The Storm Passes for Angels’ Snow : He Goes From Success to Failure to Success and Seeks an Even Keel

J.T. Snow stopped to grab an apple in the food line when he noticed a sudden flurry of movement. Reporters were being shooed away. The clubhouse doors were quickly locked.

This was weird. The entire Angel team had just settled into spring-training camp a few days ago, and now Manager Buck Rodgers was calling a team meeting.

Boy, someone sure must have done something wrong. He started feeling sorry for the poor soul who prompted it.

In a sudden attack of anxiety, Snow began replaying the day’s events in his mind. Then it hit him. Maybe he was the one.

It didn’t help when he looked around and sensed that everyone was staring at him. Seconds later, he realized he had caused the meeting:

It was a surprise birthday party in his honor.

OK, so maybe it wasn’t the type of bash that you run home and tell your wife about, but the event left Snow overwhelmed.

Apprehensive that he would be ostracized when he set foot in the Angel clubhouse a year ago, and never quite feeling comfortable, Snow was now being officially accepted by his teammates.

Yes, he was one of the guys.

“I don’t think anyone even came up to me to wish me, ‘Happy Birthday,’ last year,” said Snow, 26 last week. “All they knew was that Jim Abbott was gone, and I was one of the guys they got in return.

“Guys were checking me out all spring. They wanted to see what they got in return.

“I just kept my mouth shut and tried to show everybody that I belonged.”

The uncertainty and skepticism lasted until the regular season began, and by mid-April everybody knew about J.T. Snow.

But for the next five months they weren’t sure just what they knew.

Snow’s season was like standing in front of one of a mirror in a fun house. The image differed drastically, depending upon the angle from which you viewed it. It was exaggerated, complimentary and, sometimes, appalling, but never definitive.

How do you start and end a season winning the American League player-of-the-week award and spend the time in between trying to figure out what happened?

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a season quite like it,” Rodgers said. “He ran through the entire gamut of emotions. The whole season was one long rollercoaster ride, and no one knew what time he was getting on or off.

“But I’ll tell you this, what J.T. did that first month was the greatest thing that could have happened to us. He not only benefited himself, but he benefited this entire organization.

“Believe me, if he didn’t get off to that start, we wouldn’t be in the position (to contend) like are today.”

*

This was crazy. After battling all spring to make the Angel roster, suddenly he was the reincarnation of Wally Joyner.

It started with a home run in his second at-bat on opening day. He was hitting .368 with five runs batted in at the end of the first week of the season. He had six homers and 17 RBIs by the second week.

By the time Roger Clemens and the Boston Red Sox came to Anaheim on April 25, Snow was batting .407 and featured on TV sportscasts from coast to coast.

“That’s when everything started to happen,” Snow said. “It hit me all at once. The expectations just became unreal.

“People were telling me I was going to be the rookie of the year after one week. Someone even projected me to hit more homers than Roger Maris. People were acting crazy.

“The trouble was I got caught up in it, too. They told me in spring training just to relax, and that if I hit .260 with 10 homers and 50 RBIs it would a great year.

“But after the first month, everything changed. My expectations went up, too. I figured no problem, I’d hit .280 to .300 with 25 homers.”

Said Jack Snow, J.T.’s father: “He told me, ‘Honest, Dad, I don’t know what I’m doing, but everything I do is working.’

“That’s the part that scared the hell out of me. He had nowhere to go but down. My son is not Ted Williams.”

Everyone knew it would be impossible for Snow to continue at this pace, and the Angels were not going to stay in first place the entire season, but the dream continued.

Snow became one of the biggest crazes to hit Southern California since the surfboard. Everyone wanted a piece of him. He was receiving nearly 200 fan letters daily. Classmates from third grade were calling him. Stacks of interview and promotional requests awaited him every day he entered the clubhouse.

“That’s where the trouble started,” said shortstop Gary DiSarcina, who had a locker next to Snow. “He tried to accommodate everyone but himself. Instead of coming to the ballpark for early work, he was there doing interviews and signing everything.

“He was carrying the entire ballclub, but he had so much thrown onto his shoulders, you knew something was bound to happen.”

It finally did. In that nationally televised game against the Red Sox, Clemens, taking it upon himself to provide his own rookie initiation program, fired a pitch behind Snow’s head that sent him sprawling. Snow struck out, and for the first time in a week, failed to get a hit during the game.

Then Snow learned all about how umpires carried out their initiation programs the next night. He was called out on a third strike and, frustrated, dropped his bat and helmet at the plate.

The plate umpire, whom the Angels would prefer not to name because of possible repercussions, screamed at Snow: “Hey kid, just remember I can bury you in this game. I can get you sent back to A-ball just as quickly as you got here.”

