Homesteaders

Sporting News, The, April 17, 1995 by Steve Marantz

"Call us the Homestead Homies," says Velarde, a former Yankees utility infielder. "We're just a bunch of misfits."

But lineups don't last long at Camp Homestead. By the second day Stewart (A's), Witt (Marlins), Gallagher and Devereaux (White Sox) departed with jobs. New arrivals were Howell, Ricky Jordan, Mike Bielecki and Santiago.

Free agents come in all shapes, with varying degrees of skill, experience and success. They share one trait. "Nobody wants to be here," Sanderson says. "It's pretty simple." Most players arrive with emotional hangovers from the strike. Player-bashing has been a public sport for months; they are suffering from its cumulative effect. Arguably, these players are the most serious casualties of the strike, their circumstance a consequence of tactics and economic desolation. The irony is that as free agents, out of work, uncertain of their futures, they now stand before TV cameras and apologize for the strike.

They do so, almost to a man, humbly and contritely, expressing regret about pain caused fans and damage done to the game. They pledge their intention to help rebuild baseball.

But a conflict between what they are saying and feeling occasionally bubbles up from an emotional depth. There are no lack of bruised feelings -- no lack of anger and anxiety -- at Camp Homestead. I'm shocked at the caliber of players I see here," says Velarde, 32, a .279 hitter in 1994. "You come to this camp and you're thinking you should be with a caliber of people coming off bad years. It's a shame to see guys coming off good years. I've had good years the last three or four years, and to be caught up in this kind of camp ... I think if nothing happens in a week I'll probably go home."

Velarde, a righthanded hitter, questions the Yankees giving up on him. "They told me they've got two good backup shortstops and they're looking for a lefthanded stick," he says. "I can do those things, and I'll take a cut." Their offer, he says, was $200,000, less than a fifth of his 1994 salary of $1.125 million. That was more of a cut than Velarde deemed reasonable. "I expected a cut," he says, "but that's chopping you off, leaving nothing but toes."

The biggest factor working against Santiago is his 1994 salary of $3.8 million. He was reportedly offered a one-year deal for $200,000 -- less than he once paid for a car. The Marlins were more interested in Charles Johnson, a former University of Miami star who is ready for their catching job. "I've got a few teams interested in me," Santiago says, "but you can see how everything's changed."

Sabo, cut loose by the Orioles, says he wonders why two other third basemen, Terry Pendleton and Charlie Hayes, with 1994 numbers similar to his, succeeded in landing deals. Sabo, 32, a 1988 National League Rookie of the Year with the Reds, suspects he acquired a label last season in complaining about being asked to play the outfield. As a result, the Orioles did not play Sabo regularly. When Sabo left last weekend, it was only to spend a day with his wife, who was expecting.