[nfbwatlk] Fw: Mariners | Whatever happened to Bucky Jacobsen?

[Lauren Merryfield]

"In every person who comes near you look for what is good and strong;
honor that; try to imitate it, and your faults will drop off like
dead leaves when their time comes."
-- John Ruskin (1819-1900) English Art Critic
Nature abhors a vacuum, but not as much as cats do." - Lee Entrekin
CATLINES has moved to a blog at:
http://bizcats.blogs.com/catlines/
sign up for CATLINES and more:
http://www.catliness.com


----- Original Message ----- 
From: <jmerry2000 at juno.com>
To: <lauren1 at catliness.com>
Sent: Monday, January 22, 2007 6:53 AM
Subject: Mariners | Whatever happened to Bucky Jacobsen?



Mariners | Whatever happened to Bucky Jacobsen?
By Geoff Baker

Seattle Times staff reporter

NORTH BEND - A fierce rain blows sideways in the icy wind,
reinforcing a sense that this mountain town is where folks wind up
after dropping off the face of the Earth.

That would explain the hulking figure in the wool cap and drenched
flannel shirt, defying the deluge and staring up at what's left of a
12-by-10-foot restaurant sign he'd been helping tear down. In another
lifetime, before vanishing from public view, he was Bucky Jacobsen, a
slugging Mariners rookie sensation and de facto folk hero across the
Northwest for seven glorious weeks in 2004.

Now, he's a 31-year-old son working in the rain for his father's
signage company, tearing down one neon display, in the parking lot of
a local bar and grill, so a newer one can go up. This is how Jacobsen
spends his time when not trying to resurrect a baseball career that
plummeted as quickly as it soared to prominence three years ago.

Jacobsen hasn't played in the majors since 2004, and spent 2006 with
an independent-league team in Long Island, N.Y., and a winter-ball
squad in Mexico. He'd hoped for a professional shot in Japan this
coming season, but is now on to his fallback plan of trying to play
in Korea, or - if all else fails - Mexico again.

All for another taste of that elusive big-league dream and the chance
to prevent his one, fleeting stint with the Mariners from becoming
his lasting baseball legacy.

"To go from playing in the big leagues and being successful in 2004,
to playing in the independent league in 2006 wasn't what my dream
entailed," says the 6-4, 270-pounder, who gained a cult following
among fans because of his improbable hitting feats over a seven-week
stretch that lone season.

The dream also didn't include standing in a freezing downpour,
staring up at shards of aluminum that have to be pulled apart by
hand. His father, Jake - divorced from Bucky's mother since Bucky was
2 years old - has traveled to the job site from his home in Oregon
and wonders aloud whether the wind is too strong to finish.

"If we put the new sign up now, it might take off like a kite," he
says with a laugh.

Jacobsen's father, whose height and girth is similar to that of his
son, knows Bucky isn't ready to be a full-time player in his
business. That may change one day, he says, but he doesn't take any
of it personally.

"He's a ballplayer," he says. "That's what he wants to do. None of
this has been easy for him. He showed what he could do before. All he
wants now is another chance, but nobody will give it to him."

Jacobsen erupted for nine home runs and drove in 28 runs in just 42
games with the Mariners after a July 15 call-up from Class AAA that
2004 season. He became the bright spot of a dismal Mariners team, a
rallying point for fans and media reveling in the overnight success
of the career minor-leaguer hailing from the wheat-and-potato town of
Hermiston, Ore.

"I don't want it to end at just that," Jacobsen says. "I'm far from
done."

Jacobsen and his dad adjourn inside the restaurant to wait out the
weather. Bucky knows the owner of the place and is welcomed by a
number of regulars.

"How's it going out there, Bucky?" the waitress smiles as he takes a
seat.

No matter what else Jacobsen does in baseball, he'll always be a
fairy tale to those who remember 2004. That was before a
deteriorating knee condition forced Jacobsen into surgery that
September, then caused him to miss almost all of the following year.

The knee has since had two more surgeries and been diagnosed as
arthritic. It's a major reason few teams anywhere come calling
anymore, no matter what he did that one special summer.

"It's funny, but just yesterday I went to the gym and was doing my
[abdominal] crunches and there's this guy I see and he seems to be
matching my pace," Jacobsen says. "I'd do a bunch of reps and he'd be
trying to do them at the same time, like he was copying me. Trying to
time himself to my rhythm.

"Finally, he looks at me and he goes, 'You're Bucky, right? You're
him.' He turned out to be a good guy and I wound up talking with him
for quite a while. But that stuff still does happen. I'll be walking
down the street and people will ask, 'Hey, where have you been?'

"So, people do remember."

And Jacobsen takes plenty of satisfaction out of knowing he once did
make it big. The self-described "eternal optimist" smiles plenty when
recounting his tribulations of the past few years, knowing he was
fortunate to even get a big-league shot after being drafted 217th
overall in 1997 by Milwaukee. He played nearly 800 minor-league games
in the Brewers, Cardinals and Mariners organizations.

There is little evidence of bitterness in his words. Only a lingering
sense there was supposed to be more to this story than just the one
act.


>From DH to the DL


Larry William Jacobsen, dubbed "Bucky" as a toddler, had already
drilled 26 home runs for AAA Tacoma by the time he was called up by
the Mariners.

He was billed as a late-blooming, heir apparent to retiring Mariners
designated hitter Edgar Martinez. The night before he was called up,
Jacobsen won the home-run derby at the AAA All-Star Game, with one of
his blasts measured at 500 feet.

Fans immediately took to his bald-domed head, bulging biceps and
fiery red goatee.

