No at-bats, but plenty of fans

Mike Trask, Las Vegas Sun

Friday, May 18, 2007 | 7:22 a.m.

Thirty-eight games into the Las Vegas 51s' season, Octavio Martinez still hasn't gotten an at-bat.

He hasn't been a defensive replacement or a pinch runner. Most nights, he doesn't even make it into the dugout.

Even so, the 27-year-old minor league journeyman and third-string catcher parks more balls in the stands every night than Barry Bonds does, becoming a fan favorite along the way.

His prolific performance will never show up in the record books, though. That's because Martinez draws cheers not because of his prowess with the bat or for a rocket arm, but by retrieving foul balls to toss into the crowd.

When he isn't warming up relievers in the bullpen or playing catch with the right fielder at the start of innings, Martinez shags foul balls from the right-field corner and decides which lucky kid goes home with a souvenir.

And even though the players aren't supposed to sign autographs during the long, hot nights at Cashman Field, that doesn't stop him from occasionally making a dream come true for a particularly polite youngster.

In between, he laughs at hecklers, smiles at girls and sits, in his clean No. 35 uniform, on a plastic chair perched atop the bullpen mound.

On Thursdays, at the club's popular $1 beer nights, he recognizes and greets the regulars. When they get rowdy and the night drags on - and the Budweiser flows - he'll tell the obnoxious to tone it down.

Other days it's calmer down the right-field line, with mostly Little Leaguers and a few stray families enjoying the last cool evenings before the oppressive heat rolls into town.

Hours before the game, Martinez is in the dungeonlike hallway beneath the stands. The floors look as if they haven't been cleaned for a decade and large bins of dirty towels sit in front of the 51s' clubhouse door.

Up in the press box local TV stations are interviewing Sandy Alomar Jr., who played in Las Vegas in the 1980s and went on to great success in the majors, including being the 1997 All-Star Game Most Valuable Player. Now, Alomar's career has brought him full circle and he is back in Las Vegas, hoping to earn another call-up to the show.

Martinez - well, his highest accolade was being the 2000 Appalachian League MVP.

None of which matters to a 10-year-old desperate for a $3 baseball.

The catcher scans the masses as more kids dart toward the railing, hoping to be chosen.

"It's the quiet kids," Martinez says. "The kid who just sits there all quiet and holds his glove or the kid who asks nicely, 'Mister, can I have a ball?' That kid's going to get one if it comes."

When that happens, it's as magical for the fortunate kid as gloving a homer would be.

It remains to be seen whether Martinez will get the chance to put any balls into the stands using his bat. He's stuck behind Kelly Stinnett, an 11-year major-league veteran who played for the Yankees last year, and Ken Huckaby, who played parts of six seasons in the bigs, most recently for the Red Sox.

Martinez, who played for the Altoona Curve last season, is just hoping he gets a shot.

He has a respectable .272 career average, but hasn't hit a homer since 2005 in Double-A Bowie. Before that he hadn't gone yard since 2001.

"It's hard to just sit around," he says. And that's as negative as he gets for someone who jokingly refers to himself as being on the team's "Phantom DL." (Although not injured, he is carried by the team, apparently because of roster limitations, on the disabled list.)

Martinez is waiting a while longer to see what to do - with baseball and life. He could try to find another team or ask to be sent down a level.

Eventually, he'll put the gear away. He might coach. He might finish his engineering degree. After all, he still has the scholarship money he received when he signed his first professional contract with the Baltimore Orioles.

That was nine years and 10 teams ago.

Baseball historians and SportsCenter anchors won't remember a guy like Octavio Martinez.

But on a recent Monday, a Little Leaguer says his parents are making him leave midgame. It is a school night.

Martinez reaches down into a duffel bag and finds a worn ball.

He flips it up into the stands.

That kid will remember.