cubfan33
05-12-2002, 10:57 PM
The Pittsburgh Pirates are not the best-known team in baseball. Fans could probably name Brian Giles, Jason Kendall, or Kris Benson off the top of their heads while Pirates fans could go further down the roster. As I walked around beautiful PNC Park, I spoke with some fans and asked them one question: do you know who the team’s athletic trainer is? Not one could answer me correctly and I went up to the ones whose passion for the “Buccos” was evident. The fact that Kent Biggerstaff is unknown doesn’t seem to bother him. His reward is seeing his players run onto the field and play baseball.
When Jason Kendall suffered one of the ugliest injuries in my memory during the 2000 season, Kent Biggerstaff was on the field attending to his shattered ankle within seconds. Within ten minutes, Kendall was in the training room where the dislocated joint was put back into place. An hour and five minutes later, Kendall was on the operating table. These amazing numbers say a lot about how quickly injuries can be tended to in today’s modern training room, but they leave out the bigger part of the story. “When Jason was coming back, he didn’t want anyone to see how hard he had to work,” Biggerstaff told me. “I came in at six a.m. each day during the off-season and by the time the other players came in, Jason was gone.” Biggerstaff’s reward was seeing Kendall catch on Opening Day 2000. Kendall’s reward was a six year, sixty million dollar deal.
I met with Kent Biggerstaff at 2:30 pm. PNC Park was essentially deserted as I walked in. No fans, no media – just some support staff and a couple players. Walking back to meet with him, I heard the crack of the bat in the indoor batting cage. Biggerstaff’s day had begun hours earlier. “I usually come in about 11:00 am when there’s a night game,” he said, “and I’ll get out of here about midnight or so, depending on if there’s any injuries. I’ll come in earlier if one of my players needs me.” Asked how his family deals with his long hours, Biggerstaff shrugged. “They’ve been around the game forever.” Today’s game doesn’t even offer the solace of an off-season. “I keep in touch with each of the players during the winter,” he told me. “I speak to each player on the roster about once every two weeks to see how they are and if they’re rehabbing an injury, it’s at least once a week and usually more.”
Working closely with team doctors and two assistant trainers, Biggerstaff is responsible for the health and treatment for more than twenty-five athletes. In his nineteen years with the team, he has learned that his biggest weapon is education. “We have to help these players understand what they’re putting their bodies through,” he said. “If you ask them, they’re never hurt. They want to get right back out there.” Biggerstaff is adamant about keeping the players from making a small injury worse or allowing them to rush themselves back. “Sometimes I have to be a bit of a jerk,” he said with a smile. “I let them know when they’re ready to play medically and I leave it to the coaches to make the decision when they’re baseball ready.”
Twenty feet from where we spoke, I watched five players seated in the training room. One was in a whirlpool while the others were icing down various body parts. One, star pitcher Kris Benson, flexed his surgically repaired elbow that will be returning to the field in just a few days. “That’s why it’s worth it all,” Biggerstaff said. “Seeing a guy like Benson coming back. You couldn’t do this job if you didn’t love it.” Seeing the gleam in his eye, I know Kent Biggerstaff loves his job and his team. The respect in the eyes of his players tells me a lot too. Perhaps someday the fans up in the stands will realize that one of the most valuable Pirates doesn’t wear a uniform.
© 2002 William Carroll
Exclusive for UNDER THE KNIFE
When Jason Kendall suffered one of the ugliest injuries in my memory during the 2000 season, Kent Biggerstaff was on the field attending to his shattered ankle within seconds. Within ten minutes, Kendall was in the training room where the dislocated joint was put back into place. An hour and five minutes later, Kendall was on the operating table. These amazing numbers say a lot about how quickly injuries can be tended to in today’s modern training room, but they leave out the bigger part of the story. “When Jason was coming back, he didn’t want anyone to see how hard he had to work,” Biggerstaff told me. “I came in at six a.m. each day during the off-season and by the time the other players came in, Jason was gone.” Biggerstaff’s reward was seeing Kendall catch on Opening Day 2000. Kendall’s reward was a six year, sixty million dollar deal.
I met with Kent Biggerstaff at 2:30 pm. PNC Park was essentially deserted as I walked in. No fans, no media – just some support staff and a couple players. Walking back to meet with him, I heard the crack of the bat in the indoor batting cage. Biggerstaff’s day had begun hours earlier. “I usually come in about 11:00 am when there’s a night game,” he said, “and I’ll get out of here about midnight or so, depending on if there’s any injuries. I’ll come in earlier if one of my players needs me.” Asked how his family deals with his long hours, Biggerstaff shrugged. “They’ve been around the game forever.” Today’s game doesn’t even offer the solace of an off-season. “I keep in touch with each of the players during the winter,” he told me. “I speak to each player on the roster about once every two weeks to see how they are and if they’re rehabbing an injury, it’s at least once a week and usually more.”
Working closely with team doctors and two assistant trainers, Biggerstaff is responsible for the health and treatment for more than twenty-five athletes. In his nineteen years with the team, he has learned that his biggest weapon is education. “We have to help these players understand what they’re putting their bodies through,” he said. “If you ask them, they’re never hurt. They want to get right back out there.” Biggerstaff is adamant about keeping the players from making a small injury worse or allowing them to rush themselves back. “Sometimes I have to be a bit of a jerk,” he said with a smile. “I let them know when they’re ready to play medically and I leave it to the coaches to make the decision when they’re baseball ready.”
Twenty feet from where we spoke, I watched five players seated in the training room. One was in a whirlpool while the others were icing down various body parts. One, star pitcher Kris Benson, flexed his surgically repaired elbow that will be returning to the field in just a few days. “That’s why it’s worth it all,” Biggerstaff said. “Seeing a guy like Benson coming back. You couldn’t do this job if you didn’t love it.” Seeing the gleam in his eye, I know Kent Biggerstaff loves his job and his team. The respect in the eyes of his players tells me a lot too. Perhaps someday the fans up in the stands will realize that one of the most valuable Pirates doesn’t wear a uniform.
© 2002 William Carroll
Exclusive for UNDER THE KNIFE