Prospecting For Gold with the Nationals' J.P. Ramirez

Every morning since he was a kid, J. P. Ramirez dragged himself out of bed and headed out to the batting cage, sleep in his eyes and bat in his hand. And every morning, he put the bat on his shoulder and took a deep breath.

And then he began to swing.

 

Over and over, hour after hour, ash met leather. Line drives seared through the Texas heat and tried to escape the confines of the cage.

 

And he wouldn’t stop.

 

Over time, the bones in his fingers warped, the result of them being perpetually clamped around his bat.

 

And he wouldn’t stop.

 

The skin on Ramirez’ hands calloused to the point of making them almost useless for anything other than swinging his bat.

 

And still he wouldn’t stop.

 

He can no longer flatten his hands without a debilitating pain shooting through his knuckles.

 

And yet he keeps on swinging.

 

Like a car odometer on a long trip, the swing count continues upwards.

 

Two-hundred swings. Three-hundred. Four-hundred.

 

By his 500th swing, Ramirez is drowning in sweat and comfortable that he had wrung every last modicum of strength from his muscles. And with that, he would leave the cage and return to the world of a teenager where school and tests and girls and food and cars occupy his time.

 

Until the next morning, that is, when he would once again grab his bat, enter the cage, and hit 500 balls as hard as his hurting hands would allow.

 

This unyielding approach to perfection is what got J. P. Ramirez noticed in his home town of New Braunfels, Texas. He wanted to be not just the best, but the very best baseball player to ever don a Canyon High School jersey.

 

And to do it, he had to be better than the Astros’ Lance Berkman, an alum of Canyon High.

 

It wouldn’t be difficult. All it would take, he thought, was 500 swings a day.

 

Every day.

 

The local paper named him its best first-year player in the conference.

 

And he kept on swinging.

 

He was named all-state (a big accomplishment in Texas) in his sophomore, junior, and senior years. He was a Louisville Slugger All-American his senior season and a Baseball America second-team All-American.

 

Canyon coach Pete Garza, who has seen them all come and go since 1968, said recently that Ramirez was simply “..the best I’ve ever coached. As far as work ethic goes, he’s definitely at the top.”

 

Better than even Lance Berkman.

 

One-hundred swings. Two-hundred.

 

The batting cage is in his back yard, and every morning, his neighbors are awaken to the sound of 500 balls cutting through the humid air, reverberating on their roofs and their garages and their cars.

 

"For some reason the neighbors don't mind the noise," Mary Ramirez said. "They understand it's J.P. I guess they figured they'd need to get used to it."

 

Three-hundred swings. Four-hundred.

 

His father began to take J.P. to the batting cages at the age of four, hitting 75 mph pitches with ease. By seven, he could get around on a 95 mph fastball.

 

Five-hundred swings.

 

After his amazing high school career, he accepted a scholarship to play with baseball powerhouse Tulane University. Clubs were so sure that he was going to college that no one dared draft him and risk losing their pick.

 

Until the Washington Nationals, that is, who took Ramirez with their selection in the 15th round in last year’s amateur draft.

 

Normally, 15th rounders get bus fare and a package of Twinkies for signing their contract.

 

Ramirez got $1.2 million.

 

Negotiations remained very quiet between the Nationals and Ramirez until it became apparent that the team would not be able to sign Aaron Crow, their top pick, in the waning minutes of the signing period. A quick phone call was all it took. Ramirez was a National.

 

By way of comparison, Drew Storen, the Nationals first-rounder this year, signed for just $300,000 more than Ramirez, who was drafted 14 rounds later.

 

One-hundred swings. Two-hundred.

 

Ramirez arrived in Viera, Florida late last season and played in the nine remaining games for the Nationals’ Gulf Coast League rookie team, hitting .407 with a homer and 12 RBI, leading the team to within a game of the GCL Championship.

 

Three-hundred swings. Four-hundred.

 

This year, the 5’10”, 185 pound Ramirez is playing for the Vermont Lake Monsters, an ‘A’ affiliate in the New York-Penn League where he faces 20-something college pitchers every night.

 

In 38 games, Ramirez is batting .276-2-22 with three steals. Over a full major league season, he would have 168 hits, 36 doubles, 12 triples, eight homers and 88 RBI.

 

But he still has things to work on. He’s on pace (again, based on 162 games) to walk 28 times while striking out more than 100. His .317 on-base percentage isn’t very good at any professional level.

 

And so, when the season is done, he’ll return home to New Braunfels and rest for an hour or so. And then, he’ll stand up, walk out to his back-yard batting cage, let the handle of his bat slip into his curled fingers, place it on his shoulder and take a deep breath.

 

And then he’ll start swinging.

 

One-hundred swings. Two-hundred. Three-hundred. Four-hundred.

 

And on into the night he’ll go, until gets better at recognizing pitch type and ball location.

 

Five-hundred swings.