LONE STAR: Texas Boy Hendricks Takes Long Road to Big Leagues

They play night games in Texas.

Light glares down from the poles, sparkling off of Spring High Field as brilliantly as it would any diamond. Beyond the fence in right, sweet barbecue smoke curls up from tailgates, cloudy against the dark blue sky. It’s muggy. It’s gametime.

A bunch of blue-capped kids—some two years removed from puberty, others two seasons shy of prosperity—trot onto the field to a dull roar. Nine-year-olds with baseball mitts perk up, eagerly awaiting the chance to snag a foul ball.

For two hours, the Spring Lions are the biggest game in town. In 2000, Trey Hendricks was their biggest star. He was first team all-city, all-district and all-state, and in Texas, people care.

“After the games little kids would come up to me and ask for my autograph,” Hendricks says. “You are in high school, and [you think], ‘What do you want my autograph for?’”

Hendricks signed plenty of autographs his senior spring; he also signed a national letter-of-intent to play baseball at Harvard.

The 6’2 righthander led Metro Houston in strikeouts, racked up a 10-2 record and batted over .400. Like many of the city’s prep stars, he was recruited by big-time local baseball schools Rice and Baylor. He was a Collegiate Baseball Blue Chip and a draftable pitching prospect. He was a Texas boy.

Three years later, he’s a Harvard man.

THE ROAD TAKEN

Like most Harvard undergrads, Hendricks grew up dreaming of ivy—but it was the kind climbing up the outfield wall of Wrigley Field. Harvard was never the dream. Baseball always was.

Sure, Hendricks—now the Crimson’s switch-hitting first baseman and premier player—was a good student, a member of the National Honor Society and all that, but ever since he was two years old and swinging a whiffle ball bat, he was a helluva ballplayer.

You don’t have to be Peter Gammons to know that the most direct route to Fenway Park isn’t through O’Donnell Field. So why Harvard?

When Hendricks committed to Harvard, the Crimson was coming off three straight Ivy titles and was a year removed from a No. 24 national ranking. Harvard had become one of the top baseball programs above the Mason-Dixon line, and Crimson coach Joe Walsh was using that to bring in talent. And besides, Harvard is Harvard.

“It’s pretty easy calling up some areas and saying, ‘Hi, this is Coach Walsh from Harvard baseball,’” Walsh says. “We get a great reception when it’s ‘Harvard,’ you know?”

So the name and the fame got Hendricks to come on an official visit in late November of 1999. He arrived the Sunday after Harvard-Yale, and it was a balmy 75 degrees. Despite the comparatively poor facilities and the general sluggishness of the campus—typical of post-Game recovery—Hendricks was impressed.

“Everyone was just hanging in their rooms,” Hendricks says. “So I went over to DeWolfe, and I was really impressed with the rooms, and I liked the players. I thought they were a good bunch of guys. And just the name Harvard. I never thought I’d get in.”

Hendricks, of course, was accepted, but not before being courted by a plethora of other schools. He was recruited by Baylor, Georgia Tech, Miami of Ohio, Fresno State, Tulane and Wichita State, among others. But besides Harvard, two schools truly tempted Hendricks—Rice and West Point.

Playing for the Owls—currently the No. 1 ranked team in the country and a perennial national power—made sense. Rice was a strong academic institution just a few well-hit balls from home, with top-notch facilities and a reputation for producing ball players. It was Hendricks’ first choice, but Owls coach Wayne Graham wanted to wait and see what type of senior season he had before offering a scholarship. It turned out to be one of the best in Texas.

“When I had a great senior season, they came knocking, but it was too late,” Hendricks says. “I was already committed to Harvard. I didn’t want to renege on my commitment.”

Cadet coach Dan Roberts knew he wanted Hendricks long before his senior season started. When Hendricks’ father, retired Army veteran Art Hendricks, first suggested playing for the Academy during Trey’s junior year, his son was reluctant. But after visiting West Point—which was “even colder than Harvard”—and getting to know Roberts, Hendricks was torn.

“West Point pretty much promised me, ‘You are going to bat third, play first and pitch a game every single weekend,’” Hendricks says. “So that was kind of [what tempted me]. I didn’t want any guarantees from any place. I just wanted an opportunity to go in and play as a freshman.”

But playing right away wasn’t enough if it meant he couldn’t keep playing after graduation. So after procuring a congressional nomination and gaining acceptance to arguably the most selective university in America, Hendricks said no.

