MEMPHIS, TENN. — Those who saw it still talk about "the bomb" Rick Ankiel drove over the right-field fence last month, over a berm and past a walkway at Round Rock's Dell Diamond. They talk about his right fielder's arm, center fielder's speed and his aptitude for learning a proper drop step needed to run down balls hit over his head.
And lately, the only organization Ankiel has ever known has pondered the proper time for promoting its former star-crossed pitcher to St. Louis as a position player. As the talk grows louder, Ankiel reminds himself not to listen.
"I just get excited about being successful," he says. "I try not to get too excited about where I'm at now because you never know what's going to happen."
No one is more entitled to that philosophy than Ankiel.
Ten years after being drafted, seven years after winning 11 games as a too-young-to-drink rookie lefthander and six years after virtually vanishing from the major leagues, Ankiel is close to accomplishing the truly Ruthian feat of moving from a major-league starting rotation to outfield. In between he has experienced a lifetime's worth of professional and personal angst. His return would represent an organizational as well as a personal triumph.
"I want to go up there and stay there and play for years," Ankiel says. "I don't want this to be a novelty where people say, 'Wow, look, he made it back' and then I go away."
Ankiel has had enough of being someone's novelty. He lived it for the last five years of his pitching existence, until his inability to retain command of his brilliant assortment proved too much to carry.
Now a month shy of turning 28 and one of only two remaining players in the organization from the 2000 NL Central Division championship team, Ankiel is ready for something else.
"I'm 27 now," he says. "I need to prove I can play or get out of the way."
Proving himself was no problem a decade ago. Or has it already been an eternity?
USA Today named Ankiel its high school player of the year in 1997. Two years later, managers in the Texas League and Pacific Coast League named him the top prospect in their respective loops.
Ankiel reached the major leagues after 52 appearances spread over four affiliates, where he had struck out 416 and allowed 225 hits in 298 2/3 innings. Now he is trying to progress just as quickly as a hitter.
Two years after the experiment began, and one year after missing an entire season because of a knee injury, Ankiel is pushing for the Pacific Coast League lead in home runs (19) and RBIs (53).
Yet he remains at Memphis mostly as a matter of inconvenience.
If Ankiel were promoted and struggled, the Cardinals would be unable to return him to Memphis without first putting him through waivers. Any team could then pluck Ankiel for nothing except the waiver fee.
The club acknowledged this week that if it had remaining options on Ankiel, he probably would have been promoted to replace disabled center fielder Jim Edmonds. Ankiel must instead wait, likely until at least mid-August.
"We discussed it, but we felt that Rick needs as many at-bats as he can get and to experience a lot of situations," says Walt Jocketty, who was in his third year as Cardinals general manager when the club selected Ankiel in the second round of the 1997 draft and subsequently signed him for $2.5 million. "We had talked about giving him 400-500 at-bats, then bringing him up in the fall. But if he continues to progress as he is, we may bring him up sooner."
Manager Tony La Russa offers a bit more conservative estimate, insisting "the more at-bats he takes, the better his shot is here. He's learning every game he plays down there. It is Triple-A. He's learning. He's adjusting. He's hitting .280; he's not hitting .380. It would be great to leave him there all year."
The Cardinals have done everything possible to retain the rights to the one-time prodigy, including conspiring with Ankiel's agent, Scott Boras. As he passed through waivers shortly after his position switch, Boras warned prospective takers Ankiel would not pitch for them.
Only a portion of the salvage plan is dedicated to seeking a return on a 10-year-old investment.
"I have a very strong feeling for him as a person as well as a player," Jocketty says. "It was unfortunate he came to a point in his career where he couldn't go on as a pitcher and was ready to go on in a different direction.
"I knew he was a great athlete. I'd seen him hit. I knew he was athletic enough to play the outfield. He was interested in doing that. It just came down to giving him time to develop."
THE DARK DAYS
On the day Ankiel announced his retirement from pitching, La Russa voiced remorse for his unconventional handling of him during the first round of the playoffs in 2000.
Trying to protect Ankiel, who was 21 then, La Russa had veteran Darryl Kile attend a news conference for the presumptive Game 1 starter.
The ploy backfired the next afternoon when Ankiel, the Cardinals' true Game 1 starter, suffered a loss of command that marked the beginning of the end of his promising career as a starting pitcher.
From there, Ankiel's career went into free fall. His next four seasons became a series of closeted practices, false starts, injuries and doubt.
"I don't want to be guessing about what he was feeling," La Russa says. "I'd rather stay away from that."
Ankiel's struggles became more pronounced shortly after his father, Richard Patrick Ankiel, was sentenced to six years in federal prison for his role in a Bahamian drug trafficking ring. A half-brother also had entered the penal system because of a drug offense. Shortly after Richard Ankiel's drug conviction, Ankiel's parents divorced.
