A version of this story ran in 2016.

The kid was tall, he was well-built, and he was warming for his second outing of his first Major League camp. Vero Beach, Fla. Dodgertown. March 9, 2008.

Sean Casey watched. On the cusp of his first season with the defending world champion Red Sox -- his 12th and final season in the bigs -- he knew the league inside and out. But 19-year-olds wearing jersey No. 96 don’t qualify as known quantities, even to a wily vet.

“Mags,” Casey said to hitting coach Dave Magadan, “do you know this guy?”

A purse of the lips and a shake of the head.

“Tito,” he said to manager Terry Francona, “you know him?”

Nope.

Casey came up with two outs. The first pitch was a rocket. Ninety-seven on the black. Strike one.

“That was legit,” Casey thought to himself. “That wa

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