2026 USA Collegiate National Team Trials, Day One Notes

They gathered in Cary, North Carolina, under the watchful eyes of every scout, every general manager, every power broker in professional baseball. The 2026 USA Collegiate National Team Trials: Day One. A spectacle. A showcase. A declaration of intent from the next generation of American baseball talent. And what did I see? What did I, Ryan Craig, who has spent more waking hours dissecting this game than some of these kids have been alive, witness on that hallowed ground? I saw potential. I saw raw power. I saw arms that could touch the moon. But I also saw something else. Something far more insidious. I saw a *tendency* towards misplaced priorities, a *willingness* to be seduced by the flash, and a *disturbing* lack of appreciation for the foundational elements that truly define a champion.

Let me be unequivocally clear: the talent pool is deep. ABSOLUTELY. You look at a player like **Marcus Thorne**, the shortstop out of Texas, and you see the athletic gifts. The quick twitch, the cannon arm, the fluid actions. He made a couple of plays on Day One that had the scouts scribbling furiously in their notebooks, their eyes wide with the dollar signs of a first-round pick. And I get it. I truly do. The physical tools are undeniable. But then I watch him at the plate. I watch the swing-and-miss. I watch the lack of plate discipline on pitches just outside the zone, the casual dismissal of a two-strike approach. I’m not saying he’s not talented. I’m saying we, as an industry, are falling in love with the *idea* of what a player *could* be, rather than what he consistently *is*. And that, my friends, is a dangerous, DANGEROUS game.

I remember watching a young Ken Griffey Jr. in his early days, the raw, unadulterated talent, yes, but also the *feel* for the game. The innate understanding of the strike zone. The discipline. And I have to ask myself, are we valuing those things enough anymore? Or are we so consumed with exit velocity and launch angle that we forget the fundamental chess match that occurs 60 feet, 6 inches away from home plate?

We heard Ole Miss Head Coach Mike Bianco, a man who has seen his fair share of talent come through his program, speak about this very thing. He once said, “It’s a dream come true for these kids… It’s a great experience for them, not only to play at that high level, but to get to meet guys from all over the country.” And he’s right about the dream, about the experience. But the *dream* is to play in the big leagues. The *experience* is to learn what it takes. And what I saw from some of these “top prospects” on Day One suggested a fundamental misunderstanding of that very lesson.

Take the pitching, for instance. **Elijah “Lights Out” Lewis**, the flamethrower from Vanderbilt. The radar gun was practically melting, registering triple digits with ease. He struck out four batters in his two innings of work. Impressive, right? On paper, it’s a highlight reel waiting to happen. But I watched every single pitch. I saw the wildness. I saw the struggles to command his secondary pitches, the breaking ball that hung like a piñata for a professional hitter, the changeup that barely changed speed. He relies almost exclusively on the heater, daring hitters to catch up. And in college, against some competition, that might work. But this is the Collegiate National Team! This is the proving ground for the *next* level! What happens when he faces international competition? What happens when he faces a lineup of seasoned professionals who won’t be intimidated by velocity alone? I’m telling you, it’s a ticking time bomb! The raw talent is there, but the *refinement*, the *polish*, the *control*—those are the things that separate a phenom from a perennial All-Star.

I SAID this just a few months ago, when I was dissecting the pitching matchups for a Mariners-Guardians game. I talked about how raw stuff can only get you so far if you don’t have the finesse, the *mind* for pitching. And what I witnessed on Day One from some of these arms was a stark reminder of that truth. They are throwing hard, yes. But are they *pitching*? That, my friends, is the question that keeps me up at night.

