In the spring of this year, St. Louis media outlets, including St. Louis Sports Online, were chock-full of quotes and proclamations from Cardinals executives and various experts outlining the magnificence of 2000 Rookie Pitcher of the Year Rick Ankiel.

The opinions generally included mention of the Rick Ankiel Arsenal, which includes a heavy fastball, a sharp-breaking curve, and an out-of-this-world change-up.

Furthermore, the fact that all three of these pitches are found within the repertoire of one individual, a gifted 22-year-old lefthander...well, the consensus was, and remains, that the physical tools of Rick Ankiel are Koufax-like.

Those tools, in 2000's regular season, attracted the attention of even the most casual baseball fans, who could see with their own eyes that Rick Ankiel was special.

Unfortunately for Ankiel and the Cardinals, baseball fans also witnessed Rick Ankiel's spectacular flame-out in the 2000 Division Series and NLCS, when he lost complete control of his pitches and his equilibrium.

So the Ankiel supporters generally felt compelled to address hard-to-quantify topics bordering on what Cardinals manager Tony La Russa refers to as "personal", as opposed to "professional".

In these opinions, Ankiel's advocates stated that the young lefthander was going to recover from his wildness because he is (a) well-liked by his teammates; (b) a good person; (c) mentally strong; (d) mentally tough; (e) very mature; and/or (f) wise beyond his years.

And as the 2001 calendar creeps toward September, Rick Ankiel's days as a Rookie Leaguer at Johnson City, TN, where he has been based for the better part of the 2001 season, are diminishing at a rapid rate, because Johnson City's season-ending game is scheduled for August 28.

At the end of August, therefore, the Cardinals' brass has a decision to make concerning the immediate future of Rick Ankiel, who, according to Tony La Russa, is "happy again".

After that date, "he'll be around here," said La Russa, addressing Ankiel's September probable whereabouts--meaning that when the rosters expand, Ankiel will travel with the big league club.

But Tony La Russa also said that Ankiel will be "around a long time. He's only 22, he's going to make it, and he is going to be great. So we're going to take the long view with Rick".

All of which means that whether Rick Ankiel pitches at all, in any meaningful September big-league game, remains to be seen.

Maybe the troika of La Russa, General Manager Walt Jocketty, and pitching coach Dave Duncan know for sure what they have in mind...but the rest of us, at this point, are only guessers.

Like any ballplayer, Rick Ankiel's 2001 season can be reduced to a set of numbers that fit on the back of a bubble gum card.

And the numbers seldom lie.

Ankiel's Johnson City 2001 pitching statistics (through August 22)...

• Rookie League: 12 starts, 76 innings pitched, 31 hits, 137 strikeouts, 13 walks and 0.83 ERA

...stand in sharp contrast to his Memphis 2001 numbers...

• AAA International League: 3 starts, 4.1 innings pitched, 3 hits, 4 strikeouts, 17 walks and 20.77 ERA

...as well as his 2001 big league stats as a Cardinal.

• National League: 6 starts, 24 innings pitched, 25 hits, 27 strikeouts, 25 walks and 7.13 ERA

Taken together, the Ankiel 2001 Jekyll and Hyde statistics, when combined with his 2000 post-season meltdown, cast substantial doubt on the oft-repeated notion that he is mentally strong, mentally tough, and wise beyond his years.

In the current vernacular, 'the dude's got issues', as demonstrated by the fact that, in May of this year, his warm-up pitches prior to starting in Oklahoma City were more-or-less on target...until the instant his name was announced over the stadium's PA system.

Then, as if on cue, Ankiel's air-mailed his next effort to the screen behind home plate.

Perhaps today's vernacular needs to be modified a bit: in the case of Rick Ankiel, 'the young man has problems' seems more appropriate.

Of course, if Rick Ankiel led the Cardinals to the 2000 World Series by pitching well during last year's Division Series and NLCS, the negative buzz surrounding Ankiel's personal life would cease to exist.

Instead, the nation's sporting public would have been subjected to yet another example of a troubled young athlete beating the long odds and overcoming tremendous personal adversity along the way to achieving a championship, personal vindication, and perhaps the security afforded by a long-term contract.

But for the past eleven months, for Rick Ankiel, it was not to be.

And the dividing line for Ankiel, the catalyst that enabled a pre-existing condition (occasional bouts of wildness) to become a chronic illness (17 walks in 4.1 innings pitched at AAA Memphis)...was the pressure that exists in post-season play.

