Wait a second, you may be thinking. Didn’t you write about Spencer Bivens in your last column? I did, but the story of the State College kid who arrived in the Major Leagues after years of wandering in the baseball wilderness keeps getting better.
I’ll let San Francisco Giants play-by-play man Dave Fleming summarize Spencer’s day at the ballpark this past Sunday:
“Spencer Bivens: all he’s been through, striking out the best hitter in the world.”
“Best hitter in the world” would be Dodgers superstar Shohei Ohtani. Bivens, a State High grad and a Big Leaguer for less than a fortnight, retired Ohtani all three times he faced him, first on a groundout, then twice on strikes.
“All he’s been through” refers to the winding path that brought Spencer to his date with Ohtani and his Dodger teammates: He didn’t play for a major college, wasn’t drafted or signed by a Major League team and played at the very fringes of the baseball world for most of his 20s. Now here he was, making his first Major League start and facing the guy whose prowess as a pitcher and a hitter draws comparisons to Babe Ruth.
Given his newness to the big stage, Bivens watchers have been impressed by his cool, even after walking a couple of guys or giving up a home run – or facing the best hitter in the world. But after the second punch-out of Ohtani, which ended the inning – and Spencer’s workday – he erupted, practically corkscrewing himself into the turf as he punched the air.
The Giants’ broadcast team loved it.
“I’m still smiling,” former Giants pitcher Mike Krukow said when he came back on the air after the between-innings break.
So am I. As I mentioned in that first column, Spencer and my son Ethan played together at all the levels of youth baseball in State College. To see this sweet kid, who always called me Mr. Frank when I drove him home from a game, now wearing the same uniform as the late, great Willie Mays and the late, great Orlando Cepeda (Mays died on June 18, Cepeda on June 28 – the day Spencer turned 30) is a delightful counterweight to the grim news that constitutes the rest of my media diet.
All told, Spencer allowed the Dodgers four hits and one run in five stellar innings on Sunday.
“He was spectacular,” Krukow said post-game. “I won’t forget this game because of how good Bivens was.”
Krukow and Fleming noted that the strong performance couldn’t have come at a better time: The team’s bullpen was overworked. By getting through five innings instead of just two or three, Spencer gave those tired arms a rest.
His manager, Bob Melvin, was grateful. Of the second strikeout of Ohtani, he said, “I think everybody got goosebumps on that one.”
Giants first baseman David Villar called it “a once-in-a-lifetime moment.”
The moment even inspired a meme: Spencer carrying a mini-Ohtani in a front-facing baby carrier – a reference to Boston Red Sox pitcher Pedro Martinez calling the Yankees his daddies after he pitched poorly against them in a playoff game in 2004.
A couple of hours after Sunday’s game, I texted Spencer an attaboy.
“To be honest,” he replied, “I have been waiting my whole life to start a Major League game.”
“Worth the wait, eh?” I texted back.
“Took way longer than expected, but absolutely.”
Speaking of texting, one of the joys of watching Spencer pitch is my batter-by-batter back-and-forth with my son in Salt Lake City. Just over a month ago, while still a member of the Triple-A Sacramento River Cats, Spencer came to Utah for a series against the Salt Lake Bees, left tickets for Ethan and met him for drinks afterwards. Ethan and I are now eyeing a Giants-Orioles game in Baltimore in September for a chance to repeat that experience at the Major League level.
As much as I love seeing Spencer do his thing, I also find it nerve-wracking. I don’t know how his parents – any athlete’s parents — can stand it.
Then again, I do. While sitting through all those games at Community Field and the Little League complex on Bristol Avenue and the Teener League field off West College Avenue, I would remind myself it’s just kids having fun – and then silently live and die with every pitch.
Small stage, big stage makes no difference. If it’s your kid, or in Spencer’s case, your kid’s friend whom you’ve known for 20 years, you want him to shine.
So far, Spencer is shining. His stats: 6 games, 2 wins, 2.57 earned run average.
“He’s rewarding us every time he goes out there,” his manager said on Sunday.
Us, too. Next to hosting about 25 friends and family members last month, from my 3-year-old granddaughter to my 70-something sisters, following Spencer’s first dream-come-true weeks in the Big Leagues has been the best thing about my summer so far.
