Wade Davis, a fishing pond and the story of a guy who wanted to be great at something
Most of the people who live in the neighborhood don't use the pond. And that's a shame, because in the summer, it's a gem. Dragonflies dance above. Frogs linger on the edges. Geese teach their goslings about life in the Kansas suburbs. Crappie and bass and bluegill and catfish swim about, waiting for a snack, oblivious to the hook that accompanies it.
Nothing beats a day of fishing, Wade Davis believes, and considering he's in the middle of among the most brilliant relief seasons in baseball history, one culminating with a World Series appearance for the Kansas City Royals, he very much appreciates what the pond offers. Davis, 29, grew up in Lake Wales, Fla., and spent summers with his dad on a johnboat. Three or four days a week he'd bake in the sun, red as the seams on a ball, and not care because he was catching fish.
Davis moved into the neighborhood a couple years ago. He arrived as the secondary piece in what's widely known as the James Shields trade. To call it the Wade Davis trade now wouldn't be that much of a stretch. As they get set for Game 3 of the World Series in San Francisco, the Royals have the bullpen trio of Kelvin Herrera, Davis and Greg Holland to thank as much as anybody for this playoff run. They're the Nastier Boys, the rare relief pitchers seen as weapons rather than most relievers, viewed as fungible sorts who simply bide their time between failures.
Being the eighth-inning guy in Kansas City generally comes with benefits, one of which is relative anonymity. That started washing away over the summer, in the midst of a streak that saw Davis go nearly three months without giving up a run. One day, he wanted to go fishing and invited a friend. They pulled up together. A couple of kids at the pond recognized them immediately.
"Are the fish biting?" the friend asked.
The kids looked up. It was Shields. They said yes, and out Shields and Davis went, about 10 feet away, past the cattails that jut out of the pond. Here were the Royals' two best pitchers, the 200-inning workhorse in Shields and the starter-turned-reliever who overnight went from awful to awesome in Davis, just taking in a lazy summer afternoon before a night game to catch some fish.
Davis spent much of the afternoon giving him tips on how to cast.
"He's from California," Davis said. "Them guys don't fish much out there."
Shields tried to blame unfamiliar equipment for his foibles.
"I just bought a new baitcaster," Shields said, "and I haven't used one since I was little."
Both laughed, appreciative of those calm moments before the torrent the World Series unleashes. They've been in this together from the start, Shields spending far more time mentoring Davis in the Tampa Bay Rays rotation than Davis did showing Shields the differences between spinning and baitcasting reels. Davis arrived in the major leagues at 23 years old, another homegrown Tampa Bay Rays pitcher in an illustrious line that started with Shields. Part of the Rays' genius was their development philosophies, the other the culture they conceived, and both indoctrinated Davis into tenets of success early.
He didn't always find it. He was inconsistent as a starter, walking too many, never striking out enough, eminently hittable. Tampa Bay's surplus of starters forced a move to the bullpen, and he thrived there in 2012. When the Royals traded for him, they shuttled him back to the rotation, and Davis vacillated between bad and really bad. At the end of the year, he rejoined the bullpen, a role seemingly tailor-made for him … until the Royals trotted him out as a starter again this spring … which changed again when setup man Luke Hochevar blew out his elbow and forced Davis back to the bullpen.
Manager Ned Yost called Davis into his office to explain why he was moving him back to the bullpen, and he still remembers what Davis said. It didn't matter whether he was starting or relieving.
"I want to be really good at something."
To best ensure that, Davis and the rest of the bullpen got together at the beginning of the season and urged one another to say no. If they were tired, if their arms hurt, if anything was amiss, they vowed to talk with Yost or pitching coach Dave Eiland and beg off a few days. Because their arms needed to be ready for September. Maybe even October.
For all the criticism Yost received on his bullpen usage throughout the season, his handling of Davis looks canny in hindsight. In the season's first month, Yost used Davis on back-to-back days once: April 4 and 5. Over the next two months, same thing: just once did Davis pitch on consecutive days. Come the second half, Davis' arm remained fresh, and between June 27 and Sept. 15, Davis twirled 31 2/3 straight scoreless innings. Yost worked him hard, too, calling on him three straight days in July, five back-to-backs in August, the significance of those games growing greater as the schedule waned and the Royals found themselves in playoff position.
A slight swoon at the end of the season pushed Davis' ERA to an even 1.00, and it's tough to say which of his other numbers is more impressive. Is it the 109 strikeouts in 72 innings? The 38 hits? The number of home runs allowed: zero? Put together, they personify the sort of relief campaign that deserves downballot Cy Young consideration.
In the postseason, Yost has relied on Davis even more. He pitched in the Royals' first eight games – all wins – as well as their Game 2 victory that evened the series. In Game 1 of the ALCS, Yost called upon Davis to pitch two innings for the first time since May 29. Davis was back the next day with another scoreless inning, his playoff ERA of 0.87 even better than his regular-season showing.
"Anytime you go out and throw two innings when you haven't done it, it may not seem like a lot – like, starters go nine, so why can't you go two? – but it's different," Davis said. "Just think if you went to the gym right now and maxed out on whatever exercise – and then tomorrow you're expected to max out and get the same type of numbers. It's going to be stressful on your body."
His body has cooperated, and now the $7 million, $8 million and $10 million options the Royals hold for the next three seasons are the opposite of the no-doubt voids they seemed as recently as last year.
"It's so impressive to watch him," Shields said, sounding like a proud papa and an admirer at the same time. He's learned from Davis, too, on how vital it is to keep a straight line to the plate, how the lower half of a pitcher's body can be more important than the arm itself. That, and the casting tips.
Davis hit the pond a few more times over the summer, whenever he needed a break, though the rigors of October have taken up most of his time. Anyone who drives by it is greeted by a reminder of just how much Kansas City has fallen in love with Davis and the Royals. Next to the pond sits a fountain. These days, the water it spits out is dyed a bright, unmistakable blue.
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