The Art of Deception

Santana looks at me askance. "What do you want from me?" he says.

I tell him that he's a great baseball player, and that I want to write the story of how he came to be one.

"Go down to the dugout and wait for me," he says. "I'll be there in five minutes."

Santana's story begins in Venezuela, where in some places baseball rivals bullfighting as the national pastime. In recent years, Venezuela has become a fertile crescent of future MLB all-stars, including Bobby Abreu, Magglio Ordoñez, and Miguel Cabrera.

Most of those stars come from Caracas or Valencia, two cosmopolitan cities near the northern coast of South America. Santana hails from Tovar, in the state of Mérida, further south in a remote, mountainous part of the country, where the rocky landscape doesn't yield easily to baseball diamonds.

Growing up, Santana played soccer, basketball, even volleyball more frequently than baseball. "But baseball was a passion," Santana says, growing more amiable as he continues his story. He fell in love with the game through his father, Jesús. A dark, slender man, Jesús was a shortstop in the Venezuelan national leagues. "People knew who Jesús Santana was," says Pedro Aracho-Sanchez, a former Venezuelan ballplayer from Valencia who now lives in north Minneapolis. "There weren't too many Santanas who played baseball. Mostly they were all priests."

As boys, Johan and his older brother Franklin often tagged along to their father's games. The ballparks were half the size of those found in the United States, but ravenous fans packed the grandstands. Johan was so enamored with imitating his father that he even used his glove, though it was made for right-handers. "I didn't know you could play left-handed," Johan says, laughing at the memory.

Jesús never made it to the big leagues, mostly because he had to work as an electrician to provide for his wife and five children. But by age 13, Johan displayed a natural talent, albeit as an outfielder. Within two years, he was playing in a nationally televised tournament, which is how he caught the eye of Andres Reiner, a scout for the Houston Astros.

"I liked his athleticism," Reiner says. "I saw him throw a ball in from centerfield, and I started to believe he could pitch."

Reiner contacted the Astros front office, asking for $300 to travel to Tovar and sign Santana. But this was in September 1994, and Major League Baseball was locked in a strike; the Astros weren't looking to sign fresh talent. Yet Reiner persisted, calling his bosses in Houston every week, until finally they relented.

That November, Reiner and his wife rented a car in Valencia and drove some 10 hours to Tovar. Santana's house was so off the beaten path that no one at the local police station knew where to find it. Finally, a firefighter led Reiner to the front door of the Santana home, a three-bedroom house crammed with the family of seven.

"These were people of humble means, but they were proud," Reiner says. "It was a small but clean home. We spent most of the time in the family dining room together."

The Astros had a baseball academy in Valencia, but Santana's parents were reluctant to let their son leave school. Reiner, eager to groom a young prospect, told them that there was a school at the academy, and that 15-year-old Johan could pursue books and baseball at the same time.

Eventually, the parents relented, and by January 1995, Johan was in Valencia and homesick. "The toughest thing for you to do as a young person is to leave your family," he says. But he stuck it out, practicing in the ballpark during the day, studying in school at night, and swallowing tears when he spoke with his parents on the phone.

In time, baseball became Johan's solace. He realized he wanted to pursue it as a career, which meant dropping out of school. "I told my dad, 'I'd like to take my chances on baseball, and if I fail, I will go back to school,'" Santana says. To sweeten the deal, according to Reiner, Johan offered to pay for his four siblings to go to college when he cashed a major-league paycheck.

Jesús acquiesced. When Santana turned 16 in March 1995, he signed with the Astros.

As Santana made his way through the Houston farm system, Reiner kept an eye on him. "We talked all the time, and I was certain he was being groomed to be a major-leaguer," Reiner says.

Others began taking notice too, including scouts from the Minnesota Twins.

In winter 1999, the Florida Marlins had the first pick in the offseason "Rule 5" draft, and the Twins had the second. The Marlins wanted Jared Camp; the Twins wanted Santana. The teams struck a deal: Florida drafted Santana, the Twins picked up Camp, and the teams made the trade. Considering that Camp never made it to the major leagues, swapping him for a two-time Cy Young winner may be one of the all-time great steals in baseball.

By the time Santana arrived in the Minnesota farm system, he could throw a good fastball—about 92 miles an hour—and had a nice slider. But his control was erratic—he threw as many balls in five innings as many pitchers throw all game. Still, there's more to pitching than precision, and the Twins liked what they saw.