USD Magazine, Summer 2003

Another day at the office for Mike McCoy.

hope of being drafted, and was mentally preparing himself to return to USD for his sen10r year. "(Round) 34 is down there, but I have always wanted to play pro ball, and who knows? If I had gone back for my senior year and got hurt, the chance is gone," he says. "I never thought about not going for it after I was drafted." Even though he was picked, for Barrett, draft day was something of a disappoint– ment. The Torero pitching ace was heavily scoured and cold by representatives of several teams they intended to select him as early as the second round.

"Playing professional baseball has always been my dream," he says. "Ir would have been nice to have been drafted, but I would have joined an independent league or figured something else out. I knew I was going to try to play profession–

the most talented ream ever, but we all pulled for each ocher. In the pros, you're try– ing to win gan1es, but you're also competing against the guys on your ream for the eye of che coach or for the general manager in the stands. Guys come and go - get moved up or down, gee cue - so there's not the same team atmosphere. Ir really is a business." And like any job, minor league baseball can get tedious. Whether it's in Florida or Tennessee or Illinois, the routine is the same. "You gee up and come to the field, have meetings or drills or work out, play the games at night, then go home and crash," McCoy says. "Then you get up the next day and do it again." The minor leagues were in midseason by the time the five USD players joined their teams, after the Toreros were eliminated from the 2002 NCAA Tournament. In chat shore time, they demonstrated chat they belonged in professional baseball. Among the USD juniors, David Bagley hit an impressive .337 for Montana's Great Falls Dodgers, mosdy as a designated hitter. Pitching for the Twins of Elizabethton, Tenn., Ricky Barrett was named the Appalachian League's pitcher of the year, on the heels of being recognized with the same honor in the WCC. Mike McCoy's play at second base for Tennessee's Johnson City Cardinals - where he faced ex-teammate

ally. I grew up in San Diego and have been a Padres fan all my life, so when I signed with them ic didn't even matter I wasn't drafted. " What does matter in the draft, however, is the amount of bonus money a player receives to sign his contract. First-year minor league players receive a salary of $850 per month, so the signing bonus is the only opportunity a new professional has for a windfall. Barrett and Bagley received bonus checks of about $135,000, while McCoy cook home $15,000. For che non-drafted players? Lima cashed a check for $1,000 for signing with the Padres. Assael asked the Tigers for a similar sum. "They said no," he laughs. "I got nothing for signing." The Long and Winding Road The long road to the major leagues begins in one of 20 officially recognized minor leagues, which are scattered from che Appalachians co Venezuela. The entry-level of professional baseball is the rookie leagues. From there, players progress through Single A, Double A and Triple A levels coward the goal of joining the elite fraternity of 750 athletes in the major leagues. There are seven independent leagues in the United States composed of teams with no major league affiliation, filled with players hanging onto their big-league dreams by the slimmest of threads. Minor league fields look about same as chose in college stadiums - the bases are 90 feet apart and the pitching rubber is 60 feet, 6 inches from home plate - but there is something different about the game when one is paid to play. Almost every player was at some point dubbed all-conference, all– league or all-star. Even in rookie ball, the subbasement of the professional ranks, the game is played at a more incense level - an intensity that goes beyond faster pitchers and better hitters. And the competition is fierce. "The most significant factor in USD win– ning the 2002 championship was the sense of team we had," Assael says. "We weren't

The long rehabilitaion process is just a minor detour, says Ricky Barrett.

"I expected to go much higher, and chat's not my ego talking," he says. "I was getting phone calls from scouts who said chis or chat team had me on their boards for che third round, but they'd be surprised if I was still there. When the Twins cook me in che sev– enth I didn't jump for joy, but I knew it was my chance to do what I had always wanted to do. I cold my family I'll complete my degree - they'd probably kill me if I didn't - but they know how much I wane this." For the seniors, the wait was even more nerve-racking. Although the draft came and went without Lima and Assael being called, each fittingly was on USD's Cunninghan1 Stadium field when their cell phones rang with the news they had not been overlooked. Assael, the Torero catcher, was standing on the pitcher's mound during a baseball clinic when the Detroit Tigers called. Lima was in the batting cage when his mom called to say the San Diego Padres were crying to find him. A scarcer at four different positions over his Torero career, Lima was undeterred by being passed up on draft day.

Joe Lima who holds a dual-major degree from USD, turns two for the Fort Wayne Wizards.

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USO MAGAZINE