How is it that the sporting public knows that Rick Ankiel is a troubled young athlete?

Well, during numerous spring feature interviews, in publications and on networks such as The New York Times, USA Today Baseball Weekly, ESPN's The Magazine, and ESPN itself, it was none other than Rick Ankiel himself who shed additional light on a whole range of personal and family problems.

The stories contained numerous details that were not flattering to Rick Ankiel.

Cardinals' management could not have been pleased by the glut of Ankiel-related publicity generated by these articles, articles which, according to one source, were at least in part arranged by Ankiel's super-agent, Scott Boras.

It was as if Ankiel, presumably with Boras' blessing, laid down and surrendered to the likes of journalists Pat Jordan, Bob Nightengale and Peter Gammons.

But if it were not for Boras' efforts to get the word out about the off-season rehabilitation of his client Ankiel (an effort which was orchestrated by Boras and his associates), the sporting public might never have known that Ankiel himself faced legal troubles at the tender age of 16, to say nothing of additional unfortunate situations surrounding Ankiel's family.

Keep your day job, Scott; ace press agent you are not.

Then, as spring training commenced, the Cardinals aimed to clear the decks as far as the media and Rick Ankiel were concerned.

In mid-February, the team scheduled a press conference specifically for the young lefthander. At their training camp headquarters, Ankiel read a short, prepared statement and then answered a few questions.

All was well.

Not really, though, since later that day none other than Mark McGwire was overheard saying that "if [Ankiel] thinks the media are just going to go away...if he thinks that'll satisfy them...he's got another thing coming".

Mr. McGwire (shown at right, with Sammy Sosa) knows something about media attention.

Sure enough, once Ankiel's spring workouts began, and he began to exhibit the same wildness that plagued him in October 2000, La Russa and pitching coach Dave Duncan felt it was necessary to take additional measures to protect their prized lefthander.

In late February, both La Russa and Duncan attempted to limit media access to Ankiel, in part by scheduling early-morning workouts far away from the prying eyes of men and women armed with deadly weapons such as pencils, notebooks, recorders and cameras.

Other reasons were given at the time, but La Russa (shown at left) even went so far as to request the installation of an unsightly sign in the vicinity of the team's clubhouse outside Jupiter, Florida's Roger Dean Stadium, a sign which stated that only players and their family members were allowed past a certain point.

Never mind that the vast majority of the team's practice fields, as well as its batting cages and practice pitching mounds, were located beyond the sign...and credentialed media members who wished to observe much of anything at all as far as spring workouts were concerned (B games and intersquad games, for example) needed access beyond the sign, access that in previous years was allowed.

In addition, pitching coach Duncan, who himself is an accommodating interview subject, was reported to have stood between a St. Louis-based videocam operator (employed by KPLR-Channel 11, a team affiliate) and a warming-up Ankiel, in an effort to shield his lefthander from scrutiny.

In an attempt to get an unobstructed view of Ankiel, the camera operator moved a few steps in one direction...only to find that Duncan (shown at right) had beat him to the spot.

Of course, La Russa's efforts to protect Ankiel began in earnest during baseball's 2000 post-season, when Ankiel's fellow starting pitcher Darryl Kile stood in for Ankiel for a Q-and-A at the NL Division Series media day.

Taken together, the actions taken by Duncan and La Russa speak louder than any words regarding intangibles possessed by young Rick Ankiel.

In the wake of the wildness displayed by Rick Ankiel during the 2000 baseball playoffs, the nation's baseball fans became reacquainted with pitchers from the past who had experienced severe control problems.

Mark Wohlers is one of those pitchers.

Wohlers was the Braves' closer during the middle portion of their extremely successful run in the 1990's.

After notching a career-high 39 saves in 1996, and 33 saves in 1997, Wohlers issued 33 walks in 20.1 innings in 1998, was diagnosed with anxiety disorder in September of 1999, and has yet to regain the form that played a large part in the Braves lone World Series title in Atlanta (1995).

Earlier this year, Braves manager Bobby Cox disclosed that the Braves endeavored to conceal two particular aspects of Wohlers' control problems from opposition teams.

First, Wohlers' ability to throw the baseball where he intended was so limited that he was unable to successfully throw a baseball to first base after fielding a bunt.

"I don't think anybody but us knew that, at least for a while," said Cox.

Second, Bobby Cox decreed that there would be no Wohlers-issued intentional passes, due to the fact that four accurate out-of-the-strike-zone soft tosses were required.

