After the Padres’ losing streak reached seven Wednesday night, Channel 4’s John Weisbarth asked the perfect-haired Bob Scanlan if it was time to push the panic button. Bob said (paraphrasing) if you’re a Padres fan go ahead if you want to, but if the Padres players do they’re toast.

Scanlan made a good point. It’s okay if the fans turn into Chicken Littles so long as the players don’t.

Fans take heart: If last April the baseball gods offered you a three game lead on September 2, would you take it? Uh, YEAH!

But if this current seven-game losing streak still spooks you, it’s downright nothing compared to the longest in sports. Besides, Bud Black is starting the rookie Cory Luebke Friday night, so what’s the big fuss?

In the classic American tradition of laughing at someone else’s suffering (like richer, better-looking, more famous, and more talented people on the covers of People magazine), let’s review the longest losing streaks in sports:

The longest losing streak in MLB history is more than triple the Padres’ current thread. The ’61 Phillies lost 23 in a row. In a town known for its vicious fans, by loss number 15 the hecklers must run out of material. Just guttural screams and cheese steak belches, which come to think of it is their best material.

The NFL’s longest losing streak belongs to Tampa Bay, the Buccaneers losing their first 26 games over their first two seasons. What was coach John McKay’s response to the question about his team’s execution? “I’m in favor of it.”

The 1981-82 Cleveland Cavaliers began the NBA’s record losing streak by dropping their final 19 games, then losing the next season’s first five to set the record at 24. The Cavs’ current regular season losing streak is four, mostly because LeBron James sat out the final four regular season games. Come to think of it, LeBron will be a DNP for the Cavs forevermore, so an 0-21 start this coming season would break the record.

But these losing streaks are nothing compared to the Caltech Beavers. The Padres would have to lose their final 30 games this season, go 0-162 in 2011, and start 0-16 in 2012 to break sports’ all-time losing streak.

On January 6, 2007, the Beavers’ men’s basketball team snapped a 207-game losing streak to Division III schools, beating Bard College 81-52.

Caltech, otherwise known as the California Institute of Technology, is a private research university better known for its pranks: the two most famous in recent history are the changing of the Hollywood Sign to read “Caltech”, by judiciously covering up certain parts of the letters, and the changing of the Rose Bowl scoreboard to an imaginary game where Caltech beat MIT 99-0.

No such scoreboard pranks were needed to defeat Bard College (which for the sake of this bit we’ll say is a college that focuses on Shakespeare) that January night in 2007. The Beavers (who probably never actually saw one during their collegiate careers) overmatched the Bards with superior nerd-play, bolstered by a boisterous student section that taunted the bards with x-rated chants like “to pee or not to pee” and “farting is such sweet sorrow.” You know, stuff that would make the Cameron Crazies wilt.

So take heart, Padres fans, let not this be your summer of discontent. Your team is 200 consecutive losses shy of this infamy.

To beat Colorado, or not to beat Colorado. That is the question.

Perhaps the noble rookie Cory Luebke hath the answer.

It’s a summer’s day in Wichita, Kansas.  The temperature outside on the turf field at Lawrence-Dumont Stadium is 120 degrees.

So why is Vance Albitz shivering?  He was just sweating a minute ago.

Vance pops two pills and pulls down hard on the bill of his cap.  He’s waited weeks for a chance to start for the Lincoln SaltDogs, and he’s not about to let a little heat exhaustion (or whatever this is) slow him down.  There’s a game to play.

If this is what living the dream feels like, it sure doesn’t feel very good.

* * *

At every level of sport, there is a talent cutoff.  Someone who shines in Little League can be exposed in Pony League.  High school’s best rarely become college stars.  And the overwhelming majority of Big Men on Campus become small fish in the pro pond.

The dream dies for almost everyone who chases it, but it dies hard.  Playing pro ball is a fantasy most kids have growing up, and for those who have been good at every level, the cleats can’t be taken off without a fight.

But how do you chase the dream when the dream doesn’t chase you back?

619 Sports caught up with two of the best players who have come through our local colleges in the past few years; not the superstars, but the glue guys who held together their teams in the field and in the dugout.  Two players who despite all their talents were undrafted, but have held onto the dream of playing professional baseball, no matter where it takes them.

In part one of this series, we looked at SDSU standout Mitch Blackburn, who went undrafted in June but has hooked on to the Angels’ organization and risen to Double-A.  Today, we profile UCSD’s all-time hits and runs leader, Vance Albitz, who helped the Tritons to back-to-back appearances in the Division II College World Series, including a run to the championship game in Cary, North Carolina in May.

Like Mitch, he’s on a road which has propelled him improbably into the middle of the minor league framework, but he’s still a long way from The Show.  About as far as Lincoln, Nebraska is from San Diego.

* * * PART TWO: Vance Albitz * * *

Vance Albitz is a square peg in a room of salty SaltDogs.  He’s keeping his eyes open and his mouth closed, the youngest player in a league filled with transitory talents, veterans of every level of the minor leagues fighting to get onto their next roster.  To get anywhere but here.

Not Vance.  He’s fought too hard just to get to this place.  He wants to stick in a place where everyone’s moving.

Here is Lincoln, Nebraska.  Here is actually pretty nice.  But nobody wants to stay in baseball’s version of Purgatory too long.

In the baggy double-knits of the UCSD Tritons, Albitz looked like an extra walking off the set of Field of Dreams.  Generously listed at 5′8″, 160 lbs in the Tritons media guide, Albitz didn’t stand out until you put a glove on his hand and sent him to shorstop.  Then, you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

A two-time National Defensive Player of the Year, Albitz was a vacuum cleaner at short.  He had great range to his right or his left, a strong arm, and the quickness to get to balls others would be unable to reach.  Pitcher after pitcher talked about the comfort they felt having Albitz behind them on defense.

At the plate, Vance was a hard worker in the David Eckstein mold, who established himself as the UCSD table setter and leadoff man.  Albitz finished with a .339 average in his senior season after hitting .374 as a junior.  By the time the Tritons had concluded their march to the national championship game, Albitz was the school’s all-time leader in hits and runs scored.

