Nanner
09-27-2006, 09:16 AM
Good read! :thumbsup:
I like the quote from his former coach, at the end of the article.
He just wants to be himself and play. He doesn't like the scrutiny - seems shy and reserved, and what's wrong with that? People need to just get over having to know everything about someone who's in the limelight, because every once in awhile someone comes along who doesn't think it's important for people to know every personal thing.
Quiet Bedard makes noise
O's pitcher hushes critics with 15 wins
By Jeff Zrebiec
Sun reporter
Originally published September 26, 2006
In Erik Bedard 's perfect world, he would perform in near anonymity, far away from fickle baseball fans and the critical and curious glare of the media. He'd take the ball every five days, pitch as long as his powerful left arm would allow and then he'd go home, the outing - whether good or bad - staying behind in the clubhouse for others to analyze.
There would be no second-guessing the 2-2 fastball that he threw to Alex Rodriguez in the sixth inning, no close examination of his slumped shoulders when he walked off the mound after getting out of a bases-loaded jam. The numbers, whatever they were on that day, would stand for themselves.
"People just need to know about my pitching," Bedard said. "That's it. Otherwise, leave me alone."
The quandary Bedard now faces is that his success has put him in the position he has never wanted to be in. With 15 wins and one scheduled start remaining Friday against the Boston Red Sox, the 27-year-old left-hander could complete the best season for an Orioles starter in seven years. Mike Mussina is the last Orioles pitcher to win at least 16 games in a season, with 18 victories in 1999.
Bedard shrugged his shoulders last week when asked what it would mean to win 16 after entering the season with 12 major league victories. For reporters who have covered the stoic Canadian since his arrival in the majors, it was the expected reaction. Undoubtedly, it would mean Bedard would get more attention, the very thing the pitcher loathes.
"I have almost a 4.00 ERA [3.67]," Bedard said. "It's not like [Francisco] Liriano and [Johan] Santana or those guys. It's nothing spectacular."
But the Orioles feel Bedard belongs in that company.
Despite two different winless stretches this season that lasted nearly a month, Bedard attributes his success to being healthy over a full season for the first time in his career. He has justified the faith of the front office, which engaged in significant trade talks last offseason, pondering one deal that would have sent Bedard and a second player to the Arizona Diamondbacks for slugger Troy Glaus.
Orioles manager Sam Perlozzo said he urged the front office to keep Bedard, believing the pitcher was ready for a breakthrough year. Months later, Orioles pitching coach Leo Mazzone paid his pupil what he called "the best compliment I could give" when he said recently, "Thinking back on the great rotations [Mazzone had in Atlanta], could have pitched on them.
"I feel that he is one of the best pitchers in the American League," said Mazzone, echoing a sentiment heard several times in opposing clubhouses this season.
[b]No showing emotion
Bedard has started 82 games for the Orioles the past three seasons, but he gladly remains an enigma, mostly because of his emotionless demeanor and quiet disposition.
His expression rarely changes, leading to several misconceptions about the pitcher, according to those who know him well. His reaction to getting out of a jam is a slow, methodical walk back to the dugout, his eyes fixed on the ground.
The lack of visible fire means some question his drive and competitiveness, which several Orioles find laughable.
"I think that he is definitely misunderstood," said reliever Todd Williams, Bedard's closest friend on the team. "He's a lot like [Toronto Blue Jays pitcher] Ted Lilly. ... There is no doubt in my mind that he is pumped up and he really wants to win. You know the perception of the fans is to wonder if he cares, but it isn't anything like that."
Said Perlozzo: "You all don't see it. We see him pitch seven innings and have 97 pitches or something and you go and ask him, and he says, 'I am going back out [there].' He's done that on umpteen occasions this year."
In the clubhouse, Bedard passes time between starts by playing video games and joking around with his pitching teammates. Several veterans remember a time when he would barely speak, but a more mature and comfortable Bedard has opened up this year around teammates and club officials.
