Aquino had never before been asked to do that. When they were done Worley said, "Thank you." But Aquino was disturbed.
"Every time you got into your balance point and you separated," he said to Worley, "you gave me this big smile right before you delivered the ball."
People tell Vance that the Vanimal has swagger, and the 23-year-old bespectacled kid with a mohawk snickers. "I mean, I guess," Worley says. "I think it's my stupid haircut and glasses more than anything." Vanimal is a goofy nickname from his freshman year, bestowed during one sleepy morning of workouts by a weightlifting coach named Steve. (Fittingly, Worley does not remember Steve's full name.)
Inside the Long Beach dugout, Vance became Vanimal, but merely by name. He slogged through freshman year, was "soft" on the mound, and twice suffered an elbow injury during his sophomore year. Until then, he was never challenged. His college teammates described him as quiet. He kept to himself. He never went out.
Worley thought his coaches had disrespected him with a demotion to the bullpen that caused the second injury. He had something to prove. Only then was Vanimal really born. "That turned me into who I am," Vanimal said.
Now, he is nothing short of stunning. The cocksure righthander who averages 90 m.p.h. on his fastball leads all major-league rookie starting pitchers with a 2.65 ERA. Fans are enamored of Vanimal's style, the way he struts after every strikeout he notches, or how he indignantly peers through his trademark glasses.