Rodgers intervened, but it soon became a trend that the Angels would complain about all season. Still, it was no excuse. The pitches that Snow had been sending over the fence now were being hit meekly to second base.

“I went from doing everything right,” Snow said, “to doing everything possibly wrong. I tried everything. I looked at videotapes. I took extra batting practice.

“The more things I tried, the more nothing worked. It was the toughest, most difficult thing I’ve ever had to go through in my life.”

Snow, who was batting .343 by the end of April, hit .124 in May, and his season average plummeted to .223 before Rodgers summoned him to his office on the night of July 26.

The words came from Rodgers, but Snow was too dazed to hear them. He was being sent to Vancouver.

He was back in the minor leagues.

“It didn’t hit me until I was sitting in the L.A. airport waiting for my flight to Vancouver,” Snow said. “It was like, ‘Man, what happened to me? Am I this bad? Was April just a fluke?’

“I couldn’t even think straight.”

The decision numbed the entire team. It was as if they had suddenly realized that their dream season was over. They had lost 10 of their last 11 games, dropping nine game behind the Chicago White Sox and out of contention in the American League West.

“It was very tough for all of us,” Angel second baseman Torey Lovullo said. “We all know what J.T. meant to this team. It was incredible what he did for this team early on.”

Right fielder Tim Salmon, who would become the unanimous winner of the rookie-of-the-year award, benefited perhaps more than anyone from Snow’s start. While everyone was mesmerized by Snow, few even noticed that Salmon was batting .234 in the first month of the season.

“I thanked him for taking the spotlight off me,” Salmon said. “I was able to learn from his mistakes. I got a chance to stand back and keep my perspective.

“J.T. never had a chance to do that. You could see his expectations change. They became too great. He just put too much pressure on himself.”

The despair of being back in the minors was difficult to overcome. It felt bad enough just being in Vancouver, but the pangs of guilt over letting his friends and family down were even worse.

It was the first time Snow had ever felt like a failure. He had excelled at everything he tried, and was selected to the all-CIF teams in football, basketball and baseball.

“It was just sick how good he was in every sport,” said San Diego Padres reliever Trevor Hoffman, who grew up competing against Snow in Orange County. “He was a man among boys.”

It took several days to recover emotionally, but Snow finally realized that this might be for the best. Besides, his friends had told him that Mickey Mantle was sent down to the minors in his rookie season, and he turned out all right.

“The hardest part was that in the players’ lounge they always had the Angels’ games on TV,” Snow said. “I couldn’t watch it. I’d just go back to my locker.”

Said Jack Snow: “I came real close to going up to Vancouver myself, but then I thought, ‘Hey, the kid has to do this one his own. He’s got to do it himself.’

“But I’ll tell you, it was hard on all of us. We went to a few (Angel) games, but it was difficult to watch Rene Gonzales play first base when you think your son should be the one out there.”

Snow, who went zero for 13 with eight strikeouts in his first four games at Vancouver, returned to Anaheim three weeks later. He had raised his batting average to .340 with five homers and 24 RBIs by the time Vancouver Manager Max Oliveras told the Angels that Triple-A no longer presented a challenge.

Snow came back a more aggressive, confident hitter, attacking the ball instead of waiting for the perfect pitch. During the final five weeks of the season, he batted .281 with five homers and 14 RBIs.

“I may be wrong,” Oliveras said, “but I don’t think he’ll ever be going back there again.”

*

Snow sat on an otherwise empty bench, recalling things he had long tried to forget. His teammates had left the practice field nearly an hour ago, but when Snow got up to leave, he was swarmed by two dozen fans.

He stopped, signed autographs and smiled politely, listening to everyone’s advice. “Go get ‘em, J.T. Do it just like you did in April, J.T. You’re still our favorite, J.T.”

He wondered if the fans would still be there for him if he hadn’t grown up in Orange County, in the shadow of Anaheim Stadium. But he also had doubts whether his struggles would have been so severe if he weren’t a local hero.

“Playing in your hometown was a lot tougher than I thought it would be,” Snow said. “Everybody was always seeing me, whether it’s coming to the game at home or watching one on TV while we’re on the road. It’s almost like it gave everyone the right to give me advice or make suggestions.”

This year will be different, Snow vowed. It’s not as if he’ll turn into a jerk, but he’s going to quit trying to accommodate the world. If he needs advice, he plans to listen to batting coach Rod Carew and Rodgers. If he needs comfort and solace, he said he’ll turn to his bride, Stacie, whom he married in November.

“I think I’ve shown people I can play this game. I know I belong. There’s no doubt in my mind.

“There’s nothing I’d like better than to get off to that kind of start again, but if I do, I promise you things will be different.

“Oh yeah, things will be different.”