An avid outdoorsman, Bedard even spent a recent open date fishing with Orioles executive vice president Mike Flanagan. "He let his hair down some," Flanagan said.
Former Red Sox first baseman Kevin Millar didn't know Bedard before signing with the Orioles, though he heard whispers that he was standoffish.
"Whoever gives these labels, I want to talk to him," said Millar, who has become good friends with the pitcher. "The first thing I heard was that Bedard is a weirdo. He's been one of the best teammates I've had. He's fun, a good dude and he asks questions and competes. He's as levelheaded as you'll find."
Slow to trust
For Bedard, feeling more comfortable in his surroundings is about trust, something he acknowledged he doesn't give out easily to anybody - friends, coaches and reporters alike.
He has fought the label that he is resistant to coaching, a scouting report that Mazzone was aware of but has seen no evidence of. Ray Miller, the Orioles' former pitching coach, said last year that it took awhile for him to break through Bedard's stubborn exterior.
"That's normal. If you meet someone, you are not going to trust him right away," said Bedard, who praised Mazzone and Miller, but said pitching coaches generally get way too much credit and/or blame.
"I've had coaches in the past, like in the minor leagues, that don't listen to me. It's not that they have to prove something to me, but it is about listening to my point of view and then I'll listen to theirs. You have to do what is best for yourself."
Letting his guard down slightly before a game earlier this month, Bedard said he also has made some mistakes in dealing with the media, with whom he has had a lukewarm relationship. He was angered last year when there were reports that he wasn't trying hard enough to return from a knee injury, which kept him out for two months.
"It hurts that people were questioning me, not believing what I was saying and how I felt," Bedard said. "Now that I am doing good, nobody says anything."
However, Bedard, who occasionally would yawn at reporters' questions a couple of years ago, has listened to his teammates' advice this season and has been more cooperative and patient.
David Newhan , whose sportswriter father has been honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame, and LaTroy Hawkins , who had an ongoing feud with Chicago reporters during his time as a Cub, have given tips to their teammate about dealing with the media.
"Everybody is not the talkative type," Hawkins said. "That's what people have to understand. But that doesn't make him a bad guy."
'Being himself'
Yves Potvin, 27, listened to a reporter's description of his childhood friend and nodded. "He can be pretty hard to talk to. That's just him being himself," said Potvin, who saw Bedard pitch in a major league game for the first time last week at Camden Yards.
Each offseason, Bedard returns to Navan, Ontario, a small community east of Ottawa where he is building a home. He hangs out with a small group of friends who have known one another since childhood. The friends go ice fishing each year and just hang out, sharing meals and laughs.
Baseball rarely comes up, exactly how Bedard likes it.
"He's starting to get recognized a little more, but he doesn't want to stand out," Potvin said. "If people [make a big deal] of who he is, we change spots."
Potvin said Bedard, whose high school did not have a baseball team, was always "the best" on whatever team he was on, but apparently he wasn't good enough. He was cut twice from Canadian elite teams when he was 17 and 18.
He walked on to the team at Norwalk (Conn.) Community Tech College only after a friend of his, Roch Sequin, a catcher, talked the team's coach, Mark Lambert, into giving him a tryout.
"He looked like he was 12, and he was probably 155 pounds," Lambert said. "We got him on the gun at 80-81, but his arm was real clean and very smooth. I thought this kid could at least get lefties out."
Months later and after Bedard had retooled his mechanics and put on significant muscle, factors that added nearly 6 mph to his fastball, Bedard pitched and won a game in the National Junior College Athletic Association World Series, striking out 12.
"Right then, you knew this kid was going to be special," Lambert said. "It wasn't like this kid was a 10-year-old with parents pushing him into Little League and he had to make the All-Star team. This is a kid who just tried baseball."
Years later, Lambert is still marveling at Bedard's rapid rise, but he's not surprised by how the pitcher reacts to the attention.
"That is not an act," Lambert said. "He doesn't want to be more important than anyone else. He's just a normal kid with great talent."
