Excuse Joe Walsh, for the moment, for sounding one part proud and one part pooped.

“Here at Harvard,” says Harvard’s nine-year baseball coach on a chilly March morning across the river, “we welcome all the personalities that we can get.”

Walsh’s voice, both content and fatigued at this revelation, speaks the truth. His mixed bag of base-ballers range from the humble to the showy, the laid-back to the lay-it-out. They come from a list of locales so wide and varied that it might make Howard Dean antsy. Try blending this kind of mixture in a sport like baseball—distinct positions, varied roles and all—and forging a team out of spare parts turns out to be a more tricky proposition than you might think.

“It takes some time,” Walsh says, shifting in his chair. “It really does.”

Coming into the 2004 spring season, Walsh will look to get a head start on fine-tuning team unity with the baseball equivalent of two multi-tool hex sets—a pair of returning stars whose assorted abilities on the team go far beyond even their impressive natural talents.

You see, senior Trey Hendricks and sophomore Lance Salsgiver—the team’s best two pro prospects according to Baseball America—both pitch and hit. Starring on the mound and at the plate, they take on both roles like few in recent Harvard history have.

This year, they’ll become the first pair of Harvard teammates in years to combine regular mound time with every-day at-bats. Hendricks, the accomplished senior from Texas, completes the infield at first base when he’s not pitching. Salsgiver, the flashy youngster from Flint, completes the outfield in right.

Both expatriated from their home states, turning down shots at bigger and better major college baseball—not to mention the prospect of skipping college entirely to head to the minors—for a chance to don crimson. They both lead more with their prodigious skills than with their mouths. The two have generated buzz among scouts since they were teenagers, and arguably have the most pro potential of any of Harvard’s spring athletes.

So what do you think of them, coach? The solution to baseball’s personality disorder? The cure to the Crimson’s schizophrenic kinks? Baseball’s identical twins?

“Absolutely not,” Walsh says, chuckling.

Frank Herrmann, who joined Hendricks and Salsgiver on the pitching staff this year, agrees. “Those guys really could not be any more different,” he says.

Never mind, naysayers. Hendricks and Salsgiver, those brothers in arms and bats, have in common a quality that, in the game of baseball, knows no cerebral or geographic boundaries.

“They both get it done and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day,” Herrmann says.

At the end of the year, the Crimson will rely on that quality to soothe the team’s quirks and patch together an Ivy Championship.

I LIKE TEXAS

“From Dalhart to Del Rio and out El Paso way, well I’ll be doin’ fine on Houston time,” sings the songwriter/country singer Pat Green in the pick-me-up song “I Like Texas.”

“I was born a native Texican, and I’m proud to say that I am.”

Green drones on with simple melodies and efficient lines, letting his effortless, down-home style carry the rest of his 2001 album “Here We Go.”

Like his favorite country singer, Hendricks doesn’t waste time, movement or words.

A “quiet player” according to teammate Zak Farkes, the co-captain nonetheless leads with his bat and with his arm, consistently doing what’s asked.

“He’s a captain, a very good leader,” Farkes says. “He’s not a rah-rah type guy. He doesn’t get in your face, but he’s really a lead-by-example type guy.”

Hendricks plays like a professional—or “all business,” according to Farkes—something you can bet the senior will be doing a year from now.

Between summers swinging wooden bats with the nation’s best—in the New England Collegiate Baseball League (NECBL) and the Cape Cod League—Hendricks found time during his junior year to lead the Crimson in hitting (.387) and slugging (.623), and finished second on the team in RBIs (29). His .387 average was the second best in the Ivy League.

The only switch hitter in the starting lineup, he’s off to a blistering start at the plate this season (.558 3 12).

Like fellow Texan switch-hitter Lance Berkman—a former Rice standout and current all-star leftfielder with the Houston Astros—the 6’4, 215-lb. Hendricks is only beginning to scratch his potential. Hendricks models his swing after the Astros star, driving the ball to all fields from both sides of the plate.

Walsh, who once coached Berkman in a Texas summer league, sees the comparison.

“They’re both guys who can hit from both sides of the plate with average and power,” he says. But he punctuates his comparison with an important addendum—“Berkman was a first-rounder.”

Unlike Berkman, Hendricks is not at a point when he can cover major league outfields or hit balls well over 450 feet. But that’s not to say he won’t get there.

Walsh remembers Berkman as “a first base/DH type”—a typecast usually reserved for slow, big men who logjam the minor leagues—when he coached him that summer. In 2002, his second year as a full-time player, Berkman was starting in centerfield at Houston’s Minute Maid Park.

Hendricks, an unvaryingly hard worker, has already shown a penchant for improving his physique with cardio work and weight training.

“We knew coming in that he was not going to contend for the Ivy League stolen base crown,” Walsh says. “He’s made himself a much better runner now. He’s worked hard at it.”

“Physically,” Walsh adds, “there’s a big difference in him than when he came in as a freshman.”

When asked about the role his work ethic has played in his rise to the top of the Ivies, Hendricks doesn’t pause before giving an answer.