"We didn't want to risk a wild pitch," said Cox.

Significantly, in 1996, Wohlers committed three errors in ten fielding chances that season.

In 2000, the seven errors recorded by Rick Ankiel led all major league pitchers.

The topic of Ankiel's fielding was rather big news during the 2000 regular season, and there were noticable pregnant pauses at Busch Stadium, in the stands as well as the press box, when Ankiel fielded a bunt or weak grounder hit in his direction.

It is likely that those same pauses existed in the Cardinal dugout, especially since before an August game, clubhouse agitator Will Clark bluntly and loudly suggested to Ankiel that he should improve his aim to first base.

Clark only verbalized what others were no doubt thinking.

So when spring training 2001 rolled around, Ankiel had, in the no-nonsense words of Cardinals' minor league pitching coordinator Mark Riggins (shown below), "demonstrated a need for some extra [fielding] instruction".

Ankiel's extra fielding instruction session commenced at 11:20 am EST, on March 3, 2001, and it was observed by exactly one individual not employed by the Cardinals: yours truly, sitting on the ground-level first base bench, pen and notebook in hand.

Remember, the team's practice fields were off-limits to media at that time.

Rick Ankiel was the only player on the diamond, and coordinator Mark Riggins appeared to be in charge of the drills.

While Cardinals pitching coach Dave Duncan was also present for the entire session (along with minor league pitching instructor Dyar Millar), Riggins' voice was, for the most part, the lone voice heard during the twenty-minute duration of the workout.

Over and over, Ankiel would go through the motions of winding up and delivering the ball to home plate...and after the completion of each Ankiel phantom delivery, Riggins, usually from his knees, would roll a ball down the third base line, the first base line, or right in front of Ankiel.

Ankiel's job was simple: field the baseball and throw to first base.

"Outstanding," barked Riggins several times after Ankiel threw the ball accurately to first base, manned by Cardinals minor league coach (and former Redbirds pitcher) Dave LaPoint.

Duncan occasionally provided words of encouragement, too.

"Good," said Duncan, standing near home plate while leaning on a bat, after one particularly crisp Ankiel throw to first.

"It's [the first baseman's] job to catch it; throw it hard," implored Riggins after an Ankiel lollipop.

Much of the emphasis of Riggins' instruction concerned Ankiel's footwork, both moving to the baseball as well as during the throwing motion itself.

"Don't block off, and don't get a lazy front foot," was another common Riggins admonition.

"Keep it wide" and "Always get your crow hop" were additional Riggins nuggets explicitly aimed at Ankiel's footwork.

Perhaps the most important advice Riggins had for Ankiel was the simplest.

"Get a better foundation," Riggins shouted, over and over, without a trace of anger in his voice.

On more than one occasion, Riggins, also a lefthanded thrower, got off of his knees and demonstrated exactly what he was asking Ankiel to do.

For example, Riggins demonstrated that the proper way for a lefthander to deliver the baseball to first base, from the area in front of home plate, involves turning your body clockwise, initially away from the target, and then facing second base, prior to releasing it.

Even at that short distance, Riggins asked that Ankiel to deliver the ball to LaPoint (at first base) with some zip.

The youngster seemed to pick up on this quite readily.

In addition, while observing from the first base bench, it was obvious why Rick Ankiel's pitches are difficult to hit: when Ankiel made a discernable attempt to throw the ball to or below LaPoint's belly button, by following through in an exaggerated fashion, the ball dipped a bit on its way to LaPoint, who to his credit caught every ball that Ankiel threw his way.

But when he threw the ball "normally" to LaPoint, Ankiel's throws seemed to rise to LaPoint's right (a lefthander's screwball, from Ankiel's perspective).

For sure, it was not the easiest game of catch that Dave LaPoint played last spring.

Midway through the drill, when former big league pitcher Bill Campbell (another Cardinals minor league pitching coach) showed up to observe, it was obvious that this was not your normal run-of-the-mill fielding exercise.

Of course, nothing is run-of-the-mill when it involves perhaps the most ballyhooed pitching prospect in recent memory.

During this single instructional session, Riggins rolled out upwards of sixty baseballs in the general direction of Rick Ankiel (one full ball bag and part of another).

Ankiel delivered each and every baseball that he fielded successfully to LaPoint.

It was obvious from the expression of the coaches present that they were reasonably pleased with Ankiel's progress.