It was a glorious march, but it ended one step short of the goal.  Southern Indiana beat UCSD 6-4 in the title game, on a day when the Tritons’ airtight defense let them down.  Up 2-0 after the first inning, UC San Diego made a pair of errors in a 3-run second which put them behind for good.

Albitz went 0-for-5 in his final college game, and was left to stare out at the field as Southern Indiana celebrated.  The dogpile Tritons head coach Dan O’Brien had been talking about since the first day of fall ball was taking place, but the wrong dogs were piling.

It took days for the pain of the loss to wear off.  But just like that, a college career had ended, and coach O’Brien was already working to try and jump start a new career for Vance Albitz.

“Coach told me the SaltDogs were looking for an infielder,” said Vance from his new adopted home of Lincoln, “but I wanted to see what happened in the MLB draft so I said no.  Then, nothing happened in the draft, so I told Coach I wanted to play, and he made a phone call.”

The next day, Albitz’s car was packed and he was on the road to Nebraska.

The Lincoln SaltDogs play in the American Association, a top independent minor league.  Compared by scouts to a solid mid-range Double-A league, the Association includes the somewhat famous St. Paul Saints, as well as well-established Midwestern cities such as Wichita and Sioux City.

And Lincoln, where Cornhusker red is acceptable to be worn six days a week.  It’s OK to wear white on Sunday.

Albitz was given a contract with the team and a host family to stay with.  He quickly realized that his baseball life had changed considerably.

UCSD was all about team.  The Tritons played with a spirit and togetherness that lifted them to the #1 ranking in Division II back-to-back seasons.  Now, Vance was on a team where it was every man for himself.

“A lot of the guys here, I’ve noticed…baseball’s all they have.  They have nothing else they can fall back on.”

The SaltDogs’ roster is dotted with Latin American players who have shaken out of the pro system but are still trying to make a living for their family at home.  For these desperate men, every new face in the clubhouse is potentially taking away their lone source of income, their last shot.

Albitz quickly learned things weren’t going to be like UCSD anymore.  An everyday starter for four years, Vance found himself bound to the bench.

“The first week, I didn’t play, didn’t say much, and nobody said much to me.  Second week, same thing.  Sat on the bench.”

Life away from the field was proving to be relatively idyllic.  Albitz picked up his first paycheck after two weeks.  He was earning $800 a month…but with room and board taken care of, his outlay was virtually zero.

“My host family is a host mom actually,” said Vance, “She’s probably my luckiest draw in this whole thing.”

Hearty Midwest breakfasts are waiting for Albitz when he wakes up, and even though the team serves dinner at the ballpark, there’s another meal waiting for him when he gets home.  She’d probably do his laundry too, if he asked.

At yellow lights, people slow down and stop in Lincoln.  They go out of their way to make sure you, a stranger, are taken care of.  Dutifully dressed in ‘Husker red, they follow the local nine, with average attendance (the SaltDogs play at the University of Nebraska’s home field, one of the nicest in the league) between 3000 and 5000 per game.

Not a bad life at all for a young man fresh out of college, if only he could get into a game and show these people what he could do!

Albitz’s chance would come in his third week on the team.  The SaltDogs were in Wichita, Kansas, and the regular third baseman got hurt.  Vance would start his first game, not at shortstop, but on the hot corner.  Little did he know how hot it would be.

The turf was 120 degrees, with heat waves radiating off the old school carpet surface.  By the third inning, Albitz started feeling sick.

“I didn’t know if it was dehydration or whatever, but I started feeling light headed.”

Vance finished the game, even picking up a hit.  When he got back to the hotel, though, things started to get worse.

“I was shivering, then sweating, then shivering again.  I was having problems in the bathroom, couldn’t eat.”

“Here it is, my first chance to start, and I’m sick as heck!”

Albitz wasn’t about to beg out of his first professional starting opportunity.  He suffered through a miserable night and morning in the hotel, barely able to put anything in his stomach.  Come gametime, Vance took medicine to mask the symptoms and ran out to third base.

After the game, it started all over again, but even worse.  The shivers, the night sweats.

For seven days, from Wichita to Sioux City, Albitz suffered and played silently.  He batted .270 during the stretch and made only one error in the field, but his body was in full rebellion.  Vance lost weight, couldn’t keep any food down, couldn’t do anything but be sick, then take medicine and play baseball, then be sick some more.

“It wasn’t like we were at home, where I could have just walked in to see the team doctor.  We were in hotels.  Plus, I was finally playing.

He got a hit in five of the seven games on the road trip.  In his final game in Sioux City, Vance knocked in his first (and only) run of the season.  Then there was nothing left.

“Finally I came in and told coach I’m too sick to play today, I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

“Turns out, I had played the entire week with pneumonia.”

Albitz was bedridden for a few days recovering from the pneumonia, and missed ten days of game action.  By the time he was healthy enough to play again, the regular third baseman was back and locked into the #3 spot in the SaltDogs lineup.

Back to the bench.

Life on the bench at UCSD was a feeling of family.  Vance was never on the bench, of course, except when the team was on offense, waiting for his next at-bat.  But the Tritons were known nationwide for their team chants, choreographed routines (which the NCAA made a new rule specifically to outlaw, the old grumps), and espirit de corps.

With the SaltDogs, it was a whole new ballgame.

“People don’t want to be here,” said Albitz, reflecting on the nature of the American Association, “They want to be here, but they want to be somewhere else.”

“You’re with a team playing for a championship, but at the same time you’re not.  If you put up big numbers here, someone will notice.”

“At San Diego, with a runner on second and nobody out, if you hit a ground ball to second base you did your job.  Here, you’re looking to drive that guy in from second base.  If you happen to hit a ground ball to third instead, well…your motive was to knock in that runner, not to help the team get him across.”

For the ultimate team player, it’s an environment he suffers quietly.  His is not the place to speak up or demand a different level of commitment.

“I had a perception of independent ball as not being very good, but there’s players from every level in this league.  Guys who are cut from Triple-A come right here looking for their next job.”

