Pitcher waits in Norfolk, wondering what might have been

NORFOLK

The sun is setting and Hayden Penn peers out from the dugout. He stares beyond the fence at Harbor Park, beyond the brush lining the Elizabeth River and the steel girders of the bridge trestle, where everything past Norfolk's industrial landscape dissolves into a blur.

It's as if he's searching for answers, trying to understand why he's here, still climbing the mound every five days to pitch in the minor leagues.

It's hard to blame him.

Only three years ago, Penn was in the major leagues, making his debut at age 20. He wasn't even old enough to drink and he had already zipped through the minors in a whirlwind journey that was supposed to end with him locked into the Baltimore Orioles' rotation. Penn was tagged as the franchise's pitcher of the future, a 6-foot-3 righthander with a fastball that clipped 95 mph.

He was full of promise... and then his luck began to change.

A strange malady and a series of arm injuries the past two seasons have left him uncertain if and when he will return to the major leagues.

"It does make you think about what it could have been," Penn said. "But things happen."

There is a hint of wistfulness in Penn's voice, as if he's trying to come to grips with the randomness of it all: the unusually quick rise to the majors, the stunning setbacks and the short window of time in which it has all occurred. Life is full of chance, Penn said. There is no plan.

And no day reinforced that better than March 5, 2001.

It was another sunny morning in Southern California as Penn was walking down the hallway at Santana High School when the shooting began.

Penn, a junior, saw a student clenching a gun as he emerged from a bathroom.

Pop, pop, pop.

Seconds later, a security guard doubled over near a Coke machine, hit multiple times. Without thinking, Penn raced away from the scene, away from a tragedy that ended with the death of two teenagers and left 13 wounded in his hometown of Santee.

But Penn never really escaped. The random act of violence committed by a 15-year-old freshman still haunts him.

"He was shaken up," said Penn's 28 year-old brother, Zach Papike.

Penn knew three of the kids who were shot. Suddenly, his perspective on things changed. A poor performance on the mound no longer tormented him. An off night on the basketball court wasn't so bad. A gifted two-sport athlete, Penn believed his own trials and tribulations were minor compared to those experienced by the victims of the shootings.

"You realize how precious life is," Penn said. "Anyone can have it taken from us on any given day. If things weren't going well with sports, it's sports - not life."

Still, Penn maintained a competitive spirit and, by his senior season, began throwing the ball faster. He signed with San Diego State and was prepared to become a member of Hall of Famer Tony Gwynn's first recruiting class. Had the Orioles not selected Penn in the fifth round of the 2002 draft, he would likely have played baseball and basketball in college, as Gwynn did for the Aztecs two decades before.

"He is an outstanding athlete," said Orioles player and friend Adam Loewen. "If he wanted to, I think he could be a great shortstop."

But Baltimore wanted Penn to pitch and, by 2005, Baseball America rated him the organization's No. 2

prospect, ahead of current New York Mets starter John Maine. That same year, he bypassed Triple-A and was in the majors. The rapid ascension was mind-boggling, Penn admitted.

"I was so shocked," he said. "If you tried to think about it, it could be too overwhelming at times."

In eight starts, Penn went 3-2 with a 6.34 ERA. The numbers weren't great, but the future seemed bright. He was on the fast track to success.

What could go wrong?

"If you split Hayden's career up, there was the part where everything good was happening and then there is the part when he had his share of bad luck," Papike said.

A turning point came May 23, 2006. Earlier that month, Penn was playing for Triple-A Ottawa, where he emerged as the team's best pitcher. He was 2-2 with a 1.48 ERA. Opposing hitters were batting just .190 against him. The Orioles were so impressed that they decided to recall Penn again, this time planning to keep him around if he fared well in a start against the Mariners.

Penn headed to Seattle intent on claiming a firm spot in the rotation but, when Penn arrived at Safeco Field, he wasn't feeling well.

"I thought I had a real bad stomach virus," Penn said. "The pain became extreme."

The team trainer sent Penn to the hospital, where doctors found he was suffering from appendicitis. He underwent an emergency operation.

Loewen took Penn's spot that day, making his major league debut at the expense of his bed-ridden

friend. The cruel twist of fate was almost too much for either to stomach.

"It was weird," Loewen said. "I wanted to see him do well and he was throwing real well at the time. And there was nothing he could do about it and nothing I can do about it. That was my shot."

Penn would return to Baltimore that September, reuniting with Loewen, but his second stint in the majors was a disaster.

In six starts, he was 0-4 with a 15.10 ERA, stats that caused consternation for the Orioles' top brass.

Almost two years after he flatlined on the mound that fall, he has not been back with the Orioles.

There was a time when Penn's destiny didn't seem to be in Triple-A. But, these days, he is one of the more familiar faces at Harbor Park, having spent the past two years with the Tides, shuttling back and forth between the active roster and the disabled list.

Inside Norfolk's clubhouse, he plays a regular game of cards. When he's not doing that, he's usually camped in front of a television. Penn is treated like a veteran because, in many ways, he has the medical history of one.

A week into last season, Penn experienced pain in his right forearm. He was diagnosed with bone spurs in his right elbow and made only four starts for the Tides. This season, he missed most of June with soreness in his shoulder.

It was just the latest blow to Penn, who has suffered one setback after another as he has watched pitchers - many of them younger players once considered lesser prospects - promoted.

"He has had some guys go by him," Tides manager Gary Allenson said. "But it's not too late. It's certainly not too late for him."

Allenson recognizes Penn as a work in progress, an unfinished sketch that has been drawn, erased and redrawn. There are times when he has been indomitable, but those bright moments have been masked by maddening inconsistency.

In his past 10 starts, he has only lasted seven or more innings twice; his inability to control his pitch count has been his downfall this season. The 4-6 record and 5.17 ERA are by-products of his inefficiency.

"You can't get by on your stuff anymore," Tides pitching coach Larry McCall said. "The older you get and after going through some arm problems, you are not going to be throwing 95, 96, 97. You've got to learn to locate. That is the growing-up process of pitching."

Since his latest injury, Penn has maintained a constant dialogue with Loewen, who has endured his share of adversity. Words of advice, empathy and motivation are part of their conversations. There is the physical aspect to an injury and then there is the mental one, Loewen said.

"It's tough to come back and be effective right away," said Loewen, who suffered a stress fracture in his left elbow this month and decided to give up pitching to focus on playing in the field. "You struggle, but you try to keep a positive approach."

Penn has done that, refusing to pity himself as he rebuilds his arm strength and weans himself off the fastball that made him a hot, young prospect. While the pitch is still his most reliable, he has added a sinker to go with a changeup and a curveball.

"He's only 23 years old," McCall said. "He still has a future ahead. But, bottom line, he has to stay healthy and he knows what he has to do to get back to the big leagues. Hopefully, he does it."

Penn believes he will.

"Stuff happens to everybody in life," he said. "I don't look at it as 'Poor me' or anything like that."

Besides, as Penn said, there will always be tomorrow.

Rainer Sabin, (757) 446-2367, rainer.sabin@pilotonline.com