It is informative to note that at this point in the spring camp, Ankiel had not thrown any pitches from a regulation pitcher's mound at the center of an infield diamond; Duncan and La Russa aimed to see to it that Ankiel was brought along very slowly.

Indeed, prior to the drill Duncan had told Riggins that "today was the first day that I feel comfortable having [Ankiel] throw to first base".

Shades of Mark Wohlers.

During the entire twenty minute fielding drill, Rick Ankiel suffered only one hiccup.

Actually there were three hiccups; all involved similar situations.

Three times, while chasing down balls that Riggins had rolled toward third base, Ankiel slightly tripped over his own feet, stumbling slightly.

And on two of those occasions, Ankiel fumbled the baseball before picking it up and throwing to LaPoint.

It was after the third of these stumbles, one which resulted in a mishandling of the baseball, that it seemed as if the eyes of the coaches met, if only for an instant.

At this point, Riggins himself paused for a moment, before going to the mound and again demonstrating the proper footwork used by a lefthanded pitcher when fielding a bunt down the third base line.

Now everything was coming into focus: Cardinals minor league pitching coordinator Mark Riggins possessed better footwork, and better fielding mechanics, than Rick Ankiel.

And every observer knew it: Rick Ankiel's foundation, his lower body, is, for lack of a better term, rather unathletic.

To be fair, though, while working with Riggins, Rick Ankiel was not dogging it.

In no way was Ankiel 'big-timing' Riggins...he appeared to be a very attentive student and from all appearances was willing to learn.

In fact, Rick Ankiel was completely focused on his instructor, listening and watching as Riggins repeated his demonstration.

But while the mechanics of throwing a baseball 90+ MPH with his left arm come naturally to Rick Ankiel, the young man's lower body has not been blessed with the same degree of athleticism.

In other words, Rick Ankiel is a little bit clumsy, in a coltish kind of way.

And the men watching those drills, that day, seemed to realize it.

At exactly 11:40 am, the fielding exercises came to a stop, and the coaches and Ankiel congregated near home plate for small talk, before Ankiel left the diamond behind the first base coach's box.

There were smiles all around, including Ankiel.

But Ankiel's smile vanished as he left the field when he realized that his exit path required him to walk within two or three feet of the lone reporter present (separated by a chain link fence).

Thank goodness looks do not kill, as Ankiel aimed unspoken daggers in the direction of yours truly.

Obviously, the young man was not interested in discussing his performance that day with media.

After Ankiel's departure, and while Riggins was waiting for another squad of pitchers to join him in another drill, Riggins, after some prodding, obliquely addressed Ankiel's clumsiness.

"We hope he'll grow out if it," Riggins said.

"But you're right, his legs are not his strongest asset."

Riggins then acknowledged the importance of 'building a foundation', but waved off further discussion of Ankiel's technique.

"What are you, a pitching coach?" he asked with a sly smile.

Athletes that possess extraordinary physical skills often transform sports fans into amateur coaches, and even, at times, voyeurs.

The supreme abilities of gifted athletes are so compelling that their audiences desire to get as close to them as possible.

It is part of the human condition.

Rick Ankiel, like Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Mark McGwire, Wayne Gretzky...only a few individuals possess the talent that enables them to grab hold of the sporting public's collective attention span.

At times, though, that kind of attention and adulation is heavy and burdensome.

The most successful of the physically gifted have an inner support system, a foundation of their own, which enables them to hold up under the added pressure and mass of fame.

It is the existence of this foundation which makes it easy, sometimes, for the Tigers, Michaels, Marks and Waynes of our planet to understand that while their fabulous successes make big news, their spectacular failures sometimes make even bigger news.

A lot of unknowables go into the construction of this sort of foundation, a process which, for some, requires several years.

No doubt a solid family background provides the best set of blueprints for foundation-building.

Rick Ankiel, growing up in Florida under less-than-optimal circumstances, was forced to draw up his own blueprints.

In October of 2000, with millions watching on a national stage, Rick Ankiel failed three times, in spectacular fashion, and made headlines doing it.

No foundation.

In the spring of 2001, on smaller stages in various venues, Rick Ankiel failed again, repeatedly, and generated additional headlines.

Still no foundation.

In the summer of 2001, on a tiny stage in Johnson City, Tennessee, Rick Ankiel succeeded...and made some news.

Foundation?

Now, September 2001 is approaching.

Welcome back to the big leagues, Rick Ankiel.

Millions will be watching.

...coaching some, too, all the while, looking for foundation.