Matt Wieters: A catcher in the public eye

Pam Wieters remembers those hot and humid summer nights like they were yesterday. Each evening, she would sit in the yard of her South Carolina home and listen to the sounds of rawhide colliding with aluminum, as her son took swings in a makeshift batting cage.

To this day, the sound still evokes memories of when her boy was an anonymous teenager with a passion for baseball - not the sport's top prospect.

"I would love hearing that ping," she said. "I miss that so much."

She paused.

"You know - I never, ever really thought of him as anything other than my son."

Baltimore Orioles fans have their own thoughts on Matt Wieters. Many see the Norfolk Tides' switch-hitting catcher as a symbol of hope for a franchise that hasn't had a winning season in 12 years.

That Wieters has the potential to be the transcendent player the Orioles have lacked since Cal Ripken Jr. retired isn't just hyperbole. He's 6-foot-5 with sandy blond hair, the arm of a closer, the maturity of a veteran and the power of the game's best sluggers.

Last season, in his first year as a professional, he split time between Class A Frederick and Double-A Bowie, hitting .355 with 27 homers and 91 RBIs. Baseball Prospectus said Wieters had put together the most impressive campaign of any minor leaguer in four decades.

"In short, he's special," Orioles manager Dave Trembley said.

The buildup of Wieters in Baltimore is high. Some believe he could be the star that former No. 1 draft pick Ben McDonald never amounted to, the quick fix that free-agent acquisition Albert Belle never became and the loyal superstar that ace pitcher Mike Mussina wasn't.

"Even Atheists believe in Matt Wieters," one fan proclaims on an Orioles message board.

The possibilities do seem endless for Baseball America's minor league Player of the Year in 2008.

"As far as I'm concerned, I would be happy to de-hype this thing," Orioles president of baseball operations Andy MacPhail said. "But it's beyond our control."

Never was that more apparent than last fall in Arizona, when Wieters played alongside some of Baltimore's other high-profile prospects. Tides manager Gary Allenson tried to board the bus in Scottsdale after a game when he was rushed by fans looking to score Wieters' autograph.

"One guy had a life-size portrait of him in his uniform," Allenson said. "I've had pretty good players play for me before, but not with the expectations this guy has."

The 22-year-old carrying the burden of a beleaguered organization on his broad shoulders doesn't seem to mind, however. The circumstances might have changed. But he hasn't, according to his mother and teammates who have been around him. Wieters is just an older, wiser version of the boy in the back yard in Goose Creek, S.C., dreaming of making it to the major leagues.

"I just want to go play," he said from the dugout in Harbor Park earlier this month. "It's something I look forward to every day. This is what I like doing. The other stuff just sort of comes with it."

If Matt Wieters sounds too good to be true, it's because he almost is. He could easily have been the subject of a Norman Rockwell painting.

But Wieters is real, and baseball already has played an important part in his life. After all, his parents probably wouldn't have met if the sport had not been such an important part of their lives.

More than 30 years ago, Wieters' father, Richard, was a hard-throwing pitcher at the Atlanta Braves' Double-A affiliate in Savannah, Ga., when he befriended teammate Mike Shields.

Neither player would make it to the major leagues, but before their careers ended, Shields had introduced Richard to his sister Pam. The two eventually hit it off, were married and had two children.

The youngest was Matt, who from an early age gravitated toward the game. The toys and drum s his parents gave him on Christmas never grabbed Wieters' attention.

Baseball did. Matt and his father, a certified public accountant, would watch games for hours, trying to predict the next pitch. In the summers, they would head to the beach and play a modified version of stickball that was popular in Charleston, S.C. The game, called half-rubber, tested even the most dexterous players as the batters used a broomstick to hit a ball that resembled a shuttlecock.

"My dad was never forcing me to play baseball," Wieters said. " It's something I wanted, and he was there for me. He's been the biggest influence in my baseball life - by far."

As Wieters grew older, so did his appetite for the game. When he was in middle school, his parents installed a batting cage, and every night, Matt would take 100-200 swings from each side of the plate. Often, he didn't stop until it was too dark to see the baseball. Summers were spent traveling the country to play in tournaments.

By the time Wieters was a high school senior, he had physically matured and had become a highly regarded prospect. Agents stopped by his house. Surveys from teams flooded his mailbox.

One of the questions commonly asked, "What would it take for you to sign?" They all got the same answer: Something they couldn't offer.

Matt Wieters knew all along he was going to college. Sure, this was his chance to leave behind classes and homework and devote his life to baseball. Yet he never doubted he would honor his commitment to Georgia Tech, which produced stars such as Nomar Garciaparra, Jason Varitek and Mark Teixeira.

"The minor leagues can be a tough place for a 19-year-old kid," Wieters said. "I can't even imagine what my life would have been like if I hadn't gone to college."

At Georgia Tech, Wieters became an All-American, an emerging star who seemed to have the preternatural ability to do everything well. A cerebral player who could coordinate a pitching staff from behind the plate, he also threw a 95-mph fastball as Tech's closer. His skills in the batter's box were even more impressive. In three years with the Yellow Jackets, Wieters hit .359.

In one defining performance against Miami his freshman season, he smacked a home run in the ninth inning that gave the Yellow Jackets the lead, then picked up the save. After his heroics, teammates called him, "God."

As Wieters' legend grew, his mother would track his progress, piecing together scrapbooks of his clips. She would even scour eBay, buying any memorabilia of his she could find.

"I can't believe you're paying for that," Matt said with slight disdain.

Wieters, after all, seems to dislike the attention. When he was on the cover of Baseball America, Wieters never told his parents.

When his mother alerted him to articles that mentioned his name, he changed the subject.

"He wants to play ball," Pam said. "He doesn't want to be in the limelight."

Yet he can't escape it. Wieters, who played for the USA National Team, hit .364 during a junior season that cemented his status as one of the game's best young players.

Later in 2007, Baltimore took him fifth overall in the June draft. His agent, Scott Boras - a notoriously hard bargainer - wrangled a $6 million signing bonus out of the Orioles. But the organization invested more than just a significant amount of cash in Wieters. It had pinned its hopes on Wieters, counting on him to change the fortunes of a franchise and make it a contender in one of baseball's toughest divisions.

"We're delighted to have a prospect that has captured everybody's imagination," MacPhail said. "But we don't want to put any more pressure on this kid than there already is going to be. I don't want to get the expectation level up to something he can't possibly meet."

MacPhail's desire to turn down the volume on Wieters might be one reason he's in Norfolk to start the season. The other motive is more about business than Wieters' development. If the team postpones his promotion to the majors until June, he would not be eligible for salary arbitration until 2012. By then, if all goes according to plan, the Orioles are anticipating Wieters could command big money.

Conventional thinking in baseball circles says he will.

"I don't think it's just hype," Orioles catcher Chad Moeller said.

Moeller's not alone. But is Wieters ready to take the next step and become the face of a franchise, As he stares into the outfield at Harbor Park, he thinks about what his new world will be like - under the microscope, in the crucible of the major leagues.

"Baseball is just like life," Wieters said. "You are going to have to adjust. You are going to have to change... Nothing is ever going to stay the same. You are going to have to endure certain situations you were not ready for. It's just how you handle it."

At that point, reality sets in: The boy in Pam Wieters' back yard is all grown up. And perhaps ready to meet his destiny.

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