25 million dollars with a chance for 40+ if everything goes his way? Good for Chris Archer. Good for all of us, too.
Of course that’s easy for me to say, I know the guy. I played with him in Triple A for part of a season. I sat next to him in the Bull’s dugout and talked shop. Back then he was only 22—and a 22 year old that didn’t go to some D-1 super college—but still, as we twiddled away the final months of a Triple A season, riding the pine between appearances, Arch spoke with an amount of insight and understanding that would make you think baseball was a waste of his time. Not in a bad way, but in that wow, this guy could be anything way.
Seriously, the kid could be the next president.
You can’t say that about many people, virtually none that play baseball—where fat woman are used for medicinal purposes. Hell, I can’t even list ten former teammates off the top of my head that I’m sure can read.
But, even if I could, lots of the so called “smart ones” are just talented players that get enough good quotes in at the right times to earn a nick-name like “professor”.
Arch is the real deal. In 2011, with no previous college mandates to do so, he knew poetry and its symbolism. Read the classics, the modern hits, and the mental streamlining books so many athletes are hip to. He was up on politics and economics, school issues and poverty factors, religions and spirituality. He was constantly pushing to improve himself in every direction.
And it wasn’t so he could sound erudite for wowing in small talk. Arch was a renaissance man, smart, poised, relaxed, and respectful.
What does this have to do with him as a pitcher? Nothing and everything.
The simple fact is no one would care about any of this deep thinking narrative fluff if he wasn’t a true talent. But lots of talents come and go. What makes all this that I’ve told you about Archer important? It’s Archer’s ability to carry this poise and intellect to the mound.
Archer was fighting for his worth in a pro uniform at age 17. When I was 17, I was trying to leverage my McDonalds paycheck in order to get the valedictorian to go to the prom with me (she did, FYI—dumbest decision of her life).
Archer carries himself on the mound like a man who has grown up in battle. He’s at ease out there. Everything is moving slow to him, which lets that incredible insight of his go to work. In fact, he’s even aware that, from time to time, he’s too aware and needs to let go and lock in.
He learns quick because he loves to learn quick—both big picture and small. The game’s granularities are not lost on him, but neither do they overwhelm him. He compensates, adjusts, adapts, applies. He has a plan and can stick to it when others come unhinged. His stuff is excellent, but he will endure as a pitcher because of his ability to command his mind and a baseball field.
But the most important quality I believe he has, and has always had, is the ability to turn it off.
The gift that the intelligent player has is also his curse. The mental chase is also a trap. A pitcher who understands that he is a player, and that playing is a gift but can also become life sentence if he loses control of it, is rare. At Archer’s age, it’s down right exceptional.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Archer goes onto do great things on a field as well as off it. Or if he ends up frustrating and astounding some of the baseball universe with his delightfully non-obsessive observations about the game. He’s that kind of talent.
Like I said, good for Chris Archer. Good for all of us, too.