WADE BOGGS
Grassroots to the Pros
The details of my baseball childhood are as vivid to me as winning the World Series. I was born in Nebraska, but my baseball journey began in the small rural town of Brunswick, Georgia, before moving to Tampa, Florida, where I have made my home ever since.
My dad, Win, was in the Marines during World War II, which is where he met my mom, Sue, who was a mail-plane pilot. He later served as a Master Sergeant in the Air Force. I loved the idea of being in a military family and having a regimented routine every day, a routine like the one I maintained during my baseball career.
I started playing Little League in Brunswick when I was 5 years old. I played for the Elks team and my bat was an inch taller than me. I was already pretty good at reading pitches because the kids in my neighborhood would play a game where we would tape up a cork and try to hit it with a broomstick handle. The cork would dart, dip, dive, and rise. It was like facing Phil Niekro.
We also played a lot of sandlot ball in the street and down the block in a vacant yard. We’d play from 8 in the morning until noon, break for lunch, and come back at 2 p.m. to get another game going. We didn’t play with innings—we would just see which team could score the most runs before it was time to go home. Ironically, I was a home run hitter and had so much power that my friends nicknamed me Babe Ruth!
When I was 11 years old, my manager, Mr. Baxter, thought our team had a good chance of winning the championship. He told me he was counting on me to be his starting pitcher, but then the worst thing happened to a kid my age: We moved. The best thing, though, is that we moved to Tampa, a hotbed of baseball talent.
One of the highlights during my single season playing Bayshore Little League was catching an 18-strikeout game. My catching career didn’t last long because I collided with the third baseman and got knocked out. I said to myself, “The heck with this. I’m going to shortstop or center field or anywhere else.”
I played four sports, but cut that to just baseball and football once I got to junior high. During my sophomore season at Plant High School, my baseball coach, David Fyfe, sent letters to colleges and pro scouts on my behalf. I hit .522 as a junior, led the country in home runs and RBIs, and was an All-Star shortstop. When I was a senior, I was an all-state kicker, but baseball was my No. 1 priority, especially after my dad gave me a copy of Ted Williams’s book, The Science of Hitting. The book not only made me a better hitter—I finished my high school career with 26 hits in my final 32 at-bats—but it taught me the values of patience and discipline.
I was offered a scholarship to play for Bobby Richardson at the University of South Carolina, but I felt I was ready for pro ball.
On draft day, I was on pins and needles. I watched the results come across the wire at the Tampa Tribune. After five rounds I hadn’t been drafted. I was upset, beside myself. I left to play in my American Legion game. My dad, and my girlfriend Debbie who became my wife, raced to the field to tell me I had been drafted by the Red Sox two rounds later. I could not have been more relieved!
Looking back, I will always be grateful to my parents. They were my biggest fans, and I was theirs. My mom raised me alone quite often while my dad was away, and she got me to every game and practice. She never missed a game. I listened to every suggestion my dad had from childhood until the day I finished playing. He was always right. When I won a pair of trucks in Boston, in back-to-back seasons as the player who most exceeded expectations, I gave them to my parents. I was so proud.
I’m also extremely proud to call Tampa home. I coached my son Brett at Wharton High School and at the University of South Florida. A decade later, I am still a coach at Wharton, hoping I can help them win the Tony Saladino Tournament in Hillsborough County every spring.
I am living proof that dreams come true. In life, so many things are taken for granted, but one thing I can honestly say is that I never stopped appreciating the special qualities of baseball. To this day, I love putting on that uniform, smelling the grass, hearing the sound of bat on ball. What a great game.
