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From Milk Cartons to Majors

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TIMES STAFF WRITER

Luis Castillo reached into his locker and pulled out a white, rectangular box. About a foot long, it was the closest thing to his childhood glove he could find.

The switch-hitting Dominican has become one of the Florida Marlins’ most sure-handed fielders. And he’s been using a leather mitt for only the last 11 years.

Before that, he couldn’t afford one, so he had to use a plastic milk carton.

Castillo would cut off the top, and while holding onto its handle, he would scoop up ground balls in the streets of San Pedro de Macoris in the Dominican Republic.

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“I’m probably a better fielder because I used it,” Castillo says.

Natural ability helped, too. Even if he had to use a milk carton now, the 24-year-old Castillo still might be one of the best second basemen in the league.

He had a breakthrough season in 1999, hitting .302 and stealing a team-record 50 bases, and he’s improved again this year.

Castillo, who made news last month when he tried to fine himself for a botched bunt, was hitting .366 with a .478 on-base percentage heading into the weekend. He also had a major league leading 26 stolen bases.

“He’s the backbone for us scoring right now,” teammate Cliff Floyd says. “He’s the best second baseman in the game. He does it all, and he’s really coming into his own. He’s going to be a big part of us getting back to the big dance, the World Series.”

Although he has been slowed by a sore right thigh and a twisted left ankle, Castillo still has range from shallow right field to deep behind second base, making it difficult for ground balls to find the outfield. He has turned countless--and flawless--double plays.

He has made everyone look better, including manager John Boles.

“He changes our team,” says Boles, who took over last season and quickly gave the starting job to Castillo.

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Boles believed in the young player, a big change from what Castillo had seen from the Marlins in previous years.

He spent his first three seasons bouncing between the major and minor leagues. He was disheartened, sometimes thinking about leaving Florida to play elsewhere.

But after a season with Boles, Castillo’s confidence soared along with his batting average.

And it’s still rising.

“There’s more there,” infield coach Tony Taylor says. “I don’t think we’ve seen all of Luis Castillo yet. He can be one of the best leadoff hitters in the game. If this kid goes, everything goes for us. This guy is a special ballplayer, an impact player.”

Castillo’s not going to hit 25 home runs; he has just two in more than 1,200 career at-bats. He’s not going to drive in 100 runs, either; he has just two RBIs in 41 games.

But Castillo does help produce runs with his legs. He has 26 stolen bases despite missing 19 games because of the injuries.

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“When I feel 100 percent, when my legs are good, I feel like the base is right there, right in front of me,” Castillo says, pointing at a chair a few feet away.

He watches video tape of the opposing pitchers before every game, studying their moves and trying to identify their tendencies. He’s used to extra work to try to improve.

Even with a milk carton in hand, Castillo would spend hours every day working on the fundamentals of the game.

“He never had much,” Taylor says. “But I don’t think he knows it. He has a desire to just be the best and make it in the big leagues. Every day, he’s still getting better.”

Boston Red Sox manager Jimy Williams said Castillo is “everything you read about.”

“He’s one tough cowboy to get out,” Williams said.

The Marlins have high hopes for Castillo, almost as high as Castillo has for himself.

After failing to lay down a sacrifice bunt in the ninth inning against Cincinnati in May, Castillo tried to fine himself.

After the game, he grabbed a fistful of money from his locker, walked into Boles’ office and threw the cash on the desk.

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Castillo had two hits and three stolen bases in the game, but none of that mattered. He wanted to pay for the botched bunt, but Boles refused to take the money.

“I’m always going to feel bad when I make a mistake. I want to win,” Castillo says. “To this day, I’m really mad. I know I can bunt.”

He can run, hit and field, too. Even with a milk carton.

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