Only Believe

People who know me know that I am a baseball fanatic. Serious fanatic. Baseball has touched my life in many ways that are better suited for explanation in another venue. But besides that, I just love the game.

One part of baseball that I like a lot is all of those players who were told they would never make it, and then beat the odds, anyway. One can find examples all over baseball--Nate McLouth, Josh Hamilton, Dustin Pedroia--but the example I like best is Freddy Sanchez, the Pirates' second baseman. (Duh--I'm a Pirates' fan, and he's my favorite Pirate.) That's Freddy in the picture with my nephew. We were FREAKIN' when he signed Matt's jersey and baseball card.

Freddy was born with a club foot and was pigeon-toed. The doctors told his parents he would most likely never walk. Clearly, he was able to overcome that, but his struggles weren't over. He became a part of the Red Sox organization, but the Pirates wanted him badly. The trade they made to get him is a story in itself, but one problem he had was that he injured his ankle right before the trade. That put him about 1 1/2 years behind in his quest to make the Major League team.

When he finally did, the Pirates' management decided he would be a utility infielder. (For those of you not familiar with baseball, that means he would just be everyone's back up.) But Freddy had other ideas.

In 2006, Joe Randa, the Pirates' starting third baseman (even though he couldn't hit a grapefruit that year if it were thrown to him) injured his foot, and Freddy was put at third to "fill in" for him. Once Freddy started playing regularly, he suddenly led the league in batting average. Yet, the Pirates' management kept saying that Joe Randa was their starting third baseman, and that when his foot healed, he would return to third base (probably because they were paying him millions and paying Freddy the minimum).

Eventually, the management realized they would look like total fools (not the first time) if they stuck to that because Freddy kept leading the league in hitting. So they decided that maybe it would be a good idea to leave him in as the starter. Not only did Freddy win the National League batting championship that year, but he also was chosen for the All-Star Game, which was played in Pittsburgh, and the crowd went nuts even before his name was officially announced. The best part of that was the shocked look on his face when the fans chanted his name and gave him a standing ovation.

The only problem with having Freddy as a third baseman is that he's not a power hitter. He hits lots of doubles, but few home runs. (Corner infielders and corner outfielders are the ones who are supposed to provide the power on a baseball team.) The Pirates decided to move Freddy to second base for the following season, but once again, they doubted him.

Freddy has developed into one of the best second basemen in baseball. And with his best friend, Jack Wilson (they played together in high school), at shortstop, he has become part of a double play tandem that turns in amazing plays day after day. (Watch Web Gems if you don't believe me.)

Freddy just keeps proving the naysayers wrong. I had been thinking about writing this blog entry all weekend, and then last night (May 25, 2009), Freddy went 6-for-6 against the Cubs in Wrigley Field, even hitting a home run, and turned in three remarkable plays on defense. Thanks, Freddy. Perfect timing.

If you're still reading, you're probably wondering why I'm writing about Freddy Sanchez. I would like for you to think of him the next time you have a student in your class whom you believe is "never going to make it." What if Freddy had allowed what the former Pirates' management (notice they're gone, and Freddy's not) thought of him to be a self-fulfilling prophecy? What if he had given up because the people who needed to believe in him didn't?

Believe in your students. I know some are annoying. I know some have problems so serious we can never solve them. But just believing, speaking positive words, might just produce another Freddy Sanchez (not necessarily a baseball player, but a success), who made a young boy's dream come true just by signing his name.