“Out of every player in this league, I’m probably the lowest of the lowest right now.  I’m just trying to get a starting spot.”

Vance finished the regular season with 28 appearances for Lincoln, getting 52 at-bats.  He hit .288 and scored ten runs, only making that one error (when he was at third, playing with pneumonia).  The SaltDogs made the playoffs as the wild card, and have dropped the first two games of their playoff series against Sioux Falls.  Vance hasn’t played in either game.

Will he be back in Lincoln next year?  Somewhere else?  Will his limited time on the field earn him a free agent invite to a minor league spring training camp somewhere?

There are thousands of roads to The Show.  Most of them are dead ends.  This could be another one.

But you’re not taking the spikes away from Vance Albitz.  He’ll keep walking that road all the way to where it takes him.

Seven thoughts on the seventh day…

1) Small tweaks are starting to add up to a defensive problem for the Padres.  I’m not worried about their current three-game losing streak.  Heck, by the time you read this column, their Sunday magic may have already put a winning touch to the weekend.  But I am worried about how this team’s defense is shaping up for the playoffs.

Losing Tony Gwynn to a broken hamate bone has turned out to be a bigger blow than expected to the Padres’ mojo.  While Chris Denorfia has been swinging an almost ridiculously hot bat during the summer, he is clearly not the equal of Gwynn defensively.  Gwynn’s speed and range were Gold Glove-caliber, while Deno is average at best and leaves his feet too much, turning hits into triples.

Miguel Tejada has hit well, played with passion and seemingly over-achieved defensively at shortstop.  What was supposed to be a major issue for the Padres has been a pleasant surprise so far.  But Saturday’s 3-1 loss to Philly contained a play I’ve been waiting to see for a while.

In the fifth with a runner at second base and one out, Tejada was challenged defensively…to his left.  He had made a couple of nice plays in the hole to his right so far, but I hadn’t seen him make a rangy play to his left.  Shane Victorino hit a ground ball up the middle which I’m convinced Everth Cabrera would have caught…probably Jerry Hairston Jr. as well pre-shin splints.  Tejada dove and couldn’t get it, and the Phillies were on the board.

It’s just one play.  But while Tejada’s solid positioning and strong arm have served him well so far at shortstop, you can’t escape the fact that his range is limited.  Baseball saw this two years ago, so the Padres might as well keep their eyes open.  David Eckstein is a similar player at second base.  He’ll make the play on everything he catches, but some balls are going to get through.

Center field, shortstop, second base…the most important defensive positions on the diamond, and right now the Padres are average at best.  Hairston had defended well at both short and second this year, but his range had seemingly decreased in recent weeks as well.  Now Jerry’s out of the lineup for some time defensively, meaning it’s Tejada or nada at shortstop, and Eck all the way at second base.  Keep an eye on this as the season continues into October.

Note: in Sunday’s starting lineup, Will Venable is starting in center, as Chris Denorfia has a sore back.  I’d like to see Bud Black try out Venable more in center in the coming weeks.  If you’re not going to have Gwynn’s services available, Venable has the most range of the remaining Padres outfielders.

Six more thoughts, including a Chargers/Saints review and an unbelievable story from Del Mar, after the jump:

2)

Along the same lines, defense will prevent the Giants from making a run at the Padres.  San Francisco came into the season with a team very similar to San Diego.  Great pitching, solid defense in the outfield, and very questionable hitting.  Giants’ GM Brian Sabean and Padres’ GM Jed Hoyer each had to decide how to approach their respective team’s struggling lineups.

He's "Pat the Bat" but his glove ain't all that

Sabean made the choice to revamp from the outside, and each move he’s made has crippled the Giants’ defense.  Pat Burrell is a DH in left field, and Jose Guillen is one of the worst defensive outfielders around in terms of range.  Around the infield, there are no standouts and a couple of louts (I’m looking at you, Kung Fu Panda).

Any wonder this team just played a 12-11 game at home, where they committed five errors?  Combined with the struggles of their starting pitchers (and of course, the problems are inter-related) and you’ve got a team which is collapsing on multiple fronts.

3) Things I liked from the Chargers game on Friday night:

• Ryan Mathews (again)
• Ball-control offense
• Run defense (mostly)

The combination of Cam Thomas and Vaughn Martin give the Chargers legit beef on the defensive line.  If Ron Rivera can manage the substitution patterns he wants to get the right matchups on the field, the Bolts could be better up front than anticipated.  I expect lots of teams to do what the Saints did on Friday, which was to go hurry-up and try to limit San Diego’s ability to substitute.

Mathews is going to make this offense so much better, it’s not even funny.  We’ll have another Chargers video up later tonight on this subject, but his 3rd-and-1 sweep for 16 yards is just another on the list of “wow” moments the rookie has already provided in preseason.

His biggest contribution, though, will come in the natural fight and desire he brings to gain those extra couple of yards.  L.T. used to fight for yards like that when he came into the NFL, but time (and thousands upon thousands of hits) led Tomlinson to seek the safety of the sideline or the ground on contact.  I’m sure a veteran running back calls it “being smart”.

Mathews doesn’t know better yet, and that will give the Chargers offense those 3rd-and-3’s which were once 3rd-and-6.

4) Things I didn’t like from the Chargers game on Friday night:

• Stupid penalties (again)
• Pass rush (as usual)
• Cason on the corner

Can this Chargers team be a championship-level defense?  I believe Eric Weddle when he says the defensive secondary is playing together in a way they haven’t seen in years.  I believe what I see up front, even while knowing there are no obvious stars in the group.  But the linebacking corps looks like the same old group of rascals that could cost the Bolts a big game.

Is Shaun Phillips determined to lead the league in dumb personal fouls?  Will Shawne Merriman ever actually play, or will he remain in injury limbo for the rest of his Chargers career?  Seems like Lights Out is more like Light Flickering, he’s never quite in or out and it’s starting to annoy me.  I thought Larry English was supposed to replace that flickering bulb anyhow.

Kevin Burnett has looked terrific in preseason, and Stephen Cooper seems like himself,  but there are questions remaining unanswered right now in the linebacking corps, and the Shaun/Shawne portion of the locker room is where the biggest question marks are directed.

