Welcome to the Major Leagues

Sometimes, they turn into the real deal. Mostly, the lofty expectations foisted on them throughout the minor leagues wind up in the ashes somewhere on a Triple A ballfield in Bumfuk, Iowa.

But, when you get to be a part of something that could be historically special, it becomes as noteworthy for you as a baseball fan as it is for the rookie phenom that is being displayed for the first time. A prospect that has the "can't miss" tag around his neck.

Such was the connection I had with the Dodgers' newest pitcher, lefthander Clayton Kershaw, on Sunday afternoon. After several years of hearing about his potential which ranges from a drop-off-the-table curveball to perhaps raising Lazarus from the dead, this 20 year-old with the name that reminds me of a 70s band was slated to make his major league debut against the St. Louis Cardinals.

And luckily I was also scheduled to be there. Sometimes, the luck of the draw works in my favor. Every season, when I select the 35 or so games that I will keep from my Dodger season ticket package, I never know what I am going to get. How many games will be lopsided? How many times would I get stuck watching Esteban Loaiza start? (Thanks to young Kershaw, no more) It's a crapshoot. But, I got myself a lucky break when manager Joe Torre saw last Sunday as the perfect slot for Clayton's major league initiation.

I noticed the electricity as soon as I walked in. Twenty minutes before game time, there was a big crowd already in place. The late-arriving LA fanbase today had a damn good reason for not missing the first pitch. The fans cheered as Kershaw walked in from the bullpen after warming up. They yelled when he was announced in the starting lineup by the PA guy. As he pitched to his first batter, some tool named Skip Schumaker, the crowd started a rhythmic chant.

"Let's go Ker-shaw!"

The kid, who was not even an embryonic egg when the Mets last won the World Series in 1986, did not disappoint. Even though he gave up a first inning run and threw 32 pitches in that frame, he did strike out the side. And, after a semi-bumpy start, he would finish up with a six inning stint. Two runs, five hits, one walk, seven strikeouts. Crap, Brad Penny hasn't had that good an outing since last August. Kershaw left the game in a position to get a win, but ultimately didn't. The Dodgers won in 10 innings and, by that point, Clayton was probably already having his milk and cookies in the clubhouse.

Who knows what Clayton Kershaw will ultimately be? Sandy Koofax or Sandy Becker. It is a question that won't be answered for years. He will get Waterford Crystal treatment this year. They don't want him to pitch more than 170 innings by season's end, which means that, by August, he might be the 2008 edition of Joba Chamberlain for Joe Torre. Let's face it. At the age of 21, Dwight Gooden threw over 270 innings and we all know what happened there.

So, on Sunday last, the new experiment in hype, Clayton Kershaw, looked to be destined for greatness. His next start will be versus the Mets in Shea Stadium next Friday and that connects the boy to me in an odd way one more time. Because that brings me back to two similar major league debuts that I attended.

The first was when I was very wet behind the baseball ears. I was still going to Mets games with my father and that meant probably no more than 3 games a season depending upon his work schedule. As luck would have it, on one Friday night vs. the Cincinnati Reds, we got to see the first start ever of another highly touted pitching phenom, Dick Rusteck.

Yes, Dick Rusteck.

Who?

Dick Rusteck.

This kid's entrance was even more impressive than Kershaw's. A 9 inning shutout win. The world was his.

He only started two more games that year. He never won another game. Injuries cancelled him out completely. That was the sum career total for Dick Rusteck. And I saw his only major league victory.

Years later, my dad and I had a similar opportunity on another Friday night at Shea versus the Cincy Redlegs one more time. The Mets were in one of their many fallow periods, but help, like Charlton Heston as Major Dundee, was on the way. We had heard many a tale of this Strawberry kid. Tales of balls he hit in Norfolk that landed somewhere in Provo, Utah. He was finally deemed ready for the major league dinner table. And his first game was to be on May 6, 1983.

In those days you could be spontaneous and go to a baseball game. And my father and I, intrigued that the Mets would have their first real power hitter since Frank Thomas, decided to see what it was all about. Oddly enough, only about 16,000 other people had the same idea.

Darryl Strawberry went 0 for 4 in his first major league game, although he did walk and stole a base. There would be many homers to come and an almost guaranteed Hall of Fame career. However, liquor, cocaine, and Darryl himself would have other ideas.

So, my next one to watch for me is Clayton Kershaw. Who knows, who knows? But, just in case, I kept the ticket stub from Sunday, May 25, 2008, and placed it in a drawer.

Maybe, just maybe.

Dinner last night: Cuban sandwich at the Cheesecake Factory.