And then there’s the talk, the buzz, the whispers about **Caleb “Big Bat” Jenkins**, the power-hitting first baseman from Florida State. He mashed a couple of balls during batting practice that cleared the fence with ease. The sound off the bat was intoxicating. It made you lean forward in your seat. But then came the game situations. The groundout to second, the pop-up to short, the meek strikeout looking on an outside fastball. Power is a commodity, absolutely. It is a game-changer. But power with discipline, power with a feel for the moment, power with the ability to adjust—that is a *weapon*. What I saw from Caleb on Day One was a sledgehammer being swung wildly, hoping to connect. Not a surgeon dissecting the defense.

When you look at the history of the USA Baseball Collegiate National Team, you see names like Buster Posey, Stephen Strasburg, Paul Skenes, Dylan Crews. Players who didn’t just have talent; they had a *resolve*. They had an *understanding* of the game that transcended their physical gifts. Paul Skenes, a player who made this team himself, once reflected on his experience, saying, “It’s an awesome opportunity to represent the country, especially with a bunch of guys that you compete against throughout the year.” He understood the honor, yes, but also the inherent competitiveness and the elevated standard. It’s not just about showing up; it’s about *showing out* in a way that proves you belong.

And this brings me to my next point, a point that I believe is being woefully overlooked by some of these “analysts” who are too busy regurgitating statistics. The character. The leadership. The ability to be a *teammate*. I watched **David Chen**, the second baseman from UCLA, on Day One. He didn’t have the flashy plays. He didn’t hit any moonshots. But he made every routine play look effortless. He hustled out every groundball. He was communicating constantly with his fellow infielders. He picked up a dropped ball in the outfield and got it back to the pitcher without being asked. These are the subtle, often overlooked actions that define a winner. These are the actions that define a professional.

USA Baseball Collegiate National Team General Manager Eric Campbell, a man whose job it is to sift through this immense talent, has often emphasized this. He’s been quoted saying, “Our goal is always to put together the best team possible… we’re looking for guys who are not only talented but also have the character to represent the United States.” CHARACTER! That’s the word! Not just velocity. Not just exit velo. Character. And I’m telling you, David Chen, despite not blowing up the stat sheet, showed more character and fundamental baseball acumen in a single day than some of these supposed “can’t-miss” prospects showed in their entire college careers to date!

The stakes here are monumental. This isn’t just a summer camp. This is a crucial step for these young men, not only in their development but in shaping their *legacy*. A spot on this team can elevate draft stock, solidify a reputation, and, more importantly, instill the confidence that comes from competing at the absolute highest level of amateur baseball. But if the selection committee, if the scouts, if the *coaches* involved, are going to be swayed solely by the raw, unrefined, highlight-reel moments, then I fear we are doing a disservice not only to these players but to the future of American baseball itself. We are creating a culture where the sizzle is prioritized over the steak. Where the *potential* is celebrated more than the *performance*.

I’m telling you, I watched the way some of these players carried themselves. The casual swagger that bordered on arrogance. The frustration evident after a single miscue. This is not the mentality of a champion! This is not the mindset that built dynasties! You want to talk about the Yankees and the Red Sox, a rivalry I’ve dissected countless times, a rivalry built on the very fabric of competitive fire? You think Derek Jeter and David Ortiz were just about raw talent? NO! They were about the *grit*, the *determination*, the *unwavering* focus on winning! They were about the ability to perform under the MOST intense pressure!

So, as we move forward from Day One, as these trials continue, I implore the evaluators, I implore the decision-makers: look beyond the radar gun readings! Look beyond the batting practice bombs! Look for the player who hustles. Look for the player who adjusts. Look for the player who understands the *game* in its entirety, not just the individual moments of glory. Because if you don’t, if you continue to chase the flashy, unrefined talent without demanding the mental fortitude and fundamental excellence, then I am telling you, we are setting ourselves up for an UNMITIGATED DISASTER down the line! We are building a foundation on sand, not stone. And when the pressure truly mounts, when the international competition stares you down, that foundation WILL CRUMBLE. I have seen it before, and I will NOT stand by and watch it happen again without sounding the alarm! This is about the future of our game, and it demands our full, discerning attention.