Pena's presence brings class and grace to first base


Phoenix -- Baseball people love to impersonate each other, for comic
relief, and there was a beauty going around the A's camp yesterday: A
guy climbing onto his truck, spiffing up the roof with a soapy
sponge, then falling to the cement with a resounding "Ow!"

Was that really Jeff Kent? A broken hand because he couldn't take the
damn thing to a car wash? San Francisco's misfortune becomes an East
Bay punchline, and the rivalry lives on.

The incident was especially ripe for the wit-and-sarcasm crowd
because it won't make much difference in the long haul. Kent should
be back in mid-April and by then, with luck, even the Giants will be
laughing about it. If you're looking for a high-impact Bay Area story
in the Arizona desert, it just might be the kid replacing Jason
Giambi as the A's first baseman.

The day starts with a sportswriter venturing into the clubhouse --
never a particularly fun task in any big-league camp. Outside
interests simply don't belong in the players' sanctuary, and their
reaction to media intrusion ranges from grudging acceptance to
outright resentment. Writers are constantly seeking ways to be cool,
unobtrusive or, in a perfect world, invisible.

Spotting the kid sitting casually on the clubhouse floor, chatting
with a teammate, the writer squatted down like a catcher to make his
introduction. At which point the kid interrupted his conversation,
stood up and extended his hand.

"Hello," he said with a winning smile. "I'm Carlos Pena."

You'll hear a lot more about the 23-year-old Pena in the coming days,
but you learn plenty from that scene alone. In a very short time, he
has established himself as one of the classiest, most polite young
players in anyone's memory. "He's already the smoothest guy in here,
next to (David) Justice," said one member of the A's
organization. "Talk about articulate; he speaks in complete
paragraphs."

Of course, Brian Kingman was a great guy, too. So were Bill Krueger,
Mark Acre and Rodney (Cool Breeze) Scott. Spring training is a
wonderful time to get carried away with personality. But there's
something about Pena that inspires awe, and the buzz of earnest
baseball talk. He just has that look.

Out of nowhere, a Phoenix Stadium security guard started talking
about Pena yesterday. Nobody asked the guy, he just had to tell
someone. "I've been an A's fan since the Shibe Park days in Philly,"
he said, "and this is a special kid. Watch him hit: the hips, the
shoulders, the rotation, everything's perfect. The way he carries
himself. Whatever they gave up to get him, it was worth it."

The A's did give up four prospects to get Pena from Texas in the wake
of Giambi's departure, including prized pitcher Mario Ramos and
slugging first baseman Jason Hart. In return they got a graceful,
left-handed power hitter whose breakout season in 2000 -- .299, 28
homers, 105 RBIs for the Rangers' Double-A club -- stamped him as the
best first-base prospect in the game.

But if you're thinking the A's farm system was stripped bare, you're
forgetting that general manager Billy Beane is in charge. Thanks to
the compensation picks coming for free-agent losses Johnny Damon,
Jason Isringhausen and Giambi, the A's will have 7 of the first 39
picks -- all before the start of the second round -- in the upcoming
June draft. They remain the model for small-market ingenuity and
exactly what they've been the last two years: Young, thrifty and
dominant.

Because Pena's family left their Dominican Republic home for Boston
when he was 13, Pena sounds decidedly American in his speech, and the
northeastern influence gave him a cosmopolitan slant on life. He
thinks not of Giambi, or what the A's fans might think, but of "my
own goals and dreams," he says. "I know what it takes to be a star. I
feel that if I fight for my dreams and goals, all of the expectations
will be met."

He says he's a line-drive hitter whose best shots happen to leave the
park. He says to be a good hitter, "You don't try to copy the guys
going deep on 'SportsCenter.' You swallow your pride and leave your
ego in the dugout." He says he plans to "stay like a child" in his
probing of veteran players, even when he's a veteran himself, "and
I'm sure David Justice could tell you all about it. I've been here
two weeks and he doesn't want to see me any more (laughter)."

The low point of Pena's young life, he said, came when he was in high
school, gaining so little notice from Division I colleges, he drafted
a form letter and sent it out to some 100 schools. Only three
replied. "That makes it a good story, because you've got conflict,"
he says. "No book is good without that conflict. But with the end
comes resolution. I'm hoping it's a happy ending."