Meanwhile, Drew Brees had all the time in the world to throw on Friday, but I can’t necessarily blame that on the Chargers.  After all, there are three Pro Bowlers on a Saints offensive line which returns all five starters, and Brees is a master of quick release and fast-break offense.

Still, somebody better touch the darn QB if the Chargers want to get to the promised land.  Haven’t seen much of it so far outside of safety/corner blitzes.

Last but not least, is Antonie Cason going to hold up to the pressure?  Norv Turner was complimentary toward Cason during Saturday’s press conference, explaining away the touchdown that went through his hands as a mistake he’ll correct.

Maybe he will.  But mistakes on the corner usually lead to six points, and Cason has made enough mistakes during his time in San Diego to make you wonder if he’ll be a persistent target for opposing quarterbacks.

5) My first high school Top-10 list of the year looks like this:

1. Cathedral Catholic
2. Vista
3. Oceanside
4. Eastlake
5. Helix
6. Mission Bay
7. Point Loma
8. SF Christian
9. Ramona
10. Escondido

Hey, what do I know?  None of these teams have taken the field yet, so I’m going on a respected source’s say-so, along with spreading around the ‘dap to some of the top programs around the county.

Cathedral Catholic is the closest thing I’ve seen to Mater Dei or Concord De La Salle in San Diego County, so they go to the top until proven otherwise.  Vista is supposed to be even better than last year’s talented team, and while Oceanside lost a ton (thankfully, much of the talent going to Brady Hoke and SDSU), the Pirates are a “reload not rebuild” type of program.

Teams like Mission Bay and Escondido will have a lot to prove with superstars Dillon Baxter and Ricky Seale moving on to college, while it looks like Eastlake has more than enough to withstand Tony Jefferson’s departure to Oklahoma.

I left La Costa Canyon off my Top-10 list because with head coach Darrin Brown having left along with a lot of senior talent, I need to see them succeed before they earn a ranking.  My eyes are still on you though, Mavericks.

We’ll be back out covering the Friday Night Lights like no one else on 619Sports.Net this fall.  If you are (or you happen to know) a college upperclassmen or above and would like to join our prep football reporting crew, please drop me a line at craig@619sports.net with your qualifications.

6) Will our local college quarterbacks be allowed to stay upright this season?  It could determine the fate of both SDSU and USD.

A visit to Toreros practice last Thursday  (where we taped a number of video interviews you’ll see in the coming week) revealed a USD team with some great skill players on offense.  I think Sam Scudellari can have a big year throwing to John McGough, Godfrey Smith and tight end Patrick Doyle.

The question is, will Scud have time to fire?  Four new starters on the offensive line could lead to Scudellari running for his life.  At the practice I witnessed, it was tough for Sam to get off anything short of a quick pass or bubble screen without getting hit.

Same question goes for the boys at Montezuma Mesa as they get ready for the opener against Nicholls State next Saturday.  Lindley, with time to operate, should have a career year throwing to Vincent Brown, DeMarco Sampson and Alston Umuolo.  Ronnie Hillman’s injection of speed into the running game will keep defenses from pinning their ears back.

But there’s a lot of inexperience up front for SDSU and I wonder when conference play starts if Lindley will be under duress.  Ryan hasn’t shown great accuracy or touch on quick, short passes in his Aztecs career, the best remedy for a pass rush.  He’s been a guy who needs a pocket to work from so he can aim downfield.

Hopefully, Lindley’s improved on those underneath passes.  Otherwise, keeping him clean will be a difficult and demanding task.

7) Overheard on the felt this week…the story of a lucky day at the races.  You can’t believe everything (or even many things) you hear at a poker table.  But this man’s story I believe, and the Del Mar Racetrack results back up his account of fortune turning on a scratch and a scramble.

On Wednesday, the 6th race at Del Mar was a $15,000 purse claiming race for three year olds and upwards, fillies and mares.  Our hero (we’ll call him Mike) was dragged out to the racetrack with his buddies.  Mike is not a horse player, not even close.  His previous trips to the track have been fun but never profitable.

As the sixth race rolled around, Mike was drinking beers with his buddies and making small bets (saving his money for the poker table).  He filled out a $2 exacta ticket, putting the 8 horse (Celebration) together with a couple of medium longshots, the 5 horse (Entabeni) and the 10 horse (Tribul Witch).

As the horses were being loaded into the starting gate, the 8 horse spooked and bucked, bolting early.  He was scratched, and so was Mike’s trifecta.

Except, Mike’s trifecta didn’t have to be scratched…but it did have to be changed.  It was announced over the track public address system that the betting windows would re-open for 3 minutes so players could take out the 8-horse and replace him with another entrant.

Mike, busy chatting with a friend, frittered away at least a minute of his three-minute window.  He wasn’t even sure if it was worth it, but decided last second to go ahead and change his ticket.  By this time, he had to wait for two other people in front of him at the betting window.

As Mike reached the window, he told the cashier “take out the 8 horse and replace him with the 1″, handing him the proper trifecta betting form.  The 1-horse (Too Pink) happened to be a 46-1 longshot.

“It’s too late,” said the cashier, “the time’s up”.

“Run the ticket”, said Mike.

The cashier obliged, and voila!  A betting slip popped out of the computer, meaning the bet was in on time and valid.

“Wow, that must have gotten in at the literal last second,” said the cashier, “because my screen said there were 0 minutes remaining.”

Mike settled back in to watch the race…and was promptly on his feet and screaming as Too Pink hit the wire first, followed by Tribul Witch and Entabeni.

The $2 exacta ticket, originally a loser, then switched at the last possible second for a winner, paid $7,008.00.

Now that’s what I call being lucky.  Hope you have a very fortunate week as well!

NEW PODCAST: The baseball world was rocked yesterday by the news of Stephen Strasburg’s need for Tommy John surgery on his right elbow.  MLB’s top phenom will be under the knife soon, and likely will miss all of the 2011 season.  The former Aztec great will have to wait until 2012 to resume his assault on opposing hitters.

