Prince Fielder's legend continues to grow
"Mentally, I try to be not there at all," he says. "Whenever I'm going good, it's when I'm not thinking about anything, kind of like in a daze. Still focused on what I'm trying to do but not worrying about the outcome, what the count is, what the score is."
Don't take that the wrong way. He puts great thought into not thinking too much. He has a sharp baseball mind, and he works on his game constantly. "He's the ideal player, to me, in terms of what you want in a baseball player," says Brewers manager Ned Yost. "He's a guy that wants to be the best player he can be every single day and not just in one category."
Like his father, Prince has enormous power. Unlike his father, Prince can do other things. Cecil's career average was .255. Prince's is .278 and most likely will improve as he gains experience. Prince had more hits in his second full season than his dad ever had in one.
"He's not just a slugger, he's a hitter," says Reds manager Dusty Baker. "He's a dangerous, dangerous young man."
After his performance last year (.288 average, 50 homers, 119 RBIs), Fielder will see fewer pitches to hit this season. And with the strength of the Brewers' offense, that should make the team even better. With Ryan Braun and Corey Hart joining Fielder in the meat of the lineup, this team will score. It's just a matter of how. "Instead of 50 home runs, he'll hit 45," says Nationals reliever Ray King. "But his walks will go up by 10 or 15, and he will help the team by getting on base and creating more runs. That takes discipline, and that shows a true leader."
Fielder might struggle to get to 45 after opening the season in a power drought. But the Brewers still have been near the top of the standings. Fielder has been critical of himself — calling his performance "god awful." He doesn't need to hit 50 home runs, or 45, for that matter, for the Brewers to be successful, but he has to do better than the .226 average he took into the week.
Some teams employ an infield shift against Fielder, playing to his tendency to pull the ball. Fielder pretends it isn't happening. He doesn't want to mess with his swing in response to the defense because he knows that is exactly what the defense is trying to get him to do. He refuses to try to push a dinky little grounder through a hole just because the hole is there. Besides, finesse is not his strength. He'd rather make his own hole — maybe in the first baseman's chest and out his back.
"I have to try to hit the ball as hard as I can, hit it through somebody," Fielder says. "If I try to be easy, I'm terrible."
When was the last time an elite athlete admitted "I'm terrible" at anything? It's not false humility; he talks about his triumphs, too. But Fielder admits fear of failure drives him. "It's not fun to have," he says. "I guess it keeps me motivated."
It also makes him work hard. He studies how other batters swing, looking for something to steal. He follows through, completes every swing, because he cribbed that approach from Ken Griffey Jr. He tries to murder the ball like Mo Vaughn. And there is a hint of David Ortiz's flair and David Justice's consistency in there.
He studies stances, seems borderline obsessed with them, even does impressions of how others stand in the box. Fielder says he could identify any player since the early 1990s by his stance, provided that player got a significant number of at-bats. He yells about a pitcher for his poor pitch selection, but he admires a hitter, Arizona outfielder Jeff Salazar. "That stance is sick," Fielder says. He models his own stance after those of Vaughn and Ortiz, among others, and it would be no surprise to see a whisper of Salazar in the near future.
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For one final legendary feat, let's go back to the first one. He was just a boy when a story about his power began to circulate. While taking batting practice with the Detroit Tigers, for whom his father, Cecil, hit home runs of legendary length, the younger Fielder hit a ball into the upper deck in right field and two into the lower deck at Tiger Stadium.
He was 12.
TWELVE!
This has been confirmed, in various ways, by Fielder himself, legendary Tigers radio man Ernie Harwell, former Tigers shortstop and manager Alan Trammell and Fred Kendall. Kendall was a coach for the Tigers at the time and delivered the pitches that the young Fielder deposited into the seats.
Kendall told his son to watch out for this kid. Now his son, Jason Kendall, does just that. His locker is across the clubhouse from Fielder's.
Fielder is BIG, but the baseball world is small.
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