Columnist Dean Juipe: Tryout camp a last chance for many

Dean Juipe

Wednesday, June 23, 2004 | 10:11 a.m.

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at juipe@lasvegassun.com or (702) 259-4084.

On the field were more than 100 baseball players, each in the uniform of his choice and all feeling just a little self-conscious.

It was a last chance, or something close to it, and everyone knew it.

But Craig Conklin cut them no slack. Like a prison guard coordinating exercise hour, he shouted out commands to loosely assembled troops that were instantly obeyed.

"When I first address them, I don't paint a good picture for them," he said. "I tell them that if they were really good, they probably wouldn't be here.

"They'd already be playing."

It was Tuesday, it was Cashman Field and it was hot. It was also the site of a Major League Baseball Scouting Bureau tryout for players ages 15 to 24 who feel as if they possess collegiate or professional ability.

Conklin, the MLB area scout for Nevada and Central California, played the role of ringmaster, coordinating activities, taking notes and keeping an eye open for the wayward prospect who had previously fallen through the cracks.

"For me personally, I'm hoping to see guys I haven't seen before," said Conklin. "This is a chance to corral them in one forum."

At his disposal were an array of young men, most looking very fit and relatively serious and each wishing he was part of a pro team or college program. But there was also the occasional lark, the guy who appeared as if he was there simply for laughs and who had no business on the field with more hardened competitors.

Aside from violating the age restriction, I asked him what was preventing someone like me from coming out there and taking up space simply to say I once attended a tryout camp.

"Well, your pride and the reality of the situation," he said, as if the humbling nature of the experience is enough to preclude most of the unqualified who give it a thought.

Players were drilled and tested, forced to run timed sprints and placed in simulated game positions. They did so on the outside chance a college rep or a pro scout with a need would approach them afterward.

"Occasionally, but not very often," Conklin admitted, when asked if anyone in these camps ever jumps out at him (as future major leaguer Jim Morris did for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays in 1999 after being out of baseball for nine years). "The best-case scenario is that a player will be seen and signed, or if a college has a specific need it can learn about him and contact him later.

"If I like a player, I turn in an evaluation that goes to all 30 major league teams."

Some of the players -- many wearing local high-school T-shirts or major-league replica jerseys -- appeared as if they were but a break or two from extending their baseball careers. Las Vegas is a hotbed for young players and a dozen or so emerge every year as worthy of pro contracts.

But most of the guys in a camp such as this are there because they haven't been asked to play elsewhere.

"We get some high school players trying to get exposure," Conklin said.

"We get some college players who are in the middle of their offseasons.

"We get some players who are just done with their senior years and are looking to get signed.

"And we get some players who have just been released and are trying to start over.

"If they're persistent, maybe something good will come along. But if they don't have what it takes or don't have the passion, this is the last stop before it's time to get on with their lives and do something else."

It's a bleak reality, yet one worth the gamble for a player with some talent who may be a late bloomer or is still developing.

Nonetheless, like the prison guard he so easily resembles, Conklin knows who he's dealing with and realizes the most minuscule of their temptations.

"Break up into pairs and loosen up," he said after opening the camp with timed sprints. "If you don't already have a ball, get one from that bag over there.

"But I know how many balls are in there and that's how many balls better be in there when it's time to go. Don't be stealing my balls."

Dutifully, the players obliged. And only the longest of long shots felt free to do anything more than smile.