Copyright © 2006, The Baltimore Sun
I like the quote from his former coach, at the end of the article.
He just wants to be himself and play. He doesn't like the scrutiny - seems shy and reserved, and what's wrong with that? People need to just get over having to know everything about someone who's in the limelight, because every once in awhile someone comes along who doesn't think it's important for people to know every personal thing.
Quiet Bedard makes noise
O's pitcher hushes critics with 15 wins
By Jeff Zrebiec
Sun reporter
Originally published September 26, 2006
In Erik Bedard 's perfect world, he would perform in near anonymity, far away from fickle baseball fans and the critical and curious glare of the media. He'd take the ball every five days, pitch as long as his powerful left arm would allow and then he'd go home, the outing - whether good or bad - staying behind in the clubhouse for others to analyze.
There would be no second-guessing the 2-2 fastball that he threw to Alex Rodriguez in the sixth inning, no close examination of his slumped shoulders when he walked off the mound after getting out of a bases-loaded jam. The numbers, whatever they were on that day, would stand for themselves.
"People just need to know about my pitching," Bedard said. "That's it. Otherwise, leave me alone."
The quandary Bedard now faces is that his success has put him in the position he has never wanted to be in. With 15 wins and one scheduled start remaining Friday against the Boston Red Sox, the 27-year-old left-hander could complete the best season for an Orioles starter in seven years. Mike Mussina is the last Orioles pitcher to win at least 16 games in a season, with 18 victories in 1999.
Bedard shrugged his shoulders last week when asked what it would mean to win 16 after entering the season with 12 major league victories. For reporters who have covered the stoic Canadian since his arrival in the majors, it was the expected reaction. Undoubtedly, it would mean Bedard would get more attention, the very thing the pitcher loathes.
"I have almost a 4.00 ERA [3.67]," Bedard said. "It's not like [Francisco] Liriano and [Johan] Santana or those guys. It's nothing spectacular."
But the Orioles feel Bedard belongs in that company.
Despite two different winless stretches this season that lasted nearly a month, Bedard attributes his success to being healthy over a full season for the first time in his career. He has justified the faith of the front office, which engaged in significant trade talks last offseason, pondering one deal that would have sent Bedard and a second player to the Arizona Diamondbacks for slugger Troy Glaus.
Orioles manager Sam Perlozzo said he urged the front office to keep Bedard, believing the pitcher was ready for a breakthrough year. Months later, Orioles pitching coach Leo Mazzone paid his pupil what he called "the best compliment I could give" when he said recently, "Thinking back on the great rotations [Mazzone had in Atlanta], could have pitched on them.
"I feel that he is one of the best pitchers in the American League," said Mazzone, echoing a sentiment heard several times in opposing clubhouses this season.
[b]No showing emotion
Bedard has started 82 games for the Orioles the past three seasons, but he gladly remains an enigma, mostly because of his emotionless demeanor and quiet disposition.
His expression rarely changes, leading to several misconceptions about the pitcher, according to those who know him well. His reaction to getting out of a jam is a slow, methodical walk back to the dugout, his eyes fixed on the ground.
The lack of visible fire means some question his drive and competitiveness, which several Orioles find laughable.
"I think that he is definitely misunderstood," said reliever Todd Williams, Bedard's closest friend on the team. "He's a lot like [Toronto Blue Jays pitcher] Ted Lilly. ... There is no doubt in my mind that he is pumped up and he really wants to win. You know the perception of the fans is to wonder if he cares, but it isn't anything like that."
Said Perlozzo: "You all don't see it. We see him pitch seven innings and have 97 pitches or something and you go and ask him, and he says, 'I am going back out [there].' He's done that on umpteen occasions this year."
In the clubhouse, Bedard passes time between starts by playing video games and joking around with his pitching teammates. Several veterans remember a time when he would barely speak, but a more mature and comfortable Bedard has opened up this year around teammates and club officials.
