Smoker thrilled to be with 51s, anyone’s Triple-A team
It is the second day of March Madness, and the television in the New York Mets clubhouse in Port St. Lucie, Florida, is tuned to one of the regional sites. Though the clubhouse is full — or almost full — none among the Mets seems very interested in the college basketball games.
There are a bunch of empty lockers to the right of where Matt Harvey and Noah Syndergaard and Jacob deGrom and the other Mets’ pitching hosses are lounging around. That’s why the clubhouse isn’t totally full. A couple of days earlier, before cuts were made and he was optioned to Triple-A Las Vegas, Josh Smoker’s baseball stuff and personal stuff was in one of those empty lockers.
That should have come as no surprise or a big surprise, depending on where you got it on the Curious Case of Josh Smoker, as one of the New York baseball writers called it.
Nine years ago, when Smoker still was overpowering high school hitters in rural Georgia, the Washington Nationals had made him a first-round draft pick.
Across the clubhouse in Port St. Lucie, former 51s catcher Travis d’Arnaud was lounging around, too, with the Mets’ position players. Josh Smoker was selected six spots higher in the draft than Travis d’Arnaud was, if you’re looking for a point of reference.
But three arm surgeries later, the left-handed throwing Smoker was all but out of baseball.
He drove to Florence, Kentucky, to try out for the Frontier League.
The Frontier League is an independent league; it’s little more than a baseball rest stop with a signpost that reads Next Service: 106 (or more) miles. The Frontier League is where baseball dreams go to die.
Most baseball dreams, at least.
Josh Smoker would pitch for the Rockford Aviators. With his arm repaired, he threw hard, but he threw wild. The next year, he invited teams to come see him throw with the idea one might sign him and teach him some control.
Only the pitching coach for the York Resolution, another baseball rest stop, showed up.
His name was Paul Fletcher, and he also was a bird dog scout for the Mets.
So Josh Smoker’s baseball dream began to flicker again. He started last season at low Class A Savannah, and quickly moved up to high Class A Port St. Lucie, and just as quickly moved up to Double-A Binghamton. And then the Mets added him to their 40-man roster.
He was back in Port St. Lucie throwing blazing fastballs under a blazing sun, only to a lot higher echelon of batsmen. When we spoke, it was a couple of days after he had cleaned out his locker in the spacious air-conditioned big league clubhouse. He didn’t seem terribly upset about it. He smiled the whole time. He wouldn’t be going back to pitch for the Rockford Aviators.
“Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do,” said the 27-year-old bearded pitcher/dreamer about being left for roadkill on the side of the pro baseball road. “When no teams are showing you any interest, you’ve got to tuck your pride in your back pocket sometimes.
“But it was a good experience. The team in Rockford was phenomenal. The good thing about independent ball is nobody’s competing against anybody. It’s just guys going out and having a good time, and playing for fun, and trying to win.”
In the Frontier League, there’s a team called the Normal CornBelters and another called the Schaumburg Boomers. The Rockford Aviators? They folded last year.
“There’s a team in Indiana, in Evansville,” Smoker said as we talked about where we were from and compared curious speaking accents. “It’s the oldest ballpark in America.”
This is what you learn in the Frontier League and the other independent leagues, and you appreciate the old ballparks, and any ballpark where professionals play, really. So when the parent club asks you to clean out your locker, you say “thanks” and go right on smiling. Because you have perspective now.
“I will forever be grateful to the Mets,” Smoker said. “They were literally the only team that would come and watch me throw, much less sign me.
“If you asked me where I was going to be at this time a year ago or two years ago, I would have said you were crazy if you would’ve said I was going to be here.”
A little earlier, Frank Viola, the 51s pitching coach who won 176 games in the big leagues, had compared Smoker’s story to that of Jim Morris, who went from coaching the Reagan County Owls to pitching in the major leagues with Tampa Bay as a 35-year-old rookie.
Wally Backman, the 51s’ skipper, said Smoker appeared to be on the fast track. “The kid can throw up to 98 mph,” Backman said.
“I think he’s got a bright future in front of him. He’s a guy we stole out of independent ball. We’re pullin’ for him big time, absolutely. There was a time in his career when he thought he was done. To be able to do a 180 like he’s done, it could be very special for the guy.”
As I was telling Smoker about what Viola and Backman had said, somebody cried “heads up!” from the practice diamond. A long drive sailed over our heads before twisting foul near the bright yellow pole.
Josh Smoker smiled again, as if to say they sure don’t him ‘em like that in the Frontier League.
Las Vegas Review-Journal sports columnist Ron Kantowski can be reached at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352. Follow him on Twitter: @ronkantowski
