“Pitch or Go Home.” Anthony Gose meets the Arlington media

The accent is the first thing you notice.

Anthony Gose was raised in Bellflower, California, about halfway between Los Angeles and Long Beach, just north of Lakewood. By borders, it’s a small community, an anonymous cog in a mega-city, boasting little more than a couple of shopping centers, a handful of hotels, and a K-Mart. The 605 mindlessly cruises through the lower half of the neighborhood whose shape bears a striking resemblance to somewhere else.

Mississippi. Now that’s where it sounds like that accent is from.

But the source of the deep southern drawl is a mystery, and it’s likely to stay that way, much like a lot of Anthony Gose’s personal life. As the media introduce themselves to him during the Rangers’ mini-camp, his answers are short and guarded; occasionally dipping a toe into dry wit, but never smiling at his own jokes. Asked where he lives in the offseason, he replies only: “A long way from Dallas.” The reporter presses. Is it warm? “It’s colder than here,” comes the bare-minimum reply.

He had other opportunities this off-season after being granted free agency in November, but Texas was the only one that would give him the opportunity to play both outfield and pitcher. Everyone else just wanted to see if they could rein in the 99mph fastball (100-101, if you ask Gose) and avoid a repeat of last year’s inflammation-forced shutdown, making him a full-time pitcher. Asked if the opportunity to do both made this opportunity more appealing than the rest, he answers, but does not expound: “Mm-hmm.”

Gose is not the only player with two-way MLB hopes for 2018. Beyond the obvious one, there is also Brendan McKay, who the Rays drafted fourth in the first round of last year’s draft. Asked if Gose thinks that his play with Texas could be something that helps to create a “new kind of spot in the game,” Gose makes no bones about his ambitions: “I’m not here to create no spots in the game, I’m here to create an opportunity for Anthony Gose.”

I’m certain I almost saw a smile after that one.

Gose tells us that he isn’t sure what will happen. This is the first time he has gotten an off-season to prepare to do both. When he made the transition last year, it was at the end of Spring Training. One day, he was an outfielder, and two days later, he was a pitcher. Good luck, kid. Go try to put that 99 to good use.

One reporter lays out the Spring Training scenarios: the Rangers could eventually tell Gose that he’s an outfielder, tell him that he’s a pitcher, or tell him they want him to do both.

“(Or) the fourth option: go home.”

Some writers have a bad habit of starting questions by saying “talk about…” and athletes have a bad habit of responding with the same Nothings that they always have. “Looking forward to the opportunity”, “Happy to be here”, and “taking it a day at a time.” Talk to enough baseball players, and you develop a sense of appreciation for anything different, even if it’s not polite. In that sense, Gose at least makes for an intriguing interview.

For today, anyway.

As we wrap up, I ask if I can take a photo for the story. “As long as this is the last time I talk to y’all the rest of the year, I’m happy,” he replies. The group of reporters chuckles nervously, unsure if he is joking. “Nahh, you did a great job!” one encourages. I am also unsure if he is joking.

“I don’t like talking to the media. So. As long as this is the last time, I’m all good.”

More silence.

“Do you know Gregor?” asks T.R. Sullivan. This is Sullivan’s thirtieth year covering the Rangers. T.R. knows everyone. “Do you remember Gregor? In Toronto?”

“I don’t know,” Gose says. “I try not to remember people’s names.”

I snap the photo.