``I did nothing to detract from his God-given, father-enhanced, performance-driven skills,'' Woolf said. ``That's my claim to fame.''

Woolf, a South Tampa veterinarian, was manager of Boggs' Bayshore Little League team in the early 1970s. The team wasn't much; the Royal Buick Wildcats finished 2-26, even with a future Hall of Famer playing various positions on the team.

``I remember one of our youngsters that year threw a no-hitter,'' Woolf said. ``We lost, 6-0.''

But it was all about baseball, and that was the Tampa that Boggs grew up in after his family moved here from Georgia in 1969. They settled into a house on Davis Islands, and Wade immediately signed up for summer baseball. When they weren't playing in the league, there were pickup games on empty lots near the Peter O. Knight Airport at the west end of Davis Islands. They'd play all day until sunset.

Woolf remembers thinking his collection of Bad News Buicks had stumbled upon a real keeper.

``I'm a fine veterinarian, I've succeeded in business, but I was the world's worst manager,'' Woolf said. ``But even I could see how disciplined Wade was as a youngster. His father has instilled such discipline in him that if Wade was the pitcher and a play was to first, he was always backing up the base. His range was the entire field.''

He was a pitcher and shortstop for Bayshore. Mark Wolfson, now a local attorney, was his catcher.

``He threw what I'd call a cruckleball - a cross between a curve and a knuckleball,'' Wolfson said. ``When he pitched that game in the majors for the Yankees and threw the knuckleball, I remember thinking, `I caught that pitch as a 12-year-old.' ''

But Boggs' main claims, of course, came with the bat and his fierce dedication to the game.

``On a regular basis, we'd go to the batting cages iine&page=mlb/teams/056/roster.aspx?team=056" alt="Roster">

``I did nothing to detract from his God-given, father-enhanced, performance-driven skills,'' Woolf said. ``That's my claim to fame.''

Woolf, a South Tampa veterinarian, was manager of Boggs' Bayshore Little League team in the early 1970s. The team wasn't much; the Royal Buick Wildcats finished 2-26, even with a future Hall of Famer playing various positions on the team.

``I remember one of our youngsters that year threw a no-hitter,'' Woolf said. ``We lost, 6-0.''

But it was all about baseball, and that was the Tampa that Boggs grew up in after his family moved here from Georgia in 1969. They settled into a house on Davis Islands, and Wade immediately signed up for summer baseball. When they weren't playing in the league, there were pickup games on empty lots near the Peter O. Knight Airport at the west end of Davis Islands. They'd play all day until sunset.

Woolf remembers thinking his collection of Bad News Buicks had stumbled upon a real keeper.

``I'm a fine veterinarian, I've succeeded in business, but I was the world's worst manager,'' Woolf said. ``But even I could see how disciplined Wade was as a youngster. His father has instilled such discipline in him that if Wade was the pitcher and a play was to first, he was always backing up the base. His range was the entire field.''

He was a pitcher and shortstop for Bayshore. Mark Wolfson, now a local attorney, was his catcher.

``He threw what I'd call a cruckleball - a cross between a curve and a knuckleball,'' Wolfson said. ``When he pitched that game in the majors for the Yankees and threw the knuckleball, I remember thinking, `I caught that pitch as a 12-year-old.' ''

But Boggs' main claims, of course, came with the bat and his fierce dedication to the game.

``On a regular basis, we'd go to the batting cages in Clearwater,'' Wolfson said. ``I'd get a call at my house going, `Come on, Mark, we're going to batting practice.' Back at his yard, it was always pitch-catch, pitch-catch, pitch-catch. I remember how much he liked to play, but I remember even more how much he liked to practice.''

The reputation he gained as a hitter at Bayshore was enhanced while playing at Plant High School and for American Legion teams.

``There was tremendous pressure on him because scouts were there every time he played, but he was a natural hitter,'' said Bill Shields, manager of Boggs' Legion Post 139 team. ``Wade had that special ability that if the ball was just a half-inch on the other side of the plate, he would hit it to the opposite field. He just would not try to pull it like so many kids did.

``All of the players who were on that team swear that he hit .900 for us. I didn't keep records, but I do remember that he hit everything he saw.''

