The following special report is from Will Bigby, lead baseball correspondent for Treasure Valley Sports.* * * * * * *
"He couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with a handful of rocks!"
"He issues more walks than a school crossing guard!"
"His slider breaks less than a NASCAR driver!"
"I've seen better pitchers at a Tupperware party!"
"When he's pitching, the grounds crew drags the warning track after the fifth inning!"
"Jon Reed suuuuuucks!"
He'd gotten used to it by now. The heckling, the jeers, the jokes at his expense on sports radio and podcasts. He'd brush it off, knowing the ebbs and flows of fans could swing his way if he could put together just one vintage start for his club, the San Fernando Bears. But it never came.
After giving up seven runs in less than two innings in a 13-7 loss to Nashville on August 14th, Reed was called into Bears General Manager Randy Weigand's office. "Jon, this is a tough decision but I think it's best for the club and also for you. We're putting you on waivers." Weigand may or may not have continued to speak but it didn't matter. Reed felt like the floor had just fallen right out from under him. "Is this it for me? Maybe the insults are warranted," he thought to himself, numb from the rest of the world.
Reed showered and drove home in silence to his townhouse in Granada Hills. He hadn't entirely cleaned out his locker, hoping for the best. The next morning he woke up to Twitter notifications on his phone, as the news had broken around the baseball world that Reed has been put on waivers, available to any team willing to pick up his contract. There weren't any takers.
Reed cleared waivers and re-joined the team for their three-game series at home against Chicago. Reed was scheduled to start the finale on August 20 before the club would embark on a nine-game roadtrip. "Okay, this is a fresh start," he told himself that morning. During warm-ups prior to the game, his fastball felt extra jumpy, clocking in at 99 miles per hour. "This is the one, make it count," as thought as he took to the mound. Final score: Black Sox 10, Bears 2. Reed's line in the scorebook: L - 5.2 IP, 6 H, 3 ER, 6 BB, 4 K. The loss was the twelfth of the year for the husky right-hander but it felt different than the rest. It felt like a kick to the ribs while already down.
After eleven years in the big leagues, Reed thought he had prepared himself for anything, but he wasn't ready for what was in-store in just a few weeks: a pink slip courtesy of San Fernando management.
Reed found himself with without a job after being cut by the Bears on September 29th. The club had finally had enough. Reed was in the midst of, by all accounts, his worst professional season: 6.60 ERA. Fourteen losses to just seven wins. A career-high 1.82 WHIP. A league-high 119 walks, the fourth-straight year of such dubious distinction.
Now this time Reed's locker was cleaned out. "Just ship it to my house," Reed told one of the Bears' clubhouse attendants. After a short flight to his off-season home in Tucson, Reed spent the next eight days wondering what his future held. Was his career over, just like that? Thoughts of retirement would run through his mind as each day passed.
On a warm Arizona morning, Reed decided to get off his couch for the first time in two days and go take a run around the local junior college track. He was never fond of running but he needed to clear his mind and get some fresh air. When he got home, he noticed six missed calls on his cell phone. Five from his agent and one from an unlisted number. "208? What area code is that?," he thought to himself. Before having the chance to check voicemails, his phone vibrated and rang in his sweaty hand. It was his agent. Again.
"Yo Tony, what's up? Just got home and saw your calls."
"How you feelin', Hoodoo?," his agent of fourteen years asked on the other end of the call.
"Not bad, went for a run this morning and--"
"That's great, buddy. Hear, listen. Boise has shown interest. They wanna pick you up."
Reed couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? Are you serious? That's great! They're like in first place or something, so yes! Tell them yes!"
"Okay, but hold on. They're only willing to sign you to a minor league deal. They want to see if you got anything left in the tank."
"Fuck that, Tony. I have plenty in the tank. I'm not some minor league scrub."
"I know, I know, Jon, but let's be honest for a second. No one, I mean no one has even called me about you in the past week. Not even the UMEBA. I say take the deal. This could be it for you, pal. I'm just being real with you."
Reed leaned back on the kitchen island, letting out an audible sigh. He looked up at the ceiling, searching for an answer.
"You there, Jon?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm here. So minor league deal, that's the best they can do?"
"Yup, that's the offer. It comes with a $20,000 signing bonus. What do you say?"
"Okay, go back to them and tell them I want to be a Spud. I'll do the minor league contract but I want to a chance to earn a spot on the active roster next spring. Tell them I'm hungry and I'm willing to work. They won't be disappointed."
"Sounds good, pal. Hang tight, I'll call you back in a bit."
The minors?, he thought to himself. He hadn't stepped onto a minor league field since he was twenty-four years old. It didn't matter though. This was it, the chance he had hoped for. The next day, on October 9th, Reed signed and faxed in his new deal; he was officially a member of the Salt Lake City Alpines. However, Reed was in Brewster limbo, as the Alpines' season had been long over after losing in the first round of the playoffs. Boise had just wrapped up their first Division title in team history and were preparing for their playoff series with Edmonton without Reed.
Reed watched the series on television, trying to soak in the experience through osmosis. He even flew to Edmonton to watch Game Five, a 7-4 loss to the Jackrabbits that ended the Spuds' season and playoff hopes. But his renewed passion caught the front office's attention and Spuds owner even invited Reed over for dinner at his estate in Coeur d'Alene to get to know the veteran hurler.
Over the course of the next few weeks, Reed met with Boise trainers, coaches and a few players still hanging around town before leaving for the winter. He learned the club had considered picking him up off waivers earlier in the year but didn't have the room on the 40-man roster. He met with General Manager Joe Lederer who told him they thought Reed could extend his career a few more seasons with transition into the bullpen. "Me? A reliever? All I've ever known is as a staring pitcher," he told Lederer. He was told to stay in shape over the winter and focus just on his two best pitches, his fastball and change-up. Come spring, he would be counted on as a veteran addition to the bullpen and given every chance to make up back to the bigs.
"Looks like I'm the one who will have the last laugh," Reed told a coach.
"What's that?"
"Oh, nothing. Just a little reminder of something from a long time ago."