“I’ve had to work for everything I’ve gotten,” the Houston native says with twanged conviction.

That “everything” will most likely be a mid-round selection by a Major League franchise in this year’s June Draft. Though his stock has been hurt by a bone chip in his knee which required offseason surgery—an injury that kept him from being drafted last June—and a poor, injury-riddled showing in Cape Cod (.216-2-10), playing at full health this season would go a long way towards trumping both setbacks.

Walsh said Hendricks’ ability to rake the ball with the league’s best last season with knee trouble should impress professional teams.

“I think there’s going to be a [Major League] team out there that’s going to be looking for him,” he said.

In the meantime, Hendricks will continue to represent the Lone Star state as Texas’ only player on the Crimson roster. He’s already got teammates listening to country music in the locker room before games and says he gets a hard time “about…wearing my boots.”

Focused, tough and wily, Hendricks’ four years playing ball at Houston’s Spring High School—where crowds push the thousands and alumni dot the Majors—accustomed him to the spotlight.

One of those alumni, Florida Marlin and World Series MVP Josh Beckett, played with Hendricks from 1998-1999. The two still talk on the phone “from time to time” and caught up during 2003 Marlins Spring Training in Jupiter, Fla.

Apparently, a Yankee Stadium World Series-clinching shutout hasn’t affected Beckett’s personality

“He’s still a good guy,” Hendricks says, laughing.

As Hendricks watches his teammate thrive in the Majors, he can’t help but wonder how far he can make it—though, as he says, not many had the talent the hard-throwing Beckett, who threw 96 mph as a senior, had as a teenager.

Hendricks cherishes his experience playing with Beckett—marked by the appearance of TV crews and as many as 40 scouts at any game—pondering, “hopefully [it’s] not once in a lifetime. Hopefully I’ll be up there some day.”

And that’s where the casual observer catches that Texas-bred fire inside the unassuming Hendricks. You see, Hendricks may not throw in the high 90s like Beckett, but every bit of him believes he can be a major league baseball player.

“Hopefully my work ethic will allow me to catch up with him,” he says.

The shy, modest Houstonian with the hinted Texas drawl and the no-bones, straight-arrow demeanor leans forward in his seat. Can he succeed in professional baseball?

He hasn’t the slightest hesitation.

“That’s my plan,” he answers without a shred of doubt in his voice, as if to ho-hum the natural follow-up, “so what’s yours?”

THE PROTÉGÉ

The simple task of throwing a baseball can be trying in Eastern Michigan’s early spring.

Extremities numbed, uncorking the weakest throw shivers ligaments from the forearm to the elbow, creaks the joints, and beckons the piercing winds—in all, a solemn sacrifice of “enjoyment” for the sobering sake of arm upkeep.

In other words, it’s not the kind of thing Flint youths do for fun. For that, Flint-ers become gym rats and head indoors, dreaming of royal green jerseys and imagining themselves with a place in Michigan State’s basketball (and hockey) lore. Other Michiganians—like Brighton (Mich.) High baseball legend and current Dallas Cowboy Drew Henson—eventually give up the gloves and take on other endeavors.

Like a weed in winter, Lance Salsgiver has thrived despite his environment.

Harvard’s starting rightfielder, leadoff batter and newly-named closer—and a former “No. 1 high school baseball player in Michigan,” according to the Detroit Free Press in 2002—Salsgiver is tough as nails. But don’t think, for a second, that he doesn’t enjoy every minute he spends on a baseball field.

“I’m always having a good time,” he says, grinning.

And you believe him. As a freshman in 2003, the fun-loving graduate of Flint’s Davison High School led all Crimson players in stolen bases with 17, finished third on the team in batting (.331) and, as the leadoff hitter, chipped in four home runs and 25 runs batted in with surprising power. But his “high energy” attitude, according to Farkes, is as valuable an asset to the team as any.

“When he’s out on that field,” Farkes says, “he’s running around diving all over the place, running into walls, stuff like that.”

“That’s his attitude, and that’s a great one for the team.”

Herrmann’s characterization of his teammate is a bit blunter. “Lance is a bit of a free spirit, or a nut, to be honest,” he says.

Perhaps that quality is what led the 6’0, 190 lb Flintian east two years ago. After being named a first-team All-American shortstop by the National Collegiate Baseball Writers Association his junior year—he is Harvard’s only player to receive such an honor during his prep career—he was recruited by baseball powers like Stanford and Georgia Tech and scouted by all thirty Major League teams. But Salsgiver turned down scholarship offers, six-figure signing bonuses and an assured place in the top 10 rounds of the MLB draft to live his dream of playing at Harvard.

An all-academic selection by the Free Press, he was determined to get a degree from one of the nation’s most prestigious universities.

“Harvard is such a sweet school,” he told the Free Press in 2002. “I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

So far, Salsgiver is conquering it. Now, as a sophomore, Salsgiver laughs at the challenge.

“I feel more familiar with the coaching staff and everything,” he says. “I mean, we got along great last year, but I can joke around a little more now.”