“It was never really in the front, because I always wanted to play baseball,” Hendricks says. “If I would’ve gone there, I could never play pro baseball, because you have the four-year commitment after you graduate.”

Ivy League to the Major Leagues

Hendricks wanted to reach the big leagues, and he thought Harvard could help him get there.

When he was a high school senior, scouts starting calling, talking about selecting him as a pitcher in the middle rounds. But Trey didn’t flinch when Art told all of them not to bother, because his boy was going to Harvard.

In the Spring of 2000, Collegiate Baseball ran a story on Hendricks’ plans. Walsh still remembers the pride he felt when he realized what Hendricks turned down to play for him.

“There was a big story in there about how Trey Hendricks had decided to spurn some offers at other schools [and] the draft and wants to come to Harvard, get his degree and then play major league baseball,” Walsh says. “Just seeing that in print, it was just a tremendous feeling as a coach to see someone that’s got their head on right and has their plans laid out, a path, and could see beyond senior year. I think that’s what Trey did when he made his decision to come here.”

Hendricks was going to Harvard, and the scouts would have to wait.

Luckily, they have. After a strong summer swinging a wood bat (.327-8-36) in the New England Collegiate Baseball League (NECBL), Hendricks is once again considered a draftable commodity, now as a hitter.

“People are looking at him as a first baseman, as a hitter,” Walsh says. “His switch-hitting ability and power from both sides is something everybody’s interested in. And he swings the wood bat real well. There’s some interest there, and he’s got to keep proving it on the field, but his name’s well known.

In Baseball America’s annual summer prospect rankings—in which Hendricks was named the No. 7 prospect in the NECBL—college baseball guru John Manuel described Hendricks as “a big (6-foot-3, 215) power plant from both sides of the plate.” Playing with prospects from top baseball programs like Clemson and Arizona State, Hendricks was as productive as he was in the Ivy League, and the scouts noticed.

“A half a dozen or so teams have contacted me,” Hendricks says. “I’m not really sure what they are thinking right now. I think they know about my summer at Keene. Some of them have told me that they saw me there.”

Hendricks is entering the most important year in amateur baseball. Once a player enters college, he cannot be drafted until the conclusion of his junior season. And it is only that summer—when an athlete can threaten to return to college—that players have any leverage in post-draft contract negotations. Since minor leaguers receive a set salary—sometimes as low as $700 a month—the initial negotiation for a signing bonus is critical.

So with Hendricks currently projected to go between the 10th and 20th rounds, it is hard not to ask “What if?”

What if Hendricks could practice outside everyday without ever worrying about snow? What if he were playing against the best competition in the country? What if Hendricks were playing for Rice?

Hendricks insists he never thinks about it. Not when he goes home over Christmas break and takes batting practice with high school buddies now playing for the Owls. Not even last year, when his season began and ended on the infield of Rice’s Reckling Park, did he ever pause and wonder what it would be like 100 feet away in the other dugout.

The truth is, it may have helped his draft status.

In each of the past three years, a handful of “northern” (meaning everything above the Carolinas) college pitchers were selected in the draft’s first round. Over that same stretch, exactly one northern college position player—former Ohio State first baseman Nick Swisher (No. 16 overall in 2002)—was a first rounder.

Players are drafted based on tools, and it’s harder for hitters to demonstrate tools when playing shorter seasons and against weaker competition than it is for pitchers. That is why summer ball, when players from all around the country come together, is so important.

“Decisions are being made about kids not on how they pitch against Yale in April, not how they hit against Boston College or whoever, it’s what you do in the summers now,” Walsh says.

Following his freshman season, Hendricks played in the Alaska Baseball League. This summer he is slated to play for the Brewster Whitecaps in the Cape Cod League. Toss in his stint with the NECBL, and Hendricks will have played in the three most prestigious summer leagues in America by graduation—if he’s not playing minor league ball this summer instead.

“There’s always a chance of being drafted after your junior year,” Walsh says. “But I go back to that [article in] Collegiate Baseball. He’s got his plans pretty mapped out. He really wants to get a degree here and he’s on track for that. I’d be really surprised if that was to happen.” Hendricks doesn’t know what will happen, because he’s not thinking about it yet.

“I just want to win another Ivy League championship,” he says. “We’ll just deal with that when and if the time comes.”

