The crowd of autograph seekers parted as the cart rattled across a pebble-strewn walkway. A member of the Dodgers' training staff was driving and another trainer rode shotgun. Seated on the flat bed was the most precious asset in the organization not named Kershaw or Scully.
"That's Corey Seager!" a woman shouted.
His eyes locked on his feet, his legs nearly long enough to scrape the sun-baked earth, he rode toward a minor league field at Camelback Ranch. A cloud of dust kicked up in his ride's wake. Fans jogged through the light yellow haze in search of a signature. The Dodgers are not the only party investing in Seager.
He is the prince of the franchise,...