it is for the kids in Burlington. They come from California, Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, the East Coast and the Midwest.

They don't know anyone. They have a suitcase packed with dreams and a head full of fears. They are the chosen few, the ones who leave their hometowns to go off and play pro baseball. Their families, their friends -everyone seems to expect them to play in the majors. Million-dollar contracts.

National television appearances. Maybe a commercial. When they sign their contracts and leave home, it all seems possible. But after 10 weeks at Burlington, reality sets in. For many of these kids, it's the first time that they haven't been the best players on their teams.

Some suddenly realize that they are just hanging on, that they could be cut Then what? What do you tell your friends? Your mother? The coach who believed in you, the girlfriend you write to every day. About 20 players sit in the grandstand an hour before the game. A local preacher is speaking to them about the importance of God in their livesWith wide eyes and open hearts, they hstea They pray. They ask God to heal sore shoulders, to make bats well. When it's over, they form little groups.

Venezuelans hang together. Dominicans hang together. The high school kids. The college kids. They look for something in common.

Maybe they played against someone who once played against someone else they knew. Or maybe they come from the same part of Latin America. These frightened kids reach out trying to make a connection -trying to hang on. Tomorrow: A night at the Burlington ballpark. eat chicken, but here he holds a bat in the motel room he shares with third roommate, Carlos Silva, is out of the room.

three times. He had whiffed five times in a row, counting the previous game. He looks as if he's never seen a curveball before, as if his head is somewhere else. Which is the case. "We talked to Paul about playing in our fall instructional league program," said Tribe scouting director Josh Byrnes.

"But he wants to go back and finish his degree. He's pretty torn up on what to do." For many of the Latin players, there are worries other than continuing a college educatioa Some of them still are getting used to the fact that there's hot water in their rooms. Just turn the knob and out it comes -doesn't happen at home. A few had to learn not to throw used toilet paper in the wastebas-ket that you really can flush it down that doesn't happen at home, either. Former Tribe pitcher Julian Tavarez had stomach trouble when he pitched in Burlington.

He loved to drink milk before going to the park. He'd buy some, keep it out overnight He didn't know how to use the refrigerator. Never had a refrigerator in the Dominican Republic. Bautista, the pitcher learning the blue vocabulary, wanders into the trainer's room. He tells Dave Lassiten "You are like a father to me.

A lot of kisses to you." Lassiter has had the trainer's league organization. It's a league in which only 12 players on any team can be 21 years or older. It's the sixth farm team in the Tribe minor-league system, and it's at the bottom. It's the kind of place where players such as Matt White say, "Next year, if everything goes right, I'll be in Columbus." Not the one in Ohio. The young pitcher from Clem-son is talking about the Columbus in Georgia the Tribe's Class A team.

Paul Day sits in front of a blue cinderblock dugout that looks more like a World War I trench than a place to watch a game. He holds his bats and stares off into space. Day is 22, the leading hitter on the team. He was a star at Long Beach State, received $50,000 to sign. He also is an excellent student in computer science, a couple of semesters away from a degree.

"I remember the day I wanted to become a ballplayer," he says. "I saw The Natural with Robert Redford. I wanted to be like that" The game does not come naturally for Day. He is a gutsy, but shaky, third baseman. He can hit but some scouts say that he should rack up big numbers because he is one of the most experienced players in this league after coming out of the College World Series.

But on this night ne strikes out 4.