Craig and Chris followed Strasburg all the way through college and saw first-hand how the Aztecs ace was protected from overuse.  In the minors and with the Nationals, Strasburg’s pitch count and workload have been tightly monitored.  What else could have been done to protect Stephen from injury?  Probably nothing.

In their latest podcast for 619Sports.Net, the guys react to Strasburg’s injury, discuss his future, the Nationals complicity (if any) in his getting hurt, and how Strasburg’s story should (or should not) affect the Padres’ handling of Mat Latos:

Download audio file (082710-strasburg-hurt.mp3)

Hello again, everybody!  I love Twitter (even though I don’t use it and have no idea what it is or what it does) and in one of my most popular columns on 619Sports.Net, I showed you what it would have looked like if some of our sports heroes from past eras had been given the chance to tweet their hearts out.

Now, thanks to hooking up a USB cable between my new IPhone and a hot tub time machine, I’ve downloaded a whole new set of bygone tweets, enjoy!

Mitch Blackburn looks out the window of his hotel room.  He’s in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Knows no one.  No place to live past tomorrow.  No way to get to where he’s going.  He might as well be on the moon.

And if they played ball on the moon, Mitch would probably throw his glove onto the field for a shot there too.

*  *  *

619 Sports caught up with two of the best players who have come through our local colleges in the past few years.  No, not Stephen Strasburg and Brian Matusz, players who were picked in the Top-5 of the draft, signed for millions, and jetted to the big leagues.  Their stories are in SI and the Washington Post.

Mitch Blackburn and Vance Albitz played baseball the way the game was meant to be played.  Team players.  Did the little things right.  Hit the other way.  Fielded their positions flawlessly.  Too small, too slow, no power…a scout’s nightmare, a manager’s dream.

They could have been teammates.  UCSD head coach Dan O’Brien tried hard to get Blackburn to come to La Jolla from Palomar College.  Almost got him, too.  But Tony Gwynn and SDSU came calling and Mitch answered.

Blackburn started for two years at San Diego State, hitting .306 as a junior and .372 in his senior year.  On our goaztecs.com game broadcasts, I always used to say, “leave it to Mitch” when he came to the plate, because he would inevitably do what needed to be done at that moment; whether it be to move a runner, slash the ball into the hole on a hit & run, or draw a walk.  Mitch was named to the all-Mountain West Conference second-team.

Vance Albitz was simply the best player in UC San Diego history.  The school’s all-time hits and runs leader, a two-time national Gold Glove winner at shortstop and a first-team All-American his senior year, Vance and the Tritons made it to back-to-back College World Series, reaching the championship game this summer.

You couldn’t watch SDSU or UCSD play baseball and not come away knowing that these young men were the engines of their teams.  But come draft day in June, neither got a sniff.

50 rounds.  30 teams.  No phone call.

That’s a lot of denial for any young man to take.

And yet, just two months later, both players are in pro ball, each having reached similar levels and faced similar challenges.

Blackburn, improbably, finds himself in Double-A with the Arkansas Travelers of the LA Angels (of Anaheim) farm system.

Albitz is in the American Association, a talent-filled independent league which plays in front of thousands per night and compares favorably to Double-A baseball, as a member of the Lincoln SaltDogs.

They both know where they want to get.  Neither is anywhere close just yet.  Their paths have been different, but their goal is the same: two longshots hoping to get one shot to play someday, somewhere in the major leagues.

Tomorrow, we’ll profile Vance Albitz’s journey from La Jolla to Lincoln, Nebraska.  Today, click through to read Mitch Blackburn’s story:

* * * PART ONE: Mitch Blackburn * * *

Mitch Blackburn felt like he had been let down and left out.

“After the year I had, I definitely expected to get drafted,” said Blackburn from his temporary Arkansas quarters, a Little Rock hotel room downtown.  He’s just been called up to Double-A after spending less than a month in Arizona rookie ball.

It sounds like the path of a high-round draft pick, but Mitch knows all too well he is not on the chosen path.

“One of the teams who had talked to me (before the 2010 MLB first-year player draft) said it wasn’t a matter of if they would draft me, but when.  The North County Times had me in the paper the week before the draft as one of the local players to watch for.  Then the draft came, and I sat through all three days, all fifty rounds.  Nobody called my name.”

“It was kind of difficult after the last round, not knowing what to do next.”

Next was the vast unknown of free agency.  When you’re cast into a giant pool, it helps to have a lifeline.

Mitch’s lifeline was a contact, courtesy of the family business.  Blackburn’s dad Mark runs a business out of LA, and one of his employees was a former Padres and Angels farm hand by the name of Ryan O’Donnell.  Born and raised in Arizona, O’Donnell had family contacts with one of the scouts in the Angels system.

Through a series of phone calls, an open tryout was arranged at the Angels’ spring training complex in Tempe.  Mitch made the drive down I-8 and into Arizona, his dreams packed in a duffel bag.

He pulled out his glove, cleats and bat and went through a half-hour workout in front of an Angels scout.  Batting practice.  Ground balls.  It was over before he knew it.

“The scout came up to me, and said he liked what he saw.  He said, ‘we’ll see what we need, and if we need a middle infielder, I’ll make sure your name is high on the list.’”

As far as promises go, it wasn’t much.  Blackburn retreated to Temecula, continued to work out at Palomar College, and waited for a phone call, all the while plotting his next step.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up, after what happened with the draft.  I figured, it was a great experience, if it happens (getting signed), then great.  If not, I’ll look for the next option.”

One week turned into two, and then three.  The workout faded into memory.  But someone in Anaheim (or Tempe) remembered.

“Middle of the third week, I got a call from (Angels’ director of player development) Abe Flores.  He asked if I had signed with anyone yet, or if I was still looking.”

“The next day, I was back on a plane to Tempe.”

The Angels signed Blackburn and assigned him to the rookie league AZL Angels.  The organization’s third-round draft pick, shorstop Wendell Soto, was injured.  Despite being a second baseman throughout most of college, Mitch was thrust into the starting job at shortstop.