Shields' son, Doug Shields, recalled a night at Lowry Park, a field in North Tampa, when Boggs did something special even for him.

``We had this Legion game, and Wade hit two balls out to the opposite field in left-center, three-quarters of the way up the light pole,'' he said. ``I remember thinking that no one could go the other way and still hit a ball like that, but I watched Wade do it.

``He just hit every pitch so hard. People talk about him being a Punch-and-Judy hitter, but that's a crock.''

Doug Shields was an up- and-coming athlete himself back then. He would later play quarterback for both Plant and Robinson in high school, then go on to a baseball career at the University of Miami. He signed with the Montreal Expos and was working through the minor leagues before a knee injury ended his career. He now runs the family roofing business in South Tampa.

``Wade doesn't let a lot of people get close to his inner circle, but once you're in, you're in for life,'' he said. ``I know he's been phenomenal to us. For a guy who made the big leagues and did all the things he did, he never forgot his roots.

``I know Wade would send me a dozen wood bats each spring when I was with the Expos. The bats in the minors were horrible and he wanted to make sure I had ones the size and weight I wanted.''

Longtime friend T.J. Ferlita, now a local businessman, added, ``The one story that has always amazed me about Wade was the way he gives back. If you're his friend, you stay his friend.''

And that meant baseball.

Doug Shields recalls nights when he and Boggs would just sit on the porch and talk about hitting. He said he learned more in those sessions than any batting coach could ever teach.

``Those sessions were unbelievable!'' he said. ``I'm not kidding - it was unbelievable. He'd go, `Look here, look for the pitch here.' Or, `What do you think you'll get in that spot? ... No, no, you wouldn't get that - don't look there, look here.'

``It might be 10:30 at night, but I'd get so fired up I'd want to find a place to hit right then. I never saw anyone like him. He is amazing.''

Little League Ball

They did it then and they still do it today: a ball autographed by all the players on a Little League team and given to the coach or managers at the end of the season.

For so many coaches and managers such balls are a sentimental keepsake, and there often is the wonder: ``What if one of these kids makes it one day?''

In these days of collectibles and eBay sales, such a ball might fetch a pretty penny if signed by a future major-leaguer or - gasp! - Hall of Famer.

In this case, such a ball (above) was signed by a young Wade Boggs. But for his Little League manager, Walter Woolf, the ball carries greater sentimental than monetary value. He keeps it in a protective Plexiglas container at home.

For all you youth-league coaches and managers out there: You just never know.

Draft Day Adjustments

In the weeks leading up to the June draft in 1976, Wade Boggs heard from a number of teams. But as he and his father talked about where he might go in the draft, they kept coming back to Boston.

He was a shortstop at Plant High, but Boston scouts had told him they envisioned him more as a third baseman. He had begun to play some third base for his American Legion team, just in case.

The day of reckoning arrived and in the second round, the Red Sox took Glenn Hoffman, who they projected as a shortstop. Hoffman would go on to play eight seasons with the Red Sox. Draft day wound on without Boggs' name being called, so he went to his game unaware of what fate had in store.

The Legion game was already under way when his fiancee, Debbie Bertuccelli, called The Tampa Tribune sports department for a draft update. She was told Wade had gone in the seventh round to the Red Sox.

She walked down to the railing near the on-deck circle at Al Lopez Field and mouthed the word ``Bos-ton'' to Wade and held up seven fingers. Wade, who was playing shortstop that night, immediately went to his manager and asked to be switched to third base.

Hits Off Hall Of Famers
Pitcher H AB
Nolan Ryan 4 14
Steve Carlton 2 4
Rollie Fingers 1 2
Jim Palmer 3 5
Phil Niekro 11 27
Tom Seaver 9 29
Gaylord Perry 6 16
Don Sutton 7 34
Dennis Eckersley 6 20

He Said It

''I coached him myself. I didn't want anyone to mess up his mind. I saw some of them there, some with more talent than Wade. They got burned out from their daddies. I didn't want that to happen with Wade. ... One thing baseball scouts do is look at physical tools - how fast they can run, what kind of arm they've got. People can't look inside a kid's brain and see the determination. With Wade, I could. All he thought about was sports. - WIN BOGGS, Wade's father