The spiral led Rick to heed Boras' advice to leave Florida after the 2000 season and stay for two months in Newport Beach, Calif., with a former teammate, infielder Adam Kennedy, whom the Cardinals had dealt to Anaheim.
"It's been seven years," Kennedy says. "I got to see him enjoying baseball again, running around the outfield again, hitting and stuff. Off the field this spring, he was more calm and a lot more focused."
If seven years have dulled anyone's memories, Kennedy remembers well the first impression Ankiel created.
"To this day, a healthy Ankiel is better than anyone I've ever seen," he says. "The best fastball, the best curveball, the best changeup I've ever seen. All in one guy."
THE ROAD BACK
Ankiel made it back to the major leagues as a reliever in 2004 but suffered more frustration the following spring, when he again began to obsess over his wavering command and found it difficult to eat or sleep.
One morning in early March, La Russa praised Ankiel's progress as the lefthander worked behind his manager. As if on cue, Ankiel spiked a curveball on the front edge of a plate, sending the ball over the bullpen backstop. Several days later he walked out of camp.
"It was a tough road back as a pitcher. I'm not sure he ever really felt comfortable with that," Jocketty recalls. "It was obvious that day he'd had enough."
The same day Ankiel left camp, Jocketty contacted him about trying to play in the outfield. Ankiel, after all, had been a star hitter at Port St. Lucie (Fla.) High as well as having a dominant arm. While with Johnson City in 2001, he had hit 10 home runs in 105 at-bats and made the All-Star team as a designated hitter and pitcher.
"My mind was totally on the pitching side of it and retiring," Ankiel says. "I wasn't really sure (about playing again). I told them I'd call back. I'm glad I did."
Scratching his way back in 2004 had been a slog. Success was as fleeting as his next wild pitch.
"This would be better by far," Ankiel says. "That was a grind. The story was always going to be there. This is something new. There's a lot of notoriety that goes along with it. It's something I can build on. People seem to think it's a pretty cool thing. I'm enjoying it. I'm definitely looking forward to what's ahead now."
BRIGHT FUTURE
One Cardinals official recently described Ankiel as Memphis' best player "by a long shot." Two rival scouts who attended a recent Redbirds home stand shared the sentiment.
"I don't want to put any limitations on him," Memphis manager Chris Maloney says. "He's going to be a very good big-league player. He's going to be a run producer. He should if he keeps improving."
Memphis hitting coach Rick Eckstein concurred.
"You're talking about a guy who potentially can hit for a high average and certainly can hit for power," Eckstein says. "I don't think you can put a cap on his ceiling. That's what most intrigues me. Other guys in this league have gone to the big leagues and you know what their ceiling is. With him, I don't know you can say that."
Ankiel has modified his stance since spring training. He stands more upright and has opened his right, or lead, foot.
Predominantly a pull hitter, Ankiel has struggled against some of the Pacific Coast League's top pitching — he struck out in nine of 12 at-bats in a recent series with pitching-strong Nashville — but devours anything less. He followed the Nashville series by belting three home runs in last Saturday's game at Iowa.
"His strength is his aggressiveness. With that, he pulls the ball more," Eckstein says. "If he harnesses that the right way, he can be successful. Is he ever going to be a guy who'll bang the ball off the left-field wall every day? I don't know. But has he made adjustments so that he's not getting himself out as often? Yes."
Eckstein, older brother of Cardinals shortstop David Eckstein, tapes and stores every at-bat on his computer. Almost daily Ankiel seeks out his hitting coach for a look.
"It motivates you to see what's behind his eyes," Eckstein says.
"THE BIGGEST CHALLENGE"
"Learning how to hit when you don't feel good is the biggest challenge," Ankiel says. "But when you're not seeing the ball very well, how do you handle it? When you
do feel good, anybody can hit."
Feeling good has long been a hurdle, regardless of role.
Ankiel missed the 2002 season after suffering a sprain in spring training that led to elbow ligament replacement surgery. He was sidelined for all of last year after suffering a torn knee tendon in a spring training intrasquad game. He briefly landed on the disabled list last month after a collision on the field.
Yet it is the complications beyond the physical that have made Ankiel a curiosity to some, a psychological study to others and, in blunt terms once used by Cardinals pitching coach Dave Duncan, an unwitting performer within "a freak show" attended by media "vultures."
Ankiel now stands in the outfield because he came to detest what the pitching mound represented.
"It's a thing of the past. It's gone. I've moved on," he says.
Ankiel occasionally will discuss pitching with teammates or a coach, but the talk is fleeting. It became a relic within a painful part of his life that sprouted during the 2000 playoffs and only recently receded.
"What we're talking about isn't hidden," Ankiel says. "It's about what I'm doing, not necessarily about what's happened before. The stuff before became annoying. I mean, come on. Let's move on. This is a new thing, and I'm happy with it."
"He's got a chance," Maloney says. "He's got a heck of a chance."
Given the places Ankiel has visited these last years, he will ask for nothing more.