For the first week or two, the dream seemed to be at hand.

“Here I was, walking into a professional clubhouse, putting on the uniform and going to work,” said Mitch, “One part of my dream had come true.  Now it was about taking the next step.”

Blackburn played every day for about two weeks.  He didn’t hit for a high average (.204 in 49 at-bats), but hit into some hard luck.  Mitch described an 0-for-17 slump in which six or seven of the outs were line drives.  The Angels’ roving hitting instructor took notice, and praised Blackburn for his approach at the plate.

Then, Soto got healthy, and got his starting job back.  Mitch went from playing every day to fighting for a spot start once or twice a week.

“It was kind of difficult, because growing up, I never had to sit on the bench.  I tried to keep a good attitude, and not show them I was upset or anything like that.  I understand it’s part of the business.  People who sign for big money are going to get the opportunity over those who don’t.”

Still, Mitch was just about a month into his pro career, and already was seemingly adrift, riding the pine in rookie ball.  Then came an unexpected phone call.

“I’m sitting at home on my off day, and get a phone call from my manager.”

Mitch’s heart pace quickened.  Could it come in this cold a fashion?  Could he get released over the phone?

No release was coming; instead, a promotion.  Blackburn was heading to Double-A Arkansas.

Another injury had forced the Angels to shuffle the deck, and they wanted to keep Soto starting every day at rookie ball.  As an expendable piece of flotsam in the Angels’ system, Mitch had suddenly been thrust forward instead of backward.

He joined the Travelers on the road, knowing absolutely no one.

Mitch's new home ballpark, Dickey Stephens Park in Little Rock

“Most guys, when they get promoted, they have players on the team who they’ve played with in past years, spring training and all of that.  I hadn’t been in the organization for more than a month.”

He arrived to a chilly reception.  The minors aren’t like the big leagues in many ways, and clubhouse welcome is one aspect which is decidedly different.  In the big leagues, the first arrival is a rite of passage appreciated by everyone who’s made the journey before.  In the minors, every new face who arrives in the clubhouse could potentially be the one who takes your job, ends your dream.

“There are guys who are friendly, and guys who look at you like ‘who are you and why are you here?’  You get mixed emotions from people…some are nice, and some act friendly but they’re really not.”

Mitch played once on the road, got into a game late as a defensive sub.  Never got to hit outside batting practice.

A new surprise would be waiting when the Travelers arrived at Blackburn’s new “home”.

New minor leaguers are eased into life on baseball’s rocky road.  There are host families for players in rookie ball and low-A ball, home-cooked meals, and transportation to the ballpark.

This was Mitch Blackburn’s life in Tempe.  Little Rock would be a different story.

“When I got here, the clubhouse attendant told me in Double-A and above, the team gives you three nights in a hotel, and then the Angels stop paying and you have to find a place to live and transportation.”

From a wide-eyed newbie in baseball to a transient in Arkansas.  Blackburn doesn’t have the luxury of most pipeline players, teammates in AA who he has played with for years.  There’s no one to take him under his wing, no couch to crash on.

He’s renting a hotel, chewing into his modest salary.  It’s a cheaper one than the team would provide, but it’s doing just fine.  Staring at four walls in a town you don’t know, they might as well be any four walls.  No point in setting down roots when Mitch knows he could just as easily be on the road back to rookie ball, or worse, at any moment.

Does this sound like living the dream?  Ready for the secret?  It is.

“I’m very excited,” says Mitch Blackburn, “Couldn’t be happier right now.”

Mitch got to start a game at home, against Corpus Christi.  Picked up his first Double-A hit, a single (of course) over the shortstop’s head.

Then, a week without action.  A dusty bus trip all the way from Little Rock to San Antonio and back.  One game, in Corpus Christi, an 0-for-4.

Back in Little Rock, the weather’s skipped bad and went straight to worse.  91 degrees with humidity draped over your shoulders like a wet coat.  Mitch is 1-for-11 in Double-A, but he’s still here.

“I was talking to my dad on the phone the other night,” said Mitch,”Sure, I’d like to play more.  But if I get sent back down, if I never make it…I’ve played in a Double-A game.  I kind of wish I knew what was going on more, but I’m here, and I’m happy to be here.”

There are thousands of roads to The Show.  Most of them are dead ends.  This could be another one.

Leave it to Mitch.  He’ll keep walking that road all the way to where it takes him.

TOMORROW, PART TWO: Life in the independent leagues with Vance Albitz

Nooooooo, Philip, noooo!!! He got up? Nice tackle!

I just pray (and so does Dean, A.J., Norv, and every clear-thinking Chargers fan) that Philip Rivers never has another chance to attempt a preseason tackle, as he did Saturday night, forestalling a Dallas touchdown.

Because he’ll do the same dang thing. Short of a tranquilizer rifle on the sideline, there’s not a thing Norv can do about it. It’s what makes Rivers great. It’s what could also end his career, but that’s the deal with the devil he made when he got that arm and drive.

If he started blinking and bailing, he would cease to be Philip. It’s a common trait in the greats. They must be true to their competitive nature or the greatness will disappear.

An acquaintance of mine once told me of the time he visited the home of a certain high profile athlete. Gave him the grand tour. He said everything was a competition with this athlete, 100% percent of the time, in every room of the house. Never relaxed. Outside they played tennis and basketball. In the den it was pool. In the garage it was ping-pong. In the living room it was chess. In the kitchen it was egg toss.

Really? Egg toss?

I asked the guy if the tour included the bedroom, and the conversation suddenly became quite awkward. You know, like when you ask a really meek guy what it was like in federal prison. Okay, maybe I was reading something into it, but you get the point.

To be great is to be relentless and to be relentless is to lead a relentless life.

A former NFL player once told me his way of psyching up for Sunday was to imagine his assignment across the line abducting his mother and doing the unspeakable all week long. Game day became frenzy, mentally and physically. It made him better at his job, but just imagine the flip side after football, exorcising several seasons worth of that imprinting.

I doubt Rivers employs that particular self-motivation, but I’ll bet he’s seen the likes of it. We mortals just can’t imagine. To relate our high school and rec league experience is folly. These guys are driven in ways we’ll never know.

