Grady Sizemore, the Gold Glove center fielder with the Cleveland Indians, arrived in the majors in 2004 and has barely opened his mouth since. "I'm not good at talking about myself," he politely explained from the Indians' locker room earlier this season. Indeed, Sizemore, at the peak braggart's age of 26, is the rare athlete whose ability to run, hit, and perform in the clutch exists in inverse proportion to his capacity for self-promotion. After earning his third consecutive spot on the All-Star team this season, he hardly made a peep. There are no records of locker room tirades or dugout dramas as he put up monster numbers and inherited his own troupe of female admirers. "I don't like a lot of cameras in my face," Sizemore says. Sportswriters used to go up to him seeking long conversations. Now, he reports with a faint smile, they have gotten the hint.
Sizemore's success came so early that perhaps he is still figuring it out himself. Born in Seattle, he was an all-conference baseball player (center fielder/pitcher) and an all-state football player (quarterback/defensive back) at Cascade High School in Everett, Washington. He was notable for his speed — he had more than 3,000 yards rushing — and for seldom uttering a word to his coaches. In 2000, the Montreal Expos stole Sizemore away from various college programs with an extravagant $2 million signing bonus. Not bad for an 18-year-old who sat out the grunge movement.
When Sizemore arrived in Cleveland midway through the 2004 season, he was an instant heartthrob — with a band of admirers as intense as those that follow Derek Jeter and A-Rod. They call themselves the Grady's Ladies Sisterhood, and in Internet postings too dreamy to be reprinted here, they describe catching glimpses of Sizemore walking to his 1966 Lincoln Continental convertible in the players' parking lot. (Forever modest, Sizemore says he has not been on the Web site in a while.) To take him at his word, his social life is about as vivid as your average Cleveland librarian's. He plays video games, cruises around in his nearly 20-foot-long baby-blue Lincoln, and forsakes dance clubs for fine dining. Asked what kind of trouble a 26-year-old can get up to after hours in the Forest City, Sizemore says, "sleep."
The Indians, whose infrequent success makes them the Wile E. Coyote of baseball, won their division in 2007. (Their playoff run included the infamous "bug game," where they proved more insect-resistant than the Yankees.) This year found the team back at the bottom of the standings. They were twelve games under .500 at the All-Star Break and, without prospects for a turnaround, had traded away their ace pitcher, C. C. Sabathia. Even so, Sizemore compiled another standout season. Having recorded more than 20 home runs and 20 steals the three previous seasons, this year he was eyeing the 40-40 club, a feat achieved only four times in baseball history. After making just two errors over the course of the entire 2007 season (he claims not to remember them), he dove into late August with the same number.
Still, even if Sizemore continues at this torrid pace, he stands well back in the Cleveland pecking order. There's LeBron James (at least until he skips town in a few years) and — if he ever gets to start — Brady Quinn. As it happens, that's fine with Sizemore. Interview those guys. Follow them to the clubs. Put their pictures on a Web site. Let me play ball.