An avid outdoorsman, Bedard even spent a recent open date fishing with Orioles executive vice president Mike Flanagan. "He let his hair down some," Flanagan said.
Former Red Sox first baseman Kevin Millar didn't know Bedard before signing with the Orioles, though he heard whispers that he was standoffish.
"Whoever gives these labels, I want to talk to him," said Millar, who has become good friends with the pitcher. "The first thing I heard was that Bedard is a weirdo. He's been one of the best teammates I've had. He's fun, a good dude and he asks questions and competes. He's as levelheaded as you'll find."
Slow to trust
For Bedard, feeling more comfortable in his surroundings is about trust, something he acknowledged he doesn't give out easily to anybody - friends, coaches and reporters alike.
He has fought the label that he is resistant to coaching, a scouting report that Mazzone was aware of but has seen no evidence of. Ray Miller, the Orioles' former pitching coach, said last year that it took awhile for him to break through Bedard's stubborn exterior.
"That's normal. If you meet someone, you are not going to trust him right away," said Bedard, who praised Mazzone and Miller, but said pitching coaches generally get way too much credit and/or blame.
"I've had coaches in the past, like in the minor leagues, that don't listen to me. It's not that they have to prove something to me, but it is about listening to my point of view and then I'll listen to theirs. You have to do what is best for yourself."
Letting his guard down slightly before a game earlier this month, Bedard said he also has made some mistakes in dealing with the media, with whom he has had a lukewarm relationship. He was angered last year when there were reports that he wasn't trying hard enough to return from a knee injury, which kept him out for two months.
"It hurts that people were questioning me, not believing what I was saying and how I felt," Bedard said. "Now that I am doing good, nobody says anything."
However, Bedard, who occasionally would yawn at reporters' questions a couple of years ago, has listened to his teammates' advice this season and has been more cooperative and patient.
David Newhan , whose sportswriter father has been honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame, and LaTroy Hawkins , who had an ongoing feud with Chicago reporters during his time as a Cub, have given tips to their teammate about dealing with the media.
"Everybody is not the talkative type," Hawkins said. "That's what people have to understand. But that doesn't make him a bad guy."
'Being himself'
Yves Potvin, 27, listened to a reporter's description of his childhood friend and nodded. "He can be pretty hard to talk to. That's just him being himself," said Potvin, who saw Bedard pitch in a major league game for the first time last week at Camden Yards.
Each offseason, Bedard returns to Navan, Ontario, a small community east of Ottawa where he is building a home. He hangs out with a small group of friends who have known one another since childhood. The friends go ice fishing each year and just hang out, sharing meals and laughs.
Baseball rarely comes up, exactly how Bedard likes it.
"He's starting to get recognized a little more, but he doesn't want to stand out," Potvin said. "If people [make a big deal] of who he is, we change spots."
Potvin said Bedard, whose high school did not have a baseball team, was always "the best" on whatever team he was on, but apparently he wasn't good enough. He was cut twice from Canadian elite teams when he was 17 and 18.
He walked on to the team at Norwalk (Conn.) Community Tech College only after a friend of his, Roch Sequin, a catcher, talked the team's coach, Mark Lambert, into giving him a tryout.
"He looked like he was 12, and he was probably 155 pounds," Lambert said. "We got him on the gun at 80-81, but his arm was real clean and very smooth. I thought this kid could at least get lefties out."
Months later and after Bedard had retooled his mechanics and put on significant muscle, factors that added nearly 6 mph to his fastball, Bedard pitched and won a game in the National Junior College Athletic Association World Series, striking out 12.
"Right then, you knew this kid was going to be special," Lambert said. "It wasn't like this kid was a 10-year-old with parents pushing him into Little League and he had to make the All-Star team. This is a kid who just tried baseball."
Years later, Lambert is still marveling at Bedard's rapid rise, but he's not surprised by how the pitcher reacts to the attention.
"That is not an act," Lambert said. "He doesn't want to be more important than anyone else. He's just a normal kid with great talent."
Copyright © 2006, The Baltimore Sun