That competitive spirit is why Brett Favre will play another season. Favre has admitted what makes him great is also his greatest weakness. Writing checks the body might not be able to cash. It’s why Jordan stained his legacy and Muhammad Ali stained his brain.

Hubris is blind.

John Elway the exceptional guy who quit on top: Super Bowl MVP. But even he knew his tank was on “E” when he did it. Ask L.T. about leaving on his own terms.

Most pros just wind up getting cut, something we mortals found out a long, long time ago.

Nice tackle Philip. You were in the moment. In our hearts, including yours I’m sure, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Other than maintaining possession, of course…

When we last met I had offered you some water. I hope it was refreshing and enough to sustain you until the publication of Using Eastern Philosophy to Win the War of Attrition: PART II.

Feel free to go back for another drink of the cold stuff… it couldn’t hurt. Now where were we… ah, yes… Antonio Cromartie.

The embattled Cromartie needs to experience a paradigm shift in every aspect of his life. He needs to get his mind right and his priorities strait. Accomplish those tasks and he will achieve the stardom he deserves.

But how does he attain such a personal zenith, simultaneously ensuring the Chargers receive a higher draft-pick in 2011?

I arranged an audience with the renowned Japanese scholar Dr. M. Clark Sugata to discern a prescription for the 26 year-old cornerback’s soul. In my sit-down with the learned Dr. Sugata, he hinted that an amalgam of Confucianism, Zen Buddhism and other far eastern philosophies might just cure what ails the young Cromartie.

Disclaimer to the readers of 619 Sports:

I’ve always found eastern studies to be fascinating but in all honesty their spiritual values are far too esoteric for my western mind to comprehend. I just can’t wrap my mind around the ideas of enlightenment and nirvana… way too abstract.

Because of this admitted difficulty I’ve relied on Dr. Sugata to educate me in such a way that I can relay a cogent message of spiritual health to Antonio Cromartie via his agent Gary Wichard.

I provided Dr. Sugata with a litany of Cromartie’s issues, ranging from his lack of discipline (see: children created and champagne bottles busted) to his inherent lack of commitment while playing the physical game of gridiron football (see: badly missed tackles). After a lengthy discussion with Dr. Sugata a particular concept began to resonate with me. It was Chen Zhen, Dr. Sugata’s interpreter, who translated the following:

“The man of whom you speak has lost his honor. When the Japanese equivalent lost his honor it was of the utmost importance to regain it. A man’s honor is everything and it is what he should strive to maintain.”

Buddha vs. Baby Daddy

While the concepts of Buddhism, enlightenment and nirvana were foreign to my way of viewing spirituality, I found in Dr. Sugata’s emphasis on honor a moral code to which I could relate. The ethic of honor was where Cromartie needed restoration.

Cromartie’s poor personal choices coupled with a complete lack of physicality on the field made me want to continue my inquiry with Dr. Sugata.

What could an individual like Cromartie do to regain the necessary honor one needs to attain success? The answer to this question could have an adverse impact by aiding the Jets… but this is all about the war of attrition and consequently, a necessary gamble in order to continue stockpiling talent next year.

I asked Dr. Sugata how Cromartie could achieve such momentous personal growth and his interpreter Zhen explained it was through the act of seppuku.

I understood this action to be akin to the spiritual cleansing of meditation with its emphasis on ritual and the requirements of determination and discipline to see the task through to completion. This seemed like a foolproof way for a person like Antonio Cromartie to regain the honor he had lost over the previous two seasons in San Diego.

Could it be that simple? While I’ve often spoke ill of Cromartie in the past, he is a human being, and human beings have proven over the course of time to be capable of immeasurable feats of redemption. I want this for Antonio Cromartie… as a fellow human being… and sheepishly as a fan of the San Diego Chargers… who understands the importance of winning the war of attrition

So… Antonio Cromartie… I say to you… spend an afternoon in deep thought in the seated lotus position and give in to seppuku* for your sake and that of your former employer. Without Darrelle Revis on the opposite corner you will need any alternative method that become available… far eastern philosophy and practices could be your salvation.

*I’ve used my burgeoning relationship with former agent and current Padres owner, Jeffrey Moorad, to gain access to Cro’s agent, Gary Wichard. This influence will likely lead to an audience with Dr. Sugata and with that meeting in mind, I truly cannot wait to see Cro’ hit the field this September. I’ve got butterflies…

Avenger-in-Chief is a weekly humor contributor to 619Sports.Net.  Check out all his musings on his blog, AvengingJackMurphy.com.

Thirteen. That’s the age sports became permanent for you. In eighth grade you either drifted away or became a fanatic for life. Tell me your story.

Think of those twelve-year-old boys that peaked in Little League, dominated kickball and everything else. Once they began shaving in seventh grade we never saw them at games again, because they didn’t need sports to get the girls (or to help forget that they couldn’t).

At my school, that guy was Gordy Bunch. He was a superstar at everything K-6, but by the summer between 7th and 8th grades when the rest of us would gather at the school field to play work-ups*, Gordy was already there behind the backstop making out with hottest girl from the grade ahead of us.

We wouldn’t have our chance to be that kind of Gordy for another three or four years, so in eighth grade, sport was king.

Share with me your eighth grade story in the comments below. Tell me the events that mattered to you; fall to spring.

I’ll start, if I can remember that far back. Hint: last Saturday I gleefully received my first discount at the movie theater (which was a good thing, because despite Will Ferrell’s innate brilliance, The Other Guys wasn’t quite worth the full tab).

Going into that fall 42 summers ago, our nation was coming out of a traumatic spring during which an iconic civil rights leader and a would-be next president were assassinated: Martin Luther King and Robert F. Kennedy. Vietnam was well on it’s way to 58,000 lost young Americans, and the riots during the Democratic Convention that summer in Chicago didn’t help matters.

Our country needed diversions, even if temporary.

