Where's the Grieve we traded for?

ROMANO E-mail: Click here Archive

© St. Petersburg Times
published August 15, 2002

ST. PETERSBURG -- Find the player with the bemused smile. Exchange a pleasantry or two and laugh at the banality of his jokes.

Then, because it seems appropriate, ask politely.

Are you suffering?

This is all we want of Ben Grieve. To know his anguish is real and his burden is just. Most fans would agree failure on the field is not a sin. But growing comfortable in your failure is not as easily excused.

Somehow it helps to see those who suffer in plain view. When the world turns on Wilson Alvarez, he sulks. When failure consumes Greg Vaughn, he simmers. And when a slump overwhelms a season, Grieve remains calm.

So we wait for the outburst that never comes. We question the desire that never seems obvious. And we wonder how a player of high ability can accept a demotion to the bench without argument.

"Ben has been misunderstood going all the way back to high school," said his father Tom Grieve, a former major-league outfielder and one-time general manager of the Rangers. "He had a high school basketball coach who thought the same thing. That's just the way he carries himself.

"Trust me, I know how badly he feels inside. I know from the things he says and the things he doesn't say. And I've seen the blisters on his hands from the hours he's spent in the batting cage. For a casual observer who sees a low-key player in a slump, it's easy to draw the wrong conclusion."

No one is asking Grieve to break the water cooler or kick his helmet. After all, there is no provision for tantrums to count toward batting averages.

But pride need not be destructive. In many ways, it is what carries great players through difficult times.

This is where Grieve, 26, appears to be lacking. He insists he cares and his struggles weigh heavily.

Yet his manner suggests he is afraid to fail. That he is trying to avoid embarrassment instead of daring to succeed. He does not challenge pitchers. He is not aggressive chasing balls in the outfield. He is watching more third strikes zip past than any player in the league.

To some degree, Grieve acknowledges this to be true. He said he has grown so uncomfortable at the plate that he has become tentative.

"He hasn't been as aggressive as he needs to be," manager Hal McRae said. "He takes too many pitches."

The problem is so severe, Grieve has sat on the bench for nine of the past 11 games. There has been talk of sending him to Durham. That is not likely to happen because, should players go on strike, the Rays would be responsible for Grieve's $4-million salary if he were in the minors.

But isn't it sobering to even think about? That Grieve might return to Triple A almost four years after being named rookie of the year? That a player who averaged 24 home runs and 93 RBIs for three consecutive seasons before his 25th birthday can't even start today for the worst team in the league?

The Rays have dangled Grieve on waivers. To avoid paying his $5.25-million salary in 2003, they would have let him go for free. There were no takers.

In his nearly two seasons in Tampa Bay, Grieve has set a franchise record for strikeouts, he has hit fewer home runs in 2001-02 combined than he did his last season in Oakland and his batting average has gone steadily south.

"I do feel like breaking things sometimes and, I guess for some people, it releases tension," Grieve said. "When some players do it you go, 'Whoa,' and back away. But I think if I did it, people would laugh."

It hasn't been all bad. Grieve finished last season with a flourish and was the Rays' best hitter through the first month of 2002.

At that point, it seemed the first half of 2001 was an aberration. A bad reaction to the trade that brought him from a contender to a never-ran.

Grieve was hitting .298 with six home runs and 20 RBIs through this season's first 28 games. Then a blister on his left hand required a three-day break. Since returning, he has hit .216 with five home runs and 23 RBIs in 90 games.

"He'll say it has absolutely nothing to do with it because he never uses excuses, but the timing is interesting," his father said. "Hitting is a lot about confidence. When you start to doubt yourself, it's hard to recover."

No one is angry with Grieve. Maybe annoyed. Definitely frustrated. But he is so amiable and easy-going, it is difficult to raise a good ire.

He still is young. Younger even then Steve Cox, Randy Winn or Toby Hall. There are no physical reasons he can not return to the status he once enjoyed in Oakland. A dangerous hitter resides somewhere inside.

Do you believe he cares enough to find himself?

And do the Rays care to wait?

© 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111

Contact the Times | Privacy Policy
Standard of Accuracy | Terms, Conditions & Copyright