Not that the coaches don’t joke back. At this, Salsgiver starts to look like a man who is taking on more than he can handle.

“The coaches probably mess around with me more than they do with anyone else on the team,” he says. “For some reason, they happen to think that I’m this complete goofball.”

On road trips, he says, the coaches delight in pranking him—hiding his plane tickets, hiding his bags, putting things in his bag—anything to needle the youngster.

“They do all kinds of stuff,” he says.

As far as his relationship with his co-captain, Salsgiver says they are great friends. But he also acknowledges their pole-opposite styles and attitudes on the ballfield.

“During the game, Trey would be more of the serious guy,” he says. Salsgiver, the goofball, is not. “I don’t play as well if I’m extremely focused.”

Cracking jokes, to Salsgiver, is “the best way to stay loose.”

“Although I’m focused, it’s more important for me to be loose and more laid-back,” he says, “than super-determined and over-into-the-game.”

In other words, different things for different people.

BROTHERS IN ARMS

More than anything—more than statistics, body types and backgrounds—scouts love “tools.”

A “five-tool” guy—look at the Guerreros, the Joneses, the Edmonds of the world—is in a different league from his peers. Hit for average, hit for power, speed, defense, throwing arm. A scout’s dream.

Having five tools is one thing. Being able to pitch is another.

“We kind of like that versatility in ballplayers,” Walsh says.

Salsgiver and Hendricks both came to Harvard knowing they would get plenty of time on the mound. For Hendricks, who led Houston-area pitchers in strikeouts and compiled a 10-2 record his senior year at Spring, that was a given.

The 6’2 righthander always thought he’d go to college to pitch—the pro scouts had different ideas.

“Out of high school…I probably would’ve gotten drafted in the middle rounds as a pitcher,” he says.

That perception changed during his senior year. After committing to Harvard, he had the best offensive spring of his high school career, attracting the attention of schools such as nearby Rice, the 2003 NCAA National Champs. But he chose Walsh and the Crimson with the understanding that he would play his freshman year—on the mound and in the field.

“I made sure I could do both before I came,” he says.

The results have been stellar. Last year, Hendricks led Harvard starting pitchers in ERA (2.86) while leading the team in batting. His five home runs were more than he gave up (one). And even though he batted third in the order, his strikeout-to-walk ratio as a pitcher (37-to-5) was even more impressive than that as a batter (15 to 8).

This year, Hendricks experienced a rocky start on the mound. Against Texas Tech on March 6th, he was pummeled for 11 hits and 8 earned runs before being lifted in the second inning. But the right-hander rebounded to pick up a win and a save—both coming against Michigan—on the team’s second road trip, looking like the ace he expects to be.

Not that the scouts care. In a startling reversal from four years ago, the switch hitter will likely be drafted this June for his bat.

“Pretty much all the teams I’ve talked to are interested in me as a hitter,” he says.

Salsgiver, on the other hand, tells a story that’s qualitatively different from Hendricks’. The righthander left Davison with a 1.36 career ERA—tied for the ninth best all-time in Michigan high school history—but arrived at Harvard with arm trouble.

“To be honest with you,” Walsh says, “I think he was overused in high school.”

As a result, Salsgiver threw 2 2/3 innings last season in only one game, hardly the regular mound action he expected in college. That one appearance came on the last game of the season—Game 3 of the Ivy Championship against Princeton.

“There were a lot of [scouts] to see [Lance] there,” Walsh says. “The first pitch on the radar gun was 92 [mph]. So you could hear the scouts say, ‘What kind of coach is this guy Walsh that he doesn’t use a kid throwing 92?’”

Walsh laughs about that story now, but has made sure Salsgiver’s lack of mound time won’t repeat this season. Despite mild arm pain, the sophomore will be the team’s regular closer, coming into games in the ninth inning to finish ballgames.

“It’s going to be a little tough, but we think he can do it,” Walsh says, adding, “I can’t keep 92 on the bench.”

Salsgiver, ever tough as nails, couldn’t be happier.

“I like being on the mound and being the guy everyone’s looking to,” he says.

ACING CHEMISTRY

According to Salsgiver, baseball’s odd jumble of mixed nuts couldn’t be tighter.

“Honestly I think the team meshes very well in terms of personality,” he says. “We have more laid-back guys and more serious guys.”

“The laid back guys will keep the more serious guys loose,” he says, “but the guys that are really focused will make sure guys like me are into the game.”

Maybe there is something to this “uneven personalities” business. Maybe Harvard, the national institution, has a leg up on its regional counterparts. The evidence, at least, is kind of there.

Hendricks, ever the strong, silent Texan, checks Salsgiver’s nuttiness. Salsgiver, the super-talented jokester from Flint, keeps Hendricks-types honest.

Brothers in arms and bats, the two versatile stars provide a lethal combination of talent and flexibility, figuring prominently in the 2004 Crimson’s plans for success.

Who knows? Maybe they’ll do the same for a couple of big league ballclubs.

That’s their plan.

So what’s yours?

—Staff writer Alex McPhllips can be reached at rmcphill@fas.harvard.edu.