Islander In The Sun

Sporting News, The, Oct 9, 2000 by Sean Deveney

At age 23, Andruw Jones has reached midday of what shapes up as a brilliant carrer. No longer on Caribbean cruise control, he's ready to shine in the postseason.

Here comes Andruw Jones, strutting through the Braves clubhouse slick as an oil stain, smiling, flashing more dimples than a Titleist. His sunglasses are on, though he is indoors, which does not matter because it is overcast outside anyway. His cell phone is pressed hard against his ear. He is talking softly, maybe to no one at all. A former teammate once said Jones walks around the Braves clubhouse "like he's Willie Mays or something," but you have to wonder if Willie Mays ever walked this proudly, ever wore his sunglasses inside on a cloudy day.

Jones is a famous 23-year-old. As such, he is a hot dog, a ham or any other meat product that applies. When he was growing up on the island of Curacao, playing third base as a 10-year-old, he would field grounders and hold them, letting the helpless young batters run down the line, before he'd throw to first. Jones still does that sort of thing. He makes one-handed catches at his waist. Sometimes, he throws a 100-foot underhanded flip to get the ball back to the infield after a catch. But he is also a natural, as natural as Mays. Jones can react to a ball before it is hit; he can just feel where it is going by the location of the pitch and the timing of the swing. He always seems to be running downhill and makes extraordinary catches seem predestined.

Jones is not such a natural at the plate, though, and it has taken him a few years in the major leagues to realize that. He went far just on natural ability in the minors, hitting .308 with 59 home runs in his only two full seasons in the Braves' farm system. When he got to the majors, the natural part of hitting--dealing with fastballs--was not a problem for Jones. He has been among the top five fastball hitters in baseball since his first full season, 1997, and always has done best in fastball counts. When behind in the count, though, Jones has been awful. He chases anything out of the strike zone. Before this season, he hit .209 when he fell behind in the count and .165 in two-strike counts. This is where natural ability failed Jones, where he had to rely on smarts and patience. He was lacking both.

"I knew that was a problem," Jones says. "I had a lot to work on. If it is just see the ball, hit the ball, I am fine, you know. Hit it as hard as I can, pull it. But after that, I needed to work."

This realization struck Jones after last season, when he hit just .077 as the Braves were swept by the Yankees in the World Series. He hit .185 overall in the postseason. He saw how far his natural hitting ability would take him: a career average of .260. So Jones worked during the off-season, he worked in spring training, he works now before games and even after games. He has hit .303 this year without sacrificing his power (35 home runs and 102 RBIs) and made the National League All-Star team. He hit .279 when he falls behind in the count and is up to .201 with two strikes. He is the most dangerous No. 2 hitter in the league.

But this season will be a success only if Jones can atone for the failure of last year's postseason. He must continue to hit well in the playoffs, he must help the Braves get back to the World Series, and he must do better than .077 once they get there. Jones has an easy manner and an orange-slice smile, a demeanor that was forged during his childhood on Curacao, a resort island just off Venezuela's coast. But he is shedding that easiness for these playoffs.

"All year, we play for that," Jones says. "That's why I have been working hard. I guess I have been getting tired at the end of the year, but I won't. Not this year."

At night, the tides of the Caribbean Sea massage the tiny island of Curacao, ocean waves pushing into the hollows of the volcanic rock that forms the island's west coast. The sea moves in with a heavy huff and slides out in a whisper. In and out the tide comes, huff and whisper, huff and whisper. Local legend says it is the sound of the island breathing as she sleeps, telling the inhabitants that she is like them, that they all must sleep. It is the sound that connects each Curacaoan to the land and to each other.

Curacao is a modernized country, part of the Netherlands Antilles. The economy is based on tourism, offshore banking and a sprawling Venezuelan oil refinery. Most adults on the island speak four languages: Spanish, Dutch, English and Papiamento, a local combination of the three. Still, Curacao (CURE-a-sow) is a small-town place (population 160,000). The people are laid-back and friendly. There is room within the island's modernization to maintain the notion that the sound of the waves really is the sound of the island breathing, that people are connected to each other.

"It's almost like everyone knows you," Jones says.

Everyone, at least, knows Andruw Jones. In 1996, when he was 19 and playing for the Braves in the World Series, the island shut down on game days. Big screens were set up in Johnny Vrutaal Stadium, and 15,000 people turned out to watch him play against the Yankees. The Braves lost the series, but Jones, who hit two home runs in Game 1, returned home a hero, greeted by a parade and an islandwide celebration. His 1996 return ranks second in the recent history of big events on Curacao--just ahead of the visit by Dutch Queen Beatrix, and just behind a visit a few years ago by the Pope.