Welcome to Warning Track Power, a weekly newsletter of baseball stories and analysis grounded in front office and scouting experiences and the personalities encountered along the way.
I asked the scout what I thought was a simple question. Having spent the season on the receiving end of his wisdom, I wondered if he had any desire to hold a leadership role, perhaps that of pro scouting director.
“They know my number,” Van replied.
If anyone had wanted to speak with him about a different role, he explained, he would have received a phone call. By 2010, at the age of 65, he figured that window — had it ever been open — was closed. Guided by faith and midwestern values, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Ten years ago this month, Padres scout Van Smith passed away unexpectedly. His ability to be profound in every day moments, however, still has an impact on those who knew him.
In 2010, Van and I worked closely together. I was learning how to manage a staff of pro scouts who had been evaluating players long before I ever set foot in the Petco Park offices. Van, it turned out, was my best teacher.
At the ballpark, Van was a scout. Once a week during the 2010 season, usually while he was driving from city to city, he was a confidante, ally, advocate, and psychologist.
A lifetime in baseball — as a coach, a teammate and an evaluator — shaped his character and delivery. Steady and reliable, Van was committed to making the organization better any way he could.
That season, we spent some time together on the road. I knew when Van would be covering the Padres Double-A team in San Antonio, and I scheduled myself to overlap with him for a few days. (I did ask his permission first.)
Van was a pitcher on the University of Houston team that was runner-up in the 1967 College World Series. He was a college baseball coach for 20 years before embarking upon a scouting career with the Padres that was 22 years in the making at the time of his passing. His loyalty to his only employer in Major League Baseball was matched by the love and admiration his colleagues felt for him.
Van was abundantly generous with his time and teachings. The illustration above features a quote of his that was recorded by Jeff Pickler, a one-time Padres scout and current Major League coach for the Reds.
Van was committed to unlocking the potential of those around him. When he and I discussed scouting, he made sure to shape my process and not my opinions.
He also might casually point out a nuance he had just observed on the field to make sure I had seen it, too.
Sometimes I felt like a high school kid trying to cheat off the smarter student seated next to him. A pitch would be thrown — no action, no ball in play — and he would jot down a note. What did he just see?
I’d save my questions for the post-game beers session. Van, who grew up and lived outside of St. Louis, would shake a dash of salt into his.
One afternoon during BP, Van told me to pay attention to the ground balls that a batter hits. How do they move through the infield? Are they slowed down by the grass, or do they cut through the diamond with speed?
A veteran scout had shared this advice with Van when he was coming up in the game.
The measure of a player’s raw power wasn’t found only in how far he could hit a ball; it was important to consider more routine contact as well. Did these ground balls look like they had a chance to get through during game conditions? A scout’s answer could be worth 20 points of projected batting average.
Really, it was exit velocity without the technology.
Van would have loved learning about how analytics could impact evaluations. He would have been excited to encounter newly invented tools and metrics — and would have been an invaluable conduit to the more resistant bloc of scouts.
Van embraced learning and challenges. He trusted his own abilities and, for a scout as gifted as he was, he was remarkably modest. It was his character, that blend of his midwestern roots and his faith.
He was focused on his family, his job, his community, and the impact he could make on others. Van’s impact — his friendship and his spirit — lives on.
WTP is offering free and paid versions. Subscribe now and never miss a single edition.
Van was a super friend during my 22 years with the Pads and thereafter. He was the known as the Donut King as he owned a donut shop prior to his career as a scout. We shared many fun times in spring training and during the season. Our time in the draft room was the best. Miss him always