In 1968, the Olympics still mattered. That year the Mexico City games were played in October for some reason. We witnessed the contrast of the infamous Tommie Smith/John Carlos black-fisted salute against George Foreman’s American flag-waving boxing celebration. We watched Jim Hines win the 100, Dick Fosbury invent high-jumping’s “flop,” and Kenyan Kip Keino upset Jim Ryun in the 1500. Forgive me for going all Bud Greenspan on your ass, but these games were epic, and I haven’t even mentioned Bob Beamon shattering the long jump record by almost two feet.

Watch Bob Beamon’s world record long jump

My eighth grade fall also provided Denny McLain, the “Heidi Game,” and O.J. Simpson.

McLain became Major League Baseball’s last pitcher to win 30 games, finishing 31-6 with his Tigers outlasting Bob Gibson’s Cardinals in a seven-game WS.

In November, there was a false ending. The Jets were leading the Raiders 32-29 with 65 seconds left when NBC switched over to the previously scheduled movie Heidi, during which we missed the Raiders score two shocking touchdowns to win it and permanently change network preemption policy.

The greatest Trojan ever (besides Helen) would rush for 1,708 yards, 22 touchdowns and the Heisman Trophy, decades before he made most people forget. Every Saturday was a coronation for that guy, him trudging slowly back to the huddle Jim Brown-style before ripping off another 17-yarder.

(you gotta watch the first two minutes)

Shortly after Christmas break, the losing quarterback of the Heidi Game would guarantee a Super Bowl victory and back it up.
Broadway Joe Namath and his Jets upset the aging Johnny Unitas and his heavily favored Colts.

There was more. Lew Alcindor and his Bruins lost to Elvin Hayes’ Houston in the Astrodome and then UCLA spanked them in the tournament. Can’t get Alcindor’s autograph anymore.

But for me, the best was saved for late spring. My favorite NBA team, the Boston Celtics, was supposed to get stomped by the Los Angeles Lakers. Bill Russell, Sam Jones and John Havlicek versus the seemingly unbeatable troika of Wilt Chamberlain, Elgin Baylor, and Jerry West.

I’ll never forget game seven. My buddies from our eighth grade basketball team gathered in two homes on the same street in Modesto, California. Jeff A., Mike, and Tom were Lakers fans over at Tom’s house. Brad, Biff (yes, Biff), and I gathered at the Celtic house of our teammate Jeff M., who now has really good seats at Padres games.

After our Celtics won, we triumphantly spilled out onto the street, while the Lakers guys slumped. I was all jacked up to play some hoops because it was still light out, but there were no takers, so I went home to imitate Don Nelson’s game-clinching shot by myself. Took me a while to get it right because Nelly’s shot bounced off the back rim straight up over the backboard and straight down through the net.

Not a bad eighth grade: McClain, O.J., the ’68 Olympics, the Heidi Game, Broadway Joe, Celtics/Lakers.

If I weren’t already hooked on sports by then, those events made the addiction permanent.

Tell me about your eighth grade. It’s why you’re here.

*work-ups: that long-forgotten teamless sandlot game where strangers gather to rotate field positions into batting orders and vice versa. Baseball democracy.

Hello again everybody…in the sports world!

On the 18^th hole of the PGA Championship, Dustin Johnson took himself out of contention by grounding his club on a sandy patch, which turned out to be a bunker. It cost him a two-stroke penalty; quite possibly the most damaging two shots in a bunker since Adolph Hitler and Eva Braun.

Lean and handsome runner-up Bubba Watson looks more like a Kyle or Cooper than a Bubba. Bubbas are supposed to look more like John Daly.

Babe Ruth, Elvis Presley and Shamu the killer whale all died on August 15th – the Babe in 1948, the King in 1977 and Shamu in 1991.

So if you’re a bloated megastar in your field, be EXTRA CAREFUL this week.

In the Chargers’ pre-season debut Saturday night (25-10 over Chicago at the Q) rookie running back Ryan Mathews was impressive, rushing for 50 yards, including an 18-yard scamper in which he avoided being tackled in the end zone.  His body type and running style is reminiscent of Ricky Williams. That’s high praise, and not the high we used to associate with the Dolphins running back. Ricky Williams pot jokes are soooo 2007.

Last season, at age 32, Ricky Williams rushed for 1,121 yards and 11 touchdowns, averaging 4.7 yards per carry. That much from Mathews would be a dream.

Vincent Jackson and Marcus McNeil spurning guaranteed money ($3.268m and $3.168m respectively) in futile attempts to force extensions, goes down with liquidating Qualcomm stock in 1997 as “unfortunate timing.” The U-T’s Kevin Acee believes both players will sit out the entire 2010 season, since the last six games they are available to play would only pay them 200k apiece—and why risk their futures for that? They’ve already lost enough millions, what’s another fifth?

With the uncertainty of the 2011 season because of the NFL’s unresolved collective bargaining agreement, Jackson and McNeill could have REALLY fresh legs in 2012. Calling back to Ricky Williams’ self-induced pot sabbaticals, maybe it will work out for those two after all. But not as Bolts.

If the Padres win the World Series this October, they will be the most improbable champions since the 1988 Dodgers, the 1980 USA Olympic hockey team, and the Czervik/Webb/Noonan combo in Caddyshack. Cinderella boys, I think…

Meanwhile, in the National Baaa…

…sketball Association!

(rimshot)

The third and least-known member of the Miami Heat “Big Three” made a cameo on HBO’s Entourage this past Sunday. That’s how far Entourage has fallen. In days past they would have landed LeBron James, or at the very least Dwayne Wade. At this pace, by next year all they’ll be able to get is a ref.

The 6-10 Bosh had a scene with Turtle, played by 5-7 Jerry Ferrara, who must have been standing on a stack of Mel Gibson restraining orders because they were almost looking eye to eye.

And finally, I think the home plate ump at Wrigley Monday night had a date after the game. That called third strike for out number two in the bottom of the ninth was lower than Turtle’s ankle and more outside than Ted Kaczynski’s latrine. Maybe the Padres are destined after all!

Oh My!

(Ted Kaczynski’s Latrine is the name of my new band.  We open for The Ankle Biters at the Bacchanal next Tuesday).