"Part of it, I think, was that I'm from the Northwest," says
Jacobsen, who used his big-league cash to buy a home in Snoqualmie,
about 35 miles east of Seattle in the shadow of Mount Si. "The home
runs are fun to watch, too, I suppose. I also think people look at me
and they see that I care. They know how long and hard I had to work
to get there. I'm also a big guy and well, you know, I do have that
name, 'Bucky.' "

To some fans, Jacobsen seemed more like them than his veteran
Mariners teammates. He'd wait around and sign autographs, or talk to
fans at the ballpark and out on the street.

But his knee problems - caused by a collision with a tarpaulin while
making a catch in foul territory three years earlier - finally caught
up to him. He'd played through mounting pain, reluctant to end his
Seattle dream as it was just starting, but was convinced by team
officials to call it a season on Sept. 8 and undergo surgery.

Three dowels of bone were removed from his leg to plug a large divot
in the surface cartilage of his right knee. The complicated procedure
didn't work the first time and Jacobsen needed more surgery the
following spring.

He admits he tried to rush back too soon.

"I felt like everything I'd worked for was dwindling away," he says.

His minor-league rehab began mid-summer in 2005 and saw him crank out
three homers and two doubles in only six games at Class A. But the
long balls stopped once he was promoted to AAA.


Independent days


Jacobsen's biggest fear while on the disabled list had been that the
Mariners, on the hook for his entire 2005 salary, would think he
was "milking it" simply to collect a big-league paycheck while not
having to play. But that decision to return more quickly proved
disastrous when, after 18 games for Tacoma, zero homers, a .136
batting average and .240 on-base percentage, the Mariners released
him.

The closest he got to the majors again was when a coaching friend
arranged a minor-league invite to the Chicago White Sox camp the
following spring. Jacobsen played in one exhibition game with the
major-league club and was sent packing.

He thought he had a deal days later to play the Cardinals' AAA team,
until a physical revealed signs of arthritis in his knee. His only
pro ball after that was last summer with the Long Island Ducks of the
independent Atlantic League, who gave him weekly take-home pay of
$350 to join their crew of has-beens and never-wuzzes, including the
likes of Juan Gonzalez and Henry Rodriguez.

Jacobsen hit 21 homers and drove in 89 runs over 113 games, also
going 6 for 6 in stolen-base attempts in an effort to prove his knee
had recovered. He made the league's postseason all-star team, but had
a hard time adjusting to the bottom of pro baseball's pecking order.

"It was hard to stay focused and not feel sorry for myself," he
says. "It was tough. There were times when two, three or four times
in a row, you'd experience failure at the plate and you'd think 'Wow,
if I can't succeed at this level, how am I ever going to get back to
the big leagues?'

"I never wondered, 'What am I doing here?' But there were times when
I'd find myself wondering how you can work so hard to get the [major-
league] opportunity and have it be gone so fast."

It didn't help that his wife, Jennifer, whom he'd married only a year
earlier, remained in Washington working in real estate to help make
ends meet. Jacobsen says his gung-ho attitude also rankled some of
his Ducks teammates, who weren't all as professional in their game
preparation as the former major-leaguers.

"It's such a mixture of different levels of experience," he
says. "You have the major-league guys and then you have guys who
never made it out of A-ball.

"It was a good experience, but not something I'd ever do again."


International game beckons


Mexico was easier because Jacobsen could afford to have his wife join
him for the two months. She spent her days by the hotel pool, or on
the Internet, waiting until it was time to go see him play.

She is prepared to repeat that sacrifice in Korea this summer should
a baseball opportunity present itself. Jacobsen figured he was on his
way to a team in Japan, but "they're gun-shy about the knee."

The best offer he has had in the United States so far is to play
Class AA for the Kansas City Royals.

"I don't have too much pride where I'd say, 'I don't want to go back
to AA,' " he says. "But for me right now, it may be the smarter move
to go to Japan or Korea if I want to show teams what I can do."

The money would be better in those places. Jacobsen is grateful about
his six-figure earnings with the Mariners, which enabled the couple
to pay off debts, buy their first home, and move to Washington from
Oregon. The home is where Jacobsen keeps his dogs, a pair of boxers
named "Denva" and "Bronco" - a tribute to his favorite football team.

"We're getting by," he says. "Obviously, it doesn't last forever.
Now, I've got to get to the point where I'm earning some money so we
can keep what we've got."

Jacobsen makes the quick daily trip from his home to a gym in North
Bend, where he'll do a 30-minute morning cardiovascular workout.
He'll return for an afternoon weightlifting session and more cardio -
he hopes to get his weight down to the 260 range - then head to an
indoor batting cage at the facility.

He spends the rest of the day helping his father drum up business
locally for his Oregon-based sign company. Jacobsen is reluctant to
use his baseball celebrity as a selling point to clients.

"It's kind of a weird thing for me," he says. "I'm not a salesman. I
don't like to toot my own horn. If they know who I am, it might be
another icebreaker, I guess. But I don't use it to sell the company."

But Jacobsen realizes time is running out on his chance to sell
himself on the baseball field.

"I really think that once word gets around that I'm healthy and that
the knee isn't a problem, then somebody will give me a shot," he
says. "Why wouldn't they? I spent a long time in the minor leagues
trying to prove myself and I feel like I proved I could play in the
big leagues the only chance I got. If I have to prove myself all over
again, then that's what I'll do."

Geoff Baker: 206-464-8286 or gbaker at seattletimes.com

Copyright © The Seattle Times Company





-- 
No virus found in this incoming message.
Checked by AVG Free Edition.
Version: 7.1.410 / Virus Database: 268.17.5/645 - Release Date: 1/22/2007