Diamonds in the Rough

It only makes sense that Texas people take high school baseball further, because baseball takes Texas high schoolers further, too. Every February, fans in Bellaire and Round Rock and Spring watch 17-year-olds jog onto their diamonds. Millionaires trot off them in June.

Just last year, Houston-area Cy Falls High saw two of its pitchers, lefthander Scott Kazmir and righthander Clint Everts, taken in the first round of the Amateur Baseball Draft. The pair signed for $2.15 and $2.5 million, respectively.

It’s serious money. It’s a serious game. Where Hendricks comes from, baseball is played for more than fun.

During the Spring of 1999, Houston fell in love with a 6’5 fireballer named Josh Beckett. Beckett, the Florida Marlins’ opening day starter this year, threw 96 mph consistently his final two seasons. His senior year, he went 10-1 with a 0.46 ERA and more than two strikeouts per inning. He was the nation’s back-to-back high school player of the year. He was also Hendricks’ teammate.

For comparison, Harvard ace Ben Crockett ’02 was the top prospect the Ivy League had seen in almost a decade, and he drew a handful of scouts to each of his contests last season. Some publications called Beckett the best high school pitcher ever.

“When Beckett was there, there would be 30-40 scouts,” Hendricks says. “It was just a great experience.”

Hendricks’ high school games were broadcast regularly on the radio. ESPN even showed up one weekend to produce a segment for Scholastic Sports America. It may have been overwhelming, if Hendricks hadn’t been born to play ball in Texas.

Like most Texas boys, Hendricks swung his first bat soon after he said his first word. Little Trey was only two-years-old when he became captivated with his high-school age neighbors playing catch regularly in the yard nearby.

“I’d see them throwing back there, so I’d just wander over there with my dad, and I’d watch them,” Hendricks says. “My dad had gotten me one of those big bats, so I liked to hit.”

Two years later, he was on his first organized team, a four-year-old playing with six- and seven-year-old kids. But being the youngest never bothered him. Art was a college baseball umpire at the time, and his son often tagged along to the ballpark. Soon Trey was a bat boy for the University of Houston, sitting in the same dugout as current Brewers pitcher Shane Nance.

“[Former Houston Coach] Dr. Bragg Stockton, who just passed away, was probably the biggest influence on my baseball life other than my dad,” Hendricks says. “I always went to all of his camps, so I was his bat boy. He let me come out there whenever I wasn’t playing, and I got to hang around college players.”

Hendricks even traveled with the club sometimes, toting bats off of fields he seemed destined to play on one day. Then destiny threw an Ivy-covered curve ball his way.

A Whole New Ball Game

Now Hendricks is the centerpiece of a Harvard team no one outside of Cambridge expects to defend its Ivy title. Though not a vocal player, he is expected to lead the Crimson on and off the field this season.

“He’s very quiet, no doubt about that,” Walsh says. “He’s not a let’s go type of guy, but he does his talking with his bat a little bit.”

Last season, Hendricks’ bat wouldn’t shut up. He batted a team best .372, while also leading the Crimson in RBI (29) and homeruns (6). The same production is expected of him this season.

“Trey’s definitely going to accept the responsibility of being a guy who’s expected to go up there and hit the ball out of the ballpark from both sides of the plate and be a top RBI guy,” senior catcher Brian Lentz says. “It’s something he accepts, and it’s something people are going to ask of him.”

With the departure of Crockett and a slew of other starting pitchers, Hendricks may also be critical on the mound. Despite his prep heroics, the lefty never really emerged as a pitcher during his first two seasons.

“I don’t know [why I haven’t pitched more],” Hendricks says. “This year coach Walsh said he’ll probably need me on the mound, so I worked on it a lot [during indoor practices].”

Through the season’s first 19 games, Hendricks has been the squad’s ace, compiling a 1-1 record and a team-best 2.79 ERA in four appearances. In both no decisions, Hendricks came out of the game with Harvard leading.

His success should be no surprise.

The surroundings are a little different. Hendricks runs onto the field for daytime doubleheaders now, wearing a turtleneck under his jersey. Last season down in Princeton, he even played a game in snow.

The crowds aren’t as big or as loud. There’s rarely barbecue smoke. And they don’t play night games in Cambridge.

But Hendricks has been everything at Harvard that he was at Spring—the power threat in the middle of the lineup, the ace, the prospect, the switch-hitter, the silent leader.

He’s a Harvard man.

But he’s still a Texas boy.

—Staff writer Lande A. Spottswood can be reached at spottsw@fas.harvard.edu.